This whole ping-pong thing had been discussed several times. Lu Rulu and Chu Cheng verbally agreed each time, but when Qin Shu actually called them to play, they always came up with all kinds of absurd excuses to flake.
Qin Shu angrily pointed out: “I’ve accompanied you to play basketball a few times and you said—you said it yourselves! Let me ask you to play ping-pong once and it’s like I’m asking for your life! What’s the most important thing about hanging out? Answer me—right now!”
Chu Cheng lazily said, “Brother Lan already promised you, didn’t he? Ping-pong is just right for two people.”
Qin Shu said coldly: “I really want to hit you.”
Chu Cheng glanced at him and scoffed: “With that little body that takes three days to recover from running 2000 meters?”
“Even if I can’t win, I’ll still play. Anyway, I’ve got insurance.”
Lu Rulu hooked his arm around Qin Shu’s neck. “Little Love Letter, people lined up from here to France just to go on a solo date with Brother Lan. You really going to pass up this chance?”
“Who calls hitting ping-pong balls a date?!”
“Playing ball is just an excuse. After playing, there’s still plenty of time.” Lu Rulu patted his chest and lowered his voice, “Besides, you can take the chance to ask about the player thing.”
Qin Shu froze: that makes sense.
On Sunday afternoon, Qin Shu and Xie Lianzhi met at the sports stadium. Compared to the basketball court full of youthful energy, the ping pong area was quiet and peaceful. From the perspective of an onlooker, one was like watching an esports match, the other like watching a fishing contest. At a glance, only a few pairs were male, most were female, some mixed, and there was even a middle-aged and elderly delegation. Qin Shu and Xie Lianzhi’s pairing stood out particularly.
Qin Shu found an empty table with fewer people around. “Brother, is this spot okay?”
“Okay.”
Xie Lianzhi was dressed about the same as usual today—casual pants, a plain white T-shirt, and a loose black denim hoodie. You could say it was the perfect look of the school grass, nailing the vibe of a college heartthrob. He looked indifferent and aloof, with no connection to his goofy middle-school-humor buddies, yet without giving off a prematurely-mature vibe.
A twenty-year-old boy—top student and also wild king in games; could explain “train algorithms,” but like any other guy, sometimes ghs; could accompany you to eat in the cafeteria and hole up in the library, but could also casually say things like “why care about something worth only a few hundred thousand,” the kind of thing that leaves poor folks speechless. No matter how good-looking the so-called “vixens” and “domineering CEOs” of society were, no matter how much money they had, they didn’t carry this kind of just-right youth, this fresh and clean, first-love kind of feeling.
D*mn, really charming.
Wearing full sportswear, Qin Shu grinned: “Brother, you dressing like this—are you looking down on my skills?”
Xie Lianzhi raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t seen your skills yet, so no comment.”
“I don’t care. You didn’t even bring the gear you usually wear for basketball, which means you think I’m trash.”
“No.”
Qin Shu started nitpicking: “Then why aren’t you wearing sportswear?”
Xie Lianzhi said lazily, “Because that wouldn’t look handsome.”
Hearing “not handsome” from Xie Lianzhi’s mouth was like a billionaire saying they weren’t interested in money, had never even touched it—so full of holes, Qin Shu didn’t even know where to start roasting.
He held back for a while, then gave a dry laugh: “Brother, you’re joking, right?”
Across the table, Xie Lianzhi looked at him. “If you say so.”
“Good-looking people look good in anything.” Qin Shu blurted out without thinking, “Better without clothes.”
Xie Lianzhi chuckled. “You too.”
After their little mutual flattery session, the two officially started their solo. Xie Lianzhi didn’t often play ping pong—the paddle was lent to him by Qin Shu. He tested the grip, and Qin Shu asked, “Feel okay?”
Xie Lianzhi lowered his body, shifting his weight. “Come on.”
Qin Shu served first. “Here it comes—Brother, watch the ball!”
Qin Shu wasn’t bluffing—his ping pong skills were actually solid. Back in elementary school, he even won prizes in competitions. Xie Lianzhi could crush him in stamina, but in small-ball games, stamina was only part of it—skill mattered more.
After a few exchanges, Qin Shu seized the chance and launched a fast attack. Xie Lianzhi didn’t control his strength when returning, and the ball flew out—he caught it with his hand. Qin Shu took the first point—1:0.
Qin Shu was a little happy. “Brother, am I awesome?”
Xie Lianzhi humored him: “Not bad technique.”
Qin Shu’s confidence soared. He played with flair, with momentum, quickly leading 11:4. “You’re so bad, Brother. I thought you’d be an even match, but it’s already 11:4!”
As Xie Lianzhi was about to serve, his movements paused, as if finding it unbelievable. “You’re even keeping score?”
“Of course! Otherwise, how do I show I’m awesome and you’re bad? Hahahahaha—”
Xie Lianzhi: “…”
Not really Qin Shu’s fault for being a little smug. The blame was on Xie Lianzhi for being too perfect, seemingly good at everything and doing it well. Finally finding something where he could totally crush Xie Lianzhi, how could he not brag?
Xie Lianzhi lowered his head and smiled, licking his lips. “Continue.”
11:7, 11:10, 11:12… 15:30.
Qin Shu, face dark, went to pick up the ball. Xie Lianzhi asked: “What’s the score now?”
“Don’t know!” Qin Shu said shamelessly. “Not keeping score anymore! Not competing with you!”
Turns out at the start, Xie Lianzhi had only treated himself as a sparring partner, deliberately letting him win. Remembering all the trash talk he had said earlier, Qin Shu felt his face burn like it was slapped swollen. He protested, “If you were gonna let me, why not let me all the way? Couldn’t you just let me dream?”
Meeting his junior’s resentful gaze, Xie Lianzhi almost laughed. “I also have competitiveness. Or you could say, a desire to conquer.”
“Is that so? Never saw it before.”
Xie Lianzhi said, “Depends on the person. Keep playing?”
“Of course,” Qin Shu rallied. “Didn’t you doubt my stamina? I’ll prove my stamina.”
Xie Lianzhi smiled. “Alright.”
After that, Xie Lianzhi didn’t let Qin Shu win like before, nor did he go all out. He played as a worthy opponent, and the two had good back-and-forth rallies, no constant chasing balls. After more than an hour, Xie Lianzhi finally called it. “Tired?”
“Not tired at all!” Though his arm was already sore, but since he started showing off, he had to keep it up even on his knees.
“I’m tired,” Xie Lianzhi put down the paddle, “and hungry too. Junior, treat me to a meal.”
Qin Shu secretly sighed in relief. “What does senior want to eat?”
Xie Lianzhi had already decided. “Your noodles.”
“Eh?”
“The instant noodles you cooked at my place last time.”
Qin Shu suddenly remembered—he actually did have one thing he was better at than Xie Lianzhi: cooking. “So… does that mean we’re going to your place?”
“Mn.”
“If I’m cooking anyway, why not make a proper meal?” Qin Shu said. “Besides noodles, the rest of my cooking is also really good.”
Xie Lianzhi held back a smile. “Is that so?”
“What ingredients do you have at home?”
“Don’t know.”
“Then let’s go to the supermarket first? Wait—Brother, why are you laughing nonstop?” Qin Shu asked curiously. “What are you laughing at?”
Xie Lanzhi lowered his head, shoulders trembling slightly.
Qin Shu was helpless. “Brother?”
“Sorry.” Xie Lanzhi laughed enough, then lifted his gaze to him, speaking softly: “The moment I see you, I just can’t help but smile.”
When he spoke, Xie Lanzhi deliberately leaned a little closer. Qin Shu’s legs went weak, nearly failing him.
He’d been fine playing for a whole hour, but just one sentence from Xie Lanzhi and his legs gave out. That wasn’t something a normal person could do—Xie Lanzhi couldn’t be human, right? Maybe a fox spirit, the kind that drains people’s essence.
“Qin Shu.”
Qin Shu stammered, “Wh-what?”
“Your face is very red.”
Summoning courage, Qin Shu met Xie Lanzhi’s eyes and returned fire in kind, murmuring: “Because when I see you, I just can’t stop blushing.”
Xie Lanzhi’s eyes widened slightly.
Qin Shu wanted to die from shame, forcing himself to act as if nothing had happened. “Let’s go, Brother. If we’re any later, the supermarket won’t have good vegetables left.” Before Xie Lanzhi could reply, he hurried away.
Watching his back, Xie Lanzhi waited until his heartbeat settled a little, then exhaled—if things were already like this now, how would they be in the future?
They went to the large supermarket near campus. Qin Shu pushed the cart straight to the food section, with Xie Lanzhi following behind.
“Brother, is there any dish you especially like?”
“Beef,” Xie Lanzhi said casually. “Snowball likes it too.”
“Then let’s buy more beef. We can stir-fry some for us, and the rest we’ll make cat food for Snowball.”
As Qin Shu pushed, he started fooling around. He braced both hands on the cart handle, lifted his feet, and let inertia carry him forward, wobbling along.
“Brother, look at me!” Qin Shu turned back in delight, only to see Xie Lanzhi typing on his phone. His heart instantly sank.
Xie Lanzhi looked up. “I saw. Impressive.” Then lowered his head again, still typing.
He was obviously chatting with someone on WeChat. Qin Shu couldn’t shake the feeling that it was with that fun, cute haiwang.
Tch, annoying.
Qin Shu stuck his hand into the rice pile, grabbing a few handfuls. “Do you still have rice at home?”
“Yes.”
“Is it enough? Should we buy a bit more?”
“Could.”
Qin Shu clenched his fist, drew in a deep breath. “Brother!”
“Mm?”
“Who are you chatting with?” Qin Shu tried to keep his voice even. “You’re ignoring me.”
Xie Lanzhi chuckled. “Checking up on me again?”
The last time he’d rolled around drunk demanding to see Xie Lanzhi’s phone was still vivid in his memory. But now he didn’t have drunkenness as an excuse—wasn’t it too much to ask again?
But d*mn it, he really wanted to see!
“Can I check?” Qin Shu asked carefully. “If I can, then I will.”
“You can.” Xie Lanzhi answered without hesitation, handing him the phone. “Go ahead.”
“You said it, so I will…” Qin Shu snatched it up immediately, afraid Xie Lanzhi would change his mind.
The screen was still on the chat. The avatar was of a center-parted woman with delicate makeup, full of class—much prettier than the average influencer.
The rest of Qin Shu’s heart went cold.
Everyone’s WeChat supposedly had that one friend named “It’s XX” or “It’s XX ah.” Xie Lanzhi’s was no exception. The woman’s username was “It’s Nian Nian ya.”
【It’s Nian Nian ya: Are you coming back next Saturday? (crying)】
【Shuimenjian: We’ll see.】
【It’s Nian Nian ya: No! I want an answer right now.】
【Shuimenjian: .】
【It’s Nian Nian ya: I don’t care, you promised to go with me to my friend’s wedding. (pitiful)(pitiful)】
Qin Shu couldn’t stand it anymore. He was brimming with sourness. “The h*ll, who’s this?!”
Xie Lanzhi was silent for a beat. “My mom.”
Qin Shu’s whole body jolted. He hurried to return the phone, bowing at ninety degrees. “Sorry! My mistake for disturbing.”
Author’s Note:
Aaaaah Xie Lanzhi’s mom loves you!
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