On the first Saturday of his senior year, Zhuang Yusheng found himself in the Finance Department’s multi-purpose lecture hall—a place completely unrelated to his own major in Literature—attending an investment seminar given by a prominent international financier.
He had no interest in investment and didn’t even know who the bigwig on stage was; he was only there because his mother, Ms. Zhuang, had seen a post on a finance-focused WeChat account describing the event as a great opportunity to engage with industry veterans. She had insisted he attend, claiming it would benefit his future career.
To this day, Zhuang Guilan still didn’t know that her son wasn’t actually a finance major.
Of course, had he really wanted to skip it, Zhuang Yusheng could have easily fobbed her off; after all, his mother was a rural woman who hadn’t even finished primary school and understood nothing about such matters.
However, he wanted to avoid going to Shen Mu’s place even more. Attending the lecture provided the perfect excuse: if Shen Mu insisted he come over, he could claim that since his mother followed the WeChat account, he would be in trouble if he couldn’t answer any questions about the talk.
As it turned out, Shen Mu didn’t say much; he simply told him to make sure he arrived at Changqing Cemetery before noon for the funeral—just as long as he wasn’t late.
Spotlights focused on the stage, leaving the audience in semi-darkness. Zhuang Yusheng took out a pocket-sized copy of The Red and the Black and flipped through a couple of pages, but finding it a struggle to read, he decided to head to the library to kill time instead.
He was sitting in the back row near the exit, so he could leave without drawing attention. Yet, just as he leaned forward and braced his feet to stand up, a dark figure suddenly entered and sat in the empty seat beside him, effectively blocking his path.
“Where are they up to?” the figure asked, leaning closer to Zhuang Yusheng and lowering his voice.
Zhuang Yusheng heard the question clearly but couldn’t answer immediately. It wasn’t because his English was so poor that he hadn’t understood a word the old man on stage was saying; rather, the stranger was so strikingly handsome that his brain momentarily stalled.
At a glance, the man possessed a striking brow ridge, a high, straight nose, and lips of perfect thickness, while the angle of his jawline looked as though it had been meticulously sculpted. His pitch-black eyes reflected the light from the stage, deep and spirited; the hairline at his temples and the nape of his neck was neatly trimmed, giving him a fresh, clean-cut look.
Shifting his gaze slightly downward, Zhuang Yusheng noted the man’s broad shoulders and long arms—even while seated, it was clear he was tall.
Zhuang Yusheng didn’t recall seeing anyone like him on campus before.
He enjoyed admiring handsome men and knew the names of the ‘campus heartthrobs’ from every department. The man before him could easily outshine those heartthrobs—even eclipsing the dozens of diverse, handsome guys Zhuang Yusheng followed on social media—yet he had never crossed paths with him at school.
Was he a freshman? His eyes lacked that ‘innocent naivety’ typical of first-years, so that didn’t seem likely.
Maybe it’s time to update my mental roster, Zhuang Yusheng thought. He decided to temporarily award the title of ‘Top Hunk’ to this stranger, assigning him the code name: “Protagonist Face.”
Because he possessed the face of a male lead from a manga.
“It just started,” Zhuang Yusheng said.
He had originally gone to the library just to kill time; staying here to feast his eyes seemed like a better option.
Back then, Zhuang Yusheng wasn’t the smooth socialite he would later become; he still retained the traits of an artsy intellectual and harbored a touch of self-importance. He didn’t try to strike up a conversation with ‘Protagonist Face,’ merely stealing the occasional glance. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who had discovered this hidden gem of a handsome man; before long, a note was passed from the other side, and Zhuang Yusheng was asked to hand it over.
‘Protagonist Face’ was engrossed in the presentation, his attention entirely on the stage. Zhuang Yusheng couldn’t get his attention at first, so he had to tap the man’s arm and place the note on the table in front of him.
‘Protagonist Face’ gave Zhuang Yusheng a puzzled look, unfolded the note, and asked uncertainly, “You want my WeChat?”
Zhuang Yusheng pointed to the other side, signaling that the note had come from there and had nothing to do with him.
‘Protagonist Face’ turned his head—it was unclear who he saw—and quickly looked back. “I don’t have WeChat.”
Zhuang Yusheng formed his first impression of the man: he seemed a bit aloof. He said, “You might as well just say no; that excuse is really lame.”
“I honestly don’t have WeChat,” said the guy with the ‘protagonist face.’
Zhuang Yusheng understood that looking cool was a privilege for handsome guys, but in this day and age, was it really necessary to use the ‘I don’t have a phone’ line and treat everyone else like fools?
He turned to the other person and relayed the message: “He said he’s not adding anyone.”
After that, Zhuang Yusheng stopped stealing glances so often. It wasn’t that he took issue with the guy treating people like fools; it was just that whenever a ‘niche gem’ he’d discovered became a mainstream hit, he’d lose interest and stop paying attention—he didn’t want to look like just another late-coming bandwagoner.
It was the same with music: once a rare, niche track he’d finally found became a chart-topping hit, listening to it made him feel like he had no taste.
Of course, there was another reason, too: Zhuang Yusheng didn’t want to be one of the fools in that guy’s eyes; he felt he was different from the people asking for WeChat contacts.
The guy was still listening intently, looking as focused as someone aiming for a perfect score on the college entrance exam’s English listening section. Zhuang Yusheng was getting a bit bored and was just thinking about heading to the library to read a novel when the guy suddenly looked at him and asked, “Do you know about this case study?”
Zhuang Yusheng: “Huh?”
“My professor handled this M&A deal.” The guy began discussing the lecture content with Zhuang Yusheng in a perfectly normal way—though, unfortunately, Zhuang Yusheng had no idea what was being discussed on stage, let alone what “M&A” actually meant.
Zhuang Yusheng just said, “Oh.”
Perhaps finding Zhuang Yusheng’s reaction a bit odd, the guy sized him up and asked, “What’s your major?”
Zhuang Yusheng replied, “Chinese Language and Literature.” He didn’t think there was anything embarrassing about the literature department, so he didn’t hide it.
The guy looked puzzled. “Then why did you come to this lecture?”
Zhuang Yusheng said casually, “I want to trade stocks and make money.”
At the time, Zhuang Yusheng didn’t realize that investing and stock trading weren’t quite the same thing, but he could tell the guy probably pegged him as an oddball with a strange way of thinking and stopped trying to make conversation.
At that point, leaving in the middle of the lecture would only have made him look even weirder. Zhuang Yusheng was someone who cared a great deal about his image. Even though he didn’t know ‘Mr. Protagonist Face’ at all—and the man likely hadn’t even noticed him—he had stayed for the entire lecture, including the Q&A session. He had been curious to see if the man would get called on after raising his hand.
As it turned out, he didn’t; after all, their seats were in a rather out-of-the-way spot.
The lecture ended at just the right time. Zhuang Yusheng shouldered his backpack and headed to the school’s east gate, intending to take a bus to the suburban Changqing Cemetery for the funeral of Shen Mu’s wife.
A main road ran outside the east gate, leading to the city center in one direction and the suburbs in the other. Across the street, Zhuang Yusheng could see a group of lively university students at the bus stop, chattering away—likely planning a trip into town. On his side, however, there were only a few scattered elderly people and…
…’Mr. Protagonist-Face,’ whose presence seemed completely out of place in this dreary bus stop setting.
He kept glancing between his phone and the bus stop sign, looking as bewildered as a lost tourist.
Zhuang Yusheng was never one to hesitate when it came to helping a handsome man. However, before stepping forward to strike up a conversation, he noticed that the man gave off a different vibe in the bright, natural light.
For starters, his skin was excellent—clearly well-maintained. He was indeed tall, easily over 1.80 meters. His outfit was tasteful: a loose, short-sleeved shirt and knee-length shorts from an ‘Old Money’ style brand. The light color palette avoided the monotony of black and white while looking fresh and clean.
His overall vibe reminded Zhuang Yusheng of the handsome influencers he followed on social media—the kind that made you wonder why they hadn’t debuted in the entertainment industry. The only difference was that those influencers often failed to live up to the hype in person, looking good only in heavily retouched photos; judging by how intently this man had listened to the lecture, the reason he hadn’t debuted was probably because he was too busy excelling at his studies.
Wait a minute—Zhuang Yusheng suddenly felt that ‘Mr. Protagonist-Face’ looked familiar. Could it be that he had followed him online before? That brief interruption meant Zhuang Yusheng didn’t have time to respond before the guy with the ‘protagonist face’ walked right up to him: “Is this where I catch the 634 bus?”
Had he walked around to the back of the sign to see the full route map, he would have confirmed he was in the right place.
Just then, a bus lumbered into view; the digital display on its front clearly read: “634: University Park – Changqing Cemetery.”
Zhuang Yusheng stood up and said, “Yes.”
There weren’t many passengers on this 634 bus, but everyone had tacitly chosen to space themselves out; consequently, despite the bus looking mostly empty, it was surprisingly hard to find a seat where the spot next to you wasn’t taken.
Zhuang Yusheng scanned the interior and luckily spotted the last remaining double seat. He didn’t specifically intend to sit next to the guy with the ‘protagonist face’; he simply didn’t want to sit right beside a stranger.
Of course, with no other single seats available, the guy had no choice and would likely end up sitting next to him anyway—after all, compared to other strangers, at least they had exchanged a few words. But this wasn’t some calculated move by Zhuang Yusheng; he wouldn’t waste his scheming on something so trivial.
After sitting down, Zhuang Yusheng noticed the guy was still standing by the payment scanner, fiddling with his phone.
City regulations dictated that the bus couldn’t move until all passengers were steady and holding onto a handrail. However, the driver seemed to assume a strapping young man didn’t need special care and swung the steering wheel to pull away immediately. When the guy struggled to get the code to scan and turned to him for help, Zhuang Yusheng gave a perfunctory answer, speaking in a thick local dialect: “Just refresh it.”
Zhuang Yusheng walked over: “Haven’t you activated the transit code?”
The guy held his phone out to Zhuang Yusheng: “I did.”
There was indeed a QR code on the screen. Zhuang Yusheng glanced at it and said, “That’s the subway transit code.”
The guy asked, “Where do I activate the bus transit code?”
Zhuang Yusheng said, “Search for ‘Yidiantong’.” [1]“Yidiantong” (一点通 – Yīdiǎntōng) generally refers to a digital transport guide or bus route application in China or Taiwan (such as the Taiwan Railway Yidiantong app). jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3351697_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3351697_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });
He watched as the guy tapped into the correct section, and the phone immediately redirected to the identity verification page. The ‘Protagonist-Face’ guy quickly held up his phone for facial recognition; Zhuang Yusheng couldn’t keep staring at the screen, though he did catch a glimpse of the ID document being used—it wasn’t a standard Chinese ID card but a passport, and the name wasn’t in Chinese characters but in capital letters.
After successfully scanning the transit code, the guy followed Zhuang Yusheng and sat in the empty double seat.
Zhuang Yusheng asked, “Are you an international student?”
International students—whether from Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, Singapore, Malaysia, or overseas Chinese communities—were not an uncommon sight. Unlike Zhuang Yusheng, who had to fight his way through a fiercely competitive gauntlet just to get into this top-tier university, international students faced a much lower threshold for admission.
“Yes,” the guy replied. “I go to university in the US; my school has an exchange program here.”
That explained it. No wonder he had mentioned that the M&A deal was handled by his professor—who was presumably American, too—and had found Zhuang Yusheng’s indifferent reaction odd.
Zhuang Yusheng also understood why the guy had said he didn’t have WeChat; it seemed he had misjudged the situation—the guy hadn’t actually intended to treat him like a fool.
He offered a friendly suggestion: “Aren’t you going to sign up for WeChat? The school posts a lot of announcements in class groups; it’s really inconvenient without it.”
The guy said, “I have it. I just didn’t want to give it out.”
Zhuang Yusheng: “…” A classic ‘aloof heartthrob’ type, then.
He turned his head to look at the scenery outside the window, tactfully deciding not to strike up any further conversation.
The bus ride from the university to Changqing Cemetery on the 634 line took over an hour, passing through various areas—not all of which were remote.
Zhuang Yusheng had assumed the guy would get off at some point along the way. However, as passengers came and went, the bus eventually reached the terminus with no one left on board—except for the guy, who was still sitting right next to him.
After dropping the two of them off, the bus didn’t linger; it made a U-turn and leisurely headed back along the same route. As soon as the two stepped out of the car, middle-aged women selling flowers by the roadside swarmed them, thrusting white chrysanthemums forward and insisting theirs were the freshest—guaranteed to last for days.
Both men ignored the sales pitch and, in perfect unison, pulled out their phones to check their navigation apps. They then walked together toward Changqing Cemetery, only realizing at that moment that they were heading to the same destination.
The man with the ‘protagonist face’ look asked, “Are you here to visit a grave?”
Zhuang Yusheng replied, “No, I’m attending a funeral.”
“Me too,” the other man said.
They didn’t pursue the topic further; after all, the death of a family member was a private matter—hardly appropriate for casual conversation between strangers meeting for the first time.
The centerpiece of Changqing Cemetery was Changqing Temple; with multiple prayer halls, the complex could host several funerals simultaneously. That was why, despite both attending funerals, they had assumed they were complete strangers to one another and certainly wouldn’t be attending the same service.
Yet, at every fork in the path, after checking the signposts, they found themselves turning in the same direction. Zhuang Yusheng began to see the same thought reflected in the other man’s eyes: Surely it can’t be that much of a coincidence?
The signs eventually pointed toward the Hall of Eternal Life. Inside, a number of prominent figures from the political and business worlds had already gathered; people conversed in hushed tones, and the atmosphere was far more solemn and dignified than that of an ordinary funeral.
Realizing they were indeed attending the same funeral, Zhuang Yusheng suddenly had no desire for further interaction with the man. The other man, however, seemed intrigued: “Is your family close with the Xu family?”
The Xu family was the bereaved family hosting the service. For a younger person to appear at a funeral with such a strong business-networking vibe, it implied a close personal connection between their families and the Xus.
The man clearly assumed Zhuang Yusheng was the son of one of the dignitaries present, and Zhuang Yusheng made the exact same assumption about him. Zhuang Yusheng said, “I suppose so.”
He didn’t want to get into a deep conversation and was preparing to slip back into the crowd when Zhuang Guilan—who was nearby—spotted him and waved. “Xiao Yu, come over here and help out.”
At the same time, she noticed the young man’s face; she nodded and greeted him, “Young Master Xu.”
Zhuang Yusheng’s heart skipped a beat as it finally dawned on him why the young man’s face had looked so familiar. He wasn’t just the scion of some random family; he was Xu Siming—the youngest son of the Xu family and the nephew of the deceased.
Zhuang Guilan had originally intended to have Zhuang Yusheng hand out black armbands to the guests, but upon seeing Xu Siming, she grabbed a garment bag and a shoebox bag, handing them to Zhuang Yusheng. “These are the Young Master’s suit and dress shoes. Go with him while he changes.”
“Going with him” was just a polite way of saying he was there to act as a human clothes-carrier.
By this point, Xu Siming had also figured out who Zhuang Yusheng was. On their way to the restroom so he could change, he remarked, “So, you’re the son of my family’s housekeeper.”
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