Saturday noon, Zhang Shu appeared at the bottom of Female Dormitory No. 23. He had originally found an inconspicuous spot to wait, but because he was holding a bunch of freesias, he still caught everyone’s attention. People in the milk tea shop kept glancing at him, anticipating the appearance of his female lead just like he was.
During lunch hour, people were coming and going from the dormitory building. When Sheng Xia came out, onlookers could immediately tell she was the one the young man was waiting for.
Today she happened to be wearing a white coat and a white beret, with red lips and white teeth, her features as delicate as a painting. She was just like that bunch of freesias.
Sheng Xia took the flowers, her joy evident, “They’re beautiful!”
Zhang Shu nodded, examining her face, “Very beautiful.”
“Didn’t we agree I would arrange everything?” Sheng Xia emphasized. He had secretly spent money again.
Zhang Shu: “From now on, wherever you want to go, we’ll go.”
Sheng Xia carefully placed the flowers in Little Mo’s basket.
Little Mo was the name she gave to the electric scooter. She had originally wanted to call it Little Green, but Zhang Shu stopped her, saying that for someone cultured, she had no sense of naming.
To this, the cultured person responded: Simple names are easier to maintain.
Little Mo was indeed easy to maintain. When Sheng Xia used it for commuting on campus, she only needed to charge it once a week, but for today’s itinerary, she had already fully charged it.
“Riding out?” Zhang Shu asked.
“Mm,” Sheng Xia had already straddled the scooter, inserting the key, “Get on?”
Zhang Shu: …
“Let me drive?” This was his last bit of stubbornness.
Sheng Xia: “I’ll drive you.”
Zhang Shu: “Can you manage? Who was it that said they couldn’t carry me back in senior year?”
Sheng Xia hadn’t forgotten about that, of course. At that time, she was just making excuses, not wanting to give him a ride. Who knew he would be so thick-skinned?
Sheng Xia: “I often give my roommates rides now, I’m very experienced.”
Zhang Shu: “Wait until it’s warmer to let you drive. Come down, I’ll sit in front.”
Sheng Xia couldn’t win the argument and obediently moved to the back seat.
He started the scooter, reminding her: “It’s windy in the back.”
These familiar words…
That day going to Binjiang Park she hadn’t dared to hug him, but now they were officially together. Sheng Xia wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his back.
Feeling her hand being pulled away, Sheng Xia frowned – wasn’t he asking her to hold on?
“Don’t keep your hands outside, it’s cold.” His left hand held the handlebar while his right hand pulled her hand into his pocket, reminding her, “Left side.”
“Oh.” Sheng Xia complied, her left hand also obediently finding his coat pocket and sliding in. Inside was warm with his body heat.
For lunch, Sheng Xia chose a Nanli cuisine restaurant that review apps said was very authentic.
The restaurant was in the mall near the school. After parking, Sheng Xia took out her mirrorless camera from her bag, turned it on, and slightly adjusted the parameters while pointing at Zhang Shu.
His handsome face appeared enlarged on the screen.
“Action,” she directed pretentiously.
Zhang Shu: “Another Photography Club assignment?”
Sheng Xia: “Mm, need to make a daily vlog.”
“Then film properly,” Zhang Shu appeared cooperative, holding her hand, letting her chatter about angles behind him.
Reaching the dining floor, Sheng Xia handed the camera to Zhang Shu and took out her phone to check the map, “Hold this for me, let me find where the restaurant is.”
She walked ahead, comparing the mall map to check directions.
Zhang Shu glanced at the huge sign overhead but stayed quiet, following her around the entire dining floor.
Back at the starting point, Sheng Xia was puzzled: “Why can’t I find it?”
Zhang Shu held up the camera, finally unable to resist reminding her, “Silly tour guide, is there a possibility you’re standing right in front of it?”
Sheng Xia suddenly looked up, slightly embarrassed, making an “Uh—” sound. As she turned back about to say something, she saw the lens pointing straight at her, “Are you filming me? Don’t film me!”
She reached over to grab it, but Zhang Shu raised the camera higher. She half-fell into his arms, and Zhang Shu amusedly steadied her but didn’t yield at all. The lens pointed completely downward, showing her puffed-up face on the screen, transitioning from anger to helplessness and finally giving up struggling, “It’s my camera anyway, I can delete it.”
“Oh really?” Zhang Shu raised it even higher, “Then why not let me film?”
It was mealtime, and there were queues everywhere. The restaurant staff and waiting customers all smiled watching them.
Sheng Xia quickly stood up straight from his embrace, stepped back two paces, and was about to burst from embarrassment when Zhang Shu decided to quit while ahead, returning the camera to her and preemptively saying: “Don’t be angry, you can delete it any way.”
Sheng Xia: …
After getting their number, there were still nearly ten tables ahead. After waiting a while, she mentioned being thirsty, and Zhang Shu told her to wait while he got her milk tea – there was a milk tea shop she particularly liked in this building.
Sheng Xia instinctively nodded, then shook her head, standing up, “No, let’s go together, I need to pay.”
Zhang Shu laughed – she was adamant about paying today, wasn’t she?
He didn’t say much, going along with it: “Okay.”
Maybe it was Sheng Xia’s imagination, but she felt the couple next to them giving them strange looks.
The milk tea shop was packed on weekends, and they waited a long time to get their order. When they returned to the restaurant, they had missed their number. Just as Sheng Xia was about to queue again or find another place, Zhang Shu said something to the staff, who then told them to wait a moment and that they would arrange to sit soon.
“You can do that?” Sheng Xia was curious.
Zhang Shu: “As long as you haven’t missed too many numbers, it’s fine.”
Suddenly, an extremely domineering male voice came from behind: “Shouldn’t it be our turn? Server?”
Then a female voice chimed in: “Yeah, how can you let others cut in line?”
It was that couple, the girl still holding a bouquet – also on a date.
The server explained about the three-table grace period for missed numbers, but the man still wouldn’t let it go, repeatedly saying “I” and demanding to see the manager, his tone very unpleasant.
The server looked troubled, and Sheng Xia said: “Let them go first, we can wait longer.”
Zhang Shu also nodded in agreement.
The server gave her a very grateful look.
When it was finally their turn, coincidentally, their seats were next to that couple.
While ordering, Zhang Shu filmed her again, asking: “What are you ordering?”
Sheng Xia listed several dishes from the menu, then wanted to ask if he wanted to add anything, but as soon as she looked up, she found herself in the camera lens again and immediately deflated, “If you keep filming, I won’t let you eat.”
Zhang Shu used an interviewer’s tone: “So what’s the vlog theme? Not letting Zhang Shu eat?”
Sheng Xia: “It’s just daily life, mainly practicing editing.” She planned to film the mall, the streets, and the food – even empty shots could be edited to look aesthetic.
Of course, she also wanted to document this day.
Initially joining the Photography Club was partly because she felt everyone else had hobbies, while she only had reading – her leisure activities were too limited. Secondly, that day she had accidentally filmed him, and afterward, she kept watching that video repeatedly, suddenly feeling that recording some moments could be quite beautiful.
Zhang Shu: “What else are we doing today?”
Sheng Xia closed the menu: “Watch a movie after eating.”
Zhang Shu: “Which movie?”
Sheng Xia: “That sci-fi blockbuster.”
Zhang Shu: “Then what?”
Sheng Xia: “Go to the arcade.”
Zhang Shu: “Mm, and then?”
Sheng Xia: “Karaoke, I guess.”
Zhang Shu: “You’re singing?”
Sheng Xia: “Of course, you’re singing, I want to listen.”
Zhang Shu: “That’ll cost you.”
Sheng Xia briefly considered: “Okay, how about sixty per hour?” That was the price of a mini KTV room.
Zhang Shu: “And then?”
Sheng Xia became uncertain: “Um… dinner?”
Zhang Shu: “Your vlog script is taking shape.”
Sheng Xia: …
Zhang Shu smiled imperceptibly – her date itinerary was essentially a complete copy-paste of Xin Xiaohe and Yang Linyu’s.
Those two had posted about it on Moments.
Zhang Shu put down the camera and scanned the QR code to order according to the dishes she’d listed, commenting: “Isn’t this very natural? Being on camera isn’t that hard, is it?”
Sheng Xia thought: That’s because she knows she can delete it.
Zhang Shu returned the camera to her, “The Photography Club is good, suits you well.”
Sheng Xia was also quite satisfied with this chance choice: “Mm, I think so too.”
As they chatted, the food arrived, and Sheng Xia only then realized he had already ordered and paid. She had still been waiting to call the server to order.
Sheng Xia: “No more breaking rules, how do you keep forgetting?”
Zhang Shu raised his hands in surrender: “Won’t happen again.”
A snicker came from the next table – it was that guy from before. He asked his girlfriend, “Baby, want to take photos first?”
The girl answered: “What’s worth photographing here? It’s not even a fancy restaurant, are we making a documentary or something?”
The guy continued laughing: “True, we’re only here because you were craving it. I suggested Japanese food but you didn’t want it.”
Their dialogue was very deliberate – if Sheng Xia couldn’t tell by now, she’d be too stupid.
She frowned at Zhang Shu but only saw his lips curved slightly as if just finding it amusing. She didn’t say anything either, and they exchanged a smile, everything that needed to be said was in their eyes.
— We’ll enjoy ourselves our way.
After eating, they went to the cinema, where Sheng Xia discovered that the couple’s route was surprisingly identical to theirs.
While Sheng Xia collected tickets and bought popcorn, Zhang Shu stood aside like a hands-off boss, intently watching the camera screen, following her with the lens. Sheng Xia had already given up struggling and let him film. She hugged a large bucket of popcorn, scanned to pay, and asked the camera: “Is one bucket enough?”
Zhang Shu nodded without speaking.
That couple lined up behind them, their eyes carrying strange mockery. Sheng Xia accidentally made eye contact with the girl and coldly looked away.
“Baby, I want Häagen-Dazs, vanilla flavor, and a large bucket of popcorn, butter flavor, mm, and also…” The girl clung to her boyfriend speaking in an especially high, coquettish voice.
Sheng Xia got goosebumps from that “baby.”
But the guy seemed to enjoy it, pulling the girl in for a deep kiss, “Whatever baby wants to eat, we’ll buy it all.”
Sheng Xia finished paying and left, then turned back to see Zhang Shu still at the counter, saying to the clerk: “I want Häagen-Dazs.”
Clerk: “What flavor, how many?”
Zhang Shu: “Vanilla, how many do you have?”
Clerk: “It sells well, only three left.”
Zhang Shu: “I’ll take them all.”
Sheng Xia was stunned. He paid and walked over to her. The girl behind him was furious but could only glare helplessly while her boyfriend consoled her: “It’s okay, it’s okay, there are other flavors, want strawberry?”
The girl stamped her foot: “No no no!”
Zhang Shu’s expression remained neutral as he put his arm around Sheng Xia’s shoulders. She could barely contain herself, letting out a “pfft” of laughter before fully turning around.
Once in their seats, she leaned to his ear, “So bad!”
She smiled mischievously, eyes full of cunning.
Zhang Shu: “How so?”
“The Häagen-Dazs!”
Zhang Shu said seriously: “Don’t you like vanilla flavor?”
Well, that was true.
“Anyway, you’re bad, totally bad.” Bad in such a serious and righteous way.
Zhang Shu kissed her nose tip from his position, calmly admitting: “Oh.”
Two minutes later, that couple passed in front of them and sat on their right.
What a strange fate.
The movie was noisy, an action blockbuster. Amid the clanging sound effects, someone was making out intensely, the sounds intimate, their movements so vigorous the whole row of seats shook.
Sheng Xia glanced to the side, dumbfounded.
That couple had removed the armrest between their seats, their coats hung on the back of the chairs. The girl wore a thin, wide-necked fitted knit top and was practically sprawled across the guy, whose hands were roaming freely.
The tight-knit fabric revealed the guy’s hand movements all too clearly.
From Sheng Xia’s angle, the girl’s… was half exposed.
This?
She’d seen similar behavior under the dormitory building before, but never this extreme.
Suddenly she felt the armrest beside her lift, and her vision went dark as a large palm covered her 3D glasses. Then her head was pressed against a firm shoulder.
“Watch the movie.” His lowered voice came from above.
Sheng Xia looked up. Zhang Shu was intently watching the movie as if nothing had happened, though his arm around her shoulders tightened slightly.
Light and shadow flickered across his face, his Adam’s apple gently rolling as he swallowed popcorn.
Sheng Xia felt his profile looked somewhat different, but couldn’t pinpoint exactly how.
Zhang Shu suddenly turned to face her, “Looking at me is free, watch the movie first.”
Caught in the act, Sheng Xia didn’t admit it, complaining instead: “You smudged my glasses.”
Half-lying in his arms now, she looked up playfully, her chest brushing against his arm. Zhang Shu cast a cool glance at the couple next door putting on their live show, then looked back at her face.
Did she think he was that self-controlled?
Through the dark glasses, Sheng Xia couldn’t see his increasingly intense gaze. She only saw him suddenly reach up to remove his glasses, then lift her chin as soft lips pressed down, taking a deep taste, punishingly biting her lower lip before pulling away to stare at her.
Sheng Xia: “The glasses, they’re even more smudged.”
The next second, her glasses were also removed, her head cradled as he kissed her again, his fingers pushing back her beret to caress her ear. Sheng Xia shivered, and his tongue took advantage to slip in, conquering territory.
The kiss was urgent and fierce, matching the rhythm of the fight scenes.
Her tongue went numb.
How long did they kiss? She didn’t know. She could never resist his kisses, whether stormy or gentle, they always made her lose herself.
Until the fighting sounds decreased and the plot probably moved to post-battle grief with slow, flowing background music, his kiss also slowed, just holding her lips, playing with them one by one.
Like comfort too.
He released her, forehead against forehead, breathing heavily.
Then he put his clean glasses on her and wore her smudged ones himself, adjusted his sitting position, and looked back at the screen.
Acting like nothing happened again.
Sheng Xia: “How can you watch with smudged glasses?”
“The climax is already over…” he began.
Sheng Xia’s cheeks burned red.
What? Climax what? Her gaze was panicked and shy.
Zhang Shu straightened up and pulled away, smiling, “I meant the movie, nothing much worth watching now.”
Wearing an expression of “What were you thinking?” like a perfect gentleman.
Sheng Xia: … She shouldn’t have asked.
He simply took off his glasses and openly stared at her. Sheng Xia copied his earlier behavior, watching the movie single-mindedly, but couldn’t understand anything anymore.
After five minutes, Sheng Xia still couldn’t help asking: “So, should we keep watching?”
Zhang Shu: “Either way, I could watch for another whole day.”
Sheng Xia stopped asking and just pulled him along to leave, not forgetting to take the unfinished ice cream.
With about fifteen minutes left in the movie, they left early for the arcade across the street, but unexpectedly that couple came out too.
Sheng Xia was puzzled, “Are we that destined?”
“Just pretend we don’t see them,” Zhang Shu said.
However, when they went to play racing games, that couple also played racing games. When they played Whack-a-Mole, that couple followed suit. It was like they were deliberately trying to compete.
Zhang Shu led her to the basketball machine. “Want to play?”
Sheng Xia wasn’t particularly interested in basketball, but seeing only one machine was left, surely the couple couldn’t follow them here?
“Yes,” she said.
Zhang Shu inserted coins, selected two-player mode, and started the game.
Zhang Shu made almost every shot. Even though Sheng Xia hadn’t scored, they still cleared the level.
Sure enough, the couple appeared behind them, whispering.
The guy said, “Don’t worry, someone will get eliminated soon.”
However, the nearby machines seemed occupied by regulars practicing their shots. The machines just wouldn’t become available.
Meanwhile, Zhang Shu taught Sheng Xia hand-by-hand, and her accuracy improved. They kept clearing levels until their arms started aching. When Sheng Xia called for a break, Zhang Shu helped her stretch her arms. As they turned to leave, they saw the couple still waiting.
Leaving the arcade, the couple finally stopped following. Sheng Xia wondered, “How can people be so strange?”
Zhang Shu replied coolly, “There are indeed many bored people.”
The essence of copycats is boredom and jealousy.
Sheng Xia: “Won’t this lower their date quality too?”
Too?
Did she feel their date quality was affected?
Zhang Shu wanted to pat her head, but she was wearing a hat, so he pinched her cheek instead. “Forget about plans, let’s have an impromptu date.”
Sheng Xia’s eyes lit up. “What?”
Zhang Shu led her downstairs, out of the mall, away from this “formulaic dating” hub.
They rode their bikes, wandering on the streets.
They turned into interesting alleys, took photos in the artistic district, bought spray paint from street artists, and made random graffiti.
They got memberships at an old bookstore, queued for half an hour at a nameless shop for one-yuan flatbread, petted dirty cats in the hutongs, and had staring contests with the wolfdog guarding a courtyard.
Then they snuck into a park about to close, and spun themselves dizzy on an abandoned carousel, followed by dizzy kisses until they were nearly breathless. They caught their breath by the lake, followed directions from a cleaning lady, and sped away under the curses of the park manager.
Finally, they rode through the bustling business district as lights came on, sharing a bowl of street-vendor tofu…
Walking, eating, more walking, more eating.
Memory full, emotions overflowing—happiness nearly overwhelming.
“Where else do you want to go?” Zhang Shu’s voice carried back in the wind.
Sheng Xia leaned against his back, hands in his pockets. “Anywhere is fine.”
Zhang Shu chuckled and started singing softly [A popular love song about following someone anywhere].
Sheng Xia had heard the female version of this song, sweet and romantic. From him, it became youthful and spirited, yet somehow perfectly fitting.
“Haven’t heard you sing today,” Sheng Xia remembered their seventy-yuan promise. “I still want to see you play drums!”
Perhaps because the day had been so enjoyable, she made her request boldly.
But where would they find drums?
Zhang Shu suddenly turned around. “Alright, let’s try.”
After several turns, they returned to the art district from earlier. The street had transformed into a bar street, now alive with colorful lights.
The central art plaza had a stage sponsored by a karaoke app, fully equipped for visitors to perform. A girl was singing—average skill but confident and radiant, attracting applause from onlookers.
When she finished and no one else stepped up, Zhang Shu mounted the stage.
Is he going to sing here? Sheng Xia thought. But there aren’t any drums… Still, this is nice.
Whether fast songs or slow ones, Zhang Shu’s voice had one distinctive feature—a crisp opening that immediately captured attention. The crowd grew larger, some recording with phones. Sheng Xia belatedly pulled out her camera.
[The narrative describes him performing a popular song]
The audience sang along. Zhang Shu effortlessly hit the high notes, but rap was his specialty, his tone perfectly matching the music.
He had a certain quality in performing—it didn’t feel like a performance. Like casually singing in a private karaoke room, with no extra movements, though his body naturally swayed occasionally. He ignored the audience, always looking in Sheng Xia’s direction.
The full song had two parts, but he only sang one. Despite the audience wanting more, he left the stage, walking toward Sheng Xia.
As Sheng Xia lowered her camera to hug him, he lifted her camera hand and asked into the lens, “How was it, girlfriend?”
Sheng Xia gazed through the viewfinder, drowning in his smug expression.
Many people were watching them. Sheng Xia pulled his hand and ducked through the crowd. Unexpectedly, a punk-styled middle-aged man called out, “Hey, young man, wait!”
Zhang Shu stopped, holding Sheng Xia’s hand: “See, fish took the bait.”
Before Sheng Xia could understand these twists, the middle-aged man approached, introducing himself: “I’m the manager from Bana Bar up ahead. Would you like to be our guest performer tonight?”
Zhang Shu feigned hesitation.
The manager glanced at Sheng Xia. “If you perform well, we could sign you long-term.”
Zhang Shu: “Do you have drums?”
Manager: “Yes! We have a house band, we have everything!”
“No need for long-term,” Zhang Shu negotiated, “just get my girlfriend a good seat.”
The manager hadn’t expected it to be so easy—this young man didn’t even ask about payment. “Of course, of course, food and drinks included!”
They followed the manager to a bar, neither too rowdy nor too quiet, between a nightclub and a lounge. Most customers were chatting or playing cards.
It was Sheng Xia’s first time in such a place, her nervousness obvious. Zhang Shu squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, these bars aren’t sketchy.”
Sheng Xia: “How did you know there’d be managers scouting here?”
Zhang Shu: “Seniors from Haiyan Music Society mentioned it. Was planning to earn some pocket money.”
Unlike nightclubs, art district bars had more regulars. Regular performers lost novelty over time, so managers often scouted at the plaza.
Sheng Xia: “Why didn’t you before?”
Zhang Shu: “Because I found ways to earn money without answering to others.”
Before Sheng Xia could ask more, the manager led them to their seats, right by the stage with an excellent view of the whole band.
Then Zhang Shu was called away, leaving instructions: “Don’t wander off. If you need the restroom, ask a female server to accompany you.”
Before Sheng Xia could respond, the manager clicked his tongue and guaranteed, “I’ll take good care of her! Don’t worry, this is my establishment.”
Only then did Zhang Shu go backstage, prepare briefly, and appear on stage with two bandmates.
The bassist introduced Zhang Shu as tonight’s guest performer, earning enthusiastic applause.
Upbeat music started.
His first song was Mayday’s “Love-ing”…
Sheng Xia: …
This guy was determined to make her swoon.
[The narrative describes him performing an upbeat love song]
Accompanying the fast-paced lyrics were even faster drum beats, his arms swinging, shoulders moving, chin bobbing to the lyrics, the smile never fading.
She could tell just from the music how happy he was.
The bar’s atmosphere immediately lifted, and many people jumped up from their seats, dancing while playing games and cards.
The manager shouted to Sheng Xia: “Your boyfriend would make a great singer! Such steady breathing while drumming, strong voice, good physique!”
Perhaps it was Sheng Xia’s imagination, but when mentioning “good physique,” the manager raised his eyebrows meaningfully.
Sheng Xia smiled slightly, nodding: “He’s good at everything.”
The manager hadn’t heard clearly, just grinning, clearly satisfied.
After one song, guest performers typically say a few words. Zhang Shu steadied his breath, about to speak, then suddenly looked down and smiled, like an irrepressible joy.
Then he looked up, gripped the microphone, glanced at Sheng Xia, then addressed the crowd, “Not much to say, everyone has fun, happiness is most important, and, being in love is wonderful.”
Then he exchanged looks with the bassist and keyboardist, “Next song.”
Brief and natural, he commanded like a seasoned performer.
Cheers continued.
Sheng Xia’s heart raced uncontrollably.
Mm, being in love is wonderful.
Both were too happy to notice the clock silently reaching 23:00.
The curfew time for the women’s dormitory at Heqing University.