Chapter 62

*The World Is Sinking, and We Are in Love*
Warm winter sunlight streamed through the floor‑to‑ceiling windows into the departure lounge. The hazy light outlined the two figures in an embrace; from afar, they looked like a carefully painted scene, all warm and bright colors.
Xiaoxiao waited by the entrance. Only when it was time to board did she send a WeChat reminder: 【Sang-sang, we should go.】
Seeing the message, Qin Sang had no choice but to say goodbye, reluctant to part. Before leaving, she lowered her voice and said, “I’ll save the reward for next time.”
When they finally boarded, she turned back once through the crowd. Even standing amid a dense sea of people, his figure still stood out—slender as bamboo in his black trench coat, not bulky at all. Other passengers waiting to board couldn’t help glancing back at him as they passed.
But his eyes were fixed on one spot. Only when that slim figure turned back did he finally move. The white cloche hat was pulled low, but it didn’t stop him from seeing the look on her face. She turned back to wave goodbye, brows arched, her smile bright and clean.
Qin Sang sat back down in her seat, one hand propped against her cheek. Her lips moved silently as she mouthed:
“I’ll miss you.”
They hadn’t made any special effort to hide. It was just that their combined aura was so distinct that you couldn’t help looking a few more times. Some passengers in the lounge even quietly lifted their phones to snap a couple of photos and post them online.
【Saw a ridiculously good‑looking couple at Kun-ning Airport. I thought they were filming a drama, so I checked around—no cameras. Turns out they’re real. I’m crying. How can a couple whose vibes scream “idol drama” actually exist in reality? The guy is insanely handsome, both suave and doting—he carried all the luggage the whole time without complaint. Couldn’t see the girl’s face clearly, but just from the atmosphere, you can tell she’s definitely a great beauty. When they were boarding, they hugged for so long before separating. I always thought I hated public PDA. Turns out that’s wrong—I just hate low‑quality, low‑attractiveness couples with no manners :)】
Nothing on the internet stays small. It was also the most painful day of the week—Wednesday—when many people chose to surf online to relieve stress.
What had started as an ordinary personal Weibo post was suddenly picked up by a marketing account. After a bit of fanning the flames, it somehow shot straight into the top three on the trending list: #Kun-ning Airport Couple#. The title was vague, and it involved a “couple,” so netizens diving in thought some indiscreet pair had made a scene at the airport.
Once they clicked in, they did indeed see a couple who didn’t seem to care whether everyone else lived or died—but why were they so perfectly matched?
The comments exploded, and the candid photo shared by the blogger was reposted like crazy. Some sharp‑eyed people recognized her right away.
【Why does the girl look so familiar?】
【Guys, I went to check my wife’s schedule. Sure enough, she’s supposed to have a brand event today—invited as a guest. And she’s still out northwest right now, supposed to be flying back today. If you line up the timing… case closed. It’s my wife, no doubt.】
【Damn, imagine eating melons and finding out they’re about yourself (quietly adding: I think the guy actually looks pretty good, even if we can’t really see his face)】
What had been a small trending topic suddenly blew up. The “super high‑value couple at Kun-ning Airport” was now suspected to be Qin Sang—and the man, her yet‑unrevealed boyfriend. The hashtag went from hot to on fire.
Qin Sang didn’t find out about it until after her plane landed. Once they’d left the airport and gotten in the car, Wen-jie asked:
“You and Mr. Xie got photographed. The whole internet is talking about you two. Do you want to push it down, or just let it cool on its own?”
“Really?” Qin Sang was a little surprised. She took the tablet and tapped it open. The photo was actually pretty well‑shot: the light and shadow were captured perfectly, the sense of atmosphere strong. She raised a brow. “Which paparazzi took this? It’s pretty good.”
Wen-jie explained, “Not paparazzi, just a random netizen. You two were way too high‑profile. Did you think netizens were blind? This is what you get for flaunting it—dragged into the spotlight and publicly executed on the hot search.”
Qin Sang arched an eyebrow. “Wen-jie, why do you sound almost… delighted?”
Wen-jie shrugged. “It was going to come out eventually. Isn’t it better to pull the thorn out now? What’s your plan—want me to cool it down and pull the trending topic?”
“Leave it.”
Qin Sang studied the photo. Neither of their faces was fully visible; you couldn’t really tell who they were. In that case, she could always deny it if she wanted.
After thinking for a bit, she logged into her account, directly reposted the Weibo, and publicly apologized:
“I’m very sorry for occupying public resources with a private matter. I’ll be more careful next time.”
That move blew the topic sky‑high. Weibo itself crashed for a while before they managed to get it back up.
【Ahhhh Sang-sang baby, Mama kisses you】
【So that really is wifey? The blogger said brother‑in‑law is handsome—I’ll trust wifey’s taste for now】
【I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it, I refuse to accept this—unless brother‑in‑law shows his face】
…
News that Qin Sang was in love wasn’t exactly new; people had been speculating for a while. Now it was simply confirmed that all the rumors hadn’t come from nowhere. Netizens accepted it easily—especially since that candid “god‑tier” shot was honestly convincing.
Who would truly oppose a beauty dating? What people resisted was when a beauty’s taste was bad—when, out of all the choices, she picked a swamp monster.
Qin Sang’s fans were relieved. At least her aesthetic was intact and her standards high. She hadn’t gone and found some oddly shaped “Sanxingdui mask” boyfriend.
“Wuwu, I’m heartbroken. Why did my wife really have to go public… What kind of dog man is worth all her affection?”
Before the lecture started, the students below were all whispering. Some hardcore Qin Sang fans were even crying about it. But a second later, one of them hesitated, looking at her phone, and added:
“…Brother‑in‑law actually seems… alright.”
Her friend beside her didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “What ‘brother‑in‑law’? Put your phone away. I heard Senior Xie is back today.”
People who’d had no energy a second ago because of Qin Sang’s love announcement suddenly revived at full HP. “For real? Doesn’t Senior Xie hardly ever come back?”
Xie Yuncheng wasn’t just an honorary alumnus of Qingda—he was also a specially appointed visiting professor at the aerospace school. Since he didn’t have teaching duties and was busy with his work, he rarely returned to his alma mater, only occasionally showing up when invited for a lecture or two.
This lecture was a joint “Qihang Forum” held by the School of Economics and Management and the School of Aerospace. The invited guests included an academician from the Academy of Sciences, director of the Space Technology Center, an academician of the Astronautics Academy, and an engineer in deep‑space exploration and flight dynamics.
As one of the invited guests—and an alumnus of Qingda—Xie Yuncheng still had a lingering legend on campus even after years away. Many of the student representatives attending were his fanboys and fangirls.
News of his return had been kept very quiet. It wasn’t until the eve of the lecture that the school released the final list of speakers, almost as if it had been a last‑minute decision.
Aerospace students who hadn’t managed to grab a seat were devastated; those who had were practically vibrating with anticipation. When he finally appeared, they did their best to hold in their excitement, looking behaved on the surface while secretly flooding the student forum with posts.
CrazyForFun: Who gets it? I’m sitting diagonally behind the God himself—super close! Help, my heart is about to jump out of my chest! I’m so excited!
It was just a casual social platform, meant for chatting and jokes. Once the post went up, everyone in the department immediately knew who he meant, and many students came out to bump the thread.
【I get it. Last time he gave a lecture, I was lucky enough to get a spare seat. Honestly, it was great. If he actually taught courses, I’d beg him to be my advisor】
【You still had the mind to listen? I spent the whole time fangirling over his face. He’s insanely handsome in person. Senior sisters didn’t lie. I came to school too late—by the time I enrolled, he’d already graduated. I’m crying】
【Is it really that exaggerated? Is he hotter than my man? (8‑pack version)】
【Begging for pics, begging for a stream, begging for anything】
【Here, take it (photo)】
The anonymous post came with a candid shot taken from a side angle—only his profile was visible. The lines of his side profile were clean and sharp. Because he was attending the lecture, he was dressed formally: crisp white shirt, black dress pants. The suit looked more striking on him than on anyone else.
【I hate that I’m not good enough to have gotten a seat】
【Wuwu, I want his contact info】
【Sorry everyone, but I’m calling him “husband” first】
…
The party secretary of the aerospace school saw all this clearly and joked, “The second the news came out that you’d be back, our students started buzzing. After being away so long, it seems you’re even more popular than before. So? How does it feel, seeing your juniors now?”
Xie Yuncheng smiled lightly. “They’re very energetic—more spirited than we were back then.”
The secretary laughed heartily. “Don’t be modest. You weren’t bad yourself. Your classmates and professors all complained that too many outsiders were auditing your classes—taking up resources and seriously affecting teaching quality so they couldn’t have normal lessons.”
That was why the aerospace school had reformed things. Many public courses were now shared online, but in-person classes could only be audited by students in the major, cutting off freeloaders at the source and making sure their own students got proper instruction.
Xie Yuncheng merely smiled, not commenting. After the lecture and talk were over, there was a small roundtable discussion. The older directors sat there, but he, the visiting professor, was the one chased down by everyone.
He patiently answered every question from the aerospace students. Being young, capable, and a Qingda graduate, he was a natural role model; his juniors viewed him as someone to emulate, and his presence came with an effortless sense of closeness.
With his clear and gentle manner and upright bearing, he didn’t look like a famed scholar at all—more like a student who hadn’t yet graduated, with no real sense of distance or generation gap between them.
During the free‑question session, the questions gradually got bolder and drifted away from strict academic topics. A male student eagerly raised his hand, and when he was picked, he gripped the microphone in excitement.
“Senior, do you have any hair‑care tips to share?”
The room burst into laughter. The common enemy of science and engineering students was baldness. Hair loss had plagued every generation of engineers for years.
The boy said, “Senior, you know how it is—hair loss is inevitable for us. People joke that we look middle‑aged even though we’re young. It really bothers me. How have you managed, after so many years in the field, to keep your hair so thick?”
He really was suffering. He was only in his first year of grad school, and he was already almost bald. Every time he looked in the mirror, he had to hold a three‑minute memorial for his dead hair follicles. He’d assumed this was just how it was for engineering students—especially since the other directors and academicians at the lecture were also bald.
But then Xie Yuncheng showed up and shattered the curse. Not only that, he looked like he hadn’t changed at all—just like the photo of him on the aerospace honor wall. That picture was supposedly just a casual ID photo from his freshman year, taken from a notoriously unflattering angle, and yet he’d still looked unbelievable. Now, if anything, he seemed to be aging in reverse—shedding his college‑boy youthfulness for the steadiness of a mature man. His build was better than most students’: tall, lean, full of restrained strength, with broad shoulders and a slim waist, long legs in perfect proportion. Standing on stage, he was like a model. The thick hair on his head was the last straw—downright enviable.
Xie Yuncheng laughed too, helpless. “I’m afraid I can’t help you much there. Besides genetics, the only effective measures I know of are going to bed early, getting up early, and exercising regularly.”
Maybe because someone had broken the ice, the questions grew more and more off‑topic, and hands shot up all over. Most of them were about his private life.
A junior girl stood up, clutching the microphone. “Senior, do you have a girlfriend right now? If not, would you consider someone from our department?”
“Yeah, Senior, you could consider our underclasswomen. Age is just a number.”
“I object. Why only underclasswomen? We underclassmen also want a fair shot!”
“Senior, add me on WeChat!”
The session was meant for students; there were no strict rules about sticking to the script. Most of the faculty were good‑natured and happy to see the young people playing around. Academic discussion didn’t have to be stiff and dry—that was just a stereotype. The important questions had already been asked. Now it was only natural that they’d ask whatever came to mind.
The lecture hall rang with shouts, boys joining the fun as well. Everyone was laughing, grinning from ear to ear.
Xie Yuncheng showed no sign of displeasure at being “intruded upon.” Instead, he smiled gently and answered, “If it’s related to the field, I’m happy to help and happy to add WeChat. If it’s personal… I’m sorry. I already have a girlfriend.”
The lecture was being secretly streamed by students from start to finish. All students on campus could see his answer. The school forum promptly exploded.
【I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it】
【Wasn’t he destined to die alone? How is he suddenly taken?】
【Who else lost love twice in one day? No one’s suffering like me】
…
At the back of the hall, someone was hunched quietly in the last row. She had rushed over after finishing work, slipping in through the back door just to get in. Now she sat in the last row with her hat brim pulled low on purpose.
When she heard his answer, her brows curved into crescents and her smile turned especially sweet. Lowering her head, she sent a text.
A moment later, Xie Yuncheng’s phone buzzed on stage. The screen lit up, showing a new message notification.
She hadn’t expected that the assistant to the aerospace dean, in order to make it easier for students to add his WeChat, had cast his phone onto the big screen. Before they even had time to finish adjusting it, the screen, which had been dark, suddenly lit up.
His lock screen wallpaper was a photo: a woman’s profile, features delicate and refined. Light and shadow outlined that clear, luminous side face. Fireworks spilled into her tender eyes like a river of stars, bright and burning.
On the lock screen, a message popped up:
【Senior Xie, I want to add you on WeChat too. Can you consider me?】