The three people on the opposite side turned their heads, as if He Yuan had stepped on their toes. The air was heavy with awkwardness.
He Yuan didn’t say a word and just looked at them. His expression wasn’t angry, but somehow, it was still intimidating.
It was the kind of silence that felt unsettling—especially in the middle of the night.
The brown-haired man was the first to recover. He smiled awkwardly and approached, bringing along the stunned little flat-headed man.
“Apologize,” the brown-haired man said firmly.
The man stood at least 185 cm tall, about the same height as He Yuan. Dressed in a loose gray sports shirt, faint traces of sweat glistened on his clean, lean frame. A basketball, the source of the trouble, was tucked under his elbow.
“I-I’m really sorry, Brother He!” The flat-headed man bowed at a full 90-degree angle. “I didn’t mean it! I just couldn’t hold the ball, and it flew out—look, it wasn’t deliberate…”
The flat-headed man was visibly sweating, his voice shaky, but He Yuan’s expression remained unmoved.
He knew it was an accident, and it would have been childish to lash out. Still, he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t upset.
The model they’d damaged wasn’t just any object—it was one he had meticulously crafted after buying the materials himself. It had even been selected as an excellent work, and He Yuan remembered every detail of it clearly.
As he contemplated how to express his frustration reasonably, the brown-haired man interrupted the flat-headed man’s incoherent explanations.
“I’m really sorry,” the brown-haired man said again, his tone earnest. “We shouldn’t have brought a ball into the teaching area. If it helps, we can compensate you. How much does it cost?”
He Yuan frowned. Finally, he spoke his first words of the encounter: “This isn’t something money can solve.”
His tone was calm, but the implication was clear. A sincere apology might have sufficed, but the mention of money soured the gesture.
To He Yuan, their offer to “pay for it” completely devalued the time and effort he had invested. It wasn’t a matter of cost—it was irreplaceable.
The brown-haired man’s expression faltered. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, but he didn’t retort.
The four of them stood in a tense stalemate until the brown-haired man’s phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He checked it briefly, then hung up, looking impatient.
“It’s late,” he finally said. “Let’s not drag this out tonight.”
He gestured to the flat-headed man and added, “My name is Xiao An. This is He Xinyang. We’re freshmen studying clinical medicine next door. If you decide how you want to resolve this, feel free to find me anytime.”
He Yuan crossed his arms. “I’m He Yuan, a third-year architecture student here.”
Their gazes locked, no words exchanged, yet the same thought crossed their minds—
‘I really don’t like this person.’
Xiao An gave a curt nod and, seeing that He Yuan didn’t have anything else to say, turned to leave with his friends.
Back in his dormitory, He Yuan took a long, hot shower, hoping to wash away the irritation of the encounter. When he emerged, droplets of water ran down his pale neck to his collarbone, but he only gave them a half-hearted wipe with a towel.
At his desk, his roommate Xu Zhaoyuan was gaming. A glance at He Yuan’s face was all it took for him to know something had happened.
Though He Yuan always had a cold demeanor, three years of sharing a dorm had taught Xu Zhaoyuan to read the subtle shifts in his roommate’s mood.
Judging by the stormy look on He Yuan’s face, he could probably break a Chevron board with his bare hands.
“What’s wrong?” Xu Zhaoyuan asked casually while typing on his keyboard.
“Nothing.” He Yuan pulled out a chair, sitting down with a bottle of water. His hair dripped steadily, soaking the collar of his shirt.
Seeing his lack of interest in talking, Xu Zhaoyuan wisely dropped the subject and changed topics. “Did you gain new fans during your live stream today?”
“I didn’t notice.” He Yuan habitually grabbed a pencil and a sheet of A4 paper. “I streamed in the morning because I had a competition in the afternoon.”
As He Yuan’s roommate, Xu Zhaoyuan was the only one privy to his secret.
To the outside world, He Yuan was the cool, untouchable genius of the architecture department. But online, he was a popular lipstick tester on a well-known video platform—a fact that would scandalize anyone who knew him.
“Why don’t you set a fixed streaming schedule?” Xu Zhaoyuan suggested. “The gaming streamers I follow usually start around 7 or 8 pm. A consistent time might help you grow your audience, or at least give more notice before you go live.”
He Yuan didn’t respond. He was busy sketching on the paper in front of him—a small, dark room.
Inside, he’d “locked up” Xiao An and his friends.
“Hey, Zhao,” He Yuan suddenly paused, putting down his pencil. “Have you heard of Xiao An?”
The name rolled off his tongue with a strange mix of curiosity and annoyance. Xiao An had spoken earlier as if his name alone carried weight.
“Xiao An?” Xu Zhaoyuan turned his gaming chair around slowly. “The one from the medical school next door? You know him?”
“No.” He Yuan replied coldly.
Xu Zhaoyuan was intrigued. He Yuan rarely brought up other people, much less someone seemingly unrelated. He was the type who stayed detached, observing the world from a distance.
“He’s pretty famous, though—just like you, but in their school,” Xu said thoughtfully. “He’s not a genius, though. He’s one of those multi-talented types. During their freshman military training in September, everyone was raving about him. Tall, good-looking, can sing, play drums, basketball—you name it. For weeks, our class group was full of his photos.”
“Mm,” He Yuan responded with little interest.
“Girls are into guys like him these days, but honestly, what’s the big deal? Bet he’s a total playboy.” Xu was getting animated. “He’s got a loaded family too—his parents own some huge hospital. He drives to school in a car worth hundreds of thousands.”
He Yuan listened, making no comments as he sketched the final details of a tiny lock on the imaginary door of his “dark room”.
No wonder Xiao An had casually mentioned paying compensation. Money didn’t seem to mean much to him.
“Hey, have you finished your living room drawings?” He Yuan asked, shifting the topic.
“What living room—” Xu suddenly froze as realization dawned. “Damn it! When’s the deadline again?”
“This Sunday night. Before the campus internet shuts off,” He Yuan answered coolly.
“You’re killing me! I might as well go home and raise pigs.” Xu leaped from his chair, scrambling to clean his desk, which was buried under piles of takeout boxes and crumpled papers.
“Before you embark on your pig-farming career,” He Yuan added dryly, “Don’t forget, residential area planning review is Tuesday.”
Xu Zhaoyuan : …
—
The following afternoon, Xiao An slouched into the billiard room owned by a friend, looking utterly drained.
“What’s up with you, An? You look like you’ve got kidney deficiency,” joked one of his friends, leaning on a pool cue.
“Professor caught him for free labor again,” another chimed in. Xiao An waved them off, collapsing onto an old sofa.
“Must be nice having family connections,” added He Xinyang, casually adjusting his baseball cap. “His professor treats him like a son—calls him out in every class.”
“Enough nonsense,” Xiao An said with his eyes closed, his voice tinged with annoyance.
He was halfway to dozing off when Pan Xi, the friend who’d summoned him, finally arrived.
“What’s wrong with your hand?” Xiao An asked, noticing bandages wrapped around Pan Xi’s arm.
“Just fell off my bike,” Pan Xi said casually, handing Xiao An a glass of iced lemonade. “What about you? No classes today?”
Xiao An took a sip of the drink, no thanks exchanged between them—it wasn’t needed. “What’s up? You wouldn’t have called me all the way here if it wasn’t urgent.”
Pan Xi hesitated, checking the door to ensure it was shut. “It’s like this… I signed a contract with V Station two years ago to make food videos as an uploader.”
Xiao An raised an eyebrow, amused. “Really? And you’re just now telling me? I would’ve sent you gifts to support your channel.”
“Forget it,” Pan Xi sighed. “I abandoned the account after signing the contract and haven’t updated it since. I have no active fans now.” He looked at Xiao An earnestly. “I haven’t told anyone about this, but now, with my hand like this, I want to ask you to take care of the account for a while.”
“Take care of it? How?” Xiao An asked, sipping his lemon green tea, still processing the request.
“It’s simple,” Pan Xi replied. “Just help me record, edit, and upload videos.”
Xiao An stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Brother, I’m willing to help, but this doesn’t seem right. You could wait until your hand heals before making videos again. Or is there some pressing reason you have to update now?”
Pan Xi hesitated, his lips tightening before finally spilling the truth. “Actually… The website is hosting an event to reward contracted uploaders who consistently post for three months. I joined the event.”
“What’s the reward?” Xiao An asked, intrigued.
Pan Xi’s round face flushed slightly, his eyes lighting up. “It’s good stuff. You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it to you.”
“Let me guess,” Xiao An teased. “It’s something not safe for the under-18 crowd?”
“Absolutely not! It’s a regular website!” Pan Xi exclaimed, waving his good hand for emphasis. “My contract is about to expire. I’ve been working hard for two months and only need one more month of updates to qualify for the reward. But with this injury…”
Xiao An gave him a solemn pat on the shoulder. “Sometimes, you just have to let go. Adults have to accept there are things we can’t always have.”
“Get lost!” Pan Xi shot back, pretending to kick him. “Can’t you show a little sympathy? If you help me, I promise to find you a beautiful partner afterward.”
“Deal,” Xiao An said with a grin. “Where’s this partner? How beautiful is she? Let me meet her first.”
“I’ll arrange it right away!” Pan Xi was desperate. Xiao An had always been a smooth talker. “So, are you in or not?”
Xiao An crossed his arms, pretending to deliberate. After a dramatic pause, he raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Alright, I’m in.”
Helping out for a month wasn’t a big deal. Xiao An dabbled in plenty of things, and being a foodie for a while didn’t seem hard at all.
