Chapter 88

*Campus IF Line — “Getting a Room”*
“Holy—girlfriend? You actually have a girlfriend?”
“For real? God Xie, you’re not messing with us, are you?”
The other two in the dorm were stunned. Even Zhou Yihong couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “You seriously have a girlfriend?”
Ever since Xie Yuncheng arrived on campus, the aerospace institute had been like it got injected with adrenaline. Girls from different departments wandered over every day. The most outrageous part was that whenever girls came to add them as friends, the end goal was always the same: getting Xie Yuncheng’s contact.
Even this mixer—when the junior girls from the art department and the law department agreed to meet up—was aimed at Xie Yuncheng. They dragged Zhou Yihong along as a wingman, hoping he’d bring Xie Yuncheng too.
Who would’ve thought Xie Yuncheng… already had a girlfriend?!
It was unbelievable. He was only a freshman. Zhou Yihong hadn’t even seen a “female mosquito” in all four years, and Xie Yuncheng was already taken in freshman year—how was he supposed to accept that?
“How about this,” Zhou Yihong cleared his throat and suggested, “bring your girl along. We can all grab a meal together.”
Xie Yuncheng said calmly, “Not convenient.”
“Why not? It’s just young people hanging out. What’s the problem? Is your girl shy?”
Xie Yuncheng raised a brow. “Senior Zhou doesn’t have a girlfriend?”
Zhou Yihong didn’t get it. “So what if I don’t?”
“No wonder.” Xie Yuncheng curled his lip and gave him a meaningful look. “Senior doesn’t understand the idea of ‘a short separation feels like newlyweds.’”
“…”
Damn it.
So what if he had a girlfriend?
Being single this long wasn’t easy, you know?
Zhou Yihong really wanted to curse.
…
Qin Sang’s flight was at 9 a.m. She would arrive around noon. Before she boarded, Xie Yuncheng messaged her.
It was her first time flying alone, and also her first time traveling far by herself. Everything on this trip felt new—unknown, fresh.
Qin Dahai was deeply uneasy. Before boarding, seeing her walking away, he turned aside to wipe his tears, making Wen Shuyu laugh. “Alright. You’re a grown man and you’re crying. If your daughter sees, she’ll laugh at you.”
Qin Dahai sobbed, “Sang-sang has never left us either. She’s going north alone for school, a stranger in a strange place. What if she gets bullied? What if she can’t get used to it?”
“Sang-sang is smart—she knows how to protect herself. Besides, isn’t Little Xie there?” Wen Shuyu said gently. “That kid seems decent. With him looking after her, nothing will happen.”
“A wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Qin Dahai grumbled. “No good intentions.”
No matter how proper Xie Yuncheng acted in front of him, how thorough he was, as a father Qin Dahai simply couldn’t stand him. He wouldn’t give him a good face; just hearing the name made his teeth itch.
Grinding his teeth, he said, “If that brat dares to be improper with Sang-sang, I’ll chop his hands off!”
Wen Shuyu teased, “You weren’t that proper when you were young either. Now you’re picking a fight with a kid?”
She remembered how, back then, Qin Dahai always found reasons to come by their place.
Her parents didn’t care about her much. No one really worried about her. Qin Dahai’s appearance was what let her understand what it felt like to be cared for—and how warm that could be.
Thinking of that, Wen Shuyu sighed. “Honestly, we owe Sang-sang too. That child keeps things to herself, always reporting good news and hiding the bad. Now she has someone she trusts by her side, taking care of her—isn’t that good?”
“And it’s my fault,” Wen Shuyu said quietly. “If I weren’t such a burden as her mother, you two wouldn’t have had to struggle so hard.”
Wen Shuyu was frail and sickly. Among the Wen family’s three children, she was the most ordinary, with the weakest body. The Wen family didn’t care whether she lived or died. She lingered on, and in doing so, dragged Sang-sang down.
“Look at you,” Qin Dahai soothed her. “Overthinking again.”
After a long pause, Qin Dahai sighed. “Fine. Kids have their own lives. Sang-sang is grown. She should go live her own life.”
…
Qin Sang called Liu Chengcheng. The two girls hid under their quilts, talking about everything, and didn’t sleep well at all.
Qin Sang didn’t have many friends. In three years of high school, Liu Chengcheng was her only real friend. Now that the gaokao was over, everyone was going their own way—scattered across the country, even the world.
She felt sad. She didn’t want to part.
Liu Chengcheng was flying today too. She would go to Shencheng to see her aunt, then cross the border into Harbor City. Qin Sang had booked an early flight to the capital, so she couldn’t go see her off.
Reluctant, Liu Chengcheng said, “Sang-sang, be careful in the capital. I heard the north is freezing in winter—nothing like Jingcheng. I thought we’d have more time together, but the banquet was the last time we saw each other. When I’m not by your side, will you still remember me? Don’t tell me you’ll forget your old friend the moment you get to college?”
Qin Sang had attended Liu Chengcheng’s banquet, and Liu Chengcheng had attended Qin Sang’s. But there were too many people, too many relatives. There was no time to talk alone, much less like at school—close and inseparable, saying everything.
That summer, Liu Chengcheng signed up for two hobby classes—K-pop dance and swimming—and was in lessons almost every day. Qin Sang rushed to get her driver’s license; she failed the second test twice and finally, right before school, managed to pass and get it. Neither of them had time to meet.
With that delay, the semester was about to start. Aside from chatting on QQ now and then, there was almost no time left.
Qin Sang was slow to warm up. She wasn’t the kind who could instantly befriend strangers. Blending into a new environment wasn’t easy for her. When she first entered No. 1 High, she burned herself out internally, unable to adapt to group life, always feeling excluded.
Liu Chengcheng was the first person to show her kindness. The first time seats were assigned, Qin Sang was placed in front of Liu Chengcheng. Liu Chengcheng poked her back and reached out first.
Qin Sang would always remember how bright Liu Chengcheng’s smile was that day. Liu Chengcheng held out two Alpenliebe candies and asked with a grin, “Want some candy? Since we’re desk neighbors front and back, let’s look out for each other from now on! I’m Liu Chengcheng—what about you?”
Qin Sang’s voice was thick with nasal tone. “What are you thinking? No matter where I go, you’ll always be my best friend.”
Maybe the gaokao really was a watershed. They endured the heaviest three years together, and three years later, they went their separate ways—each toward their own life.
But no matter how far apart they were, Qin Sang would always remember that she once had a friend who smiled a lot. Her name was Liu Chengcheng.
…
The flight was delayed by more than an hour. When the plane landed, it was already after one in the afternoon. Qin Sang started nodding off the moment she got on board.
Because she’d slept so badly the night before, she was listless the next day and could barely keep her eyes open.
When she came out of the airport, she spotted him from far away—standing in the crowd. The boy had an outstanding build, broad shoulders, straight back. Even standing casually, he drew attention.
As if sensing her, he lazily lifted his eyes. When his gaze landed on her, the coolness in his eyes faded and a faint smile replaced it.
Qin Sang pushed her suitcase forward with the flow of people and nearly got shoved off course. Luckily, the man caught her by the arm and guided her out; his long leg blocked her cream-colored suitcase, steadying it.
She strained to look up—only to have her lashes briefly covered by shadow.
Xie Yuncheng pulled her into his arms, lowered his head, and pressed a kiss to her lips. His voice was low and indistinct. “You’re finally here.”
Qin Sang’s ear tips turned red. Her thin arms quietly circled his lean waist. Summer was hot; the capital still hadn’t fully cooled. She wore a floral balloon-flower dress with an apricot knit cardigan. The thin fabric clung lightly enough that she could feel his heat through it.
The couple hugging at the airport was striking. Passersby understood at a glance and only smiled to themselves.
Qin Sang buried her face in his chest and took a deep breath. That cool, minty scent brushed over her tense nerves, and she finally relaxed.
…
Because she arrived two days early, Jingbei University hadn’t officially started yet. She had booked a hotel to stay in temporarily. After picking her up, Xie Yuncheng didn’t rush to send her to check in. He stored her luggage at a nearby mall and took her to eat at a lamb-spine hotpot place instead.
The restaurant was steamy and warm. The moment they entered, a wave of heat washed over her. Qin Sang sat inside feeling hot, but she felt embarrassed to take off her cardigan in front of him. She lowered her head and quietly exhaled, fanning herself with her hand.
“What is it?” Xie Yuncheng asked, calm and amused as he looked down at her. “Hot?”
“…It’s fine.”
Qin Sang then added, as if to prove too much, “I’m not hot.”
Xie Yuncheng chuckled. It wasn’t clear whether he believed her.
The broth in the copper pot boiled with loud, rolling bubbles. Fragrance filled the air. Qin Sang had never eaten this kind of hotpot before; she’d only heard it was an old-capital specialty.
With the rich stock simmering, the lamb was stewed tender. One bite left a lingering aroma, and her body heat rose quickly.
Before long, a thin mist gathered in her eyes, and tiny beads of sweat appeared on her nose.
The price of insisting she “wasn’t hot” arrived. Sweat beaded at her hairline; heat spread along her neck and back. A drop slid down her throat and disappeared at her collarbone.
“Sang-sang.”
Across the drifting white steam, Qin Sang looked up blankly, meeting the man’s half-smiling eyes. “What are you afraid of?”
…
After hotpot, Qin Sang grew nervous for no reason. He held her hand, and she could only follow in small steps. She asked softly, “Where are we going next? Back to the hotel?”
“No rush,” Xie Yuncheng said. “Didn’t you really want to see the capital? I’ll take you around first.”
“Okay.”
Jingbei University’s campuses were spread across several districts. The medical school and archaeology department were in Haidian, almost facing Tsinghua across the street.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Xie Yuncheng walked her around the area so she could get familiar with it.
Qin Sang had applied to archaeology—one of Jingbei’s least popular majors. At first, many people didn’t understand why she didn’t choose something more “promising,” why she dove into such a hard, quiet field.
But Qin Sang liked it. She wasn’t competitive by nature. She preferred going with the flow. Archaeology—where she wouldn’t have to deal with complicated social dynamics, where she could focus on quiet work—suited her perfectly.
Even if others didn’t understand, her parents supported her. Qin Dahai had said, “Study what you want. Who cares what others say? Archaeology is fine. Dad supports you.”
She had hesitated too. The night before selecting majors, she messaged Xie Yuncheng.
What he said was much like Qin Dahai’s: “You have to walk your own road. Whether the shoes fit—only you know.”
He meant she didn’t need to care what others said. If she loved it, she should do it. She didn’t need to worry too much about a distant future.
With her parents’ and his support, Qin Sang finally felt steady.
She chose archaeology. Whether it was too niche, whether it would be easy to find a job later—those weren’t worries for right now.
…
Passing an arcade, Qin Sang looked at the shooting game inside and felt tempted. Xie Yuncheng curled his lip. “Want to play?”
Qin Sang nodded.
Her aim was awful. She fed in a pile of coins and still barely hit anything.
A kid watching nearby scoffed. “Big sister, you’re really bad at this.”
Being mocked by a little kid made Qin Sang’s cheeks heat up.
“Hey.” Xie Yuncheng leaned lazily against the wall and looked down at the boy. “Bullying my girlfriend—did you ask me first?”
The boy made a face. “Bleh. My teacher says you have to be honest. I’m just telling the truth. That big sister is bad. I’m better than her!”
Xie Yuncheng gave a soft snort. “Really? Did your teacher also tell you to be humble, or you might get beat up?”
The boy actually got spooked and shrank his neck. “Y-you… you’re picking on a kid!”
“And?” Xie Yuncheng’s tone stayed lazy. “So you can bully my girlfriend, but I can’t say anything?”
His “girlfriend” this and “girlfriend” that made Qin Sang’s face burn.
The boy was clearly a little brat. When he couldn’t win an argument, he was about to throw a tantrum—only to have his “skills” shut down immediately.
“What are you crying for?” Xie Yuncheng drawled. “You’re a boy. Crying all the time—aren’t you embarrassed?”
Then, as if amused, he said, “So? You think you’re great, huh? How about you compete with me?”
One move to pin him. The boy shut up instantly. “Fine! Compete! Who’s scared?”
The boy was obviously an arcade regular. His aim was much better than Qin Sang’s, almost never missing, though his score wasn’t that high.
Qin Sang felt a little mortified. She wasn’t even as good as a little kid—no wonder he looked down on her.
After one round, the boy puffed up. “See? I’m better than you!”
Xie Yuncheng looked unconcerned. He glanced once and said lazily, “Kid, I haven’t even started yet and you’re already bragging. How do you know you’re better than me?”
The boy clicked his tongue, not taking him seriously—until he couldn’t laugh anymore.
Ten shots. Xie Yuncheng barely missed. Every single shot hit the target—and every hit landed dead center.
Hitting the bullseye once or twice wasn’t rare. But hitting the same spot every time? Without real skill, a normal person couldn’t do that.
The boy stared, jaw dropping. Other players gathered around. When all ten shots were fired, the score nearly broke the arcade’s record.
Xie Yuncheng lowered his eyes to the boy and curled his lip in mockery. “Well? Convinced now?”
The boy swallowed hard, eyes shining. “Big brother… can you teach me?”
“You want to learn.” Xie Yuncheng dragged out the words lazily, still holding Qin Sang’s hand as he pulled her over. “Did you apologize to big sister?”
The boy could bend when he had to. In a clear little voice, he said, “Sorry, big sister.”
Xie Yuncheng snorted. “Remember next time: don’t bully just anyone. She’s only eight years older than you—she’s a kid too.”
Qin Sang covered her face with her hand, feeling she had no dignity left.
…
Leaving the arcade, Qin Sang stared at him. All the way, Xie Yuncheng held her hand, rubbing and kneading her slender knuckles as if he couldn’t get enough.
Suddenly he curled his lip. “What is it, little Qin Sang? You want to learn too?”
Qin Sang’s face heated. She muttered, “Can you be serious?”
Xie Yuncheng gave a smile that meant something. “Let’s go. I’ll take you back to the hotel.”
At the front desk, when she pulled out her ID, the receptionist looked at her, then at the handsome boy beside her. “Hello—are both of you checking in, or just one?”
Qin Sang’s face burned. In a muffled voice, she said, “Just one.”
The receptionist glanced between them and smiled with obvious meaning. “Alright. Here’s your key card.”
…
The hotel was a chain place Qin Dahai booked. The environment was decent; the room looked clean enough. Qin Sang had only booked a single room.
The moment she walked in, she saw the bed in the center. Near the floor-to-ceiling window was a bathtub, and the shower area had frosted glass.
Qin Sang hadn’t expected the room to look like this. Embarrassed, she froze on the spot. Xie Yuncheng only chuckled softly, not saying much.
He checked the room carefully, not missing a corner. Not finding anything suspicious, he then checked the locks on the doors and windows, and tested whether the bathroom fixtures worked properly.
Qin Sang stood there passively, waiting quietly. Her limbs felt awkward; she didn’t know where to put her eyes. She looked around—and accidentally spotted a small blue box placed on a shelf.
Her gaze flicked, and she met the boy’s half-smiling eyes. Heat rushed to her face, and her cheeks went scarlet.
In the narrow, closed space, the temperature seemed to climb. Wordless tension surged and collided in the air.
Qin Sang forced a smile. “Is the AC broken? It feels kind of hot.”
As she spoke, she turned to look for the remote—only to be gently guided back, into a smaller space, as if into a private little corner of the room.
Warm breaths tangled.
In his eyes, she could clearly see her own flushed face. She held her breath and looked away.
His cool, minty scent turned into something inescapable. The heat in his gaze seemed almost capable of melting her.
His voice dropped, teasing and husky. “Little Sang-sang… still want to learn how to ‘shoot’?”