Later, Song Shiyue wrote an answer on a very popular question-and-answer website.
The question was: “Has anyone ever been classmates with Zhu Xingyan? Can you tell us what he was like back in school?”
At that time she had already entered university, just started her freshman year, had a bit of free time, and had only recently begun exploring the new online world. She still retained a trace of the desire to confide and share.
Her answer read:
One month: [Like a star in the sky — seems very close, but is actually very far away. Yet everyone can feel its light, gentle and comfortable.]
It was a casual reply she typed on the spot. The next day when she logged in again, her inbox was overflowing with messages and the comments below were filled with follow-up questions.
[Can the answerer elaborate more specifically?]
She thought for a moment and, from her memories, pulled out one small incident to use as a concrete illustration.
[There was a classmate in our class who accidentally saw the book he was reading. Out of curiosity, she specially went to the library to borrow it and read it, and in the end he discovered it. Not only did he not get angry, he even lent her the English original version.]
[In short, he is a very good person.]
……
Even draped in a halo of fame, he still made the people around him feel comfortable — like starlight falling at night, quiet and clear, gentle and silent.
Every classmate in Class 1 gave Zhu Xingyan evaluations that were without exception full of praise. Although there was always the intangible distance of a big star, in everyday interactions he mostly made people feel at ease and properly cared for.
Most of the students in Class 1 kept a proper sense of boundaries. The occasional small gestures of goodwill were harmless little thoughts — for example, Xiao Simin and the others would secretly slip him carefully prepared notes. Although they received polite refusals from him, the wording and tone were always appropriate and considerate. Amid the disappointment, there was also a secret, hidden joy because today they had found another chance to exchange a few more words with him.
At midday, Song Shiyue sometimes ate in the cafeteria together with them. As long as Zhu Xingyan was at school, the center of the girls’ conversation was always him.
Who spoke to him today, what he did, and the latest news about him online.
As Zhu Xingyan spent more and more time at school, the number of fans who caught wind and came rushing increased. He had not appeared in public for a long time, and his schedule showed a blank period. Fanhua No. 2 High School was not an airtight fortress. Even with strict prohibitions, it could not stop certain students from quietly leaking bits of information online.
For example: Saw Zhu Xingyan again today.
(Attached: one blurry sneak photo from school.)
Another example: Ahhhh turns out even big stars eat convenience store food! Ran into Zhu Xingyan at the school convenience store during break — he was holding a seaweed triangle rice ball at the checkout, so down-to-earth wuwu!
And photos of him playing basketball.
What started as a casual post from the person involved had messy framing — just four or five shadowy figures on the basketball court. Yet Zhu Xingyan stood out among them without needing to be searched for. Even though only half his face was visible, the refined and superior outlines were striking and immediately seized the viewer’s attention.
The sunset lingered in the late afternoon, light and shadow dim and hazy. The afterglow behind him and the huge shadow of the mountain fell across the scene. The boy shooting in the crowd looked exactly like an ordinary, carefree high-school student.
Zhu Xingyan’s fans had never seen him like this before.
The boy who became famous early had always appeared dazzling under the spotlight from the moment he stepped in front of the camera. Countless god-tier stage moments had gone viral. Under the lights he was so beautiful he did not seem real — like a deity.
A cool and eye-catching big star who, no matter the time or place, always carried a blinding, radiant glow.
This quietly posted Weibo somehow got discovered by a Zhu Xingyan fan. It quickly spread into the super topic square. By the time people woke up the next morning, it had surged onto the hot search list — tens of thousands of comments and reposts. Marketing accounts smelled the traffic and jumped in to ride the wave.
The classmate who had only wanted to share quietly opened their phone the next day to find countless red notification dots. Panicked, they hurriedly deleted the post.
But it was already too late. The photos had been saved and crazily reposted by fans. A casual scroll online and they appeared on everyone’s homepage.
It even made the hot search rankings.
#ZhuXingyanBasketball#
Such a simple keyword phrase exploded in popularity. The ranking climbed rapidly. The topic boiled furiously for half the morning before it was gradually suppressed and returned to calm.
The next day, the entrance of Fanhua No. 2 High School was almost completely surrounded by Zhu Xingyan fans.
Easily recognizable faces — young women mostly wearing similar T-shirts, carrying backpacks, some holding professional cameras, craning their necks and looking around everywhere.
Under the security guards’ control, they did not approach the school gates. They simply squatted in the surrounding area, hoping for a chance to catch a glimpse of their idol.
That day, Zhu Xingyan did not come to school for class.
The second day, the third day, the fourth day… He completely disappeared for a full week.
The person who originally posted the photos was never identified, but the school held a half-hour-long assembly because of it. The main purpose was to criticize the serious negative impact this incident had on the school’s atmosphere. It had also caused difficulties for other teachers and students in attending class, and Zhu Xingyan himself was forced to miss lessons.
In the end, a serious warning was issued: if anything like this happened again, bringing mobile phones to school would be strictly prohibited.
The students below immediately burst into loud groans and complaints. Fanhua No. 2 High School had never been particularly strict with student management. It always emphasized well-rounded development in morality, intellect, physical fitness, aesthetics, and labor. As a key high school in Fanshi City, besides the regular Gaokao track, the school also had an international division and specialized interest and talent classes. Over the years, there had always been plenty of students recommended for early admission or going abroad to study. This chapter is updated first at novelping.com.
However, none of that had anything to do with Class 1.
This time, the students in their class were unusually united in their anger. Whenever they got the chance, they cursed the student who secretly posted the photos. During breaks, groups of four or five gathered together. Xiao Simin was especially furious, pounding the desk with her fist.
“If I ever find out who it was! So idle and yet I never see him finish a few extra test papers. Always posting other people’s privacy online — really full and looking for trouble, coming out to harm others.”
“Exactly. Zhu Xingyan finally had some free time to come to school and attend a few more days of class, and then this happens. If I were him, I wouldn’t come back either.”
“Sigh, being a celebrity really isn’t easy. Always being stared at by others.”
“No kidding. You guys don’t know — the other day when I was on duty, I was cleaning the corner of the west area and suddenly heard rustling sounds. It scared me! Guess what?”
“What? What?” The people nearby immediately pressed for details.
“The grass was so tall! I thought there was a snake at first. Then I looked up — whoa! There were four or five people lying on top of the perimeter wall, all holding super long camera lenses. Scared me to death!”
“…………”
“These fans really are true love…”
“True love means giving him freedom!” Xiao Simin declared righteously.
The people around her fell silent, momentarily unsure how to discuss “true love” with such a devoted fan. After a brief pause, one girl turned her head toward Song Shiyue, who had remained quiet at her seat the whole time, and said in a low, suggestive tone:
“Class monitor… don’t you have Zhu Xingyan’s contact information? Could you help ask him whether he’s still coming to school?” She looked at Song Shiyue with hopeful eyes. After she finished speaking, the others immediately perked up, sitting straighter and staring at her.
The pen in Song Shiyue’s fingers paused for a moment. She was just about to speak when Xiao Simin interrupted:
“Isn’t that a bit inappropriate? Wouldn’t it be too presumptuous? But our class monitor is such a good person… Zhu Xingyan probably wouldn’t mind, right…?”
After her rapid-fire combination of arguments left Song Shiyue speechless, faced with so many pairs of expectant eyes, she had no choice but to take out her phone and find Zhu Xingyan’s name in her contact list.
The people beside her all crowded over to look at her screen.
“So Zhu classmate’s profile picture is his album cover.”
“Xing, so aloof, so cute, so cool oh!”
“As expected from a celebrity, his profile is so clean it looks like a fake account!”
“…………”
Even though the discussion was lively, no one suggested adding Zhu Xingyan as a friend. They were gossipy but still kept proper boundaries. Everyone understood that he was only sharing a classroom with them for a while — a brief overlap of parallel worlds. It did not mean they belonged to the same world.
Song Shiyue carefully worded her message and typed it out.
— Zhu classmate, when will you come back to school for class?
Before she could send it, the people around her started giving instructions all at once.
“No no, that’s too direct and cold, no warmth at all. You should show concern first.”
“Right right, start by asking if he’s been okay lately?”
Song Shiyue helplessly deleted the message and retyped.
— Zhu classmate, are you doing okay? When will you have time to come back to school for class?
“No no, that last part sounds like you’re questioning him. Make it gentler.”
“Yes, soften your tone, make it cuter. Add a ‘ya’ or something at the end.”
Under the group’s collective planning and suggestions, Song Shiyue was forced to revise and delete repeatedly. In the end, the message she sent sounded completely different from her usual way of speaking.
「Moon」: [Zhu classmate, have you been doing okay lately? The classmates in our class are all very worried about you. Will you still come back to school for class ya?]
After what felt like forever, the message was finally sent. For a moment, the air went completely still. Everyone grew tense with anticipation, staring fixedly at the screen, waiting for a reply from the other side.
Song Shiyue, drawing from past experience, looked up and informed them: “He usually takes a long time to reply to messages…”
The words had barely left her mouth when her phone vibrated. His profile picture popped up on the screen.
Xing: [Tomorrow] This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Followed immediately by another message.
Xing: [No need to worry, I’m doing fine]
To everyone’s surprise, at the end of his message, he added a smiley face.
The system’s default little yellow face emoji, sent from his account, somehow made him seem unexpectedly approachable.
The classmates around her could not hold back their exclamations.
“Wow, no one told me Zhu Xingyan is like this in private!”
“He’s so cute wuwu.”
“He’s not aloof at all! Not even a bit of big-star attitude! Class monitor! So this is how well you usually get treated!!”
“…………” Song Shiyue’s ears grew slightly warm. Not knowing how to respond, she simply lowered her head and typed to wrap things up.
「Moon」: [Okay]
After replying, she closed her phone, faced the circle of people in front of her, cleared her throat seriously, and said:
“Okay, I’ve asked. Can everyone go back to class now?”
“Scatter, please. I need to listen to the vocabulary words.”
After she finished speaking, she lowered her head, seriously opened her listening exercise, and put on her earphones. Seeing this, the other students quietly dispersed on their own. The classroom air finally returned to its usual calm.
Song Shiyue let out a small sigh of relief in her heart, settled down, and focused completely.
In the end, Zhu Xingyan’s studio issued a serious statement restraining the fans. True fans retreated like the tide, keeping their distance with restraint. A few obsessive private fans refused to give up and continued lingering around the school. Fanhua’s security team organized patrol groups and drove away all unauthorized people on sight.
Security became stricter than ever before. The area around the school gradually returned to its former peace. Students on duty no longer had to worry about people lying on the walls.
On the day Zhu Xingyan returned to school, Song Shiyue happened to run into him at Instructor Zhang’s office. The two of them walked back to the classroom together, sharing a short stretch of the path.
The corridor outside the teachers’ offices was long and quiet. It was break time, and occasionally a student’s figure could be seen passing by outside.
Faint sounds drifted from the distance, mixed with the thud of a basketball hitting the ground — like white noise in the background of the afternoon.
The two walked side by side at an unhurried pace. The boy’s clothes carried a faint, fresh fragrance. Song Shiyue held the stack of test papers in her arms and opened the conversation first.
“Zhu classmate, the classmates in our class have been very worried about you during this time.”
“No need to worry. I was just resting at home.” Zhu Xingyan’s voice was steady, gentle, and pleasant to the ear.
“I hope this incident didn’t affect you.” She continued.
“It didn’t.”
For a moment there were no more words. The air fell briefly silent. As they turned the corner and approached the classroom, they saw three or four students coming toward them.
When those students saw the person beside Song Shiyue, surprise appeared on their faces. Their gazes shot straight over and fixed on Zhu Xingyan.
The looks felt like an invisible net, capturing them both.
Song Shiyue unconsciously tightened her fingers around the edge of the test papers she was holding.
Only after they reached the empty staircase did Zhu Xingyan beside her suddenly speak: “Will I affect you?”
She was stunned and looked up at him. “What?”
“Walking together with me like this.”
The boy stood in the stairwell. Sunlight fell beside him, casting a long, slanted shadow.
Song Shiyue looked at his face — fair and quiet like a poster — and her mind went blank for a second before she answered slowly: “No.”
He smiled at her.
The two walked side by side to the classroom, then parted ways and returned to their own seats.
Song Shiyue quietly listened to the sound of her own heartbeat for a while. It seemed to rise and fall a little more intensely than usual.