Professor Xie, isn't this a case of forcing customers to buy products that don't match the

The hot pot restaurant was bustling with noise at night, the brothers were arguing and their glasses were clinking loudly.

"We must salute my brother Song! He's awesome! That's a green fruit!"

"If we become rich and powerful, don't forget me! From now on, I'm counting on you to carry me!"

Shang Song laughed loudly, drinking one cup after another until his cheeks were flushed, but his left hand under the table kept his phone tightly gripped, screen facing upwards, brightness turned up to the maximum.

My phone lit up countless times during the meal.

A group message @ a friend congratulating them, and an app push notification.

The only missing one is "♥Xie Jing".

There was no "Congratulations," no "Not bad," not even a single "Hmm."

Shang Song's smile froze again and again as he glanced at his phone screen, only to be masked by the gesture of tilting his head back to drink.

After the event, I went back to my dorm and took a shower.

He walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair, and his gaze drifted to the desk.

The phone screen is lit up.

His heart skipped a beat, and he took a step forward and grabbed it.

On the lit lock screen, a new message preview appears:

Anjuke Manager Li: Mr. Shang, here's the link to our newly added quality listings on the mini-program.

Shang Song opened WeChat, and the message he had sent to Xie Jing five hours earlier was still hanging there all by itself.

Five hours is a long time.

It's long enough that as long as there's even a shred of concern, there should be a response.

But Xie Jing didn't.

He didn't want to go back.

I still feel there's no need to reply.

At this moment, all the filters that Shang Song had personally put on Xie Jing over the past year were stripped away, revealing the truth that he could no longer deceive himself.

That year, he, a special effects artist, gritted his teeth and studied the philological knowledge that was like heavenly scripture to him, just so that he could catch up with Xie Jing for a couple of sentences every Thursday afternoon.

He sat in the reading room, holding a brick-thick copy of "Shuowen Jiezi" (a dictionary of Chinese characters), listening to Xie Jing briefly explain the evolution of each character. His mind was filled with thoughts of the model's polygon count and rendering parameters. Then he managed to stammer out, "This character... has a rather ancient and rustic beauty."

He was exhausted from acting, and it felt fake, all just to get a little closer to Xie Jing.

The results of it.

He didn't even manage to touch a single hem of the other person's clothes, but he was almost sent to see his great-grandmother by an over-the-shoulder throw, dying at the age of twenty-one.

Just for that stunningly beautiful yet cold, jade-carved face?

Just for that mysterious and aloof aura?

It's not worth it.

He was a man of passion, with hot blood and a pounding heart, who loved all things lively and vibrant.

Xie Jing, on the other hand, is an ancient figure who stepped out of a thread-bound book, living in a constant, humid silence, a deity who cannot be profaned.

He was born to be someone that would make ordinary people like him hesitate.

What he wanted was not a pilgrimage or worship through glass.

What he wants is a vibrant and exciting romance where they can hold hands, hug, share the same headphones, and go to the same movie.

The light from the phone screen illuminated his calm face.

His fingers moved steadily across the phone screen, unpinning the message and changing "♥Xie Jing" to "Professor Xie".

Then, open the input box and type in a line of text:

"Professor Xie, let's break up."

send.

After sending the message, he didn't hesitate for a moment. He immediately exited the chat window, switched to the chat window with the real estate agent's profile picture in a suit, and made a WeChat voice call.

The call was answered quickly.

"Manager Li, it's me, Shang Song."

"Is that apartment closest to Qingguo that I looked at last time still available? If it is, I'd like to finalize it as soon as possible... Yes, sign the contract. Is tomorrow afternoon convenient?"

"Okay, see you tomorrow."

The voice call ended.

The second son, who was lying on the opposite bed scrolling through his phone, looked up and asked, "You're moving out?...Yeah, Qingguo's in the new district, commuting is going to be tough."

He yawned and casually asked, "So, now that you're doing your internship, what about your usual 'spiritual resonance' with Professor Xie on Thursdays? Should you change it to the weekend?"

The third brother, who was brushing his teeth on the balcony, made a "hmm" sound upon hearing this and turned his gaze over as well; even the eldest brother, who was carrying clothes into the bathroom, poked half his head out of the door frame to look at Shang Song.

Shang Song glanced around at the three brothers, his voice exceptionally clear:

"No need to change it. We just broke up."

There was a two-second silence in the dormitory.

The second son's phone fell onto the pillow with a thud. He didn't bother picking it up, and sat bolt upright: "...What are you talking about?! With Professor Xie?!"

The third brother slowly spat out a mouthful of foam.

The eldest brother remained frozen in the pose of probing.

"Break up with Xie Jing." Shang Song quickly climbed onto his bed, sat on the edge, and said, "Just sent this message."

The eldest brother crawled back into the bathroom, his voice echoing through the bathroom wall: "...It's better that we broke up."

After rinsing his mouth, the third brother turned on the tap, wet a towel, and wiped his face: "To be honest, Song, we were always too embarrassed to discourage you... The way you two were acting didn't seem like you were dating at all."

"It's more than just not similar!" The second brother slammed his fist on the bed, his voice rising several octaves. "Good for you! What did you get out of it? Was it because it's good-looking? Can good looks feed you? Was it because it has a nice car? You've never even touched a car door! Was it because it's knowledgeable? You, a game developer, are studying oracle bone script with him? That's ridiculous!"

Shang Song listened to their back-and-forth conversation without refuting or explaining, only giving a faint twitch of the corner of his mouth.

He turned around, lifted the covers, and curled himself up inside.

"We're going to sign the contract tomorrow afternoon," Shang Song's muffled voice came from under the covers. "If all goes well, we'll move in this weekend. We'll need your help then."

"That goes without saying!"

"It must be in place!"

"Move! Let's hurry and start a new life!"

The rustling sounds returned to the dormitory. The second oldest picked up his phone, the third oldest wrung out his towel, and the oldest turned on the tap in the bathroom.

Shang Song lay on his side on the pillow, listening to these sounds that were all too familiar to him.

He reached for his phone beside his pillow, his fingertips touching the cold body. He paused for a moment, but instead of turning on the screen, he reached for the mute button on the side and dialed it.

Then he tucked his phone under his pillow, faced the wall, curled up in a ball, and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow I'm going to look at apartments, sign contracts, pack my things, and move.

I need to go to bed early.