Xie Lan glanced at Dou Sheng, then looked back at the screen—the comments were in a complete frenzy.

• What’s the situation?
• A “certain director” next door?
• Juvenile on the Strings?
• What’s the status of “Strings” anyway?
• I heard they hired someone else.
• So Lan-zai had a falling out with the director?
• Dou-zi, Dou-zi, spill the tea!

Dou Sheng let out a yawn. “I just said it offhandedly, don’t start a riot. You think there’s only one project in the world? There are plenty of people lining up to work with Xie Lan.”

“…”

Are you serious, bro?

Xie Lan cleared his throat. “Let’s just watch the anime quietly. Thank you, Mr. Producer. I’ll check my private messages later.”

Fortunately, the chat didn’t linger too long on that little interlude. After finishing the finale with the viewers and chatting for a bit, Xie Lan excused himself, saying he had class tomorrow, and went offline.

He closed the stream and fished Ju Jiu out from his Weibo private messages.

[Ju Jiu]: The second season of “Shao Shi” is in preparation, and we’re going to invest heavily in this high-potential project. Are you interested in being in charge of the OP and ED arrangements? We’ve looked into your previous collaboration with Ling Xi. This time, you can play to your strengths: you write the main body of the songs and grant us a limited degree of adjustment rights. Of course, you’ll have final supervision. Price-wise, it won’t be lower than the quote for “Strings”.

“Now that’s what I call sincere,” Dou Sheng remarked with a “tsk.” “Once bitten, twice shy. I just looked him up—his reputation is solid. Music and art producers who’ve worked with Tian Ya Shen Wang before have high praise for the company.”

Xie Lan gave an “mm,” replied with his WeChat ID, and made an appointment to discuss the details later.

Tomorrow would be the very last day of the provincial training camp. While Dou Sheng stayed in the room for a final sprint editing the “Pretend Boyfriend” video, Xie Lan slipped out alone into the corridor to take a call.

He cupped his hand over his mouth and the microphone, keeping his voice very low.

“Yeah, this weekend afternoon. Renting for four hours.”

“I don’t need staff. Can you provide everything on the list I sent?”

“Just me going alone. Alright, see you then.”

Hanging up, Xie Lan breathed a sigh of relief and peeked through the glass of the dorm door. Dou Sheng was focused on the screen, his slender finger resting on the left mouse button, clicking briskly.

Luckily, he hadn’t noticed the commotion outside.

Just as he relaxed, his phone buzzed. It was the secret small group Che Ziming had started: “Dou-dou is Gone.”

As the name suggested, there was no “Dou” in the group; it was a secret organization for discussing Dou Sheng’s birthday gifts.

Che Ziming dropped a bunch of links into the chat: “Comrades, how does this year’s gift list look?”

The list was a motley crew: a DSLR lens, a microphone, a canvas bag, cat health insurance, a book titled How to Take the Most Beautiful Photos of Your Boyfriend/Girlfriend…

• Fei Yu: Claiming the DSLR lens.
• Latte Coffee: I’ll take the microphone then.
• Cherry: I’ll claim the backpack.
• Afternoon Grape Ice: Wait, you guys decided that easily?
• Cherry: What else? Buying anything at all is giving him a lot of face.

Xie Lan was a bit dazed by the chat. The gifts were all suitable for Dou Sheng, but as his actual boyfriend, he didn’t want to be lumped in with this group.

• Wang Gou Wang Wang: Looking at the prices, I can only claim How to Take the Most Beautiful Photos of Your Boyfriend/Girlfriend. @Afternoon Grape Ice, does Xie Lan think that’s okay?

That book was indeed the most budget-friendly. Xie Lan replied: “Whatever, why are you asking me?”

• Wang Gou Wang Wang: Just asking, don’t mind me haha. Then I’ll go with that.

Four out of the five gifts were picked, leaving only the “Cat Health Insurance” for Xie Lan. He clicked it, puzzled, and found it was an actual pet insurance policy. It might be okay if someone else gave it to Dou Sheng, but for his boyfriend to give it was absurd.

• Cherry: How about Xie Lan gives the cat health insurance?
• Xie Lan: (Expressionless) Great, I’ll send that then.
• Cherry: [Cheers GIF]
• Cherry: It’s a deal then. According to tradition, we’ll mix all these gifts in one box without names. Our friendships are equal; no “involution” allowed.
• Wang Gou Wang Wang: That’s how we’re doing it? I feel like I’m mopping off everyone else, especially Fei Yu who’s buying the lens.
• Fei Yu: Doesn’t matter. Money isn’t worth much to me.
• Wang Gou Wang Wang: Who’s in charge of organizing? We agreed no “involution”—what if someone secretly stuffs in an extra gift?

The group fell silent for a moment. Xie Lan was currently looking up what “involution” (neijuan) meant online when a message from Dai You popped up at the top.

• Latte Coffee: Easy. Give the coordination to the honest man. I propose Xie Lan collects them. No one is allowed to secretly give extra.

Perfect.

Xie Lan breathed a sigh of relief and replied calmly: “Leave it to me, everyone rest easy. I will not allow any secret extra gifts to happen.”

Except for my own.

Everyone cheered: “Hooray!”

---

The next morning, the results of the final training camp exam were posted on the blackboard. Xie Lan and Dou Sheng squeezed into the crowd to look at the slip of paper.

1. Xie Lan: Full Marks
2. Dou Sheng: 92
3. Geng Rui: 91
4. Li Yuening, Dai You (tie): 88

Old Ma and the two coaches were chatting in the corridor. Old Ma looked radiant. He caught Xie Lan’s eye and gave him a playful wink.

Geng Rui lamented behind Xie Lan, “Boss, you actually solved that difficult number theory problem?”

Xie Lan pulled back his gaze. “I’ve been practicing that area for the past half month; there has to be some result.”

“…That ‘has to be’ doesn’t apply to normal people.” Geng Rui looked pale and sighed. “I am a normal person.”

Everyone was buzzing about the League exam. After discussing grades, they moved to rumors. Xie Lan squeezed out of the crowd, hearing people say that starting from this final camp exam, university admissions offices would begin scouting top students.

As he and Dou Sheng left the room, they saw Li Yuening in the corridor talking to Coach Kang. Coach Kang was usually stern during lectures, but because the camp was ending, his demeanor was much softer.

Xie Lan walked past and caught him whispering to Li Yuening: “Both you and Dai You did well. This year’s batch is quite strong. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, and don’t keep staring at others. League quotas are unpredictable; for most of you, this is just one extra path. I heard you’re an all-rounder—Rank 1 in your grade all through sophomore year?”

Li Yuening gave an “mm.” “Thank you, Coach. I understand.”

Old Ma, standing nearby, said in surprise, “Always Rank 1? That’s great. Our Xie Lan can only pin his hopes on the competition. This overseas kid’s Chinese grade really can’t be bumped up. It’s quite heartbreaking.”

“Huh?” Li Yuening blinked. “Chinese?”

Old Ma chuckled. “You probably haven’t experienced the terror of being dominated by Xie Lan’s Chinese.”

Xie Lan and Dou Sheng deliberately stayed behind, waiting for Li Yuening to leave before approaching. As soon as Dou Sheng saw Old Ma, he said unhappily, “Do you have to bring up Xie Lan’s weaknesses to comfort others?”

Old Ma asked back in surprise, “Is Xie Lan’s poor Chinese a weakness?”

Dou Sheng was silenced. He instinctively turned to Xie Lan. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Xie Lan glanced at him and hitched his backpack higher. “I heard what you said.”

“…”

Dou Sheng opened his mouth, but couldn’t scrape together a single explanation.

Old Ma gave Dou Sheng a cunning smile, then patted Xie Lan’s shoulder. “Come with me, I have a few things to ask you.”

The other end of the corridor was quiet. Xie Lan stood by the window and heard Old Ma ask, “You were shortlisted for the IMO before returning to China?”

“Hmm?” Xie Lan snapped out of his daze. “Ah, yes.”

Old Ma sighed. “Why didn’t you tell the teachers something so important?”

Xie Lan looked blank. “I didn’t?”

“You only said you took the AMC and did ‘okay’.” Old Ma frowned. “You didn’t say your AMC percentile was in the top 1%, nor that you had already been selected for a national team abroad, preparing for international competitions.”

Xie Lan gave an “oh.” “I probably forgot. I was a bit dazed by the exams when school started.”

“…”

Old Ma laughed in exasperation. “Fine. A teacher from the Education Bureau came to ask today, and I looked like a fool knowing nothing. What a mess…”

Xie Lan was surprised. “Education Bureau?”

“Likely commissioned by university admissions offices,” Old Ma explained. He didn’t elaborate on what this background check meant, standing by the window appearing somewhat pensive.

Xie Lan hesitated for a moment, about to leave, when Old Ma suddenly looked back at him, his tone hesitant.

“You and Dou Sheng…”

“Hmm?”

Xie Lan’s heart instantly tightened. His hand at his side clenched unconsciously.

Old Ma seemed to struggle, pausing for a long time before asking, “What are your and Dou Sheng’s plans for the next step?”

“Us?” Xie Lan’s heart nearly stopped. Unsure how to answer, he said vaguely, “I want to go to T University to study math. Dou Sheng… I don’t know, he’ll definitely aim for the top two, but I don’t know what major he’ll choose.”

“I see…”

Old Ma exhaled, whether in relief or contemplation.

The atmosphere was subtle. Xie Lan couldn’t help but ask, “Teacher… why do you ask?”

“Nothing.” Old Ma waved him off and pulled out his phone. “I just happened to think—I’ve sent several students to T University over the years. If you want to go there, you can add one of them in advance to make it easier to ask questions.”

“Ah, sure.” Xie Lan breathed a long sigh of relief and pulled out his phone. “I’ll add him.”

The contact Old Ma sent had a Bulbasaur profile picture. The nickname was a real name: He Xiu.

“This one is the most reliable. You can ask him anything—studies, life, career choices… anyway, you can ask him. He’s experienced a lot of things.” Old Ma’s tone was breezy as he patted Xie Lan’s shoulder. “You’re a rising senior now, and the League is just around the corner. With a bit of summer left, take good care of your condition.”

“Mm.” Xie Lan looked at the profile picture. “Thank you, Teacher.”

For some reason, he felt Old Ma was being cryptic today. But with his shallow Chinese conversational skills, he couldn’t quite digest the subtext.

---

After the paper review in the afternoon, this year’s provincial training officially came to an end.

Students said their goodbyes at the English High gate. Some lingered, but most hurried to catch their rides. Xie Lan and Dou Sheng came out with their bags and happened to see Geng Rui and Li Yuening sharing a taxi.

“Bye!” Geng Rui waved reluctantly. “See you again if fate allows, bosses!”

Dou Sheng gave a casual wave. Li Yuening looked at Xie Lan as if he wanted to say something, but after a long hesitation, he only whispered, “Good luck with the League.”

“You too.” Xie Lan’s smile was peaceful. “Good luck.”

As the car drove away, Dou Sheng’s face dropped instantly. He hooked an arm around Xie Lan’s shoulder. “Tell me ‘good luck,’ quick, or I’ll get angry right here.”

“…” Xie Lan pried him off. “I’m not telling you.”

Dou Sheng frowned. “Why not? Give me some luck too.”

“I won’t.” Xie Lan walked straight ahead to hail a cab.

Dou Sheng grabbed his hand mid-air. As the taxi approached, Xie Lan scrambled to break free and opened the door. Unexpectedly, just as he sat down, someone squeezed his fingertips.

“Boyfriend, be kind. Give some ‘luck’ to my part-time work plan tonight,” Dou Sheng whispered in his ear.

“…”

The driver looked back at them. “Where to?”

“Wangjiang Liying,” Xie Lan said, restraining his panic. “East Gate.”

The driver nodded and turned the car around. Dou Sheng continued to sigh in Xie Lan’s ear, “Busy with exams, haven’t worked in so long, I’m practically laid off.”

“…Please shut up.”

When they got home, the cleaning lady hadn’t left yet. Zhao Wenying’s suitcase was also home; apparently, her business trip ended early and she’d gone to the supermarket herself.

Dou Sheng entered with a wide smile, but his expression turned blank upon hearing the news. Xie Lan suppressed a laugh, though he felt a bit of regret too. After so many days of preparing for exams without being intimate with his boyfriend, saying he didn’t miss it would be a total lie.

He walked to his door and hesitated. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Go ahead,” Dou Sheng sighed. “Part-time work failed; seeking another day.”

“Mm.”

With Zhao Wenying back, they had to be restrained.

Xie Lan tidied up his things, took a thorough shower, and sat on his bed staring into space. Before long, Dou Sheng knocked on the door and whispered, “Master—”

Xie Lan looked up with an inquiring gaze. Dou Sheng pointed to his phone. “I am the long-awaited video; I am in position.”

Video? Ah. The “Pretend Boyfriend” video.

Xie Lan quickly checked his phone. The fresh video had been posted ten minutes ago and already had tens of thousands of views.

The first frame was a low-angle shot: sunlight filtering through mottled plane tree leaves under a cloudless sky, the leaves swaying gently in the wind. Accompanied by the intense sunlight, Xie Lan’s voice sounded off-camera: “Can you walk a bit faster?”

“Coming,” Dou Sheng replied.

The camera tilted down from the sky back to the campus. Xie Lan, wearing a white T-shirt, stood in the shade looking back at Dou Sheng, then shifted his gaze to the lens. “Filming again?” His tone held the slight laziness of someone who hadn’t fully woken up, followed by a yawn.

Dou Sheng gave an “mm.” “Can you get into character? That sounds so fake.”

“Oh, okay.” Xie Lan stood up straight, waited for Dou Sheng to reach him, and continued walking.

Dou Sheng adjusted the camera to the front-facing lens to include Xie Lan in the frame, making a peace sign. “What are we eating tonight?”

Xie Lan said calmly, “Whatever my boyfriend wants.”

The frame froze and gradually faded, returning after a long moment to the swaying leaves under the sun. White subtitles slowly appeared: [Pretend I Have a Boyfriend | July VLOG | Math Competition Training | A Story of Genius Love]

This segment was ordinary, but as a teaser, it was explosive. The moment that soft, low “Whatever my boyfriend wants” came out, the bullet comments completely covered the screen.

• AAAAAA!
• Boyfriend! Lan-zai said ‘boyfriend’!
• I’m squirming in my bed!
• SO EXCITED!!!!

Xie Lan instinctively looked back. Luckily, Dou Sheng had sensibly returned to his own room. Otherwise, if two people who were “acting for real” watched this together, something would surely happen.

Xie Lan turned the volume down, closed the door, and continued watching.

Dou Sheng’s lazy narration began: “When making this video, I thought of many romantic scripts—Ferris wheels, cinemas, Western restaurants… but in the end, I used none of them. I seriously envisioned what it would be like to be with Xie Lan, and the answer I got was: daily life. Going to school together, eating, sleeping, filming, and editing.”

“We are just two ordinary high schoolers. Studying and filming take up 49% of our energy; the remaining 51% is for each other.”

The VLOG, recorded intermittently over the holidays, was condensed into a refined ten-minute “memory gallery.”

On a midsummer afternoon, the camera was hidden in a pencil case. It first sneakily filmed Coach Kang’s stern face at the podium, then panned back, scanning the tired, dazed faces of the students before finally settling on Xie Lan. When Xie Lan appeared, the atmosphere instantly freshened. He was looking down seriously at a problem, his brow slightly furrowed.

Dou Sheng’s hand entered the frame, lightly tugging his sleeve. “Boyfriend—” Dou Sheng whispered off-camera.

Xie Lan replied, “What?”

“It’s too hot. I want to buy you an ice cream during break.”

Xie Lan put down his pen and looked over, his eyes meeting the lens. “Recording again?”

“Just casually filming,” Dou Sheng said. “I’ll go buy you an ice cream, okay?”

“It’s okay, but…” Xie Lan paused, hesitating. “It’s too sunny outside, I—”

“I said I’m going to buy it for you,” Dou Sheng said satisfyingly. “You just wait and eat; no need to accompany me.”

Dou Sheng gave a “tsk” in the narration: “Viewers, if Xie Lan were really my boyfriend, based on this, I’d be bullied to death for the rest of my life.”

The chat erupted in laughter.

• LOL, world-class ‘latching on’.
• You’re the one who volunteered to be a simp, thanks.
• Humble Dou.
• I don’t care, Dou-zi is so charming ugh.
• Lan-zai is being taken care of so well.
• Buy him that ice cream!!!

The scene shifted, running bumpily through the corridor before returning to the familiar desk. Xie Lan tore open the ice cream wrapper. The milky white ice cream flashed in the frame, which only caught from his neck down and the pale wrist of the hand holding the treat. He took a bite, taking a couple of sharp breaths from the cold.

“Good?” Dou Sheng’s voice asked.

Xie Lan gave an “mm.” “Want a taste?”

In the frame, his sleeve extended to cover most of the view. Though his face wasn’t visible, he was clearly holding the ice cream to the lips of the person on the other side of the lens. After a moment, his arm retracted.

Dou Sheng smacked his lips with satisfaction. “So milky.”

“Mm,” Xie Lan picked up his pen again. “Sweet.”

Dou Sheng asked, “Can you wear that matching T-shirt tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Xie Lan said, reaching up to tug his collar. He murmured, “I just realized, did I wear your clothes out by mistake again?”

Dou Sheng sighed, “Yeah.”

Xie Lan stared at the screen, a bit dazed. During the entire filming process, he hadn’t felt like there was any overly explicit material, but for some reason, seeing these intermittent daily fragments on screen, the romantic atmosphere was so overwhelming it felt like the whole screen was dripping with ambiguity. From the start, the screaming in the chat never stopped.

• I’m crying. Eating the same popsicle isn’t ‘acting for real’?
• Wearing each other’s clothes isn’t ‘acting for real’?
• Running out in the rain with an umbrella just to walk those few meters to pick him up isn’t ‘acting for real’?
• Squatting down to tie his shoelaces isn’t ‘acting for real’?
• Do you and your ‘pretend’ boyfriend look at each other so naturally and lovingly every day?!
• Do you buy meals for your ‘pretend’ boyfriend for a whole month?!
• Do you spend your free time drawing sketches of your ‘pretend’ boyfriend on scratch paper?! Writing his name?!
• Crying. I don’t know if it’s real or fake, but I think Dou-zi is truly in love.

The cuts were fast, but the scenes felt slow. The two boys frozen in the vignettes were slow too. They were always walking side-by-side slowly through every shaded path on campus. The lens focused on their two shadows overlapping on the ground; the one on the left was often filmed resting his chin on the shoulder of the one on the right.

Like two lazy cats clinging to each other on a midsummer afternoon.

Dou Sheng filmed many shots of Xie Lan’s back, repeatedly boasting to the audience about his boyfriend’s superior physique, beautiful voice, and how even a calm gaze was gentle. He secretly followed Xie Lan to record him running late, whispering sneakily into the mic: “Look at those two tufts of ‘idiot hair’ on Xie Lan’s head—don’t they look so artistic when he runs?”

Then Xie Lan would brake at the classroom door and look back. Dou Sheng would instantly tilt the camera to the ground and say calmly, “Luckily we made it. You’re great.” With the lens on their white shoes, they’d walk hurriedly back to their seats. Then Xie Lan, breathing shallowly, would say, “Stop filming.”

The screen would then go dark obediently.

…

In the second-to-last clip, the camera focused on the score sheet at the podium. It was the sheet before the final exam; Xie Lan had maintained Rank 1 for seven consecutive days, his name printed high at the top. The line below him was Dou Sheng.

Dou Sheng cleared his throat in the narration: “In math, I’m definitely being pinned down by my boyfriend. But only in this area. Ahem.”

• Damn, I get it.
• I’m stunned. Are you two real or fake?!
• Delete the word ‘Pretend’ from the title, NOW!
• Don’t make me come to your house to catch you in the act!!

The further Xie Lan watched, the faster his heart beat. To others, this might be a half-real commercial video, but to him, it felt like a detailed and shocking record of “evidence.” He dragged the progress bar to the very end.

It was from an unknown day. Xie Lan was sitting in his seat staring out the window at the bright afternoon. The camera was behind and to his side, as if staring at him in a daze.

The narration said: “No matter what Xie Lan and I actually are, beautiful days are forever cherished.”

After a pause of a few seconds, the frame returned to the initial shot. Dou Sheng’s voice became light and cheerful, saying with a smile: “That’s today’s program! I made this video for the Top 100 Creators event, but I really gained a lot of feelings during the filming. Ah, I don’t know what to say. I hope this ‘pretend boyfriend’ video adds a little sweetness to everyone’s summer! See you in the next video.”

“By the way, a solemn declaration: Xie Lan is pretending to be my boyfriend in the video. Please enjoy responsibly.”

• “For the Top 100”
• “Pretending”
• LOL, you can’t tell it’s fake at all.
• It feels ethereal, yet every scene feels like ironclad proof. AAA I’m going crazy!
• I will cherish every frame forever. Big Cat and Small Cat forever together!

Xie Lan watched those comments, paused the video, rewound five seconds, and listened again. Dou Sheng’s light voice rang out once more: “A solemn declaration: Xie Lan is pretending to be my boyfriend in the video.”

Pause.

Perhaps because Dou Sheng’s tone put the emphasis on “pretending,” the entire screen was filled with screams, praise, and jokes; no one heard the ambiguity in that sentence.

But if you turned off the sound and only looked at the subtitles… Xie Lan’s Chinese wasn’t great, but he caught it.

Hidden between the lines was a code that perhaps only a boyfriend could decipher.