The aerospace technology exchange conference hosted by Tusland had three trending topics on Weibo on its opening day.

The first was about the Chinese delegation’s sharp response to a foreign journalist’s difficult question.

The first trending Weibo post contained a video clip of several dozen seconds. In the video, the Chinese delegation was surrounded by media, facing aggressive long and short camera lenses. After taking photos, as they prepared to leave, a foreign female journalist challenged Professor Jiang Yuan Liang in English: “Professor Jiang, I heard China is researching GPS positioning technology. We’re curious—since America’s GPS already exists and is more advanced than any other country’s, why are you redundantly duplicating efforts?”

Professor Jiang and his colleagues exchanged glances and stopped walking.

The question sounded provocative. The entire venue instantly fell silent, waiting for the Chinese delegation’s response.

Professor Jiang was organizing his thoughts, considering how to phrase his answer diplomatically without offending anyone. He wasn’t intimidated, but in such a setting with cameras everywhere, one misstep could damage the entire nation’s image. He pondered for a moment.

As everyone waited in anticipation, a young man’s voice with perfect British English rang out:

“When I couldn’t afford it, I also thought renting was better than buying.”

The meaning was obvious—you think it’s redundant because your country isn’t powerful enough.

With one light sentence, he effortlessly countered the attack.

Netizen 1: This young brother speaks the truth. Our motherland will grow stronger and stronger. (10,000 likes)

Netizen 2: This young brother is so handsome. (9,000 likes)

Netizen 3: This young brother is handsome. (8,550 likes)

Netizen 4: This young brother and the man in the military uniform next to him are both so handsome. (12,000 likes)

Netizen 5: Does the person above have X-ray vision? The one in uniform only showed his arm? (2,030 likes)

Netizen 4 replying to Netizen 5: No no no, this young brother—at the 10-second mark when the reporter is speaking, the camera pans to him, and you can see Air Force shoulder insignia.

Netizen 6 replying to Netizen 4: Ah, I see him! This military brother is so handsome, and he’s an Air Force Major.

Netizen 4 replying to Netizen 6: It’s that heart-fluttering feeling. I’m dead.

Netizen 7: Wildly cheering for Professor Jiang!

…

Soon people began digging up the young man’s name. Former classmates appeared in the comments of the trending post, which led to the conference’s second trending topic—#Xu Yan Shi#

Niu Lan Zhi Nü: Let me educate you all, free of charge. Front row selling sunflower seeds and peanuts. Please be civilized while enjoying the drama—don’t litter with shells. Your handsome brother is called Xu Yan Shi, a graduate of Wuhan University’s Surveying Engineering program. He joined our institute’s research department in his sophomore year. The professors both love and hate him because Brother Yan has a sharp tongue and is aloof. Our class group chat exploded yesterday. We weren’t surprised at all by his response—it’s completely his style, and he was being quite diplomatic, probably considering the international impact.

Netizen 456: Does he have a girlfriend? Does he have a girlfriend?

Niu Lan Zhi Nü replying to Netizen 456: Um…

Netizen 789: Why are you hesitating?

Niu Lan Zhi Nü: I’m not saying any more.

Netizen 789: ???

Netizen 456: ???

Cao Cao’s Sword: ??? Revealing only half the story? OP, you’re asking to be run over.

…

At that moment, Xiang Yuan was holding her phone, browsing Weibo on her alternate account. This account’s followers were growing faster than her main account. Looking at the constantly popping notifications of private messages and comments, she randomly opened one to find someone cursing her ancestors for eighteen generations. She suddenly felt like she might have caused trouble…

When she first saw Xu Yan Shi in that video, her excitement was indescribable. She felt a sense of “Wow, someone finally acknowledges him.” Because of Xu Yan Shi’s usual behavior at school, many people disliked him. He was always buried in his research, caring about nothing, seemingly heartless. Now, seeing so many netizens liking him, she couldn’t help but share some of his excellent qualities, hoping to change former classmates’ opinions of him.

But the situation was veering off course. Seeing so many people expressing their affection for him without reservation made her inexplicably jealous.

Since that night at the flight base, they hadn’t seen each other again.

That day, there had been some tension between them. By nighttime, neither was naive. At their age, stepping through that door—she knew what would happen, and she even anticipated it. She still went in.

Xu Yan Shi was leaning on the bed looking at his phone, one leg bent, seemingly just out of the shower. His bangs hung slightly, with a glistening drop of water at the tips.

The dim yellow bedside lamp cast a shadow on his long, languid profile.

Hearing movement, he glanced over, tossed his phone onto the bed, and patted the spot beside him, inviting her over.

Xiang Yuan sat down awkwardly, clutching her hands tightly.

“Well?” he asked, arms folded, amused by her nervousness.

“Well, what?” She lowered her head.

Xu Yan Shi first smiled, looking down, then turned to gaze out the window. His voice carried his usual casual arrogance:

“Playing dumb with me?”

“No, I’m just a little scared.”

“If you’re scared, why did you come in?”

Xu Yan Shi had completely abandoned his usual aloofness. That mischievous look in his eyes made him seem like a different person. His expression was like someone enticing a child to do something naughty.

Xiang Yuan couldn’t resist the temptation. She slept with him.

Looking back now, she realized she had been too impulsive. See? Once a man gets what he wants, he no longer cherishes it.

A few days later, the account “Niu Lan Zhi Nü” became Xu Yan Shi’s number one anti-fan.

Niu Lan Zhi Nü: “Just a scoundrel who loves ’em and leaves ’em.”

Netizen 987: “Nonsense. As far as I know, he never had a girlfriend in school. Is spreading rumors free? Niu Lan Zhi Nü, I clearly remember you were his head fan a few days ago, educating everyone about his resume. What happened? Turned on him? Don’t tell me you secretly loved my brother and got rejected?”

Niu Lan Zhi Nü: Reject your mother. We even slept together. He was terrible in bed.

Netizen 987: This person has lost her mind.

Due to too many reports, Xiang Yuan’s alternate account “Niu Lan Zhi Nü” was banned.

…

The third trending topic was about Lu Huai Zheng.

Xu Yan Shi’s information was relatively transparent—piecing things together gave you a general idea. Lu Huai Zheng was more mysterious. Besides his military rank, no one could reveal much about him. All his information was classified. In the Baidu Encyclopedia, he was listed as a political figure.

Of course, a tiny number of insiders occasionally leaked small details on Weibo for attention.

Netizen 28: “Twenty-eight years old, Air Force Major, one of the most promising squadron leaders in their assault brigade. Why? Let me analyze. You know Air Force commanders must start as pilots. Among the captains in the airborne troops, only Lu Huai Zheng comes from a fighter pilot background; the others come from the Army. Logically, pilots rarely transfer to airborne units because, as you know, pilots enjoy the best treatment among all military branches. Paratroopers are probably the most dangerous specialty—no one with a sound mind would transfer there. Lu Huai Zheng’s physical condition is exceptionally strong, yet he still went to the airborne forces, though such examples aren’t uncommon. He’s an all-rounder—I heard he can drive tanks and speedboats, has earned many merits, and his father was a martyr. My prediction: becoming a general won’t be a problem.”

Netizen 54: “Don’t understand, but he sounds so handsome.”

Netizen 56: “Agree with the above. I only know he’s very handsome. Being his girlfriend must be wonderful.”

Cao Cao’s Sword: “Stop worshipping. He’s at most a regimental-level officer. China has many soldiers like Lu, OK? His type should be on the front lines fighting, not enjoying comfort in an office. As a soldier, dying on the battlefield is his duty, understand?”

Netizen 60: “If he’s not enjoying comfort, should keyboard warriors like you enjoy it instead?”

Netizen 54: “Right, keyboard warrior!”

Netizen 889: “People who say such things, don’t you have family?”

‘Netizen 889’ angrily typed this message, tossed her phone aside, and sat on the sofa with folded arms, silently fuming.

Similarly angry, Xiang Yuan still couldn’t log into her banned Weibo account, nearly swallowing her phone in frustration. “Stupid Sina!! They banned me just like that!!”

Yu Hao picked up her phone, confused: “What happened to your account?”

Xiang Yuan gritted her teeth, thinking hard as she planned to register a new account: “Someone reported me. I can’t log in now.”

Yu Hao looked down, scrolling through Xiang Yuan’s alternate account page. “Hmm, what did you say?”

Xiang Yuan pressed her lips tightly shut, not saying a word, cleverly changing the subject.

“By the way, has my brother contacted you yet?”

Yu Hao clutched her phone, her attention successfully diverted, deflating like a punctured balloon: “No.”

Not a single message in all these days.

Xiang Yuan patted her shoulder, warmly consoling her: “That’s normal. I remember Grandpa Lu always complained about him—he hardly ever calls home, he’s extremely busy. Military wives just deal with this. I heard they need leadership approval before they can even access their phones, and for this international conference, I heard all participants had to surrender their phones. I suspect the leaders didn’t even let him bring his phone. Sister-in-law, please try to understand my brother.”

Yu Hao smiled, holding her phone. “I’m not angry, just miss him a bit. What about you? Don’t you miss Xu Yan Shi?”

Xiang Yuan’s mood shifted, and she lowered her head dejectedly, looking pitiful: “I have no right to miss him. We…” She paused. “Forget it. Let me register a new account.”

Soon Xiang Yuan registered successfully.

Niu Lan Zhi Nü was reborn, and renamed “Liang Shan Bo Beats Zhu Ying Tai,” continuing to be active in the comments sections of various marketing accounts. She tirelessly criticized Xu Yan Shi while also cursing Cao Cao’s Sword to vent to Yu Hao—

Liang Shan Bo Beats Zhu Ying Tai replying to Cao Cao’s Sword: “Excuse me, what keyboard warrior? You’re just a keyboard dog, hiding online to attack people. If your keyboard could fight on the front lines, killing one enemy with each keystroke, your godmother would call you a keyboard ‘warrior’! Since you can’t, shut your mouth for your godmother and be the keyboard dog you are. Don’t embarrass yourself. All the goodwill your ancestors built up with me has been squandered by a good-for-nothing like you!”

Yu Hao, seeing these strange usernames and the long rant, asked: “Who’s his ancestor? You know them?”

Xiang Yuan was still rapidly tapping her keyboard, not looking up: “Hachiko, haven’t you seen that movie?”

Yu Hao shook her head. She rarely watched movies—she hadn’t even finished Titanic.

Xiang Yuan explained directly: “A dog.”

“You’re something else.” Yu Hao laughed.

Xiang Yuan snorted, hands on her hips. Who was she? Back in high school, she had fought three hundred rounds in online forums, driving someone to beg for mercy before deleting their account and leaving the forum.

But before Xiang Yuan could unleash her silver tongue, the Weibo post leaking information about Lu Huai Zheng was removed. When clicked again, all the information about Lu Huai Zheng was gone. Not just about him—several small accounts insulting soldiers were also banned.

All trending topics about Lu Huai Zheng were taken down, probably noticed by leadership.

Xiang Yuan sighed dramatically. “Damn, I just finished writing a whole essay. Now there’s nowhere to use it.”

Tusland, night. The two “internet celebrities” stood on the hotel rooftop enjoying the night view. Tusland was in winter then, a season different from back home.

Xu Yan Shi wore a black down jacket, a cigarette between his fingers, standing tall by the railing.

Lu Huai Zheng wore a simple military shirt with his tie loosely knotted, and hands casually in his pockets.

At this moment, they were unaware of what was happening back home, excitedly discussing typical male topics: basketball, military affairs, GPS positioning technology, stealth aircraft manufacturing technology, radar detection… The topics were so wide-ranging that no matter which field Xu Yan Shi brought up, Lu Huai Zheng could respond with a few sentences.

When he didn’t understand something, he admitted he hadn’t studied it, very humble and honest, making him very comfortable to be around.

The two men conversed enthusiastically, seemingly having not enjoyed such stimulating conversation for a long time. Eventually relaxing against the railing, leisurely taking drags of cigarettes, the smoke accentuating their tall silhouettes, exuding masculinity. Occasionally they would crack off-color jokes, sharing an unspoken understanding—men being men, after all.

Yet in all their wide-ranging casual banter, they never touched on the topic of women.

One had nothing to mention. One was still angry.

A few days later, Xiang Yuan received two WeChat messages from across the ocean.

The first was flight information: Jul. 31, 9:00 PM, CH745.

The second was equally brief: When you’re bored, read more books, and spend less time online. I’ve already changed your account and password.

Sure enough, when Xiang Yuan tried to open Weibo again, the “Liang Shan Bo Beats Zhu Ying Tai” account was completely and thoroughly inaccessible.

Yu Hao still hadn’t received any message from Lu Huai Zheng.

She posted on her Moments: “My newlywed husband hasn’t contacted me for over a month. Can I divorce him?”