His heart suddenly skipped a beat. He gripped his phone tightly and spoke cautiously, “Hello.”
“Can you hear me?” Lis’s clear, pleasant voice came through the speaker, sounding like a crisp spring with a hint of magnetism.
Song Yang was stunned for several seconds before replying, “I can.”
The air fell silent, with only the faint noise of fabric rubbing against fabric in the background. Song Yang’s mind went blank, and he momentarily forgot how to respond.
“What is the matter? Do you not have anything to say?” the other person prompted.
“Um, your voice is quite like what I imagined. It sounds very young; you must not be very old, right?”
“I am a junior in college.”
“That is about the same as me. Which city are you in?”
The person on the other end was silent for a while. Song Yang vaguely heard a burst of noise and what sounded like a third person’s voice.
“Province C,” Lis said.
“Oh, that is not far from me; the high-speed rail takes an hour.”
“Is Yangyang already planning on meeting up?”
Song Yang’s eyes widened, so shocked he almost threw his phone. “No! Who the hell wants to meet you?”
W-well, even if he did, it would not be that soon!
The person on the other end muted their mic, and only after a long while did they unmute it again: “I am just teasing you. You have heard my voice now; are you satisfied?”
Sensing that the other person wanted to hang up, Song Yang hurriedly said, “Satisfied. By the way, teacher, about that post of yours, should you delete it? I saw them saying a lot of nasty things.”
The person muted their mic again. Song Yang paused, feeling full of questions.
Lis quickly unmuted and said, “I will not delete it. That was drawn for our little Yangyang; why would I delete it?”
Song Yang frowned, feeling like something dirty had been mixed into his words, making his ears feel unclean.
Lis continued, “Also, you are not allowed to call me teacher anymore. You must call me Brother Lis, understand?”
“I am…” A curse hovered on his lips, but he slammed on the mental brakes, bit his lip, and held it back. “Fine, fine, I will listen to you, okay? I am hanging up!”
Meanwhile, in a male dormitory at University C:
After the call ended, Lu Sui’an stared at the chat interface, scrolling up with great interest, until Ji Ting snatched the phone back.
“Are you addicted to chatting with him?”
Ji Ting shot him a glare, his eyes as cold as frost, which made Lu Sui’an shiver.
“It is yours, it is yours. How would I dare to have any designs on him?” Lu Sui’an laughed. “Did Yangyang suspect anything?”
Ji Ting tilted his head, his gaze emitting a dangerous signal: “Is Yangyang a name for you to call?”
“How about I call him sister-in-law instead? If you ask me, if you like him, just pursue him boldly.”
Ji Ting said, “Now is not the time.”
“Fair enough. You do not even know if he is gay or straight. Just come to me if you need help with calls in the future; I am your brother, I will help you until you chase him down.”
Ji Ting gave a low mhm, patted his shoulder with a thanks, and turned back to his desk.
In the next second, the roommate on the opposite bed, Ruan Yuan, leaned over and draped an arm around his shoulder, whispering, “Butler, this is the first time the young master has been so attentive to someone.”
“Secretary, I am right, am I not? Sniping at him both online and offline. I think the young master is the type to stay silent until he shocks everyone. Usually, he is colder than ice, but once he gets hooked, he is definitely a love-struck fool.”
“The kind who would cry, kneel on a keyboard, and beg his wife for forgiveness after a fight.”
“Exactly.”
They exchanged a look and reached a consensus.
Song Yang hummed a tune as he arrived at the studio. The door was unlocked. He peeked in, saw no one, pushed the door open, and strolled inside.
After consideration, he had accepted this decent job. He would just treat it as sacrificing for art—earning money was nothing to be ashamed of. Being a model and being a stand-in for arguments were essentially the same thing.
He walked familiarly to Ji Ting’s station, sat on the stool, and took out his phone to send a message.
Song: Senior, I am here.
The reply came quickly:
Student Union Emperor: Wait for me. If you have nothing to do, help me clean up the paint palette.
“A model has to help clean the paint palette too?” Song Yang thought about complaining but bit his tongue. “Fine, earning money is nothing to be ashamed of.”
He found Ji Ting’s palette and opened it. It was actually quite clean, unlike the messy stew of colors he had imagined. Only the edges of the squares were a bit dirty where paint had overflowed.
When Ruan Yuan opened the door, he saw Song Yang crouching next to Ji Ting’s seat, picking out the paint squares one by one and carefully wiping the edges and the casing with paper.
Hearing the door, he just glanced up, then buried his head again. His bangs fell over his forehead, and he looked quite obedient as he cleaned with great focus.
Ruan Yuan walked to his own station and glanced at Song Yang, calling out, “Song Yang.”
Song Yang looked up: “You know me?”
“I am Ji Ting’s roommate, Ruan Yuan.”
“Hello.”
Ruan Yuan stretched his neck to peek at the floor: “What are you doing?”
Song Yang kept his head down, focused: “Serving as a slave for Senior Ji Ting.”
Ruan Yuan asked again: “Working for him? Then what do you think of Ji Ting?”
“Huh?” Song Yang’s eyes shifted over, surprised by the out-of-the-blue question. “You are his roommate; it is not my place to say.”
Ruan Yuan laughed and pressed, “Just say it. I will not tell him.”
“As long as Ji Ting is not acting arrogant, being toxic, or making things difficult for me, I am willing to call him Brother Ting.” Song Yang put the paint squares back into the palette, arranged them neatly, and said slowly, “In general, he is a pretty good guy when he isn’t having an episode.”
Ruan Yuan nodded, thinking, This is promising.
Just then, Ji Ting walked in. Song Yang had just finished cleaning the last square. He stood up, looked at Ji Ting, and tilted his chin as if asking for a reward: “Task complete, it is as clean as new.”
Ji Ting gave it a simple glance: “Not bad, I will hire you next time.”
“You said it yourself.” Song Yang was very happy. “My price-to-performance ratio is high; hiring me is a bargain.”
Ruan Yuan stole a glance, thinking Song Yang looked like a wagging puppy trailing behind Ji Ting, and Ji Ting’s reaction was inexplicably doting. They are a perfect match, he thought.
“Go sit over there,” Ji Ting said to Song Yang. Seeing Ruan Yuan’s goofy smile, he lowered his brow and coughed twice at him.
Ruan Yuan realized what was happening and stood up quickly: “Ji Ting, the house manager is looking for me. I am heading out.”
He grabbed his bag, darted out, and slammed the door shut.
“Sit here?” Song Yang sat on the windowsill, feeling a bit awkward. “What pose should I take?”
“Relax, just look out the window.” Ji Ting reached for a brush, then thought of something. “Wait.”
He pulled something from his pocket and walked toward the windowsill. Song Yang looked at him with a blank expression as he approached.
Ji Ting unscrewed a lip glaze. Seeing what it was, Song Yang instinctively turned his head to dodge: “You carry this with you? I am not applying it; I am a pure man.”
“I borrowed it.” Ji Ting turned his face back. “It is not like you have never worn it before.”
Song Yang had no choice. He closed his eyes in humiliation and felt a cool sensation on his lips.
He reflexively tried to pull back, but hit the windowpane behind him with nowhere to go.
Ji Ting leaned in slightly, trapping him, and pinched his chin, forcing him to look up.
“W-wait…”
“It will be quick.”
Ji Ting was very close. Song Yang felt enveloped by the faint scent on him, his breathing becoming labored.
He held his breath, his neck stretching into a lean, smooth line. His pale pink lips were covered in a layer of bean-paste red, evenly spread and glistening.
Ji Ting applied some to his cheeks as well, his fingertips rubbing and circling on his skin. With the butterfly-wing tremor of his eyelashes, his snow-white skin was flushed with a rosy hue.
Holy crap, this posture looks like he is forcing a kiss on me.
Song Yang suddenly opened his eyes, realized what explosive thoughts he was having, and his face turned red, naturally blending with the color of the lip glaze.
As he opened his eyes, he suddenly locked gazes with Ji Ting. Looking up at him from such close proximity, their shallow, rhythmic breathing became increasingly audible.
The subtle atmosphere made Song Yang uncomfortable. He hurriedly shifted his gaze, his eyes darting around not knowing where to look.
“Uh…” He felt awkward and found a topic: “You apply it quite gently.”
“Is that so?” Ji Ting whispered.
“The lady at the cake shop before treated my face like a cake base, poking my skin hard with makeup tools. It hurt.”
Ji Ting stroked his jaw with one hand while gently rubbing his lip corners with the other, wiping away the excess glaze with an intimate touch: “With a face like this, she could bear to be heavy-handed?”
He released Song Yang and turned back to the drawing board, leaving Song Yang sitting on the windowsill, dazed, repeating that sentence in his mind for a long time.
What does that mean? Praising me? That is creepy; the arrogant guy actually praised me.
“Sit straight, I am starting.”
“Oh…” Song Yang snapped out of it and maintained the posture leaning against the window as instructed.
He looked out the window quietly. Birds flew across the horizon. He heard the sound of brushes brushing against paper. Suddenly, he felt the surroundings were very quiet; it was as if time had slowed down.
So slow that he felt sleepy.
He did not know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, it was already dark.
He rubbed his eyes, mumbled something, looked at Ji Ting behind the drawing board, and spoke in a dazed, sluggish voice: “Damn it, why did I fall asleep? Sorry about that. Are you done?”
“Not yet.” Ji Ting looked at the board without even lifting his head. “You can go. Let us stop here for today.”
“You are not finished. When should I come back?”
“I will schedule you when the time comes.”
“Daily pay?”
“Mhm.”
“Great, great.” Song Yang’s spirit instantly lifted, and he ran out of the studio.
On the canvas, the boy slept soundly against the windowsill, soft strands of hair brushing his nose bridge, the evening glow casting on his left profile, calm and beautiful. Ji Ting looked at the semi-finished piece and lifted the corners of his lips.
Song Yang received a message from Lis the moment he stepped out of the teaching building.
The other party had sent an Excel spreadsheet detailing a comprehensive streaming plan.
It included preparatory work, development routes, phased planning, traffic diversion strategies, and how to edit short clips.
Song Yang looked at the dense spreadsheet, genuinely shocked.
Lis: It is not perfect yet. Fill in the rest yourself.
Song: You are amazing, bro. It is so detailed; you treated this like academic research. Thank you so much! How do I thank you, holy crap.
Lis: You do not need to thank me for anything.
A moment later, another message popped up.
Lis: If you really want to thank me, call me husband.
Song Yang’s smile stiffened: ?