The new semester began, and Qin Shu officially moved out of the dorm to live with his boyfriend. When he came back to the dorms to pack his things, several guys from nearby dorms came by to watch, tossing in teasing remarks.
Little Chubby, single since birth: “Qin Shu, what’s it like living with the school heartthrob?”
Qin Shu: “A suffocating experience. Just seeing his face makes me short of breath—especially in the morning, when I’ve just woken up and roll over to see his face right there. Can you imagine that feeling? Substitute in your goddess.”
Little Chubby’s nose burned: “Holy sh*t!”
Ah Shuai, who always gets dumped: “Dating Xie Lanzhi, don’t you ever feel insecure?”
Qin Shu shrugged. “If your girlfriend went public in front of the entire school as soon as you got together, brought you home to meet her parents the first vacation, let you check her phone anytime, and reported her whereabouts before going anywhere—would you still feel insecure?”
Ah Shuai choked. “…Sorry, forget I asked.”
Da Hai, who started dating early, spoke earnestly: “Shu, from my experience, living together isn’t necessarily a good thing. You need to be mentally prepared.”
Expressionless, Qin Shu: “Dude, you’re killing the vibe, you know that?”
Da Hai: “No, listen first. Last year I lived with my girlfriend for a semester. We fought every day over the tiniest cr*p, and almost broke up.”
“For example?”
Da Hai counted on his fingers: “Like when I played games instead of keeping her company; when she lost beans in Dou Dizhu and I didn’t comfort her; when I dripped chili oil on her skirt while eating malatang; when she couldn’t decide which bag to buy and I gave half-hearted advice.”
Qin Shu sneered: “Wow, you sound like such a jerk.” He didn’t think he and Xie Lanzhi would have those problems.
“And also, she said I looked creepy brushing my teeth, I never put things back after using them, I went to bed before her and she’d wake me up to coax her to sleep… and during her period, even my breathing was wrong.”
Qin Shu hesitated. “That… probably comes down to gender differences?”
Da Hai looked all profound. “You’re still too naive, young man. That’s why they say marriage is the grave of love. Cohabitation and marriage aren’t so different—the passion fades into daily life, and you can never get back that first-love feeling.”
Qin Shu grew thoughtful. He really hadn’t considered that.
Da Hai looked up at the sky. “Cohabitation—the first step in destroying the godlike image of your partner.”
Lu Rulu, watching the guys huddled discussing relationships, shook his head repeatedly. “The world’s going downhill! Why talk about romance at all? Are games not fun anymore, are dramas not good enough to binge?”
Chu Cheng chimed in casually: “Exactly.”
Lu Rulu almost laughed in anger. This guy had the nerve to say “exactly”? Weren’t they supposed to walk the single-dog road together? Yet he secretly got himself a dog. Still, Chu Cheng was barely forgivable—at least he hadn’t moved out yet, and his PDA wasn’t as over-the-top as LanShu.
Lu Rulu rested his hand on Chu Cheng’s shoulder, solemn: “Cheng, in the future it’ll just be the two of us left guarding the crystal between 418 and 419. Hold strong.”
“Don’t worry, Brother Yun, I’m not moving out.”
Lu Rulu’s eyes welled up. “Cheng…”
“You think everyone’s like Brother Lan, casually dropping a school-district apartment?”
Lu Rulu’s tears froze. “…Fine, as long as you don’t move out. If 419’s empty, I’ll have no one to bring me toilet paper when I forget.”
Hearing this, Qin Shu turned to Chu Cheng: “I suddenly remembered I never canceled the lease on the place I rented last year. If you need it, I can sublet it to you—twenty percent off. Consider it a wedding home for my sons.”
Lu Rulu’s mouth twitched; he roared: “Shut up!”
Just then, Xie Lanzhi arrived from his elective class to pick up Qin Shu, and caught sight of the goofy roommate yelling at his boyfriend. He raised an eyebrow: “Who are you telling to shut up?”
Under Xie Lanzhi’s intimidating aura, Lu Rulu instantly shrank into a coward. He grabbed Qin Shu’s hand, saying earnestly: “I wish you eternal happiness, united hearts, and children soon.”
Qin Shu: “Thanks, Brother Yun!”
***
Qin Shu and Xie Lanzhi began their cohabitation. In the second half of third year, Xie Lanzhi only had two or three classes a week; most of his time went into projects with his advisor or an internship. Qin Shu, meanwhile, had a heavy load of core courses. Last semester he didn’t fail any classes, but his GPA wasn’t good enough to transfer majors, so he could only code through tears and hope his hair didn’t fall out too much.
Friday night, with no classes the next day, Qin Shu gamed without restraint. By some streak of luck, he hit a ten-game winning streak, ranked up twice, and couldn’t stop. Xie Lanzhi fed the cat while he played, worked while he played, scrolled his phone while he played, even showered while he played.
After the eleventh “Victory,” Qin Shu stretched, rubbed his sore eyes, and called: “Brother?”
Snowball, curled up on the sofa, meowed.
Hearing the shower running, Qin Shu realized Xie Lanzhi was bathing. He glanced at the time—already so late. He’d been playing for hours without paying attention to Xie Lanzhi. Remembering Da Hai’s words, Qin Shu’s heart skipped—would Xie Lanzhi be mad?
When Xie Lanzhi came out, he saw his junior sitting obediently on the sofa, no phone in hand, staring at him expectantly.
Xie Lanzhi: “?”
Qin Shu smiled. “Brother, are you hungry? I’ll cook noodles for you?”
“Not hungry. You’re not playing anymore?”
“Nope, not playing.” Qin Shu hurried to prove he wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who neglected his partner for games. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll accompany you.”
Xie Lanzhi bent down and kissed him. “I’ve still got some work to finish. Go ahead and play, be good.”
Qin Shu blinked. “…Oh.”
“Or… do you want me to keep you company?”
Qin Shu scratched his head. “Not really.”
“Hold on.”
Xie Lanzhi brought his laptop to the living room and sat beside him. Qin Shu leaned on him, gaming with headphones, occasionally glancing up at Xie Lanzhi.
D*mn it, Da Hai almost led me astray. Xie Lanzhi doesn’t get mad over things like this.
But maybe his luck had run out, because this round went downhill fast. Two minutes in, he got solo-killed by the enemy mage, then assassinated. His teammates dumped all the blame on him. One idiot even reported his position to the enemy, urging them to target him, saying someone that useless didn’t deserve a fancy thousand-yuan skin.
With the idiot teammate’s help, the enemy destroyed their crystal in ten minutes. Qin Shu had kept calm—until he saw his damage stats: 35%. Rage and grievance exploded.
“F*ck f*ck f*ck, I did the most damage, why are they flaming me?! The assassin came for me so many times and our assassin never helped once, just kept spamming ‘Nice!’ every time I died?! Top lane’s mad I didn’t help him—h*ll, I couldn’t even defend mid tower, how was I supposed to help? And he called me brain-dead? How the f*ck am I brain-dead, wuwuwu…”
Ever since Qin Shu accepted being bottom, he’d never suffered this kind of injustice. Furious, he flopped around on the sofa.
Xie Lanzhi put his laptop aside, pulled Qin Shu into his arms, and stroked his head. “So wronged, huh.”
“I clearly had the highest damage, they just stole all my kills!”
“Too much.”
“He said ‘Nice’ when I died!”
“Crazy.”
“It wasn’t all my fault, why blame me alone?!”
“They’re jealous of your nice skin.”
…
No matter what Qin Shu ranted, Xie Lanzhi agreed and scolded the teammates with him. With his boyfriend backing him, Qin Shu felt ever more justified, then stormed into the group chat 【Did Brother Yun bend today】 to vent.
【Xie Love Letter: (screenshot of stats)】
【Xie Love Letter: Hello, 110? There are four guys throwing blame here, the scene’s out of control.】
【x.n: pat pat】
【Overlord Chu: (So tragic, but what’s it to me.jpg)】
【Unbendingly Straight: Before flaming others, reflect on yourself. Your item build’s wrong. If it were me, I wouldn’t build like this.】
【Xie Love Letter: ???】
Qin Shu typed a long reply to argue, but Xie Lanzhi took his phone away. “Ignore him. Come play a match with me.”
“But Brother Yun…”
“Who cares? Isn’t me standing by you enough?”
Qin Shu couldn’t resist pushing his luck: “You’ll always stand by me?”
“Always,” Xie Lanzhi said. “Blindly stand by you.”
Qin Shu melted from the sweetness.
***
The next morning, they were woken by Snowball’s pitiful cries and scratching at the door. Qin Shu rubbed his eyes, mumbling: “Didn’t she sleep in the room last night?”
Xie Lanzhi’s tone was flat. “She scratched at the door at midnight. I let her out.”
“And now she wants back in… what’s she even after?”
Xie Lanzhi opened the door. Snowball meowed at him—then turned and walked off.
“…Heh.”
As Qin Shu brushed his teeth, Xie Lanzhi came in. “What do you want for breakfast?”
Mouth full of foam, Qin Shu blurted: “Brother, what do you think of the way I brush my teeth?”
Xie Lanzhi glanced at him in the mirror. “Looks good.”
Qin Shu spat, rinsed, then asked: “Seriously? Not creepy?”
“No.” Xie Lanzhi chuckled. “What’s with you?”
Qin Shu said shyly: “I was afraid you’d dislike me.”
Xie Lanzhi laughed. “Then let me take a closer look.” He scooped Qin Shu up onto the sink and studied him intently, until Qin Shu didn’t know where to put his hands.
“Brother…”
“Done looking.”
“So… how is it?”
“Cute. Makes me want to sleep with you.” With that, Xie Lanzhi cupped his face and kissed him.
Since Qin Shu was sitting higher, he had the advantage, and took the lead, arms looped around Xie Lanzhi’s neck, kissing back eagerly.
Soon, both were worked up, tugging at each other’s clothes. When they were bare, Qin Shu grew troubled. Sitting on the sink, feet dangling, with Xie Lanzhi standing—how was this supposed to work?
Xie Lanzhi quickly showed him. One hand on the back of Qin Shu’s head, he pressed him against the sink. “Uncomfortable?”
The overhead light shone on Qin Shu’s face. Shielding his eyes with one hand, blushing, he whispered: “N-no.”
Xie Lanzhi lifted his legs around his waist and drew him close. “Tell me if it is.”
As the saying goes, after moving in together, every corner of the house becomes a battlefield. Netizens didn’t lie—bathroom sink, unlocked.
An hour later, Qin Shu, sore and stiff, dragged himself to the kitchen to make lunch.
“Let’s just order takeout, or go out,” Xie Lanzhi suggested.
But for Qin Shu, cooking occasionally was fun. “But I wanted to try that Squirrel Fish recipe the five-star chef taught your mom, which she then taught me.”
No fish at home, so they went to the supermarket together, also to stock up on daily goods and Qin Shu’s favorite junk food.
At the soda aisle, Qin Shu agonized: “Do I get vanilla coke, or osmanthus flavor? This white peach one looks good too… but why is it pricier than the others?”
Xie Lanzhi: “Are we short on money?”
“It’s not about money—it’s about choice overload!”
“Then I’ll choose.” Xie Lanzhi took two bottles of each and tossed them into the cart. “Done.”
At self-checkout, Xie Lanzhi casually picked up a box of condoms. Qin Shu was dumbfounded: “We’re out already?”
Xie Lanzhi: “Mm.”
“…Sh*t. We’ve gone through them that fast?! No wonder I feel so drained lately. This won’t do—what’s that saying? A youth who works too hard leaves only sorrow for his elder self…”
While Qin Shu was reflecting on their debauched life, someone called out: “Xie Lanzhi, Qin Shu? What a coincidence!”
He turned. “Ah, Hehe!”
Hehe beamed. “Buying groceries?”
“No, we came to the supermarket to watch a movie.” Qin Shu glanced at her cart, full of food. “What, you selling vegetables?”
“Pfft, cut it out. I’m having hotpot in the dorm for lunch. You guys should come!”
Qin Shu looked at Xie Lanzhi. “Brother, what do you think?”
Xie Lanzhi: “And how exactly do you plan to sneak into the girls’ dorm? Ninja invisibility?”
Hehe burst out laughing again. “Our school’s only got one campus heartthrob—Qin Shu, pace yourself, don’t let him catch your stupid.”
Qin Shu: “…”
After checking out, Xie Lanzhi packed their things into bags. Hehe suddenly spotted something, froze, then gasped, nearly out of breath with excitement.
Qin Shu asked curiously: “What’s wrong, Senior?”
Hehe’s cheeks flushed red as she fanned herself. Ah, she was dead. Killed by sugar overdose. You think it’s just a box of condoms? No—it’s her dream!
Keep the sweetness coming—she could ship Lan Shu forever!
