In Room 208, when dorm head Yu Wuying groggily headed to the bathroom late at night, she noticed a desk lamp still glowing in a corner.

It was Ah Heng, hunched over medical textbooks thick as bricks, eyes half-closed, muttering to herself.

Wuying smiled, tiptoeing over, and heard the soft, gentle voice: “Salivary amylase, starch, maltose, parotid glands, submandibular glands, sublingual glands, pharynx, esophagus, stomach, small intestine, large intestine, residue, feces…”

She gently covered Ah Heng’s eyes. Ah Heng sniffed, recognizing Wuying’s scent, smiled, and lightly embraced her, speaking very softly: “Sister, falling from upstairs – no whistling wind, no freedom, no beauty, just loss of bowel control and bursting brain matter.”

Wuying laughed at Ah Heng: “You’ve gone crazy from studying.”

Ah Heng said: “Today DJ Yan talked down a girl who wanted to jump off a building. I just think, if DJ Yan knew medical science, he wouldn’t need to waste so many words. You should have heard him – he was almost tongue-tied.”

Wuying sighed: “Can’t you stop hanging around with Xiao Wu, always clutching that radio, being a devoted fan, joining fan clubs – it’s blindly obsessive to the extreme. Can’t you see that man’s desperate for fame? Always doing interviews and shows, wanting to parade himself in front of the whole world three times a day if he could.”

Ah Heng nodded: “Big sis, you’ve summed it up perfectly. He absolutely won’t miss any chance to expose himself. Last time in that sanitary pad commercial – you know, Yueyueshu, the one I often use – even the passing extras looked like that embarrassing guy. Even our fans found it humiliating.”

Wuying said: “Yet you two still faithfully guard that radio every day, watching someone make a fool of themselves.”

Ah Heng yawned softly: “Well, we’re his fans after all.”

Wuying laughed: “That’s contradictory – what kind of fans spend all day badmouthing their idol?”

Ah Heng collapsed onto the lower bunk, burying her face in the pillow, mumbling: “I’m the type of fan who pretends not to know DJ Yan in front of others, but quickly learns everything he does, then looks down on him.”

Wuying twitched: “Are you sure you’re not his enemy?”

Ah Heng lifted her small face: “Wrong, I love him. He’s the one I love most in this world.”

Wuying grabbed her hair, and climbed into bed, sneering: “Give me a break! Yesterday in Party class you said you loved the Communist Party most. Changed your mind in the blink of an eye – the Party would be so heartbroken.”

Ah Heng: “…”

Finally, steady breathing accompanied the carefree cicada songs outside. A good night, dreamless.

In late September, fewer freshmen were crowding at the院 entrance, chattering and looking at them with admiring faces. Ah Heng suddenly felt a bit lonely. Then she remembered last year, when she was just like them, spinning like a top following behind everyone, rushing around campus in crowds, creating chaos everywhere – it was quite noisy.

Back then, just like now, the sunset was beautiful, with an almost imperceptible breeze.

She smiled and said: “Feibai, I seem to be feeling sentimental for no reason.”

The two walked side by side along the long, wide street – a perfect place for digestion after dinner.

Gu Feibai glanced at her without speaking, hands in his pockets, fingers creating indentations in the soft white fabric, forming elegant contours.

Suddenly remembering something, he spoke flatly: “I’ve transferred the tuition to your card. Don’t worry too much about it.”

Ah Heng stammered: “I’ve almost saved enough for tuition…”

She felt somewhat defeated, never able to stand confidently before him.

It seemed that anything involving money was like this.

Gu Feibai spoke plainly: “It’s not my money – it’s Uncle’s intention. Whatever you want to say, tell him.”

His tone was completely rational.

Ah Heng was clever and automatically fell silent.

The atmosphere grew awkward.

After a while, Ah Heng gently poked his elbow, speaking softly: “Gu Feibai, why are you always like this? Nobody’s provoking you, yet one sentence from you can leave people speechless.”

Gu Feibai coldly glanced at her, expressionless.

Ah Heng looked up, eyes smiling: “Don’t be angry anymore. If you keep being angry, I might have to call out to you.”

Gu Feibai brushed off the child’s paw, continuing forward expressionlessly.

Ah Heng put her hands behind her back, lightly circling to face him, looking pitiful: “Xiao Bai, ah, Xiao Bai, Xiao… Bai.”

Gu Feibai walked around her, pretending not to hear, walking on and on.

Ah Heng jogged to catch up, furrowing her distant mountain-like brows with slight exasperation: “Gu Feibai, you’re going too far… Ah, you smiled, you smiled! You smirked – how… despicable.”

Gu Feibai reached out his hand, fingers delicately slim, gently holding hers, a faint smile on his lips: “What kind of person are you, fixating on the mountain, not allowing others to smile?”

Ah Heng smiled, her eyes and brows softening: “The worthy wife of the Gu family, six years late – is that acceptable?”

She planned to marry Gu Feibai after graduation. And medical school took seven years.

Gu Feibai stood straight-backed, a hint of red on his fair cheeks, nodding slightly: “Approved.”

Yan Xi took on the Lan Corporation’s case – before the fashion show, they still needed a set of promotional photos. His partner was a youth of the same age, not particularly handsome, but with very gentle facial features, strangely tender and elegant.

Yan Xi found him familiar – thinking about it, he was the young waiter he’d seen at Cutting Diamond that day, who had been scolded by Little Zhou.

Seeing him, the youth was extremely nervous, bowing his head: “Young Master Yan.”

Yan Xi spoke flatly: “There’s no Young Master Yan here. Call me DJ Yan or Yan Xi.”

The person nodded slightly, somewhat shy, and smiled showing eight standard teeth: “Hello, DJ Yan, I’m Chen Wan.”

Yan Xi took off his coat, asking carelessly: “Who chose you?”

Chen Wan curved his brows, with a soft, cotton-like smile: “Young Master Lan. He said DJ Yan needs an accompanying background.”

Yan Xi unbuttoned his shirt, lowering his head, his bangs falling, after a while, casually said: “Get out.”

Chen Wan was stunned: “Ah?”

The youth smiled ambiguously: “I’m changing clothes. Do you want to keep watching?”

Under the white shirt was a large expanse of clean, fair skin.

The person blushed, hurriedly closing the door.

The photographer they hired was the legendary number one in the industry from the neighboring island nation, constantly jabbering away, nose reaching to his eyes, with a small translator following him everywhere.

Master Hanashima jabbered on and on.

Yan Xi: “Can you speak human language?”

Jabber jabber, nostrils, jabber jabber.

The translator eagerly flattered: “Master Hanashima wants you to be more sensual.”

Yan Xi was depressed: “Damn, how much more sensual? He’s already pulled my shirt down to the last button.”

Hanashima jumped up and down, jabber jabber, jabber.

The translator said: “Our Master Hanashima says your expression is too stiff.”

Yan Xi rolled his eyes: “I’m not here to sell smiles.”

Hanashima angrily pulled the curtain, stomping hard, jabber jabber.

The translator also flared his nostrils: “Hmph, never seen such an unprofessional model!”

The planner nearby was going crazy, wiping sweat from his forehead: “Ah ah, my young master, my Yan Xi, can’t you just condescend to be sensual once for this little Japanese? We’ve already used ten rolls of film on this scene. Yan Xi, if we don’t succeed, the Boss will fire me.”

Yan Xi raised an eyebrow, making a pause gesture: “He says unbutton, I unbutton; says pout, I pout; says make bedroom eyes, I make bedroom eyes – what the fuck else do you want?”

Yan Xi pulled off his white gloves: “I’m taking the day off. Whatever you have to say, have Lan Liu tell me directly. You take good care of the little Japanese.”

Turning, he walked toward the changing room.

Chen Wan held a lunchbox, head lowered, following behind Yan Xi.

Yan Xi sneered: “Why are you following me?”

Chen Wan’s face reddened slightly, speaking softly: “Yan Xi, you haven’t eaten all day.”

Yan Xi paused slightly, turned around, and stood still, squinting at him.

“So?”

Chen Wan coughed lightly: “Before I came, I made some food at home. Would you like to eat something to fill your stomach?”

Yan Xi picked up the lunchbox – an ordinary lunchbox.

Then, opening it – ordinary rice, ordinary dishes, the only appetizing thing was several pieces of fragrant braised pork ribs.

He smiled, nodding: “Thank you.”

Taking the chopsticks, he picked up a rib and began chewing.

Then, that taste – not too fatty or greasy, not too sweet or salty, and importantly, premium small ribs that could be eaten in one bite, down to the bone.

His preferred way of eating.

Chen Wan smiled somewhat nervously: “How does it taste?”

Yan Xi said: “Very delicious. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.”

Then, his eyes curved into smiles, a big childlike grin.

“Why don’t you make some every day?”