As soon as Xie Lan returned to school after SilentWaves’ identity was exposed, the Class 4 Night Owls stared at him with extremely wicked smiles.

Xie Lan was stared into numbness.

He had walked into the classroom laughing and talking with Dou Sheng, but half a minute later, he completely lost his expression.

While he was looking down to find his homework, Che Ziming suddenly leaned back. “Lan-ah, look at me.”

Xie Lan looked up, unaware of what was happening. Snap! The screen in front of him flashed, capturing a selfie of Che Ziming and him.

Che Ziming grinned. “I’m sending this to my grandma. She saw your Hot Search too.”

Dou Sheng chuckled beside him. “The old lady is quite up to date. Not confused anymore?”

“Occasionally still gets confused, same as before.” Che Ziming waved his hand and stood up to ask Xie Lan for math homework. “Where’s yours, Broccoli Bean?”

The tip of the pen Xie Lan was using to write his name paused forcefully. The ballpoint popped out, and a large drop of ink spread on the paper.

His fist hardened.

Dou Sheng laughed until he coughed twice. “Right away.”

This evening back at school wasn’t peaceful.

Old Qin, who was supervising self-study, sneaked up behind Xie Lan while he wasn’t paying attention and raised his phone to take a silent selfie with him.

Xie Lan turned around and was almost scared to death by the intimate photo of himself and Old Qin on the screen.

“…”

This wave of happy meme-playing lasted for about a week.

Finally enduring until the weekend, fans were clamoring for a new video, but Xie Lan hung twelve words in his bio.

“Finals approaching, business paused, updates whenever.”

It was said that the fans missed him disastrously.

Dou Sheng had recently become addicted to a card game. He streamed pulling cards for a while over the weekend, guaranteeing at least seven or eight times that Xie Lan hadn’t quit the site in anger, barely managing to deal with the depressed fans.

June brought scorching sun. The results of the first weekly test came out. Xie Lan did okay; his Chinese score broke eighty, taking another extremely small step upward.

One afternoon, everyone else went to the cafeteria, but he and Dou Sheng stayed in their seats.

Xie Lan was reading a classical Chinese passage when he heard Dou Sheng say nonchalantly, “Hey, for the Youth on Strings webpage voting, you’re about to catch up to Mr. Jiada.”

“Hmm?”

Xie Lan looked up, his eyes blank for a moment before shock set in. “Caught up?!”

Dou Sheng smiled. “Sort of. Jiada didn’t mention this before, but he posted a Weibo last night, so today his votes surpassed yours by a bit again. You two are biting very tight right now.”

Xie Lan poked open the voting page. At this moment, Jiada still had more votes, but the difference wasn’t big. Both had millions of followers; Jiada had 30,000 more votes than him.

During the last public opinion incident, the organizers wanted to reduce the vote fluctuation caused by public sentiment. After consideration, they upgraded the selection system. Voting results accounted for 70% weight, and there would be a final round of interviews. It was hard to say who exactly they were favoring.

Dou Sheng sighed. “Jiada is a leader in the industry, and his fan base is too large. The voting period is 28 days; now nearly halfway through, you only barely caught up.”

The interview might not be an advantage either. Amateur versus professional; however he thought about it, it felt illusory.

But this opportunity was really good.

Xie Lan lowered his head and continued writing a couple of strokes, feeling a bit disappointed inside. He whispered, “Forget it, let nature take its course.”

Dou Sheng sighed. “Pity about that one million.”

Xie Lan’s pen tip paused. “How much?”

“One million.” Dou Sheng raised an eyebrow. “One million is the commission for the main arrangement this time. If the collaboration is pleasant, there’s a possibility of taking on subsequent insert song production, which would be more than just one million. You didn’t know?”

Xie Lan had a capital “CONFUSED” written on his face.

One million. Equivalent to taking on three or four commercial ads. Based on inserting one promotion every four videos, he would have to work diligently for almost half a year.

Dou Sheng burst out laughing. “Three big words suddenly appeared on someone’s face: ‘I Want It’.”

“Of course I want it. At least I won’t have to worry during university.” Xie Lan paused. “Why so much?”

“It’s a music-themed anime. The officials want to use the OP for publicity hype. The huge fanfare in selecting people early on was also to build heat.” Dou Sheng swiped his fingertip on the screen. “The interview isn’t until summer vacation. Let’s see the situation then.”

That was the only way.

“Help me keep an eye on the votes.” Xie Lan still had a small flame in his heart that couldn’t be extinguished.

Dou Sheng smiled and spun his pen, tapping the tip on the paper rhythmically, teasing, “Don’t feel pressured. After going to university, even if we’re poor, we can share a piece of bread with boyfriend.”

Xie Lan went expressionless in a second. “No, this is the unyielding spirit of a violinist.”

Hearing this, Dou Sheng reached out and pinched his cheek gently. “So amazing, Senior.”

Xie Lan frowned and slapped his hand away. Dou Sheng withdrew his hand with a smile and casually pulled at Xie Lan’s slightly wrinkled collar.

The wind blew past; the tips of Xie Lan’s ears were a bit red.

Green is your collar, long is my heart’s longing. (Qing Qing Zi Jin, You You Wo Xin)

The boy’s pen tip hurriedly scratched across the paper, transcribing this line of poetry into his accumulation notebook.

---

There were two days off for the college entrance examination (Gaokao). After the exam ended, the third-years officially left school. The student council had been quiet for a long time but finally launched a wave of club activities.

Xie Lan hadn’t paid much attention until he suddenly received a WeChat message.

• Rong Xinxin: Great God, setting up a stall in the small playground tomorrow during dinner time. Can you come sit for an hour?

Xie Lan was confused by that message for a while and asked politely: Who are you?

• Rong Xinxin: ?
• Rong Xinxin: Your respected Debate Club President! It’s only been two months since I organized an activity, and you’ve forgotten me?

Xie Lan: “…”

How many months are in a semester anyway?

He stared at that message in a trance for a good while before digging Rong Xinxin’s words from two months ago out of his memory.

Recruit people first, hold a competition in June, complete this semester’s club activity KPI.

Xie Lan hesitated for a moment, then typed to ask: What do you need me to do?

• Rong Xinxin: Sit there. Be a living signboard.

Living signboard, seriously?

How hilarious Xie Lan’s Chinese level was had already become widely circulated word-of-mouth in Yinghua. Dragging him out as a signboard for the Debate Club—who exactly would that attract?

While he was speechless, Rong Xinxin sent another message: As long as you recruit sixteen people, enough to form four debate teams, I will abdicate to you.

Dou Sheng came back from outside and placed a milk tea emitting cold air on Xie Lan’s desk. “What are you looking at?”

Xie Lan stood up to let him in. “What does ‘chan rang’ (abdicate) mean?”

“‘Chan rang’?” Dou Sheng pondered for a moment. “It’s Shan Rang, same pronunciation as ‘fan’ (shan zi). It means the old emperor isn’t dead yet, but yields the throne to the new emperor.”

Xie Lan instantly gripped his phone tight.

“It’s over, she really wants to pass the throne to me.” Xie Lan frowned. “Debate Club needs to recruit new members. Haven’t even held an activity, and she wants me to be president right off the bat. Why do I feel something is very wrong about this?”

Hearing this, Dou Sheng merely smiled. “Nothing wrong. Yinghua clubs just can’t get off the ground. Every president was conned and tricked into it by the previous one. Once on the pirate ship, you can’t get off until you swindle the next person. Know why she’s passing it to you and not other members?”

Xie Lan was silent for a moment, then said gloomily, “Because the other members already know the truth.”

Dou Sheng shook with laughter, his black eyes holding the bright afternoon sunlight. He leaned in and whispered in Xie Lan’s ear, “Smart, Boyfriend.”

Xie Lan’s cheeks felt hot from the sun by the window. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Didn’t you act all geared up wanting to improve your Chinese back then?” Dou Sheng laughed. “Dealing with these shrewd people, doesn’t that count as improvement?”

Xie Lan: “…”

Recruit sixteen people, then he would quit the club.

No, recruit seventeen people. Had to recruit a president too.

---

The next day, ten minutes before dinner, Xie Lan asked Old Ma for leave to leave early.

About a dozen tables were set up on the Yinghua small playground, one for each club. It was said the student council arranged the positions according to club size. Xie Lan walked all the way to the back, to the very last table in the corner, before finally seeing the pitiful “Yinghua Debate Club” table sign and Rong Xinxin sitting behind it.

Xie Lan’s spirit wilted. “Are we really that bad?”

Rong Xinxin looked up from her test paper. “Debate is a spirit, a passion; it doesn’t need to be measured by anything else. Hey, help me see how to solve this math problem?”

“…”

Confusing.

Xie Lan helped her solve a math problem, sat behind the table, and sighed deeply.

The melodious dismissal bell rang. In less than half a minute, a massive crowd swarmed from the teaching building. Boys and girls sprinted like 100-meter dashers—running straight past the stalls on the small playground, along that romantic phoenix tree-lined avenue, straight toward the cafeteria.

Xie Lan sighed again.

“Relax, Great God.” Rong Xinxin continued to bury her head in the math paper. “Wait until they finish eating.”

In his peripheral vision, a familiar, beautiful hand intruded, placing a bag of McDonald’s on the table.

“I came to visit the set,” Dou Sheng said with a smile. “And deliver food.”

Rong Xinxin looked up then, pulled a stool from the side, kicked it uninhibitedly, and said, “Sit.”

Xie Lan whispered to Dou Sheng, “Probably won’t be anyone coming.”

Dou Sheng smiled. “Isn’t that perfect? You old members can muddle through until the end of this semester, and let the student council automatically disband you in senior year. That’s pretty good too.”

The sunlight at 5 PM was still strong. Dou Sheng wore all white today—white T-shirt, white pants—and his skin was fair too, glowing in the sun.

His vibrant black hair and black eyes stood out even more in contrast, making it hard to look away.

Xie Lan stared unconsciously at his profile, spacing out for a good while, before pulling his spirit back.

He subconsciously glanced at the long line of clubs ahead.

Movie Club, Street Dance Club, Go Club… even Sudoku Club, every single one was ahead of them.

For no reason, a small flame called “competitive spirit” grew in his heart.

Rong Xinxin suddenly looked up. “I don’t think we won’t fill the quota. Just watch.”

Saying this, she checked her watch, folded the math paper and stuffed it into her bag. “Xie Lan, sit further out!”

Before Xie Lan could react, people started coming out of the cafeteria entrance in groups of three or five.

Rong Xinxin fished a pocket Bluetooth speaker out of her schoolbag and walked out two steps to welcome them.

“Good news! Good news! Yinghua Debate Club is recruiting!!”

Impassioned MLM-style shouting came from the speaker. Xie Lan shivered inside and couldn’t help looking at her back like she was a mental patient.

“Yinghua Debate Club is recruiting!!” Rong Xinxin waved that small speaker, her unrestrained voice broadcasting from it. “The Debate Club where Senior Xie Lan is a member is recruiting!! Welcome to learn more, welcome to join!! No matter your current level of literary literacy and eloquence, come to Yinghua Debate Club and grow together with Senior Xie Lan!!”

Xie Lan: “???”

Dou Sheng suddenly exclaimed in amazement: “Huo!”

Xie Lan turned his head to look in the direction Dou Sheng was looking. The students just coming out of the cafeteria heard the sound and came straight for them, rushing past the Movie Club, Street Dance Club… sweeping towards the desolate and dilapidated Yinghua Debate Club.

Rong Xinxin joyfully placed the speaker on the table, turned on infinite loop mode, and slapped the table. “Don’t just stand there, hand out forms to everyone!”

The first person had already arrived at the table, a girl. “Senior, please give me an application form.”

Xie Lan subconsciously handed over a form, glancing behind her. There were both boys and girls, slightly more girls. In just this short while, the line had grown to over twenty people.

Rong Xinxin was happily organizing order.

The girl bent down to fill out the form, slapped it on the table, and said, “I’ll wait for good news!”

The next person had already come up. “Senior Xie Lan, I want an application form too.”

Dou Sheng pulled out a handful of ballpoint pens, letting four people fill out forms simultaneously. The small table was instantly crowded.

Amidst huge shock, Xie Lan turned into an emotionless form-distributing machine.

Come, take form, inside please.

Watching the students crowding the table to write information, and glancing at the swarming long line, he couldn’t help but whisper to the boy next to him, “Did you guys get paid?”

“Huh?” The boy paused. “Didn’t they say you are the president of this Debate Club? I came for you.”

Xie Lan: “?”

The boy smiled. “Hello Senior, I’m Wang Tianran from Class 3, Year 1. My hobbies are games and music. I’ve followed you on Bilibili for a long time; I’m your badged fan.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the girl next to him said, “I’m even Xie Lan’s Captain (high-tier subscriber).”

“…”

Xie Lan blankly withdrew his gaze.

His eyes began to lose focus.

Within ten minutes of setting up the stall, the one hundred printed application forms were all given out.

Rong Xinxin happily closed up shop, paid out of her own pocket to buy ice cream for the people still queuing as a dismissal fee, and placed a stack of application forms in front of Xie Lan.

“Future President, you have to screen the candidates yourself. After all, these are the people you’ll lead in the future. Come find me anytime if you don’t understand something. Let’s aim to send out the text messages tomorrow. First activity on Wednesday; the other old members and I will come too.”

Xie Lan’s scalp tingled. “Are you sure these people genuinely love debate…”

Rong Xinxin looked surprised. “Of course not. What nonsense are you talking about? These people genuinely love you.”

“…”

“No choice. High school academic pressure is high. If they have to join a club, everyone chooses those who can take them to play. I saw through this long ago.” Rong Xinxin sighed, then perked up again. “So I think, rather than not even gathering enough people every year, it’s better to think of other ways to trick people in first. Whether we can play exciting matches isn’t important. What’s important is letting more people understand and know debate. I think that’s very meaningful.”

Xie Lan paused slightly upon hearing this.

Makes sense. In the words of fans, this wave—her ideological awareness was in the atmosphere (next level).

Beside him, Dou Sheng suddenly burst out laughing.

Dou Sheng said leisurely, “You really know how to swindle. You’re a talent.”

Rong Xinxin smoothed her hair and said shyly, “That’s right.”

Xie Lan: “…”

---

One hundred application forms. Screening them made Xie Lan want to die. After returning to the dorm, he sat at his desk and buried his head in screening for an hour, but didn’t pick out a single one.

Leaving aside “Personal Strengths”—anyway, everyone was at least better than him.

The main issue was the “Reason for Joining”—

“‘Hope to catch up to President Xie Lan soon!'” Dou Sheng read in a clear voice, clicking his tongue. “Are they sure?”

“‘I want to gallop through debate competitions with SilentWaves, slaughtering all sides, invincible.'” Dou Sheng laughed. “This little bro obviously doesn’t know you well enough.”

“‘I’m joining the Debate Club not for Xie Lan, but because I genuinely love this Debate Club. Parenthesis: I can provide one-on-one Chinese tutoring for the senior.'” Dou Sheng’s face suddenly went cold. He turned the application form sideways, pinched the middle, tore it open with a rip, and shredded it into pieces in a few moves, muttering, “Dream on.”

Xie Lan looked at him gloomily from the side, speechless.

Seeing he had no clue, Dou Sheng simply took over the remaining work.

“‘Joining the club for the rise of Senior Xie Lan’s Chinese!’ Hey, I think this one works. Very clear-headed. Hmm… past experience is good too, debated in junior high.”

“‘Don’t know debate, want to try before senior year, and conveniently admire the senior up close.’ This one works too, very frank.”

“‘Competed before, hope to contribute to the Yinghua Debate Club under the leadership of our spiritual leader.’ This one isn’t bad either; knows you can only be a spiritual leader.”

Xie Lan watched him screen people rapidly, looking up at the ceiling speechlessly.

Dou Sheng’s tone suddenly became serious. “If you really don’t want to, you can reject Rong Xinxin directly. She can swindle, but she wouldn’t force you.”

“I know,” Xie Lan said.

But… regardless of whether what Rong Xinxin said today was a swindle or not, he took it to heart.

Xie Lan lowered his eyes. “Actually, the Debate Club won’t take up too much energy. I can skip competing and only be responsible for topic selection and reviewing drafts.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Dou Sheng smiled. “I think it’s not bad either. Your progress in Chinese scores is a bit slow now. Old Qin said rote memorization and exam techniques can only help you get to eighty or ninety points. Going higher is the gap brought by over a decade of cultural divide; it’s hard to achieve quickly. Even if you don’t debate yourself, watching others speak is a method.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Xie Lan flipped through the application forms under his hand and said sincerely, “I really feel debate is an embodiment of the profoundness of Chinese. I have that sense of mission for inheritance.”

He paused, then looked up and asked, “Do you have it?”

Dou Sheng looked serious, gazing at him.

“I don’t,” Dou Sheng said.

Xie Lan: “…”

So depressing.

Noises came from the corridor outside. The voices of Wang Gou and Dai You talking grew from distant to near, discussing the new competition problems assigned by Old Ma. In a blink, they were outside the door.

Xie Lan was listlessly organizing those forms. Dou Sheng suddenly came to his side and placed a form on his desk. “I think this one is acceptable.”

The moment the door handle was pressed down, Dou Sheng suddenly bent down, lifted Xie Lan’s chin, and kissed him on the lips like a dragonfly skimming water.

In just one second, he straightened up and said lazily to the two opening the door, “Is the water room crowded?”

“It’s okay.” Dai You and the others saw nothing. “Anyway, not much of a line.”

Dou Sheng rolled his wrist. “Then I’ll go wash up.”

Xie Lan sat in his seat without moving, his whole body numb.

Just a little bit more, and Dai You and Wang Gou would have discovered him and Dou Sheng secretly kissing in the room.

He turned back somewhat blankly, watching that tall, thin figure in a white T-shirt disappear from the doorway into the noisy, bustling atmosphere of the corridor.

Very agitated. Not because of Dou Sheng’s dangerous move, but because this kiss didn’t have time to deepen.

Maybe it was too hot. In the heat, people would inexplicably generate terrible distracting thoughts.

He lowered his eyes to calm himself for a while before picking up that approved application form, preparing to send a text message.

Hmm?

Paper-clipped to the application form was a soft phoenix tree petal.

Applicant: Dou Sheng.

Year 2 Math/Science Class A.

Personal Strengths: Fully understands President Xie Lan, cherishes him with extra care.

Reason for Joining: Hope to accompany President Xie Lan to carry forward the broken little club, striving for the small goal of passing the Gaokao Chinese passing line.