Qian Xingzhi yanked Lin Xu to his feet and booted him out of the room. He shot a dissatisfied glare at the spot on his bed where someone had sat, his tone laced with a hint of menace. “I don’t like beds that other people have sat on.”
And that was the first thing out of his mouth.
Shen Li didn’t say a word. He simply stood up, shuffled over to Qian Xingzhi’s bed, and sat down without a fuss. With perfect good humor, he pointed at his own bed. “Then you sleep in mine.”
On camera, Qian Xingzhi’s eyes blinked once, softly. His gaze deepened just a touch as he murmured, “Mm.”
Shen Li followed up as naturally as could be. “Why were you gone so long?”
Qian Xingzhi replied, “Ran into some issues.”
Shen Li’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Issues?”
Qian Xingzhi paused, as if mulling it over. A long moment later, he said, “There was a cyberbullying post on the forum. Took me a bit to handle it.”
Shen Li dropped his gaze. He knew he’d asked a lousy question.
The “program task settings” had been tweaked on the fly, which probably involved the program group staff—or even stickier complications. It wasn’t something to hash out in front of the cameras. Qian Xingzhi might even brush it off with some cover story. Better to wait until they showered later, when the lenses were off.
So Shen Li let it drop.
Qian Xingzhi clearly wasn’t in the mood to chat either.
The two shared a silent understanding.
Qian Xingzhi casually picked up Shen Li’s iPad. Without another word, he opened the conflict resolution plan Shen Li had just written and pored over it, word by careful word.
To the oblivious viewers, this utterly ordinary exchange sparked all sorts of wild interpretations.
【Whoa, what’s this super-sweet couple vibe? He nukes rumors at lightning speed for him, and he coaxes him about the bed like a total pro?】
【Whoa~ My bro’s got that stone face, but why do I feel like he melted instantly? [doge]】
【Don’t even get me started—I just saw that post. Sneaking pics is low, rumors are trash, but those two ten years ago… they really did look head over heels [cracking up]】
【Did they ever actually break up? They’re so sweet together.】
【Shen Li really knows how to accommodate Qian Xingzhi, and Qian Xingzhi’s got that rock-solid vibe. Kinda shipping it.】
【Wahhh, I still hate pushy Shen Cat Cat, and they didn’t even finish that question before Qian Xingzhi bounced. Not happy!! Rumor-mongers, give their time back!!!】
【Is Qian Xingzhi reading Shen Li’s “resolution plan” now?】
【[cracking up] I’m starting to think Qian Xingzhi’s illiterate [cracking up]. One page’s taking five minutes—like he’s looking up every word in the dictionary. Done with that page yet? Is he even reading, or just spacing out?】
【Looks like the “long-distance” one Shen Cat Cat wrote.】
【Hold up, he froze up like that just ‘cause Shen Li said he’d quit work to keep him company?】
【Sugar overload, this couple’s too sweet~】
The clueless audience gobbled up their fanfic-fueled candy, voting Shen Li’s “resolution plan” straight to the top spot.
Before long, the dutiful clock hands crept forward to 11 p.m., right on schedule. As per the pre-set rules, there was a cross-room video link between the little house and the observation lounge at 11:10.
After the link-up, the host would announce the rankings, followed by a fan Q&A draw from the winning teams.
The host on the call was Yao Shuang.
After wrangling “kids” all day, this knockout beauty was exhausted and dying to clock out. Her face screamed “mommy wants to curse,” but with pro actor discipline, she powered through in her least glamorous state. She rattled off the no-brainer first- and second-place teams, then zipped through the formalities and introduced the new segment.
“Alright—let’s have first-place winners Qian Xingzhi and Shen Li field some fan questions.
“This round’s format is fan video links. The answerers hit stop on the draw machine—the fans are pulled from buyers of your ‘link-up recordings’ who opted in.
“Let’s get started.”
It was Shen Li’s first time sitting in the room, chatting with the live observation lounge via the room’s speakers.
He’d just grasped how the fan draw worked when Yao Shuang called him out. “Teacher Shen Li~ You’re up first. The machine’s rolling—shout stop whenever.”
Shen Li thought, Please don’t let it be someone asking me to have kittens again. Anything else is fine.
With that wish made, he called out, “…Stop.”
The line from the live room rang out. After nearly thirty seconds, just when everyone figured no answer, it finally connected.
The voice that picked up belonged to a young guy. Pretty…
Pissed-off sounding.
Any fandom vet clocked his type from the opening line:
“Shen Li, didn’t expect to get you, but I’ve got three questions off the cuff. Mind if I fire away?”
Shen Li: ?
Shen Li blinked in confusion, his warm voice patient. “…Go ahead.”
The guy cleared his throat, pondered for five or six seconds, then launched into it like a poetry recital. “Three Questions for Shen Li. First: Teacher Qian just ran off forever handling stuff for you, and you’re soaking up his effort without batting an eye. Why? He mentioned deleting posts for you, and you didn’t even react? Not touched at all?”
…Touched?
Why would he be touched?
Utterly baffled, Shen Li glanced at Qian Xingzhi, who’d stood up from the bed with a furrowed brow. He answered honestly:
“I… didn’t dare move.”
Not even a twitch.
The next instant, Qian Xingzhi’s shoulder pressed against his. He patted Shen Li to signal he’d take it from here, then cut off the guy mid-“second question” with his deep, gravelly voice:
“—Got more questions? Ask me, not him.”
The voice on the line faltered, cleared again. He “ah”ed and “oh”ed forever before speaking up, voice suddenly higher and politer. “Ahem, Teacher Qian, then let me ask you—why disband your official fan support group? Even if someone cyberbullied your CP fan, that’s on them. Don’t you think… uh, isn’t there, isn’t there a less blanket way?”
Qian Xingzhi didn’t hesitate a second. His voice was cool and even. “No.”
Shen Li frowned faintly and looked up at him.
At the same time, he nudged Qian Xingzhi’s outer thigh lightly with his elbow—a hint to soften up, not bruise any fan feelings.
Sure enough, the fan cracked a bit, clinging desperately. “…You really don’t think it was kinda impulsive?”
“Nah, don’t think so.”
Qian Xingzhi’s ironclad chill didn’t budge an inch. It nearly brought the solo stan to tears when Yao Shuang jumped in. “Ahem, alright, time’s up! Next fan’s up—bye bye~”
She cut the call before the time was even out.
Man, tough crowd, tough gig. No way he’s picking up for more drama-munching ever again, fun as it looks.
“Ahem, quick reminder,” Yao Shuang said with polished poise, “fans on the link, stick to program-related questions, okay? Next up—Boss Qian, shout stop. Your turn, Qian Xingzhi.”
Qian Xingzhi’s face was stormy. He plopped down right beside Shen Li, thighs brushing.
Not even two seconds later, he barked, “Stop.”
This one connected fast.
A super-cute loli voice squealed, “Yay~ It’s me? Really me?”
Yao Shuang: “It’s you, sweetie, really you~”
“Woohoo! Thanks, Sister Yao Shuang! Wanna ask both of them, pretty please? I’ll be quick, super friendly, total good girl—”
Yao Shuang: “—Fifty seconds left.”
The loli voice cooed stickily, “Ooh, okay, Shen Cat Cat first~ Heard the online thing about Boss Qian’s three minutes? Of course, we all know Boss Qian’s not three minutes, but! If! He really was three minutes, whatcha gonna dooo?”
Bullet chat exploded in question marks. Full screen: Holy crap, girl’s got guts.
Yao Shuang’s smile held, but it twitched wider, weirder—a massive sweat drop practically rolling down her temple.
In the lounge, Qin Zhao sprayed salt soda everywhere, nearly choking. What kinda chaotic geniuses are these live-link fans? If clips leak, everyone’ll scream scripted.
Only Qian Xingzhi turned slowly to Shen Li. No anger—just eager curiosity for his answer.
Shen Li’s brow furrowed deeper. Am I really that out of touch? Every fan hitting me’s got this… vibrant energy.
What kinda questions were these?
“Ahem, skip if you want,” Yao Shuang tossed him an out. “These questions are way off-syllabus—”
But Shen Li cut her off, picking up the thread seriously. “Nah, I’ll answer.”
Dodging now would just confirm the rumors.
So with his handsome face straight-faced and resolute—as if swearing an oath—Shen Li replied:
“First off, he’s not like that. Not even close.”
【？？？？】
【What’s that mean? Need translation stat?!?!】
“Second, I don’t care much about that stuff. Never crossed my mind to split over bedroom mismatches.”
【Whoa, Little Shen, you…】
【Peak romance confession [sobbing] Pure love goals [sobbing]】
“—Finally, if it really was three minutes? Normal stuff. Problem’s a problem—treat it, talk it out together.”
【Aaaahhh Cat Cat’s so gentle, sooo gentle!!!】
【He’s even thinking of the impotent dudes in the audience… [shattered]】
Yao Shuang: “Fifteen seconds. More, sweetie?”
The loli yelped “whoa,” no time to swoon over Shen Li’s reply. She rapid-fired like popcorn at 3x speed:
“—So I still have to ask Boss Qian! After you fell headfirst into that septic tank and crawled back out, it looked like you’d read Cat Cat’s solutions for the Conflict Card, right? How satisfied are you with Shen Li’s answers? You’ve got these options: A, Extremely Satisfied; B, Very Satisfied; C, Mostly Satisfied; D, Somewhat Satisfied—which one are you picking?”
The bias in that question was glaringly obvious.
It was all geared toward getting Qian Xingzhi to say he was satisfied, maybe even praise Shen Li for powering through those answers solo for nearly two hours.
But Qian Xingzhi paused to think it over.
By the time he did, the call had already ended. The fan’s line cut off automatically amid wails of “Ahhh, no time left!”
Yet Qian Xingzhi didn’t use the moment to dodge the question. Instead, he answered honestly. “Everything except one card—I’m picking A.”
Yao Shuang arched a brow. She was sharp and intuitive, picking up the thread for that fan. “Oh, you mean the page you spent the longest on. You don’t want to pick A for that one?”
“Mm.”
Qian Xingzhi’s lashes fluttered lazily. He pondered for a few more seconds, mentally running through A, B, C, and D, then shot a faint glance at Shen Li beside him.
“G.”
Very dissatisfied.
Shen Li turned to look at him now.
He said nothing.
The chat exploded with a barrage of question marks.
Yao Shuang opened her mouth to press further, but Qian Xingzhi cut her off.
“—Next group.”
Yao Shuang protested. “Whoa, you’re really leaving everyone hanging here!”
Qian Xingzhi’s gaze shifted, displeasure flickering across his face. He slowly turned a predatory glare on the camera, like he might devour it whole. Before he could snap, however, Shen Li’s cool, crisp voice interjected on his behalf. “Sorry. Looks like we haven’t reached a consensus yet. We should discuss it privately first.”
【Qian Xingzhi’s been the cabin’s hype man ever since he walked in [shattered]】
【Puppy ate some gunpowder—time for kitty to groom him smooth~】
【Whoa whoa!!! These two are bunking together tonight!!! Pillow talk discussion?!】
【Out of all these pairs, they’re the most standoffish with us [smiley] Lemme soul-swap into a slipper [smiley] and eavesdrop from under the bed [smiley]】
Once Qian Xingzhi and Shen Li had answered, the questions shifted to Kris and Li Weiwei.
By half past eleven, the cabin streams were wrapping up, and bath time began—when phones were finally allowed again. Viewers were still glued, desperately scraping the last bits of sweetness from the few cameras that hadn’t gone dark yet.
Shen Li’s room had consistently high viewership.
As long as the cams stayed live, no one was leaving.
So it went until 23:31. Qian Xingzhi personally stripped the sheets off the bed where Lin Xu had sat earlier—the same one Shen Li would crash on tonight. He looked up, silently asking Shen Li’s permission with his eyes. Shen Li gave a cursory nod, then flicked a wary glance at the camera and shot Qian Xingzhi a look of his own.
Not a word passed between them.
Qian Xingzhi stood, his tall frame stretching as he reached out with a casual flick—
Click.
The first camera’s power cord came unplugged.
Viewers: ???
But not five seconds later, Qian Xingzhi was in front of the second one.
【Whoa!!! Noooo!!!】
【Shen Cat-Cat’s lived solo for days and never unplugged them!!!】
【No justice!!! First night in and you’re yanking plugs? What are you gonna do to Shen Li, punk?!?!】
【Shen Li, rein in your hubby [shattered] I can’t take it [shattered]】
The backlash boiled over in the chat. Viewers couldn’t fathom why Qian Xingzhi wouldn’t even give them one more minute, half a minute. Yanking plugs right after entering? Shady as hell.
But…
Protests fell on deaf ears.
“You done yet? Hurry up.”
The urging voice was faint, flat, and calm—but unmistakably Shen Li’s.
【…】
【Shen Li, you’re aiding the tyrant now?】
In the blink of an eye, the second camera went dark too, unplugged by hand.
【[sobbing] [sobbing] [sobbing] I’m done】
【No words [cracking up] Kinda breaking me [cracking up]】
【Yay! [milk tea] Fire the reunion cannon! [rainbow] Qian 35, charge!!!】
Screens went black, but the chat erupted—attitudes all over the map.
Beyond the lens, Shen Li watched Qian Xingzhi deftly yank both plugs. He rose to double-check that neither camera could boot on backup power, then scanned the room once more for pinhole cams.
Qian Xingzhi vanished in a flash, heading straight to run bathwater without a word. Shen Li trailed him, giving the bathroom—the one they’d inspected multiple times already—another sweep. Just in case the Program Group had snuck in micro devices while they were out and about.
Only after triple-checking the coast was clear did Shen Li speak. “You go first.”
He turned to leave, but a hand clamped fiercely around his wrist.
Shen Li tugged free and looked up.
Qian Xingzhi’s profile gleamed godlike under the harsh overhead light as he gazed down coolly. “Like old times?”
“Hm?”
“For efficiency.”
“…”
Shen Li froze, processing for half a second. When understanding hit, his pupils contracted and his brows snapped together. Qian Xingzhi nodded toward the glass partition separating the wet and dry zones—the kind where you couldn’t see inside from out. A wicked curl tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Time’s short. Either I go solo and you wait outside…”
Shen Li narrowed his eyes. So it really was what he’d suspected.
Back in their senior year of high school, schedules were brutal. Sleep was scarce, homework piled sky-high, and Qian Xingzhi—after two and a half years of coasting—was suddenly cramming like mad to catch up.
So they’d often make do in that tiny shared bathroom of their apartment. One showered inside the glass stall while the other stood out front, chatting to kill time.
It started with Qian Xingzhi inside and Shen Li out.
Shen Li would tell him to cut the chatter—no fluff. Either recite lessons or work through problems Qian Xingzhi hadn’t grasped.
But if the day’s tasks went smoothly, or Qian Xingzhi wheedled and whined about being done studying, Shen Li would let him ramble. He’d spin vivid gossip or tell jokes with perfect flair.
Stuck together like that, they always had endless words—and never enough time.
Shen Li hated wasting his own minutes standing idle, so he’d chat with Qian Xingzhi while hand-washing his socks and underwear right there.
One time, Qian Xingzhi took forever, so Shen Li pitched in and washed his too.
From then on, Qian Xingzhi showered glacially slow.
Not long after, the guy had the gall to saunter out buck naked mid-wash. Shen Li averted his eyes at first, scared it’d burn.
Later, he got used to it. No longer bothered turning away.
A few days on, when roles reversed and Shen Li was showering, Qian Xingzhi barged right into the bathroom without knocking. He stood outside the stall, prattling away just like Shen Li had—like pretend quizzing him on homework, or dishing about some classmate who farted in class, or how he overheard the dean dropping a massive deuce in the next stall during his own bathroom break. Shen Li had nothing to say to that, but it almost made him crack a smile.
Until one day—
Shen Li dropped all caution. Qian Xingzhi, still half in his school uniform, slid open the stall door and peeked in first. Shen Li startled—”You got a death wish?”—but before he finished, Qian Xingzhi pinned him against the wall, kissing him with a tenderness laced in ferocity.
That was the first time Qian Xingzhi saw all of Shen Li, laid bare.
The raw visual jolt seared straight through him, shivers scorching down his spine, like his very soul had been branded…
So—
“—Never mind. I’ll head out first.”
Seeing Shen Li go silent, Qian Xingzhi turned to yield the bathroom fully.
As they brushed past, though, Qian Xingzhi met Shen Li’s calm, probing eyes—eyes that had pierced countless suspects under interrogation.
They pinned Qian Xingzhi now, dissecting his true intent.
But Qian Xingzhi’s stern, handsome features held firm, no cracks. Their gazes locked, and he merely glanced, emotionless, at the bob of Shen Li’s throat.
Then Shen Li’s voice rose, even.
“…Never mind.”
He hadn’t spelled it out.
But Qian Xingzhi knew…
He didn’t have to leave.
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