“Do you really think Auntie Zhao believed you?”

“Of course not. At most, she believed it for ten seconds. But that’s not important. What matters is that as soon as she deduces the motivation behind such a lie, she’ll understand we are serious.”

—Xie Lan spent the entire trip pondering Dou Sheng’s final words, but he couldn’t wrap his head around them.

He arrived at the Northwest Gate of T University with a head full of confusion. As soon as he got out of the car, he met He Xiu, shouldered his backpack, and hurried straight to the Physics and Math Building.

It was late August, and the T University campus was lush with green trees and blooming flowers. Students hurried past clutching books and laptops; bicycles whistled by Xie Lan as they coasted down slopes, catching the wind.

He Xiu showed his student ID at the entrance of the Physics and Math Building and paused to wait for Xie Lan.

Xie Lan stood under the shade of the entrance, turning back to take in the university.

He had been to many top-tier institutions in the UK and US—schools with elegant, solemn architecture and perfectly manicured gardens—but none felt quite like T University at this moment. A dense academic atmosphere, coupled with the heavy weight of history, washed over him, filling him with a sense of joy.

Xie Lan jogged a few steps to catch up with He Xiu.

“How does it feel?” He Xiu asked with a faint smile.

“A bit surprising.”

“Surprising?” He Xiu was unexpected. “In what way?”

Xie Lan thought for a moment. “I used to think ‘scholarly air’ was very solemn…” He wasn’t sure if ‘solemn’ was the right word, so he paused and continued, “But just now, I felt the scholarly air here is very… lively.”

He Xiu curled his lips into a smile and ascended the stairs. “It is indeed,” he said softly.

The written exam took place in a small classroom. There was a professor named Wu, in his forties, and He Xiu. After a brief introduction, they dove straight into it. He Xiu pulled a paper from a file bag and placed it face down on Xie Lan’s desk.

“Three hours. Choose two problems out of three. You may begin.”

Xie Lan didn’t understand the “choose 2 out of 3” format at first, but once he flipped the paper and scanned the problems, he understood. An IMO (International Mathematical Olympiad) session lasts 4.5 hours for 3 problems; the admissions office had set his time based on this average problem-solving duration.

The IMO and domestic Chinese math competitions followed different patterns, but this felt like a long-lost familiarity. Among the three problems was a “Hunter and Rabbit” type—a variation of an incredibly difficult IMO problem from years past. The admissions office likely assumed this one wouldn’t be chosen, so they kindly placed it last. The first two were fairly standard.

Xie Lan felt a surge of excitement holding the paper.

The T University admissions office was very considerate; they had given him an English paper. It had been a long time. He couldn’t help but cherishly stroke the printed text on the page.

Professor Wu and He Xiu sat at the front. He Xiu also had a copy of the paper and leaned in to whisper a question to Professor Wu; the professor pointed at the paper and replied briefly. After a long while, He Xiu nodded and glanced down, only to see that Xie Lan was already calculating rapidly on his paper.

For three hours, Xie Lan fought a long-overdue, exhilarating battle.

Domestic competitions couldn’t provide this experience. There, his mental and physical exhaustion was steady; while he occasionally felt confused by a prompt or spent time pondering a tricky question, it felt like doing ordinary math puzzles. IMO problems were different. Each one felt like an entire math exam on its own. Brain cells burned furiously as he sought that thrill in a cycle of derivation and refutation; even hitting ten dead ends felt like a form of masochistic joy.

He muttered to himself, using up a thick stack of scratch paper. Every now and then, he would toss his pen on the desk to suck on his finger before picking it up and continuing. He Xiu shifted several times at the podium, looking like he wanted to come over and check, but he refrained for fear of disturbing him.

Ten minutes before the end, Xie Lan sat up straight.

He tossed his pen aside and raised his hand. “I’d like to turn in my paper.”

He Xiu was about to stand up, but Professor Wu pressed his hand down and smiled at Xie Lan. “Try the last one too. We won’t count the time. If you have an approach, write it down.”

“I did write it,” Xie Lan hesitated, picking up the light exam paper and the thick stack of scratch paper. “I’ve finished all three.”

The classroom fell silent for a moment. Both Professor Wu and He Xiu were visibly stunned.

Xie Lan explained honestly, “The hidden rabbit problem was a real exam question from a few years ago. My old coach went through it with me. This version changed the premise, but a small part remained similar, and it was simpler than the original, so I tried it.”

Professor Wu let out an “Oh—” and glanced at He Xiu.

He Xiu remained calm, standing up to take the paper. “And the other two?”

“I hadn’t seen the other two before,” Xie Lan said. “They felt okay once I got into them.”

Professor Wu asked kindly, “You grew up in the UK, why did you take the AMC path instead of the BMO?”

“They are quite similar,” Xie Lan replied. “One is American, one is British. I’ve taken both. But the AMC has higher global recognition, and… my father had planned for me to apply to American schools.”

Professor Wu nodded. “Did you ever officially join a national team in the UK or US?”

Xie Lan shook his head. “I didn’t have time. I only worked with a training camp coach, and he trained me quite a bit.”

Professor Wu nodded, taking the paper from He Xiu to look through it.

Xie Lan stood there waiting, sucking on his finger again.

After a full ten minutes, Professor Wu looked up. “That’s all for today. We’ll discuss the signing tomorrow. Is this your first time at T University?”

Xie Lan was stunned. His schedule said an interview tomorrow; it hadn’t mentioned signing.

But he still replied, “Yes, first time.”

“Then have He Xiu show you around tonight.” Professor Wu patted He Xiu’s arm. “This one isn’t from our department; he’s a student assistant for the admissions office this year. Go see the campus with him. Oh, right, isn’t there some joint music festival at the School of Architecture tonight?”

He Xiu smiled. “Yes, co-hosted by our student union and the Central Conservatory of Music. I’ll take my junior to relax a bit.”

Xie Lan didn’t quite understand, but it sounded impressive.

He bid the professor goodbye and walked out with He Xiu. Once they left the classroom, He Xiu became much more approachable. “How do you feel?” he asked with a smile.

Xie Lan also breathed a sigh of relief. “Pretty good. It’s been a long time since I’ve done an English paper.”

He Xiu asked casually, “I saw you tossing your pen repeatedly. Which problem had you stuck?”

“It wasn’t that, Senior,” Xie Lan sighed. “I have a splinter in my fingertip.”

He Xiu’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

From Xie Lan’s angle, his facial features seemed slightly stiff. He looked over at Xie Lan. “What kind of splinter?”

Xie Lan held up his right index finger. “Right here. Can you see it?”

He Xiu kept a certain distance but leaned in as close as possible to look. He shook his head. “I can’t see it.”

“I can’t see it either,” Xie Lan retracted his hand, gently rubbing the spot with his thumb. “It’s clearly there, but I just can’t see it. I guess this is what they call ‘turning a blind eye’ (shì ruò wú dǔ).”

“…?”

He Xiu wore a confused expression that contrasted sharply with his cool, handsome face.

Xie Lan had thought the written exam would follow the pace of domestic competitions—about an hour—but it had taken nearly four. It was mid-afternoon when they entered, but as they walked downstairs, the light through the corridor windows showed it was already evening.

Nearby was a low, circular teaching building. A large group of students was pouring out, and the wind carried the sounds of their laughter and chatter through the window.

He Xiu spoke as they descended the stairs: “The admissions office wanted to recruit you directly, but Professor Wu was a bit hesitant. That paper today probably convinced him completely. Based on what he said, you’ll likely be exempted from the interview.”

Xie Lan walked beside him with his backpack, appearing lost in thought.

“Xie Lan?” He Xiu called out.

“Hmm?” Xie Lan snapped back to reality. “What is it?”

He Xiu laughed. “What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing…” They passed another window, facing the opposite direction toward a patch of shade. Xie Lan’s gaze swept over the lush green leaves, and he gave a light sigh.

He suddenly missed Dou Sheng.

Even though they had eaten dinner together at home just yesterday, it felt like they had been apart for a long time.

18:18. Dou Sheng should have gotten off the high-speed train by now. They would likely meet soon.

Thinking of this, Xie Lan’s mood lifted slightly. “What kind of music festival did Professor Wu mention?”

He Xiu smiled. “It’s at our school, starting soon. I’ll take you there.”

You? (Plural)

As Xie Lan stepped off the last few stairs of the first floor, the doors of the building were wide open. A familiar figure was leaning against a tree outside.

It was the person he had just been thinking about.

Dou Sheng was idly pulling at a thin, tough branch hanging near his face, debating whether to send Xie Lan a message. If he didn’t, waiting was a bit boring; if he did, he was afraid of interrupting the exam.

“Dou Sheng.”

The evening breeze suddenly carried Xie Lan’s voice to his ears.

Dou Sheng turned around, caught off guard. Xie Lan ran down the last few steps like the wind and crashed into him. He instinctively opened his arms to catch his boyfriend, pulling him into a hug.

A teenage hug is a collision of hard surfaces—bone against bone. It feels like you have to press against each other until it hurts to prove how close the relationship is.

But if the relationship goes a step further, you realize that beneath it all, they are still soft.

“I’ve been waiting for you here.” Dou Sheng slid his fingers into the gaps between Xie Lan’s, squeezing tight.

Xie Lan nodded and immediately asked, “How is Auntie Zhao?”

“Sleeping at home. She didn’t sleep well last night,” Dou Sheng said, then instinctively reached to squeeze his finger before pausing. “Did you get the splinter out?”

“No.” The mention made his fingertip ache again. “Help me check it tonight when we get back.”

Only after saying this did Xie Lan remember He Xiu. He turned back, feeling a bit embarrassed, only to see He Xiu walking over with a smile, stuffing his phone into his pocket.

“Let’s go. My boyfriend has claimed a picnic blanket over there, and it’s about to be overrun.”

The music festival was outdoors, held on an open lawn between two teaching buildings and a thin grove of trees. The center was a hollowed-out pit surrounded by slopes, which were covered in picnic blankets. Students gathered in groups of three or five, chatting and playing; a few people had claimed hammocks between large trees, reading on tablets under the moonlight.

Two student bands from the Central Conservatory of Music had come—one orchestral and one folk. They played as the mood struck, their music interlaced, and the surroundings were immersed in a relaxed atmosphere.

As Xie Lan and the others entered, they saw a pale boy in a red T-shirt jumping up and down and waving not far away.

He Xiu’s “boyfriend” was the boy they had seen from a distance at the English High administration building.

They navigated through the picnic blankets. The boy rushed over and hung off He Xiu, half-hiding behind his back, waving at Xie Lan and Dou Sheng. “Hello, juniors! Finished the exam?”

Xie Lan nodded and took off his backpack. “Hello, Senior. I’m Xie Lan.”

Dou Sheng took his bag and tossed it onto the grass nearby. “I’m Dou Sheng.”

“I’m Ye Si. Have a seat.” Ye Si plopped down and pulled He Xiu down too, then quickly began tearing open paper bags on the ground.

The bags were printed with “Pang Ge Roast Skewers.”

“This place is amazing,” Ye Si said. “The big bag is spicy, the small one isn’t. Take whatever you want.”

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a giant thermos. “I also brought peach wine and ice. Made it myself. It’s quite strong.”

He Xiu leaned in to sniff it. “Is it time?”

“It is, it is. I’ve been sneak-drinking it for a week.” Ye Si filled four cups. “Come on, future junior, let’s have a toast.”

Xie Lan had been preparing to break the ice, but it seemed there was no ice to break. He looked at Dou Sheng, who raised his cup naturally, so he joined in. The four of them bumped cups casually.

The peach wine was very cold. The first sip was a rush of sweet peach to the head, followed by the flavor of alcohol spreading across the tongue—it was indeed potent. Xie Lan drank half a cup in one go; as he set it down, he felt a wave of dizziness surge toward his forehead like a tide, only receding slowly after a moment.

Dou Sheng finished his cup in two gulps, and Ye Si refilled it. Dou Sheng told Xie Lan, “Have a bit less, you have an interview tomorrow.”

He Xiu laughed. “I expect they’ll just negotiate terms and sign tomorrow. Our junior did great on the written exam today.”

Dou Sheng’s lips curled, but he quickly returned to a calm expression and gave a slight nod. “Xie Lan is always great.”

The scent of roasted meat and cumin mingled with the smell of alcohol. Xie Lan sat next to Ye Si. He wasn’t sure if it was an illusion, but he thought he smelled a faint scent of disinfectant on him.

“Senior, are you also at T University?”

Ye Si mumbled while biting a meat skewer, “Just call me by my name, none of this ‘Senior’ business. I’m from next door (P University).”

Dou Sheng nodded. “What’s your major?”

“Clinical Medicine.”

Xie Lan was stunned. “A med student?”

He Xiu chimed in with a smile, “Impressive, right? He’ll be Dr. Ye in a few years.”

Ye Si kicked him. “Stop jinxing me. If the hospital internship doesn’t accept me next year, I’ll kill you.”

Dou Sheng then asked about their Gaokao year. Xie Lan listened to their chat with one ear and the band with the other.

Two violinists had come tonight; both were quite good, and one was exceptional—a senior in a black dress. On the other side, the pipa player was also incredible. What seemed like a casual student band had a luxurious configuration, featuring pipa and drums. A surge of high-spirited pipa playing completely entranced Xie Lan. When it ended, the whole venue applauded, and someone shouted the song title: Qínwáng Pòzhèn Lè (Prince of Qin’s Break Through the Array).

Xie Lan couldn’t help but applaud as well. Only when the music paused did he turn back, still savoring the performance.

Ye Si was lying unceremoniously on He Xiu’s lap, eating off a bamboo skewer; He Xiu was chatting with Dou Sheng.

“Old Ma is taking a senior class again,” He Xiu remarked with a smile. “Last time he said he’d rather die than take another senior class. Slapped his own face again.”

“He said we were his last one,” Dou Sheng poured another cup of peach wine. “Who knows.”

Xie Lan didn’t know how many cups he had drunk in this short time, but he saw that Dou Sheng’s cheeks were very red under the night sky. Dou Sheng rarely turned red from drinking; it only happened after quite a lot.

“You’re a YouTuber, right?” He Xiu asked with a smile. “I think I’ve seen your videos—the one with the dialects.”

Dou Sheng didn’t flinch. “That’s me.” He paused and asked, “Have you seen Xie Lan’s?”

“I have!” Ye Si struggled to raise his hand. “The one that was really popular a while ago—ding ding ding dang—that song, which anime was it?”

Xie Lan was shocked. “Are you talking about Young Swordsman?”

“Yes!” Ye Si clapped. “I love that one. I even learned how to sing it.”

Xie Lan: “…” He didn’t dare comment.

His phone suddenly vibrated. Xie Lan pulled it out—it was Auntie Zhao.

He froze. Dou Sheng patted the back of his hand. “Go take it.”

“Um.” Xie Lan hurried up, found a secluded tree, and answered.

“Auntie Zhao.” His heart was thumping with nerves. He spoke immediately: “I just finished the exam. I’m with the seniors and Dou Sheng. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away, Dou Sheng said you were sleeping, so I didn’t…”

Zhao Wenying laughed. “How was the exam?”

Her voice was very gentle, perhaps due to her illness, even softer than usual.

The words stuck in Xie Lan’s throat dissolved. His heartbeat slowed as he said, “The exam went well. I’ll be back with Dou Sheng tomorrow night. I’ll bring back some good food from here.”

He paused, looking at Dou Sheng in the distance, and whispered with lowered eyes, “I’m sorry, Auntie Zhao.”

On the lawn, the music started again. This time it was a violin solo—melodious and soothing, yet carrying a trace of loneliness under the night sky. The noisy chatter stopped; the world went quiet as everyone listened. It was soul-stirring—the magic of the violin.

The phone was silent for a while, then Zhao Wenying gave a soft sigh.

“If you and Dou Sheng are serious, I can only give you my blessings,” she said quietly. “But you must be responsible for yourselves and for each other. Aside from not letting it interfere with your studies, both of you have some influence online. It’s okay to have fun, but there must be a limit. You must know how to protect yourselves, understand?”

The evening breeze was warm. Xie Lan’s throat suddenly tightened. After a ragged pause, he managed a soft “um.” “I understand. Thank you, Auntie Zhao.”

Zhao Wenying didn’t say much else, reminding him to lock the hotel door, not to lose his ID on the plane, and mentioning that Dou Sheng should take him to get roast duck tomorrow—it was fine to stay an extra day if needed.

After the call ended, Xie Lan stood behind the large tree, dazed for a long time by the violin lingering in the air. He stood there until the violin had finished three solos. Dou Sheng looked back at him several times, each time with a faint smile before turning back, letting him zone out in peace.

The sky turned from dark to dim. Another piece started—the final one of the night, a collaboration between orchestral and folk instruments.

As the intro played, Xie Lan realized his legs were numb. He walked slowly back to the picnic blanket, only to see Ye Si completely sitting on He Xiu’s lap. He Xiu had his arm around Ye Si’s waist, his lips brushing against his cheek as he spoke in a low voice.

Xie Lan looked away awkwardly and sat next to Dou Sheng, their backs to the other couple.

Dou Sheng was livestreaming with his phone, using the back camera pointed at the band.

When Xie Lan sat down, he heard Dou Sheng’s low, magnetic voice: “He’s back.”

?

Dou Sheng was flushed from his ears to his cheeks, down to his neck. He looked back at Xie Lan, his dark eyes clear as if soaked in a pool of water, his gaze trembling slightly with drunkenness.

The bullet comments were filled with confusion.

– What is back?

– Who is back? Xie Lan?

– Didn’t he go to London?

– I’m confused. Wasn’t Xie Lan at T University for an exam today? Why London? And why is he back?

– I suspect London is the name of a street in B-City… this round trip was too fast.

– Where are you? Where is he? Where on earth are you??

Xie Lan was baffled and nudged Dou Sheng with his elbow. “What are you talking about?”

– Xie Lan is beside you??

– Holy crap, you’re toxic.

– What was the number for the anti-fraud center again?

Dou Sheng only stole a glance at Xie Lan before looking away and giving a light sigh.

“Is your comprehension lacking? When did I say he went back to London? I just said—listen carefully—the greatest fear of my life descended the moment I knew Xie Lan was going back to London.”

Xie Lan’s heart skipped a beat, his cheeks heating up rapidly. He tugged at Dou Sheng’s sleeve. “Stop talking nonsense.”

– ??

– This isn’t what we thought it meant?

– Douzi, did something happen? Mama is worried.

Dou Sheng looked a bit speechless. He casually tossed his phone onto the grass, and the livestream view went pitch black. He muttered, “I wasn’t wrong. I never said what I knew was necessarily correct. I was mistaken.”

– …

– Ridiculous.

– I… I fck you…*

– Just keep showing off. Go ahead. We fans have no shame.

– Stop scolding. Douzi is drunk, isn’t it obvious?

– Rare sighting. Followed him for three years, first time seeing him drunk.

– Truly. I thought he was a heavyweight drinker.

– Douzi, please pick us up. Thanks.

“Not picking you up,” Dou Sheng rested his hand on Xie Lan’s shoulder, lightly “playing piano” on his collarbone. “Close the stream yourselves. I’m too lazy to move.”

– …

– I’m going to climb through the internet cable and kill you.

– Any T-U students there? Go put a sack over his head!

Xie Lan leaned in close to Dou Sheng’s ear and whispered, “Are you drunk?”

“A bit.” Dou Sheng’s blinking was slower than usual. He stared at Xie Lan for a moment and whispered, “I really was almost scared to death by you today.”

As he spoke, his center of gravity was unstable. Though one hand was around Xie Lan’s waist, his lips were still brushing against his earlobe.

Xie Lan gave a soft “Mmm…”

– What are they saying? I can’t hear even with my ears perked up.

– I only hear music and loud background noise.

– It’s too loud. They probably aren’t talking.

– But it’s also weird that they’ve stopped talking.

– I feel like something big is about to happen.

– Same. Holding my breath.

– I dare not move an inch.

Dou Sheng stared at Xie Lan for a long time, then leaned over to grab his phone. The livestream view wobbled significantly on the grass before the connection was abruptly cut.

[The host is browsing Bilibili. Come back later.]

A flood of question marks swept through the comment area.

The music on the field ended with a flourish. Dou Sheng pressed Xie Lan onto the grass and gently kissed his boyfriend’s eyes.

Those eyes that had been apart for a full day and night.