During the break, Sheng Xia and Zhang Shu didn’t return to Nanli University, as they each had summer camps to attend for graduate school admission. Getting into their schools was almost certain.
Heqing University’s summer camp was two days earlier than Haiyan University’s. It was held at a resort in the suburbs. It had been raining for several consecutive days, and Zhang Shu, worried about her taking a taxi alone, drove her there.
Heavy rain poured during their journey. Just as they arrived at the resort, they received notice that the upstream reservoir was releasing flood waters, submerging a section of the road.
Unable to return to the city, Zhang Shu had to find a hotel nearby to stay and wait for the road to clear.
Before Sheng Xia’s camp even began, she ended up staying with Zhang Shu.
Outside, the wind howled fiercely. Inside, Zhang Shu held her as they watched a movie together.
Sheng Xia suddenly asked, “What if you can’t make it back for your summer camp?”
“That probably won’t happen,” Zhang Shu replied carelessly.
Sheng Xia stared at him. “But what if?”
Zhang Shu looked up and quoted a poem in her tone: “Don’t mind the sound of falling leaves in the forest, what’s wrong with taking a stroll while singing?”
Even at a time like this, he remained calm and in good spirits.
“The road is flooded, where can one stroll?”
“It will clear up tomorrow. There are people much busier and more anxious than us.”
“Hmm…”
Of course, Sheng Xia knew the road wouldn’t stay flooded forever, but the path she spoke of wasn’t this path.
If he was trapped here because of her, trapped in China, wasn’t his path flooded because of her?
“I heard from Liao Jing that Cheng Zuoyang is planning to apply to MIT?”
Zhang Shu focused on the movie, casually humming in agreement.
Sheng Xia: “Is America that much stronger in this field?”
Zhang Shu still responded casually: “Not just a little stronger.”
“What about you?”
“Hmm?” Zhang Shu didn’t understand why the topic suddenly turned to him.
“Why aren’t you going?”
Zhang Shu lowered his head, his gaze leaving the screen. Sheng Xia was in his arms, looking up at him as she elaborated on her question: “Shu, with your credentials being so good, why aren’t you going abroad for graduate school?”
Sheng Xia had heard from Liao Jing that for Ivy League schools, Zhang Shu’s credentials were even more advantageous than Cheng Zuoyang’s.
Zhang Shu looked at her steadily for a few seconds, immediately understanding the emotions and complicated logic in her mind. He paused the movie, pulled her waist to make her straddle his legs, and spoke to her face-to-face.
“Maybe later I’ll go for an exchange or study abroad for a year or so,” Zhang Shu said. “Did you hear something? That I’m staying in China because of you instead of choosing to study abroad?”
Sheng Xia lowered her head slightly. “I haven’t heard anyone say anything, I just guessed…”
“Pretty accurate guess.” He smiled as he said this, but Sheng Xia suddenly looked worried, surprised, and dejected as she stared at him.
Although she had known in her heart, she thought he would put it more tactfully.
Zhang Shu kissed her forehead, “Of course, you’re one of the reasons. If this wasn’t enough weight, when would I ever have the right to make it legal?”
Sheng Xia didn’t feel happy hearing this.
Zhang Shu: “But you haven’t held me back, don’t misunderstand.”
“In AI, undeniably, America is still absolutely dominant…” his tone was serious as he held her hand, stroking it occasionally, “but that’s just in academic research. In practical applications, China has more advantages with its larger population base and more implementation scenarios. Didn’t we talk about this when I came back from Stanford’s summer research last year?”
Sheng Xia nodded.
She is only half-understood, but she loved hearing him talk about those strange terms, just as he would be curious about her world of poetry and literature.
When he returned from his summer research last year, she went to pick him up at the airport. Along the way, his excitement was evident, like an idealist newly filled with conviction. Getting into the taxi, he started telling her about autonomous driving; passing the financial district, he told her that in the next twenty years, personal credit would entirely depend on big data evaluation, even an unpaid phone bill might affect personal insurance rates; returning to school to pick up packages, he discussed the conditions and timeline for smart warehouse popularization…
Those were all part of what she thought was a sci-fi world, but he said they would be realized soon.
When talking about these things, Zhang Shu was passionate, pure, and radiant.
“Cheng Zuoyang and I have different strengths. He wants to be a technology pioneer, so he needs to go to the academic frontier and make breakthroughs personally. I don’t have that obsession.”
If she weren’t here, Zhang Shu would certainly choose to study abroad, after all, being closer to the frontier had its advantages, but with her here, he had more important things to do.
“Then what does Shu want to do?”
“Me?” Zhang Shu chuckled, “Know enough to put it to use.”
“Crafty.”
“A great writer should be precise with words. This is called specializing in one’s field.”
“Are you going to start a business then?”
“Mm.”
“Money-grubbing merchant.”
“Mm, need to succeed first to be money-grubbing…”
“Of course, you’ll succeed.”
Sheng Xia wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder, quietly listening to the rain outside as she whispered: “Bamboo staff and straw sandals outpace horses, who’s afraid? You’ll become an extremely, extremely capable person.”
When she was editing his speech in their senior year of high school, she had said that while she might not be able to be useful to the country and the world, he definitely would be. Back then, she thought he was incredibly talented, getting first place without much studying. His future would be extraordinary.
At that time, they didn’t have such an intimate relationship. He was unreachable on the pedestal of being first in the city. Now he held her, she was in his arms and his heart, and in front of her, he could be domineering, childish, or nagging. He was no longer mysterious or lofty, and he was no longer first in school, not even second or third. He seemed to have fallen from his pedestal.
It was unrealistic to keep someone at the peak forever; no one could stand on a pedestal eternally. Zhang Shu understood this truth in high school, and now Sheng Xia had somewhat grasped it too.
Standing on a new platform meant new rankings. People shouldn’t be responsible for rankings, only for themselves and their future. Finding one’s path was most important.
To this day, Sheng Xia still firmly believes that the name Zhang Shu won’t be forgotten. He would become an extremely capable person in his field of “specialization.”
Sheng Xia nuzzled his shoulder, feeling it had become even more firm and broad.
“Bamboo staff and straw sandals outpace horses, who’s afraid…” What’s wrong with carrying a bamboo staff and wearing straw sandals? It’s much lighter than riding a horse.
Zhang Shu repeated it once, suddenly smiled, and turned her over, pinning her beneath him, “What kind of banished immortal have I found?”
Sheng Xia blinked, lately everyone had been giving her this label, what was going on?
“Shu, what you’re doing is truly, genuinely useful. Maybe the huge changes in our future lives will include your contributions. As for me, I’m just a scholar of no use.”
Zhang Shu gazed at her deeply, but his words weren’t so romantic: “Su Shi’s bold style indeed carries a hint of affectation.”
Sheng Xia: “Hm?”
Zhang Shu: “This old fellow’s poetry is quite good, very inclusive, suitable for anyone to use, I in you.”
Sheng Xia realized he was saying he was bold while she was affected!
“Zhang! Shu!” The intimate atmosphere completely vanished. She was furious and raised her leg to kick him, but as soon as she bent her knee, it hit his lower abdomen.
“Oof!” Zhang Shu grimaced in pain, clutching his stomach as he fell to the side.
Sheng Xia sat up and leaned closer to look, “Does it hurt a lot?”
“Hurts…” he squeezed out briefly, sounding extremely restrained.
Sheng Xia panicked, frowning as she went to rub his stomach, “I didn’t use much force, how…”
Before she could finish speaking, her neck was hooked and suddenly pulled down. Zhang Shu tilted his head and accurately caught her lips, kissing her. The hand that had been rubbing his stomach was guided to explore.
After a long kiss ended, Zhang Shu lay looking up at her, smiling.
How could a scholar be of no use?
Money is easy to get, but pure land is hard to find.
The reason immortals are immortals is that they don’t need to do anything because immortals are mortals’ delusions and beliefs.
Zhang Shu: “Silly fairy, who’s afraid?”
Sheng Xia: …
…
During graduation season, Sheng Xia’s vlog went viral.
She filmed several graduation scenes and posted them on a short video platform, which was reposted by Heqing University’s official account.
She filmed the school’s fruit shop: Winter’s gone but sweet potato’s fragrance lingers, summer’s here but where to eat watermelon?
She filmed the cramped printing shop of just a few square meters: Not too many, not too few, one turn of the machine, charges twenty cents.
She also filmed the sunset outside the library, the rampantly growing ivy outside the teaching building, academic couples strolling by the artificial lake, and couples taking graduation photos on the lawn.
Even the mountains of packed luggage ready to be shipped at the bottom of the dormitory building…
The scenes were ordinary, the editing style simple, yet it exploded in popularity.
Many people flooded her homepage and watched all her previous videos.
She had one segment specifically filming Room 219’s graduation photo behind the scenes, and netizens in the comments section praised their dormitory’s looks to the skies.
She also had a segment filming Zhang Shu helping her move dormitories.
She didn’t need to mail her luggage, just needed to move from the undergraduate dormitory to the graduate student dormitory.
Zhang Shu was busy with his studies and preparing to start his business, having already rented a place outside, and didn’t plan to live on campus.
In the video, he asked each time he moved something: “Why won’t you live with me?”
Sheng Xia thought his expression each time was particularly cute, and deliberately filmed close-ups. He looked annoyed yet helpless, just standing there letting her film his face, while Sheng Xia’s giggling laughter ran through the entire video.
The comments section was filled with people urging her: [Say yes to him!]
[Live with him! Please!]
[If you won’t, I will!]
The reason for not living with him was simple, “it’s not legal.”
Not to mention they were still in school, if Wang Lianhua found out about this, she would break her legs, and perhaps his too. The risk was too high, no way.
Room 219 had a farewell dinner, then each left with their luggage. Fan Jingzhu successfully joined the TV station as an intern editor; Zhong Lujie ultimately couldn’t win against her parents and took the civil service exam in their hometown, passing successfully and having to return home to start work after graduation; Liao Jing got into law school for graduate studies, staying at Heqing like Sheng Xia.
Their dormitory had no dramatic stories, no intense conflicts, and seemingly no particularly passionate emotions, but when it came time to part, they still cried together.
Sheng Xia was the last to leave the dormitory. After saying goodbye to the dormitory aunt, when she walked out of Building 23, she felt she had reached the end of one journey and was standing at the starting point of a new one.
Waiting outside the door was still Zhang Shu.
…
In graduate school, Sheng Xia was still surrounded by various reading notes, still couldn’t finish the reading list from her advisor, had even more courses than in her undergraduate years, and when she finally had free time in the evening, she assigned to write speeches for Professor Tan.
Professor Tan had been a consultant for a language TV show last year, and because of his hardcore explanations and humorous personality, he went viral. Not only were his various quotes forwarded, but video websites even had his meme cuts, so now he was often invited to TV shows. He joked that he had become an old internet celebrity at his age. As his “last disciple,” Sheng Xia’s previous vlogs about Professor Tan were also dug up by netizens for secondary processing.
After years of accumulation, plus several viral opportunities, Sheng Xia’s video account had several hundred thousand followers.
She still maintained her updated rhythm, but Zhang Shu appeared less and less. Sheng Xia only filmed him below the neck, and followers commented that she was becoming increasingly stingy.
Later, Zhang Shu stopped appearing altogether.
This wasn’t because Sheng Xia was being stingy, but because in his second year of graduate school, Zhang Shu went to Stanford for an academic year of exchange studies.
In her second year of graduate school, Sheng Xia had the fewest courses, but with Zhang Shu not by her side, she felt the entire city was empty.
He hadn’t given up his rented apartment, and Sheng Xia occasionally went to stay for a couple of days, to clean up. The stacks of business plans and research reports in his study made her eyes burn with interest.
Starting a business was never easy. From an idea’s conception to its implementation, there was more than just capital standing in the way.
On some rejected business proposals, Zhang Shu’s annotations were densely packed. Looking at his handwriting, Sheng Xia could almost see him bent over his desk writing.
She missed him.
Before he left, Sheng Xia had declared confidently: “We’re both so busy, a year will pass quickly.”
But now she felt each day stretched endlessly.
“Go participate in a show for me. Look at other young people, feast your eyes. Looking at my old face every day, how can you not miss that boyfriend of yours who looks like a young star?” Professor Tan forwarded her an invitation email.
It was a mainstream TV station’s Chinese character promotion variety show, inviting popular celebrities and literary and academic experts to explore the origins of Chinese characters.
Academic expert?
“Professor, I’m not qualified, they invited you…”
“The audience is tired of seeing my face, can’t film anything special anymore. If you go, they’ll be delighted.”
A young and beautiful scholar, what a great selling point.
“Go participate. Your generation has such good conditions and technology. If it can serve cultural promotion, wouldn’t that be a tremendously meritorious thing?”
When Sheng Xia mentioned this to Zhang Shu, he also encouraged her to participate, “You’ve been making videos for so long, you shouldn’t be afraid of cameras. Professor Tan feels he’s getting old, and no matter how big his influence is, it won’t last many more years. You’re his hope.”
Sheng Xia stopped being shy and agreed. The show’s team even changed their planning and guest lineup for this. Sheng Xia was paired with a rising young idol star. The young celebrity was indeed easy on the eyes. As soon as their traditional-style promotional photos were taken, Sheng Xia sent them to Zhang Shu.
He immediately video-called her, “This show isn’t serious. If it’s promoting the Chinese language, just promote it. Why are they creating shipping pairs?”
Sheng Xia: “What shipping? He’s only 19!”
“How old do you think you are? You look no different from 16 to me.”
Sheng Xia burst out laughing, “So sour! So sour you’re confused – at 16, you didn’t even know me yet!”
Zhang Shu was speechless, futilely advising: “Well, don’t go cradle-robbing then.”
Sheng Xia: …
“Then have you met any blonde, blue-eyed beautiful classmates?”
“No.”
“How about pretty Chinese classmates?”
“No.”
“Oh, boring.”
“Not as exciting as you filming with your fresh meat celebrity.”
“…”
After the show’s official account posted the promotional photos, netizens thought Sheng Xia was some newly debuted celebrity, criticizing the show for shipping pairs to promote newcomers. The young star’s fans instantly occupied the show’s Weibo, then flooded into Sheng Xia’s Weibo, accusing her of riding coattails. Later, when they discovered she had a boyfriend, they felt something was wrong, and only then realized Sheng Xia was a mentor, tagged as a classical Chinese scholar. By then, it was too late to apologize.
Netizens who followed cultural variety shows mostly held prejudices against popular celebrities and began mocking the young star for trying to pair up with Sheng Xia, calling it social climbing. Some busybodies dug up that Sheng Xia’s boyfriend from her vlogs was a college entrance exam scorer.
This directly led to Zhang Shu being pulled out to outshine the young star – Don’t try to imitate this high-IQ, good-looking genuine couple, you nobody!
In short, before the show even aired, it had sparked a round of online fights.
Sheng Xia never imagined that participating in a mainstream TV station’s variety show could make her trend online.
“This kid is quite nice, very polite. He has too many fans, so there are always some unreasonable ones,” Sheng Xia tried to pacify Zhang Shu, worried he might start confronting netizens using his real name as he did in high school.
Although he wouldn’t lose, he was starting a business and needed to maintain a positive image.
Zhang Shu: “Already speaking up for him?”
Long-distance relationships weren’t easy. Sheng Xia sighed. Some people were like a jar of vinegar, starting to ferment at the slightest provocation.
“Then should I apply for a Weibo verification: Zhang Shu’s girlfriend, how’s that?”
“That won’t do, it should at least be Zhang Shu’s wife.”
Sheng Xia commented: “Getting greedy!”
Zhang Shu laughed, moving closer to the camera, “Oh? How am I getting greedy now? The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”
Sheng Xia: …
They chatted aimlessly about other things, but just before hanging up, Zhang Shu suddenly called out to her, “Baby.”
“Hmm?”
“If you want verification, it must be your own identity, whether scholar, writer or whatever else you like. You will be Zhang Shu’s wife, but you’re not called Zhang Shu’s wife, you’re called Sheng Xia.”
…
As the show aired, Sheng Xia’s short video platform followers exceeded a million, with popularity steadily rising. She even gained the title “Senior Sister.”
Because the young star said he admired Heqing University but couldn’t get in, being able to film with a Heqing University senior sister was his honor, so he fully embraced being a junior on the show.
Whenever he encountered a problem, he’d seek out Sheng Xia, not trying to maintain any image of being able to solve problems independently. In every episode, regardless of which group was on camera, you could always hear a voice off-screen that wouldn’t stop: “Senior Sister! Senior Sister!”
“Senior Sister, does this character have three pronunciations? What’s the other one?”
“Senior Sister! The ‘Jiang’ in toasting, the ‘Hanyu Dictionary’ and ‘Cihai’ pronounce it differently! Which should I use?”
“Senior Sister! Help! This character here…”
“Senior Sister! We’re over time, don’t be so calm!”
“Senior Sister, save me!”
The show aired simultaneously on TV and online, with the online version’s bullet comments also full of “Senior Sister!”
Whether it was the young star’s agency’s manipulation or organic growth, whichever episode featured Senior Sister Sheng Xia would trend online. The young star also gained new popularity peaks for his humble, polite, and well-behaved image on the show, reversing netizens’ bad pre-show impressions. He even followed Sheng Xia on Weibo.
Sheng Xia’s inbox was constantly receiving messages from talent agencies, livestreaming companies, and e-commerce businesses – some wanting to sign her as a celebrity, others seeking promotional cooperation. Sheng Xia went from initial panic to eventually treating it calmly, ignoring them and slowly resuming her video updates.
Remaining detached from everything, unmoved by favor or disgrace.
…
Stanford’s vacation schedule differed from China’s. When Zhang Shu had his break, he didn’t return to China because he needed to use the holiday for research investigations and wanted to visit Cheng Zuoyang at MIT.
So Sheng Xia spent the winter break alone at Nanli.
This time she couldn’t hide it anymore – Wang Lianhua discovered all her social media accounts.
Before, she had only gone viral in small circles, and middle-aged people like Wang Lianhua wouldn’t watch such content, but TV shows were different. Even if Wang Lianhua didn’t watch it herself, people around her would.
After dinner, Wang Lianhua sat on the sofa scrolling through Sheng Xia’s videos. Suddenly, she turned the phone volume to maximum for one clip –
“Live with me.”
“Why won’t you live with me?”
“Are you going to live with me or not?”
“No, you have to live with me.”
“Why won’t you live with me!”
Sheng Xia was washing dishes, her back turning cold. After dragging out the washing for over ten minutes, she turned around only to meet Wang Lianhua’s stern gaze.
“Did you move in?”
“Huh?” Sheng Xia’s heart jumped – what was Mom saying? Did they DO it?
Wang Lianhua repeated word by word: “Are. You. Living. Together!?”
Sheng Xia’s current feeling was like that day when she misunderstood Zhang Shu looking at the criminal law book but it turned out he’d just written the wrong name – nervous, suffocating, then finally relieved.
“No…”
Wang Lianhua’s voice rose: “Really not?”
“Not!”
Wang Lianhua: “How far have you gone?”
Sheng Xia trembled: “Huh?”
“You haven’t had relations and he’s so clingy and righteous about asking you to live with him? Do you think your mother is stupid? Huh?”
“…”
“Say something!”
Whimper, what could she say? Didn’t Mom already know everything? Why ask? Mom always forgot she was already in her second year of graduate school, at this age other families might be pushing for marriage. How should she answer this question? Help!
Wang Lianhua’s voice rose again: “Tell Zhang Shu to get back here and see me!”