The video opens with layers upon layers of gray stone steps, winding down the lush green mountain, disappearing into the horizon amidst the twists and steep slopes.

The teenager’s voice is low, soft, and calm, but his articulation is crisp, carrying a sense of methodical earnestness—

“By the time this video is posted, Douzi and I should already be back home. This was a sudden trip to B-City; originally it was for an exam, but after getting permission from our parents, we stayed to play for a few days. Douzi said, since we’re already here, we might as well ‘water’ (filler) a video. I thought it was a good idea.”

After a pause, the voice suddenly moves further away, whispering: “This opening monologue seems to lack any literary flair?”

Another lazy voice answers: “It doesn’t matter, it’s a ‘water’ video.”

“True.”

On the screen, before the barrage of bullet comments mocking the filler content could even fly past, the scene suddenly shifts.

A drone rapidly pulls back into an ultra-wide-angle shot, taking in the entire Great Wall under the glow of the setting sun. The lens skims over the gray stone bricks, capturing a silent flock of wild geese flying across the distant sky, then tilts downward to fly over the heads of tourists.

In a corner of the frame, two tall, lean boys lean against each other. One is looking down, controlling the drone, while the other huddles close to him, using his hand to block the glare on the screen, focused on the recovery footage.

The bullet comments instantly explode.

• “A ‘water’ video.”
• I made a filler video, and accidentally shot a 4K documentary while I was at it.
• Standard procedure, everyone stay calm, just type 666.
• Aaaaah they went to the Great Wall!!
• The great rivers and mountains of my motherland, I’m crying.
• But wait, hasn’t school started yet?
• Skipping class for a trip? God-tier parents!

The drone hovers over the South Great Wall for a few minutes before lowering its altitude, inching closer to the two boys. Xie Lan looks up, and the camera zooms in for an ultra-clear close-up of his features.

He reaches out, catches the drone, and the screen cuts to black.

“That’s enough flying. It’s not like they’ve never seen the Great Wall.”

“What’s the rush? I reported it. You can fly during non-special periods.”

“I’m afraid you’ll drop the machine.”

“…”

The voice-over fades. On the black screen, streets of the capital gradually emerge—cars and pedestrians flowing incessantly against a backdrop of red walls, green tiles, and narrow alleys, with golden osmanthus heavy on the branches.

【Scent of Osmanthus, September Capital VLOG | Douzi Accompanies Me to T-U for the Exam】by Xie Lan_em

The scene cuts, and the ambient noise suddenly becomes chaotic.

A crowded restaurant lobby, where Beijing accents and various regional dialects mingle. A waiter pushes a silver cart clattering toward them, upon which sits a honey-brown, glistening roast duck.

The camera shakes excitedly.

Dou Sheng says in a voice-over: “Senior, what’s up with you? Why is your hand shaking just for a roast duck?”

Xie Lan replies displeasuredly: “Who told you not to bring the gimbal? I want to watch the duck being sliced; I don’t have time to manage the camera.”

Dou Sheng chuckles low: “Then I’ll hold it, you watch the chef slice it.”

A massive wave of comments rolls across the screen.

• Dou’s voice is so charming my head is falling off.
• Hearing him say ‘Senior’ makes me so excited, am I beyond saving?
• Let me do it! I’ll hold it for you!

In the frame, Xie Lan steps from behind the lens to the front, leaning in curiously to watch the chef slice the duck.

“First plate, six pieces of breast skin. Melts in your mouth, eat it dipped in sugar,” the chef shouts, handing over a small plate of crispy, plump duck skin.

Dou Sheng immediately pushes it toward Xie Lan. “Don’t just watch, eat quickly. It won’t be crispy in a bit.”

Xie Lan hesitates at the plate. “Duck skin?”

“Try it.” Dou Sheng holds the camera steadily with one hand and uses the other to pick up a piece with chopsticks, dipping it in sugar and holding it to Xie Lan’s mouth.

Xie Lan opens his mouth to take it. Dou Sheng asks immediately: “Is it good?”

Xie Lan nods, and just as he is about to turn back to watch the slicing, he catches the lens again.

He pauses, then explains to the camera: “Uh, hello everyone. Today I’m taking you to eat roast duck. Roast duck is a traditional delicacy of the Chinese nation. It consists mainly of a duck… the texture is… how do you say it? What’s that idiom, Dou Sheng?”

Dou Sheng gives an innocent “Huh?” from behind the lens.

Xie Lan frowns and ponders for a long time. “I remember now—mì lǐ tiáo yóu (honey mixed with oil/deeply in love)?”

“…” Dou Sheng is silent for a long time. “If you say so.”

The comments are losing it.

• Stop trying to be a professional host, okay?
• LOL, out of millions of viewers, is there really someone who doesn’t know roast duck?
• ‘Roast duck consists mainly of a duck.’ No lies detected.
• Indeed, ‘honey mixed with oil.’ Yep.
• Logic checks out.

Xie Lan rambles nonsensically to the camera for a bit until Dou Sheng laughs so hard the lens shakes, then Xie Lan gives up with a sigh.

“Watch it yourselves,” he mutters, giving the camera the back of his head. “Maybe I’m the only one who wants to watch this performance.”

Dou Sheng immediately praises him off-camera: “The term ‘performance’ (huāhuó) was used very authentically.”

Dou Sheng has top-tier professional ethics—he films while eating. He not only captures the most skillful moments of the chef but also catches Xie Lan with his cheeks puffed out while tasting. His hand frequently enters the frame, handing wrapped duck pancakes to Xie Lan’s mouth, which Xie Lan bites into.

Until the bill is paid and they leave, Xie Lan takes the camera back, adjusting the angle to show both their faces. Xie Lan reports to the camera: “We’ve finished the roast duck.”

Comments:

• And we’ve finished the ‘dog food’ (public displays of affection).
• LOL, stuffed with dog food.
• I really don’t know what supports me, a lifelong solo, to keep watching this with a straight face.
• Maybe it’s my deep affection for Lan-zai.
• DMEM forever!

The VLOG fragments are very scattered; calling it a “water” video isn’t an exaggeration. Various clips are roughly stitched together. Some shots end up pointing at their feet; after a bout of shaky movement, the frame might randomly settle on an old man’s sexy white tank top on a street corner.

Two teenagers shuttle side-by-side through the alleys of the old city. Bicycle bells and vendor shouts intertwine, their conversation mixed in—sometimes clear, sometimes completely blurred into the city’s noise.

But from morning till night, the corners of their mouths are tilted up. When they look at each other, there is a glimmer in their eyes that is hard to ignore, like a light that never goes out.

The audience, mostly fellow countrymen raised on this land, sees the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, and the courtyards—things etched into their DNA. But seeing it through this lens, listening to Xie Lan introduce them with strange idioms, it feels different.

Xie Lan and Dou Sheng stayed in B-City for three extra days. They lined up to watch the flag-raising before dawn, visited the Forbidden City with tourists from across the country, climbed the Great Wall at dusk and took the cable car down, watched a wealthy old man in a courtyard haggle over a melon, and passed through several surreal bars on the commercial streets.

…

In the final segment of the video, the perspective is from the back seat of a bicycle. The frame captures Dou Sheng’s short hair blowing in the wind and the boy’s straight, lean shoulders. The bicycle rushes down a tree-lined slope at T-U, heading straight for the Physics and Math Building.

Fading into the frame is a document tossed casually on a desk.

It’s partially covered by the drone box, revealing only the title—《Agreement for Pre-Admission of Recommended Students》.

The video ends.

The instantly frenzied bullet comments freeze on the screen.

• Holy crap, Lan-zai signed directly??
• T-University?!
• AAAAAAAAAAH
• My baby, you haven’t even started senior year!
• So excellent, Mama is so proud (wiping tears).
• Come back! Don’t end! Is it a guaranteed admission to T-U?!

---

Xie Lan had seriously intended to post a “water” video because, after this, he planned to go “M.I.A.” until the end of the year to finish the score for Young Swordsman 2.

With his large following, he expected a filler video to trend, but he never expected it to be featured in the platform’s new campaign the next day.

#Youth, There Is Light In Your Eyes#

Submission Period: From now until Sept 22

Featured UP of the Month: Xie Lan_em

Dou Sheng sat in the car clutching his backpack and gave a few hollow laughs. “I reasonably suspect the operations staff watched your video first before deciding on this month’s theme. What is this? Should we call it an ‘inside job,’ or is the platform just being lazy?”

While complaining, he quickly used his main account to send Xie Lan two campaign coins and forwarded the link to his fellow UP friends, demanding their support.

Zhao Wenying turned back from the passenger seat. “Didn’t Douzi say the September campaign is quite important?”

Dou Sheng hummed. “The last wave of daily activities before National Day, and it’s back-to-school season. Of course it’s important.”

“That’s great then,” Zhao Wenying laughed. “It looks like Lan Lan will take the Top 100 award one step ahead of you.”

Xie Lan’s heart tightened. He glanced at Zhao Wenying, who was smiling at her phone—the screen showed his signed contract with T-U. She clearly didn’t take her own words seriously.

He looked at Dou Sheng again. Dou Sheng was still busy mobilizing his friends, acting as if nothing had happened.

Xie Lan sighed silently.

The person involved and the mother involved both didn’t care; he was the only one feeling awkward, terrified that he might accidentally “steal” the Top 100 spot that belonged to his boyfriend.

As September arrived, more and more annual Top 100 prediction threads appeared. That data expert had even reaffirmed on his alt Weibo account last night: If one of the DMEM duo makes the Top 100 this year, it must be EM. That post made him restless; he even thought about deleting the video, but if he did, Dou Sheng would probably roll up his sleeves and fight him.

Their last stop before the flight yesterday was the Lama Temple, which is said to be very effective for making wishes. Xie Lan wished for Dou Sheng to make the Top 100. He didn’t know if the gods could hear him.

While he was agonizing, Dou Sheng, still typing with one hand, raised his other hand and accurately pinched Xie Lan’s cheek.

“?!”

Xie Lan was shocked. With his face pinched, he mumbled, “What are you doing? It hurts.”

Zhao Wenying hissed and slapped Dou Sheng’s leg. “Are you sick? Why are you pinching his face?”

Dou Sheng didn’t look up from his phone. He withdrew his hand and snorted. “To stop a certain someone from having messy thoughts.”

Zhao Wenying blinked and looked at Xie Lan. “What is Lan Lan thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Xie Lan sighed.

Once Zhao Wenying turned back, he angrily stomped on Dou Sheng’s foot under the seat.

Today was Friday. The new senior class had already been back for four days, and only now did he and Dou Sheng roll back to school.

There was a traffic jam this morning. The moment the bell for self-study rang, Xie Lan and Dou Sheng had just scrambled up the stairs. Rounding a corner, they came face-to-face with Hu Xiujie, who was about to enter the classroom with a stack of papers.

Despite being dozens of meters from “Yama” (Hu Xiujie), Xie Lan and Dou Sheng both went numb. They quickly wiped all expression from their faces and walked closer, entering the classroom with a stiff neck under Hu Xiujie’s predatory gaze.

“Xie Lan, Dou Sheng, stay at the front of the podium,” Hu Xiujie said with a stony face. “You’re in your senior year now, do you realize that?”

Xie Lan looked at his feet. “Yes.”

Dou Sheng mirrored him. “Yes, yes.”

Hu Xiujie said coldly, “Since last semester, I’ve told every one of you: once you enter senior year, you absolutely cannot be ruled by emotions, you cannot be willful, and you cannot act recklessly! It’s one thing for your parents to spoil you, but don’t you have any sense of your own? You are the masters of your own lives, do you know that? Only you can be responsible for yourselves, do you know that?!”

“…We… know,” Xie Lan answered blankly, glancing at Dou Sheng: What did we do?

Dou Sheng replied with his eyes: No idea.

Hu Xiujie reached out and slammed the doorframe with a bang. “I ask you! What day of school is this?”

The aftershock on the doorframe was terrifying. Xie Lan opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Dou Sheng said: “The fifth day.”

Hu Xiujie sneered. “How many days left until the Gaokao?”

Dou Sheng paused. “Let me calculate. It’s September now. 29 days left in September, 31 in October, November… 30 days has September, April, June, and November… wait, January, March, May…”

The students below were ready to burst. By the time Dou Sheng reached April on his fingers, Xie Lan couldn’t resist saying: “278 days left.”

With a whoosh, those who had been holding it in finally laughed. Even those who tried not to were swept away. The entire class roared with laughter, the sound echoing down the hallway, even causing the door to the neighboring “All-As” class to swing open.

Old Ma peeked his head out. “What’s happening in Physics and Math A?”

“Nothing, Teacher Ma,” Hu Xiujie sneered. “The two great Buddhas of our class have finally returned.”

“They’re back?” Old Ma immediately ditched his own students and ran out, his old leather shoes clicking on the hallway tiles. “How did Xie Lan do? There was no news after the interview, and I didn’t dare ask. T-University…”

Hu Xiujie frowned at him from the doorway, and Old Ma’s words came to a screeching halt. The students in the class wore various expressions, whispering among themselves.

Old Ma walked to the door, gave Xie Lan an awkward smile, and clumsily diverted the topic.

“Ah, I came over to tell the class… I just told my class. Now that the math competition is basically over and the second trial scores are about to come out, there will be recommended admission exams, Gaokao score reductions, and independent recruitment in the spring. Student Xie Lan has already blazed the trail for us. Regardless of the result, his mindset must remain steady, and your mindset during this senior year must also stay steady. Don’t let things get messy. Believe that the Gaokao is still an unavoidable single-plank bridge. Even without those preferential policies, you all have the ability to get into the top—”

Dou Sheng felt something was wrong as he listened. He frowned and interrupted, “Teacher, why does it feel like you’re comforting Xie Lan? Didn’t T-University notify the school?”

Old Ma hit the brakes and whipped his head around. “Notify the school of what?”

Dou Sheng was surprised. “They really didn’t notify you? Well… maybe the efficiency is a bit lagging. Haven’t you seen Xie Lan’s latest video?”

Hu Xiujie and Old Ma looked at each other, and then a sudden flash of joy appeared on Old Ma’s face.

He was about to speak when Hu Xiujie pressed a roll of documents against his arm. She frowned. “Are we your teachers or your fans? Do we have to follow you online to know what’s going on with you? Truly outrageous… Xie Lan, how did you actually do? You took so many days off, we thought you bombed the exam and were just clearing your head in B-City.”

Xie Lan was about to speak when Dong Shuijian said blankly from below, “Didn’t he sign the contract?”

“Yeah, doesn’t the whole class know?”

“We all know.”

“Did the teachers really not know?”

Before Xie Lan could open his mouth, a brilliant light erupted on Old Ma’s face. It was as if he had regained his youth.

Old Ma took a sharp breath and grabbed Hu Xiujie’s arm, making her wince.

“What policy?! Score reduction? Or reduction to the Tier 1 line? Or…”

Xie Lan said: “It’s pre-admission.”

Old Ma was silenced. Standing at the classroom door, his pupils were trembling.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Nothing else…” Xie Lan muttered. He and Dou Sheng walked off the podium toward their familiar spot by the window in the bottom-left corner of the classroom.

A recommended admission is just that—the simplest and clearest policy. No convoluted conditions. Once the contract is signed, it’s set in stone.

If there was anything else, it was the Winter Camp.

He still had to participate in the CMO national finals, but he had already secured one of the sixty entry tickets for the elite Winter Camp. This winter, he would enter the selection for the National Training Team.

The T-University teachers said he might make this year’s national team for the IMO next July. Or he could train for another year and compete the year after; it would depend on the training results.

Personally, he hoped for the year after, competing after finishing his freshman year. On one hand, he would have more prep time; on the other hand, he wanted to help Dou Sheng with his annual video at the end of this year.

The class buzzed with discussion for a while. Old Ma and Hu Xiujie talked in low voices in the hallway before Old Ma finally returned to his own class to supervise. From his footsteps, it wasn’t hard to imagine his face was beaming.

Hu Xiujie returned to the room, closed the door, and patted the podium. The room went silent instantly. Her face remained cold as usual, but the slight, recurring tilt of her lips betrayed her excitement.

“Alright, a signature is a signature. Xie Lan, come see me after the first period. You’ve signed with a TOP 2 school, but don’t get carried away. Those of you who haven’t signed or haven’t tested yet, this is the time to strive. Even if you don’t all go to the top two, both our classes are full of top-tier university material. It’s senior year; don’t let anything affect your state. Maintain a proactive mindset, keep a stable and efficient study rhythm, and stay healthy. You all…”

Her gaze swept over Dou Sheng, and she suddenly frowned. “Dou Sheng.”

Dou Sheng, having just put away his bag, looked up confused. “Huh?”

Hu Xiujie’s eyes circled his face, her frown deepening. “I haven’t seen you for a whole break—why have you gotten so thin? Are you sick?”

The students in front turned their heads. Che Ziming muttered, “Yeah, I wanted to say it during the second trial the other day. Douzi looks thinner.”

Dou Sheng gave an “Ah” and replied vaguely, “Maybe a little… it’s fine. I’ll eat more, I’ll be back to normal in two months.”

Hu Xiujie frowned, patted the podium, and began a new round of lecturing. “Nutrition must keep up! I’ll emphasize this to your parents during the meeting this weekend. This senior year…”

While she was speaking, Xie Lan quickly turned off his phone and stuffed it deep into his bag.

Dou Sheng leaned over and whispered, “Boyfriend, is the video BGM ready yet? If we don’t start filming, Old Hu is going to breathe down my neck.”

“Stop rushing, stop rushing,” Xie Lan said irritably. “When I said I wanted to edit the audio in B-City, who was the one dragging me around in the middle of the night? You have the nerve to rush me?”