It rained Saturday night, and autumn seemed to have arrived overnight.
The air conditioner in He Yuan’s dormitory was still on. When he woke up early Sunday morning, he found himself wrapped in a thin blanket, warm but only halfway so.
He had a dream, and even after waking up, his consciousness lingered in the dream’s aftermath, leaving his body unwilling to move.
It was a good dream. He was eight years old again, following a group on a trip to Italy. The sun shone brightly, and the dome of the Florence Cathedral stretched into the sky. He ran across a slate-paved bridge lined with twelve angel statues. When he got tired, he sat by the river eating ice cream. The person guiding them spoke about Baroque and Renaissance architecture and how the river wound through the city.
He Yuan wasn’t much of a talker, but he listened attentively.
After twelve years, he could no longer recall the exact details of what had been said.
But dreams have this kind of magic—reproducing memory fragments like scenes from a movie.
He Yuan lay in bed for fifteen minutes before finally getting up to wash up. Xu Zhaoyuan’s bed curtain was still drawn, suggesting he hadn’t gotten up yet.
He tried to move quietly, but suddenly, Xu Zhaoyuan’s messy-haired head poked out from behind the curtain, startling He Yuan so much he knocked his head against the sliding door.
“If you’re awake, squeak or something,” He Yuan muttered with a frown.
“I just checked V-site. Guess what I found?” Xu Zhaoyuan shoved his phone in He Yuan’s face. “Your little apprentice’s new video is trending on the homepage!”
“Yeah.” He Yuan barely glanced at it.
The screen was so close he could only make out a blur of pink and yellow.
“You’re incredible. Just having an apprentice can bring traffic!” Xu Zhaoyuan exclaimed, squinting at the screen. “But what’s he doing… Hey, why is there a fight in the comments?”
He Yuan said nothing. He opened his computer, logged into V-site, and clicked on the apprentice’s page from their private chat.
Sure enough, the new post was about ham and egg custard. The dish sat on a stainless steel plate, topped with diced ham.
The presentation was… striking. The ham was stacked into an igloo shape, and the “roof” was drizzled with something that looked like salad dressing.
The video had been posted at 3 a.m. Clearly, the creator had worked late into the night, seriously crafting… art.
He Yuan: “…”
What even is this? Can this be eaten?
Before taking him in, he never imagined his apprentice would cook like this.
Reluctantly, He Yuan liked the video, then glanced at the top comment:
Wanshi Keai: I came here for the hype, curious about the boss’s disciple. But this? I’m seriously wondering—does anyone dare to eat what you cook? [Hilarious]
The comment had risen to the top, fueled by a flood of replies scolding the poster. There were hundreds of comments in total.
He Yuan reported the comment and caught a key piece of info from another one:
Passerby: Just came back from the forum. The Zuan up master’s direct confrontation really won me over. Followed instantly~
Frowning, He Yuan opened Xixizi’s private chat, sent a period, then navigated to the forum.
He didn’t need long to find the relevant post.
The poster,“What is Xixizi eating today”, had titled it: [Wanshi Keai, your grandpa is here.]
The post, made last Monday night, included screenshots of a group chat where Wanshi Keai tagged Xixizi in a public channel and cursed at him.
Poster: Come on, why are you calling for your grandpa?
The comments below had exploded with applause. Half an hour later, Wanshi Keai appeared.
Wanshi Keai: Why are you so cocky? [Woo woo woo woo]
Poster: Should I consult the almanac for your grandpa? Woo woo woo woo
He Yuan scrolled down, watching the two fight. Wanshi Keai’s retorts were as nonsensical as ever, while Xixizi…
Xixizi typed rapidly, replying with a string of words devoid of profanity but dripping with the refined condescension of someone kindly concerned for the mentally deficient.
Poster: Stop trying to ride on others’ popularity. When your mom heard what you did, she cried so hard she fainted on the spot.
He Yuan hadn’t even reached the end of the post when Xixizi messaged him privately.
What is Xixizi eating today: What’s wrong, Master? [Little yellow bird flapping its wings.jpg]
What is Xixizi eating today: I’m playing outside.
Wall: …
Who can tell him who this little troublemaker is?
He Yuan raised his hand and typed: Don’t argue with him. It’s endless.
What is Xixizi eating today: ?
Wall: Forum.
The other party went silent, then sent an emoji of a little yellow bird curled up with its wings covering its head.
What is Xixizi eating today: I was wrong, Master.
What is Xixizi eating today: Why don’t you whip me? [Shakingly handing over the whip.jpg]
He Yuan inexplicably felt like laughing: How old are you?
The other party actually replied seriously: Eighteen.
What is Xixizi eating today: Oh no, it’s seventeen, I’m in the second year of high school.
He Yuan wasn’t very surprised; he had already guessed the other party was young.
High school students are impulsive—they jump at any provocation.
What is Xixizi eating today: He scolded me first! He went to the group and called me a bitch. He clearly wanted to ride on the popularity.
What is Xixizi eating today: Forget it, you should just hit me. I’m wrong. [Bows head in reflection]
He Yuan couldn’t help but sigh.
He really had the urge to slap the other party.
Wall: Be careful with what you say and do.
Wall: Take a detour when you see a madman.
Wall: Tell me if you have any questions.
The other party nodded honestly but didn’t reply again.
He Yuan thought they’d gone back to gaming, but when he refreshed the forum, there they were—replying again.
Wanshi Keai was still ranting, this time posting a screenshot of He Yuan’s live broadcast showing Xixizi smashing three bags of gold coins.
This was Wanshi Keai’s usual tactic. When he couldn’t win the argument, he switched to conspiracy theories, implying there was some sort of financial transaction between He Yuan and his apprentice.
Every time Wanshi Keai posted something new, Xixizi responded with an emoticon.
OP: [Cat covers face: I’m allergic to idiots.]
OP: [Panda head frowns: You + talking = fart.]
OP: [Panda head raises hand: Huh? Dog barking?]
OP: [The villain sends a light wave: Rebound.]
He Yuan was speechless. He typed in the private message box: Come back to me.
But he didn’t send it.
He backspaced and deleted the message.
After some thought, he opened his personal homepage.
His page was clean—almost barren. Apart from forwarding weekly live broadcast recordings, there was basically nothing.
He Yuan drafted a post and hit send.
Wall: This is the disciple I picked up. Don’t bother him.
