At ten in the morning, Tan Yin was still half-asleep. But the moment she glanced at her alarm clock, she was wide awake. She shot up like a fish flipping over, hurriedly washed up, grabbed a coat, and, yawning, picked up her comic manuscript and Jiang Yilu’s thermos before stumbling downstairs, eyes still bleary with sleep.
Only when she reached the bottom of the dormitory building did she realize it was drizzling outside. Tan Yin had forgotten her umbrella, but checking the time, she had no chance to go back up for it. Her left leg was still in a cast, so she limped off toward Zhixing Building.
Zhixing Building had been donated and built by alumni who had graduated from A University’s architecture department, so it was used as the teaching building for that department. Since it had many classrooms, it was also shared with the law school and the school of literature.
It took Tan Yin fifteen minutes to walk from her dormitory to Zhixing Building, along a road lined with parasol trees on both sides. Ordinarily, aside from those two rows of trees, the road was nothing special. But now, stretching for dozens of meters along the way, banners hung unbroken on both sides — their festive bright red impossible to miss, and the identical line of text repeated across them created an effect that was practically visual pollution:
“Warmly celebrating Class of 2017 Architecture student Tan Yin’s outstanding achievement of ranking 53rd in the entire department on the final exams!”
…
Twenty banners, all saying the exact same thing.
Tan Yin, the protagonist of the banners, walked beneath the drizzle right through the middle of this sea of red, her expression as righteously stern as a revolutionary.
The few students walking along the road, however, were not so composed.
“Look over there.”
“Hm?”
“It’s Tan Yin.”
“The Tan Yin from the banners? The one who chased Chu Hang so relentlessly that he applied for a study-abroad exchange just to escape her?”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
…
Tan Yin ignored the whispering and walked, radiating righteousness, straight to the foot of Zhixing Building. At the entrance, there was another banner just like the others — except the font and size were even bigger than the ones on the parasol trees. The difference was, this one also had her photo added…
Tan Yin looked up at this enormous banner, and her composed facade finally crumbled. She gazed out at the fine rain, and amid the thousand things she wanted to say, all that remained in her tragic heart was a single line —
My life is so sorrowful, I play Chopin in the rain.
“Ahahahahahaha.”
Just as she was savoring this beautifully melancholic mood, it was instantly shattered by Jiang Yilu’s demonic laughter.
Jiang Yilu waved at Tan Yin from inside the lobby of Zhixing Building, laughing while gloating, pointing at the banner outside: “Not gonna lie, even though this thing’s been hanging for a month and honestly looks terrible, paired with your photo, every time I see it I get this inexplicable sense of perfect, overwhelming grandeur! Tan Yin, who would’ve thought a talent like you could be my friend!”
Tan Yin shoved the thermos into Jiang Yilu’s hands and said irritably, “Here, take it. You, a woman who needs a thermos like some middle-aged retiree — a tough guy like me doesn’t need a friend like you.”
“So how much longer is this thing staying up?”
Tan Yin rolled her eyes. “My dad won’t let me take it down. Says it’s staying another month so I can constantly feel the burning shame.”
“What happens if you take it down anyway?”
“He cuts off another six months of my living expenses.”
Jiang Yilu showed zero sympathy. “I told you from the start not to lie to your dad.”
“How did I lie to him?” Tan Yin protested. “Everything I said was true. I really did rank 53rd in the architecture department. How was I supposed to know he’d get so excited he’d order me a whole celebration banner?”
“Because you didn’t tell him our entire Class of 2017 architecture cohort only has 54 people!” Jiang Yilu took a sip of the goji-and-red-date tea from her thermos. “And last semester’s final exam, Chu Hang was abroad on exchange and didn’t take it, so only 53 people actually sat the exam!”
“…”
Facts spoke louder than argument; Tan Yin had nothing to say. She didn’t like architecture, and her grades had never been good since starting university. This time, in order to squeeze extra money out of her father to buy the newly released digital drawing tablet, she’d lied and claimed she’d achieved “excellent results,” ranking 53rd in the whole department. She had no idea her father would get so excited he’d order an entire custom banner campaign. As a result, she’d become “famous” not just in the architecture department but across the whole school; the department head had concluded she’d come in dead last and was being shamelessly arrogant about it, making her a person of special interest. When the truth came out, her father retaliated by cutting off her living expenses for six months and declared the banners would stay up an extra month as punishment…
Jiang Yilu glanced at what Tan Yin was carrying. “You’re really going to sell the manuscript? You can bear to part with it?”
Tan Yin drooped, dejected. “What choice do I have? I already spent the living expenses my dad gave me on merch and figures, and now he’s cut me off for half a year. I’m flat broke. If I don’t sell the manuscript, I won’t survive.”
“How much are you planning to sell it for?”
“Didn’t I set up an auction on our school forum’s trading board?” Tan Yin’s eyes lit up. “I figured I’d be lucky to get one or two thousand. But yesterday someone suddenly jumped into the bidding, looking dead set on winning, and drove the price up to five thousand!” She said proudly, “I never expected my comic Beneath Ten Thousand: The Temptation of the Campus Hunk would be this popular — so many diehard fans. I originally planned to stop after this one, but now I’m thinking I should start a second part. No, no — let’s make it a trilogy…”
Tan Yin was about to keep gloating when Jiang Yilu cut her off: “You should keep a low profile lately.” She lowered her voice and glanced around. “Latest news — Chu Hang seems to be back. Be careful these days. Especially given what you’ve been serializing…”
Tan Yin blinked, then grinned. “Don’t worry, from now on he goes east, I go west. Besides, it’s an online serial — who’d know the person behind that account is me?” Tan Yin checked her watch. “Anyway, gotta go. I’m meeting the fan who won the manuscript at that café outside Zhixing Building. It’s almost time.”
“Did you check the school forum? I just saw someone say they spotted Chu Hang — is he back at school already?”
“Yeah, he’s back. I just glimpsed him outside the café. I wonder if Tan Yin will let him off this time. Wasn’t he driven to flee the country because of her in the first place?”
“Right, apparently Tan Yin went to extreme lengths chasing him, tailing him every day, until the poor guy developed nerve exhaustion…”
The café had set up private rooms to cater to students, but the partitions were flimsy, and the girls in the next room over had exceptionally carrying voices. Chu Hang and Xu Yu heard every word of their conversation clearly.
Xu Yu wore an expression of gleeful schadenfreude. “So you fled overseas because you were being harassed?”
“That’s false.”
Chu Hang sipped his coffee, his expression cold, his tone flat — yet that very coldness only made his overly refined features seem more luxurious, deepening the sense of distance around him. His grandfather had a quarter French ancestry, which gave his complexion a paleness closer to Western features, and his irises were a shade lighter too, almost translucent like glazed glass in the sunlight — beautiful, but cold.
“So that Tan Yin never chased you? It’s just a rumor?”
“She did.” Chu Hang spoke with the sparing economy of someone above it all, pausing for a long moment before adding a few more words. “She wrote me confession letters for half a year. I never responded. Once she saw she couldn’t win me over, she gave up. Didn’t pester me further.”
“Wait…” Xu Yu thought about it. “Tan Yin — is that the one on the banners just now? The one who proudly ranked 53rd in architecture?”
“Yes. But only 53 people took the exam.”
Xu Yu couldn’t help laughing. “That’s a little too accomplished.”
“…”
Before Chu Hang could respond, the chattering voices from the neighboring room drifted over again.
“Oh right, the author of Beneath Ten Thousand: The Temptation of the Campus Hunk said there’s going to be a second part.”
“Really?!”
“Really! The tentative title for part two is Forbidden Play: The Campus Hunk’s Secret. Oh, did you see last night’s update?”
“I did, I did! Last night’s plot was so wild!”
“Wild, sure, but I love it so much!”
“Right, and especially picturing the real-life inspiration for this comic — Chu Hang and the architecture department head — I actually think it’s kind of hot?”
“Exactly, especially the part where Chu Hang is crying and gets pinned down by the department head, his whole ‘restrained’ facade collapsing into helplessness…”
…
Xu Yu glanced sympathetically at the person being discussed. “Try to think positive…”
Chu Hang said nothing, his expression darkening. His pale white fingers crushed the printed comic pages he was holding. On those pages was exactly the scene the girls next door had been describing — he stared fixedly at the male protagonist in the image, wearing a lewd expression as he was pushed down onto the department head’s desk, and he wished he could burn the two characters of the name “Chu Hang” in the character-name box to ash with sheer force of will.
This Beneath Ten Thousand: The Temptation of the Campus Hunk was a comic serialized on A University’s campus forum. The male lead was literally named Chu Hang. If sharing a name could be dismissed as coincidence, then sharing the same setting as an architecture student, even the habit of wearing black outerwear, a preference for espresso, a grandfather with a quarter foreign ancestry, and even a mole on the left collarbone — these details could no longer be explained away as coincidence.
Xu Yu, for his part, was quite entertained. “Oh right, I finished reading the comic. Honestly, the art’s pretty good. And you’ve really got a full harem in there — you’ve slept with plenty of men, let me recap: aside from the latest Ni Yin Qi Le Wo De Zhu Yi – Chapter where you slept with the architecture department head, before that you also slept with the captain of the school basketball team, a literature professor, the student council president — you didn’t spare the upperclassmen or the underclassmen — and you even caused two star debaters from the debate team to come to blows over you until they were bloodied, and then, plot twist, the two of them ended up reconciling and decided to share you together…”
As Xu Yu talked, he flipped through the stack of printed pages. “I gotta say, the artist draws bed scenes with real finesse. Look at these details, these expressions of ecstasy, these advanced poses — clearly researched, thoroughly grounded. Quite the scholar, this artist…”
Chu Hang was naturally not comforted by the artist’s diligent research; his handsome face only grew darker.
“Absolutely unbearable to look at.”
He glanced once more at the eye-searing comic, and his good upbringing kept him from cursing outright even now — all he managed, through gritted teeth, was that single sentence.
Following the buyer’s information, Tan Yin limped into the café and found room 108.
She pushed open the door, and the young man inside turned to look at her. Though it was a café, the room was decorated in a distinctly traditional Chinese style — behind the dining table, there was even a folding screen painted with a Tang-dynasty court-lady scene.
The young man stood in front of the screen. He was, honestly, quite good-looking — clear eyes, a slender build — but beyond his appearance, what stood out most was his unique air: refined and gentle, yet laced with a playful cunning. If she had to describe it, he had something of a gentleman’s courteous bearing mixed with a touch of languid mischief.
Seeing Tan Yin, he too looked somewhat surprised, looking her up and down. “You’re… ‘Wild Teddy’?”
Tan Yin nodded. “That’s me. You’re ‘Long-Legged Corgi’?”
The two of them exchanged their online handles like underground operatives at a covert meeting, confirming each other’s identity as buyer and seller.
He looked her over again. “Your art really is pretty wild.”
Tan Yin returned the pleasantry. “And your legs really are pretty long.”
…
But no matter how much she calculated, Tan Yin never expected the buyer would turn out to be a man. She looked him over, her gaze rather meaningful. “You, a guy, reading this kind of comic…” As she spoke, something occurred to her. “Actually, you look really familiar. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere…”
Xu Yu stared at Tan Yin, feeling the same. “I was thinking the same thing, that I’d seen you before…” As he spoke, he extended his hand toward her. “Anyway, did you bring the manuscript? You’re sure you’re the one who drew it?”
“Of course I drew it,” Tan Yin said, proud yet reluctant. “If I weren’t broke, I wouldn’t be selling it at all!”
She pulled out the manuscript, just about to hand it over, and it was at that exact moment a spark went off in her mind, and she finally recalled who this person was.
“I remember now — isn’t your name Xu, Xu-something?” she said, as if suddenly enlightened. “Aren’t you Chu Hang’s friend? Xu Yu, right? From the law school?”
Realizing this, the way Tan Yin looked at him changed entirely. She said meaningfully, “Well, well, well. Chu Hang treats you as a friend, and yet you’re after him… No wonder the moment Chu Hang went abroad, you followed right along on exchange too. So you’ve had these improper feelings for him all along…”
Xu Yu blinked, then immediately protested, “I’m not — I don’t — don’t just make things up…”
But Tan Yin didn’t listen to a word of his denial. She just patted Xu Yu on the shoulder with an “I totally get it” expression. “It’s fine, kid, I understand. Seeing as you love this comic so much you spent five thousand on my manuscript, let me give you a little perk. In part two, I’ll have you be one of Chu Hang’s men for a chapter. So tell me, what position, what kind of play do you want? Captivity play? Or something more thrilling — outdoor?”
“…”
What Tan Yin hadn’t expected was that the instant she pulled out the manuscript, he grabbed her hand. Just as Tan Yin was about to say “cash in one hand, goods in the other,” he narrowed his eyes and smiled.
In that instant, Tan Yin had a very bad feeling.
He gripped Tan Yin’s hand tightly, and in that same position, turned back toward the screen. “All right, Chu Hang, caught red-handed. You can come out now.”
“…”
In that moment, only one thought remained in Tan Yin’s head —
Wow, I think I’ve just reached the peak of my life.