Originally thinking freshman year would be the busiest in college life, they didn’t expect sophomore and junior years to be equally demanding, especially with Li Ke, the overachiever, around. Their dates could only be squeezed in whenever possible. After Chen Luzhou finished changing his major, he began focusing on applying for postgraduate studies. In the Mathematical Contest in Modeling, Chen Luzhou’s team won the F Prize. That year, A University had over a hundred participating teams, with more than half receiving awards, but F Prizes were rare. To be precise, theirs was the only team from A University to win an F Prize, out of just ten teams globally. Although it was quite an exhilarating achievement, neither Li Ke nor Chen Luzhou felt particularly excited. They seemed to have become numb to winning awards.
The night they received their award certificates, the team gathered for a celebratory dinner. After the meal, on his way back to the dormitory, Chen Luzhou contemplated and decided to send a brief yet sincere thank-you email to Professor Bai. After sending it, he pocketed his phone and looked up to find Xu Zhi staring at him. He smiled, “Why are you staring at me?”
Xu Zhi sighed, taking his hand as they walked towards the dormitory building. “I just think you live such a tiring life. For Professor Bai, this might just be part of his job. Other professors might not even open your email.”
Most university professors in China are incredibly busy, and few would read student emails one by one. Sometimes, during lectures, professors’ email inboxes are filled with unread messages. Xu Zhi felt that her boyfriend had written such a heartfelt thank-you note, which might end up lying unnoticed in the inbox, unread. The thought of Chen Luzhou’s sincerity being wasted made her heartache.
That email never received a reply, and Xu Zhi always assumed Chen Luzhou’s thank-you note was lying unread in Professor Bai’s inbox. Many years later, while browsing a bookstore with Chen Luzhou, she stumbled upon a book authored by Bai Jiang. Recognizing him as Chen Luzhou’s former modeling competition advisor, she instinctively pulled out the book – Bai Jiang’s autobiography.
The book was titled “Final Judgment.”
Finding it interesting, she quickly skimmed the preface while Chen Luzhou was browsing the economics section. It seemed like a typical autobiography, but just as she was about to close it, she noticed two paragraphs at the end:
“I’ve always feared the phrase ‘final judgment’ because a leader once disagreed with my teaching philosophy. He believed that not doing research, publishing papers, or participating in award evaluations at the university didn’t align with the current education system and would eventually marginalize me. Of course, this leader’s reminder was well-intentioned. He earnestly advised me several times, saying, ‘Old Bai, you’re almost sixty. To put it bluntly, you’ve got one foot in the grave already. It’s time for your final judgment. Retiring as just a lecturer, people will think you weren’t a good teacher.’ Because of this, I once considered early retirement, until a few years ago when I guided some students in the Mathematical Contest in Modeling. This experience might not have been special for them, but it was quite meaningful for me.”
“It wasn’t my first time guiding students, but those kids made me realize that even at sixty, they wouldn’t care about anyone’s final judgment of them. They possessed a fearless determination backed by knowledge, not just the recklessness of inexperience, but a drive to find optimal solutions as they expanded their understanding of the world. After the competition, one student sent me an email. This student was exceptional, and I can proudly say I was once his teacher whenever I mentioned him. He expressed gratitude in the email and said something I still remember: ‘Professor Bai, from any angle, you’re radiantly handsome.’ Well, I was touched. After all, in sixty years, no one had called me handsome. Alright, let this be my final judgment.”
Xu Zhi understood Bai Jiang’s intention in writing this preface. She believed Bai Jiang also understood Chen Luzhou’s intention in writing that email; otherwise, he wouldn’t have mentioned him in the preface. In such a contrarian educational environment, Bai Jiang’s perseverance and unwavering dedication were truly admirable and worthy of being called “handsome.”
Satisfied, Xu Zhi closed the book and went to find Chen Luzhou in the economics section. Unable to locate him there, she turned to see him in the fairy tale section, crouched down with one hand on his knee, intently helping someone find a book. Beside him was a young girl with two pigtails, exuding childlike innocence. Chen Luzhou pulled out a colorful picture book and handed it to her. The little girl shook her head, “Not this one, the cover has a pig on it.”
Chen Luzhou pulled out another book.
She shook her head again, not the right one.
He pulled out yet another, “This one?”
She shook her head once more, enunciating each word, “No, brother, it’s a pig! A pig!”
Chen Luzhou let out an “Ah,” still crouched with his hand on his thigh, turning back with a half-joking smile, “Are you calling me names?”
“I’m not insulting you!”
Chen Luzhou continued searching patiently, “You don’t remember the book’s title?”
“I don’t.”
“You probably don’t know many characters yet, right?” Chen Luzhou stood up, glancing at the upper shelves.
“Just because I can’t read doesn’t mean I can’t look at books. Can’t I look at the illustrations?” the girl retorted.
“Impressive.”
“It’s a pig, not a cow,” the little girl insisted.
Chen Luzhou: “…”
Xu Zhi stood behind them, suddenly realizing how quickly time had passed. In the blink of an eye, five or six years had gone by.
That year, she had just graduated, and Chen Luzhou was in his second year of graduate school.
She felt like she was still in the throes of passionate love with this man.
Just thinking about him made her heart burn hot, even when he was standing right in front of her—
Holding a book that made him look not particularly intelligent.
Insisting on the girl:
“Did the hairdryer change its name?”
The little girl’s expression changed from undisguised admiration for the big brother to gradual disdain, and finally, she wordlessly ran off hugging her Peppa Pig book.
When they got home and were changing shoes at the door, Chen Luzhou, the scoundrel, innocently said, “That little brat was trying to flirt with me.”
Xu Zhi held back her laughter and tossed the car keys at him, “If you hadn’t mentioned the hairdryer, she might have flirted a bit longer.”
Chen Luzhou laughed too, turning to go into the bedroom to change clothes. Just as he lifted the hem of his shirt, a pair of slender hands embraced him from behind, encircling his waist. He looked down meaningfully at her hands and asked in a low voice, feigning ignorance, “What are you up to? Hm?”
Xu Zhi’s hands roamed shamelessly over his abdomen, tracing the contours of his abs deliberately, “What do you think?”
Chen Luzhou didn’t continue undressing. He turned around, one hand curling around her waist, the other cradling her face, fingers threading through her hair, caressing soothingly. He lowered his head and kissed her, starting from her forehead and working his way down with practiced ease. The room was quiet, the atmosphere instantly heating up, with only the faint sounds of soft kisses echoing.
Even now, when Xu Zhi did this with him, her heart still raced uncontrollably, her blood seemingly rushing through her body. Just kissing him made her legs weak, as if boneless, unable to stand steady.
But whenever Chen Luzhou was beside her, she couldn’t help but lean against him. Several times, Chen Luzhou had teased her, “Where are your bones? Why do you keep leaning on me?”
Xu Zhi knew he enjoyed asking rhetorical questions, taking advantage, and still playing coy, especially outrageous in bed. They had long since figured out each other’s temperaments. Chen Luzhou liked to hear her say sweet nothings, so he would always ask incessantly. In the early years, Xu Zhi would readily comply with sweet words, but as time went on, she became more bashful, feeling that repeating them would make them seem formulaic.
So, more often than not, she would tease him instead.
“Chen Luzhou, cherish this. In a few years, I might not even bother leaning on you when you ask. Better appreciate your eight-pack abs while you can. Sigh.”
At that time, the most frequent phrase in their WeChat history was—
“I only have an eight-pack now? You don’t love me anymore… don’t force yourself.”
It had almost become Chen Luzhou’s catchphrase. Eventually, Chen Luzhou couldn’t even be bothered to type out the full sentence. Every time she teased him, his responses gradually shortened—
“You haven’t been home for three days, girlfriend. You don’t love me anymore… don’t for…”
“You don’t love me anymore… don’t…”
“You don’t love me anymore…”
Finally, he settled on two simple but effective words.
Xu Zhi: “Chen Jiaojiao…”
Chen Luzhou: “No, don’t.”
At that time, they had fewer classes. Chen Luzhou had already rented an apartment off-campus, and Li Ke had rented a studio just below Chen Luzhou’s apartment. Xu Zhi would visit on weekends. Coincidentally, during one National Day holiday, Cai Yingying came to Beijing for a full seven days. During that time, Cai Yingying had an argument with Zhu Yangqi, and since she rarely visited, Xu Zhi devoted all her time to her friend, accompanying her to various attractions. Only when Cai Yingying’s mood improved did Xu Zhi realize she hadn’t seen her boyfriend for several days. Just as she was about to send him a WeChat message to smooth things over, she had only typed his name.
He immediately replied with two words.
No, don’t.
Imagining Chen Luzhou’s displeased expression, Xu Zhi sometimes found their chat history increasingly amusing, but at times she couldn’t resist teasing him.
But ultimately, her body was always honest. Chen Luzhou had teased her several times, saying, “It’s only during these moments in bed that I feel you still love me.”
…
Xu Zhi was forced to tilt her head back, her neck being intensely kissed, unable to hold back a soft moan. As the room’s atmosphere grew increasingly intimate, just as she was almost completely stripped bare, revealing her fair skin like spring onions, Xu Zhi suddenly found herself pushed into the bathroom. Chen Luzhou turned on the shower for her, tested the water temperature, then leaned against the bathroom door with a smile, saying, “Why don’t you take a shower first? I need to reply to Professor Liu’s email. I just glanced at it while driving and didn’t have a chance to respond.”
“Hurry up.”
“Don’t rush me,” his languid voice came from outside the door.
“Chen Luzhou!”
“Alright, I got it.” His voice, unusually obedient yet still casual, echoed from the empty living room, clearly having entered email-replying mode.
Such an obedient boyfriend, I shouldn’t always annoy him, Xu Zhi thought with a sigh as she turned off the shower.
I’ll make it up to him later.