Chapter 39

The room was bright. The floor-to-ceiling windows were only covered by sheer curtains, not blackout ones. When the sun rose, it flooded the entire space with golden light.

The landline on the nightstand rang again and again. The figure on the bed pulled the blanket over his head, but it didn’t help—those shrill rings sliced right through the fabric and into his ears.

It stopped, then rang again. Relentless. A masterclass in persistence—by a hotel phone, no less.

By the fifth round, a hand finally emerged from under the covers. It fumbled around, eventually hooking the receiver and dragging it to the pillow.

Still half-asleep, Qi Xu heard a familiar voice: “Qi Xu, get up.”

“Call in sick for me,” he mumbled without missing a beat.

On the sofa in the living room, Xie Huai glanced at the tightly shut door. “You’re supposed to request leave the day before. The counselor won’t approve it now—counting this as a missed class.”

Qi Xu went silent again. As expected. That’s why Xie Huai had called an hour early—to give him time to fight it.

After about twenty minutes of back-and-forth, Qi Xu finally showed signs of life. Xie Huai hung up and knocked on his door.

“Clean clothes are outside.”

Qi Xu’s robe was hanging loosely off his body after a night’s sleep. He opened the door, still groggy, to grab the clothes Xie Huai had left.

Xie Huai, in the middle of pouring warm water in the living room, caught a flash of pale skin out of the corner of his eye. He looked up—and instantly froze.

Two long, bare legs. Nothing covering them. The robe’s belt was barely hanging on, just enough to keep things PG. One wrong move and it would come undone.

Qi Xu didn’t notice a thing. He walked out like it was a private beach, legs striding freely, the robe swinging open enough to give a very generous view.

Xie Huai’s brow twitched sharply.

Then Qi Xu bent down to grab the clothes from the chair, exposing his chest, his elegant collarbones, and…

Xie Huai instinctively looked away.

Only when the door shut again did he turn his gaze back, eyes fixed on it with an unreadable expression, his brow still furrowed.

Qi Xu finally emerged, showered and more awake. He sat down at the dining table and started eating breakfast without needing to be told.

Halfway through his porridge, he paused, adjusted how he was sitting, and muttered, “Next time, tell your people to size up my underwear. I meant to say that during the camping trip, but I forgot.”

Xie Huai, across from him, didn’t even blink. “Wear mine.”

Qi Xu looked up. “You’re sick in the head.”

Xie Huai said calmly, “They’re new.”

Qi Xu let out a half-hearted “Oh,” and went back to sipping his porridge.

Completely pointless breakfast conversation—how it even started was a mystery.

Still, Qi Xu ended up wearing the pair of underwear in Xie Huai’s size. Honestly, even his walking felt lighter.

They left the hotel at 9:30. The school was twenty minutes away, and with the morning rush already over, traffic was smooth all the way.

Qi Xu had been dozing in the car, and only opened his eyes when they were pulling into the university.

After getting out, he asked groggily, “What class is it?”

Xie Huai glanced at his watch. Still five minutes left—just enough time.

“General ed. Modern History.”

Qi Xu groaned like his soul had left his body. “Fifth floor.”

He was already walking like a zombie up the stairs, and Xie Huai was even slower behind him.

A few students, clearly running late, rushed past them. The two of them walking so calmly—cool and unbothered—made the rest feel like they were panicking for no reason.

One student dashed down from the wrong floor and almost collided with Qi Xu.

Just as Qi Xu was about to sidestep, the person behind him stepped forward, blocking him with one arm while the other settled at the small of his back, creating a little safety barrier around him.

The student in front noticed them in time and swerved toward another staircase.

Qi Xu turned and saw what happened, letting out a laugh. “What was that? You’re closing in on me like a SWAT team.”

Xie Huai let his hand drop and said flatly, “One minute left.”

Qi Xu didn’t say anything more and sped up a little, stepping into the lecture hall just as the bell rang.

Half the finance majors were gathered in that lecture hall. The fact that Qi Xu and Xie Huai entered right on the dot drew everyone’s attention—including the professor on stage.

Qi Xu ignored the stares and spotted Li Yan in the back waving them over.

He walked down the aisle and took a seat beside Li Yan. Xie Huai sat right next to him.

Li Yan had already placed their textbooks in front of their seats and whispered, “Good thing you made it. This prof’s a stickler about attendance—it goes into your final grade.”

On stage, the professor grabbed a mic and instructed everyone to sign in using the app.

Qi Xu pulled out his phone and realized it was dead. Uh-oh. He raised his eyebrows.

Xie Huai handed him his own phone after signing in. “Use mine.”

Qi Xu logged Xie Huai out, but then ran into another problem—he’d forgotten his own password.

He blurted out, “Wait… what’s my password again?”

Li Yan stared at him, equal parts horrified and amused. “Dude, what’s the difference between this and asking me for your debit card PIN? How would I know?”

Qi Xu was about to ask someone for a charger when Xie Huai suddenly said, “011111.”

Qi Xu actually typed it in—and it worked.

Li Yan looked at them in disbelief. “You two spent one night out and already know each other’s passwords? What is this, full-on mutual trust?”

“…”

Qi Xu casually handed the phone back to Xie Huai and said, “Yep, totally. I know his bank PIN too—six zeroes.”

The professor started lecturing, so they stopped talking.

Xie Huai slipped the phone into his pocket and muttered, “Same as your phone and payment passcode… don’t tell me your debit card’s the same too.”

Qi Xu suddenly remembered how he’d unlocked his phone last night in front of Xie Huai to transfer him money—he probably saw the transfer code too.

When had his security awareness gotten so bad?

He quickly denied it. “Nope. Totally different.”

There were two classes that morning. Qi Xu held a pen and lazily underlined random lines in his textbook before spacing out for a good chunk of time.

Luckily, college lectures didn’t cold-call students for answers. If they had, Qi Xu would’ve been dead by the first “You—stand up.”

After the first period, Qi Xu was still spaced out, the hangover haze clinging to him.

He laid his head on the desk, trying to rest his eyes, when he heard someone beside him watching the clip of him reading aloud from last night’s event script.

He shifted from face-down to lying on his side, still slumped over the desk, and lazily said, “You know I’m right here, right? Do you have to be so shameless about it?”

The room wasn’t exactly loud, but the background buzz didn’t stop the sound of his stiff, robotic voice from playing loud and clear. Qi Xu was hearing his own recorded speech for the first time—and it was awful.

So stiff. Like a plank of wood. Zero emotion.

Xie Huai didn’t press pause. Instead, he watched for a few seconds with a bit of amusement in his eyes. “Don’t get discouraged just because you didn’t get selected. Next time, try taking out your emotion chip and give it another go.”

Qi Xu: “…”

That insult was so rude.

“Why don’t you sign up next time so I can see if you even resemble a human being?”

Xie Huai exited the video calmly. “So you’re saying I’m not human right now? I must just be admiring my own kind then.”

Qi Xu happened to notice the video wasn’t playing from the class group chat—it was saved in his gallery.

Li Yan walked in with a bottle of juice. “Hey Huai-ge, this is yours.”

Xie Huai pressed the cold drink right up to Qi Xu’s cheek. The icy touch jolted him out of his drowsiness.

“Thanks, fellow robot. Always good to help your own kind.”

“No need to thank me.”

Li Yan looked confused. “Robot? What robot?”

Qi Xu hugged the drink for the cool relief and said, “He said I looked like a robot up there on stage. So I told him he’s a full-on study robot.”

Feng Zhenjie laughed. “So we’ve been invaded by machines now?”

The row in front and the row behind them were all classmates who had overheard Xie Huai and Qi Xu’s conversation and had been holding back their laughter. Once Feng Zhenjie chimed in, the whole group lit up and joined the chat one after another.

It turned into a lively group exchange, full of banter.

Shen Zeyu walked in through the back door and immediately saw Xie Huai and Qi Xu surrounded by everyone, clearly the center of attention.

That scene hit him like a nail in the eye—sharp and cutting.

Back in senior year, he and Xie Huai had been the core of the class committee—one was the academic rep, the other the class president. Meetings, events—everything used to revolve around the two of them.

But now? It was Qi Xu.

How could he possibly accept that?

Qi Xu was seriously feeling himself right now.

Gao Wenjun walked in and saw Shen Zeyu standing frozen near the doorway. Following his gaze, he looked over at the guy comfortably slumped on the desk.

He asked, “Class rep Shen, why are you just standing here?”

Shen Zeyu turned to see it was Gao Wenjun. They had talked a few times during military training and exchanged contact info to make future communication between their classes easier.

“It’s nothing.” He handed over the bottle of water in his hand. “Can you help me give this to Er-ge—oh, I mean, Qi Xu.”

Gao Wenjun raised a brow. “Why don’t you give it to him yourself?”

Shen Zeyu smiled bitterly. “He’s mad at me. I’ve texted him, but he won’t respond. I must’ve upset him somehow. He told me not to show up around him anymore.”

Gao Wenjun had a general idea of the relationship between Qi Xu and Shen Zeyu, though he didn’t know the full story. The forums were full of conflicting rumors—some said Qi Xu resented Shen Zeyu being taken in by the Shen family, but honestly, Shen Zeyu seemed like he was stuck in an awkward position too.

“Qi Xu’s got a bit of a temper,” Gao Wenjun admitted. “Only Xie Huai can really get through to him. Why not talk to Xie Huai? You two were classmates in high school, weren’t you?”

Shen Zeyu shook his head, looking resigned. “Forget it. They’re getting along really well—I don’t want to butt in.”

The bell was about to ring, and students started trickling back into the classroom. Everyone in the hallway had heard their conversation loud and clear.

Gao Wenjun’s roommates exchanged glances, clearly sensing some juicy gossip. They nudged each other and raised eyebrows like, Did you hear that?

Gao Wenjun walked over and placed the water bottle on Qi Xu’s desk. “Your brother dropped this off.”

That one sentence killed the “robot” banter in an instant.

Qi Xu didn’t even glance at the bottle. “Mm.”

The bell rang. Everyone took their seats and class resumed.

By the second period, Qi Xu was noticeably more alert, actually taking notes instead of just doodling.

Finally, class ended. The moment the bell rang, everyone scrambled to pack up and rush to the cafeteria.

Li Yan asked, “Xu-ge, I heard the sweet-and-sour ribs at this cafeteria are amazing. Wanna check it out?”

Qi Xu closed his textbook. “Sure. Spot me for now though—I forgot my student card.”

Li Yan nudged him. “Come on, we’re brothers. What’s a meal between us?”

Feng Zhenjie slung his backpack on. “What, you rich now?”

Li Yan looked a little smug. “Nah, just got my allowance, that’s all.”

The four of them packed up and left together, leaving behind a full, unopened bottle of water on the desk.

—

Originally, the forum buzz about whether Qi Xu or Shen Zeyu was the real young master had started to die down, mostly because Qi Xu had been keeping a low profile.

But with the start of the freshman welcome events, things heated up again.

Shen Zeyu ended up hosting the welcome event, and someone on the forum uploaded a video of Qi Xu during the final selection round to compare the two.

People expecting more drama between the “real” and “fake” young master were ready for a showdown—but one comment completely derailed the topic.

“Damn, such a people-bot, kinda cute though. I’m into it.”
“Everyone else was pouring their heart out, showing off all their talents, and he’s up there sounding half-dead. Like, pick me or don’t, I don’t care.”
“I was bored and ran his audio through a program—the pitch variation is legit AI-level.”
“Apparently the whole class voted for him to run for host, and it turned out like this.”
“I ran into him at the student cafeteria—he actually smiles a lot, doesn’t seem robotic at all.”
“I swear, who the hell uploaded the video I took? I’ve already filed a request to have it taken down.”
“Chill, mods—this isn’t even a privacy issue.”

Back in the dorm, Li Yan was furious when he saw the video on the forum. He cursed out loud, “Which bastard posted my video? I only shared it in the class group—don’t tell me there’s a mole in our class!”

As the person involved, Qi Xu actually tried to calm him down. “Relax. You wanna lose what’s left of your voice?”

Li Yan had been snacking too much lately and his throat was hoarse from the heat.

“Xu-ge, I swear, I’m never posting your videos in the group chat again.”

Qi Xu didn’t care. “It was a public competition. You’re not the only one who filmed me. The second I got on stage, I saw like three people turning off their flash and snapping away. Anyway, my handsome shots are destined to go public.”

Li Yan: “…”

Was this what it meant to have the mindset of a celebrity?

He really knew how to hype himself up.

On the day of the welcome gala, which happened to be a weekend, Qi Xu slept in until he woke up naturally. By the time he opened his eyes, the dorm was empty.

Xie Huai and Li Yan had gone off to help organize the event with the student council, and Feng Zhenjie had a match. Qi Xu stretched lazily in bed.

When he checked his phone, he saw that Xu Yichen had dropped a location pin for a campus café in their five-person group chat—along with a photo of three coffees.

The timestamp showed it had been posted over an hour ago.

Qi Xu finally replied in the group:
“You guys already left?”

Xu Yichen instantly replied:
“Young master, you finally showed up. Good thing I didn’t give up.”

Clearly, they were still around. After a quick wash and grabbing his student card, Qi Xu headed out to meet them at the café.

Jiang Zimu waved at him when he walked in. As soon as he sat down, Xu Yichen started his little rant.

“We called Ah Huai when we got here, but he was busy. I said we should call you instead. Who knew the young master would still be dead asleep at 11? He even told us not to bother you—so we just wandered around campus with zero clue where to go.”

Qi Xu chuckled. “You guys showed up unannounced. If you’d said something last night, I’d have made sure to get up early and welcome Young Master Xu, Young Master Jiang, and Miss Fang properly.”

Fang Qian took his side. “I’d barely gotten out of bed when he called to say he was downstairs at my dorm. I didn’t even have time to fix my hair. Can we please plan things better next time?”

Xu Yichen said, “Well, I just found out Q University’s welcome gala is today. I mean, what a missed opportunity—none of you even told us!”

Qi Xu shrugged. “Wouldn’t have mattered. I don’t have a ticket.”

A few days ago, he’d seen a huge line wrapping around the gymnasium. The guys next door said they waited nearly an hour and a half just to get theirs.

Qi Xu never liked crowds anyway. His original plan for the weekend was to stay in and work on documents.

Jiang Zimu offered, “I can try buying a few online.”

Qi Xu stopped him. “Don’t. They’ll be way overpriced right now. Just wait until the show starts—we might be able to pick up a few cheap outside.”

There were still over five hours until the event. Qi Xu brought them to the dining hall for lunch first.

Since Xu Yichen had waited over an hour, he was ready to wring a free meal out of Qi Xu. But Qi Xu beat him to it—he generously ordered the priciest thing on the menu: spicy beef hotpot.

Xu Yichen’s anger vanished in an instant. He draped himself around Qi Xu’s shoulders and said in a syrupy voice, “Ah Xu treats me the best.”

Fang Qian took a photo of their backs and posted it in the group chat, tagging Xie Huai.

Qi Xu had already tried all the sweet-and-sour dishes in the cafeteria, so this time he went with tomato beef noodle soup—with extra vinegar.

Halfway through eating, someone sat down in the empty seat beside him. Just from the tray, Qi Xu could tell it was Xie Huai—perfectly balanced meal, healthy mix of protein and fiber.

“I thought you were busy?” Qi Xu asked.

“Busy people still need to eat. What, you think I’m a robot?” Xie Huai replied.

Xu Yichen snorted. “Look who finally showed up—the VIP himself.”

Xie Huai glanced at him. “That massive hotpot didn’t shut you up? You better finish it. The cafeteria has a waste report system.”

Xu Yichen: “…”

“Wow, so cold. Years of friendship ruined by one beef hotpot.”

Qi Xu laughed as he kept eating.

Xie Huai didn’t stay long. After lunch, he dropped two gala tickets on the table and left just as quickly.

Now they had four people and only two tickets. Luckily, Li Yan had known Qi Xu would bring friends, so he gave him one of his spares, and another came from a club friend.

With fifteen minutes left before the gala started, Qi Xu handed out the three tickets. “Alright, you guys go on in.”

He still couldn’t believe how crazy the demand for this year’s welcome gala was. Even minutes before it started, there were zero tickets being resold at the gate.

The fact that the out-of-towners had tickets while a campus student didn’t made Xu Yichen feel a little guilty.

“I won’t go. Qi Xu, you take my ticket and go with them.”

Qi Xu was speechless at Xu Yichen’s noble gesture.
“I was never interested in this kind of event in the first place. If you guys hadn’t dragged me out, I’d have stayed in the dorm all day. So if you’re going, just go already.”

The three of them had no comeback. Quietly, they took their tickets and lined up to go in.

Qi Xu was just about to leave when someone called out to him.

“Second Brother, you don’t have a ticket?”

Shen Zeyu had shown up in full formalwear, wearing one of his designer custom suits. He looked polished and charming—enough that people in the entrance line started sneaking glances their way.

Shen Zeyu held out a ticket.
“I have a spare. Take it.”

Qi Xu didn’t respond. He didn’t take the ticket or even acknowledge him—just turned to leave.

Shen Zeyu quickly grabbed his arm.
“Second Brother, I was wrong. Please don’t ignore me.”

Putting on a scene right in front of the check-in gate, in front of everyone. But Qi Xu was used to this. In his past life, Shen Zeyu pulling the pitiful act was a daily occurrence, and Qi Xu had been hounded by it constantly on campus.

After all, they were both “victims” in the same scandal. But sympathy always flowed toward the one who looked more vulnerable. Shen Zeyu played that card well, and Qi Xu, in contrast, was seen as cold and cutting every time he pushed back. Public opinion turned against him.

Online, everyone took Shen Zeyu’s side—the fake son, the underdog. And Qi Xu? He was painted as petty and narrow-minded.

People didn’t care about the truth. They believed what they saw, and gossip spread like wildfire, warping more with every retelling.

So this time, if it’s going to be drama—let’s make it drama.

Qi Xu covered his nose and, in his signature flat AI-like tone, said,
“Your cologne’s toxic, little brother. I can’t breathe. Can you let go of me?”

Shen Zeyu: “…”

He looked thrown off—completely disoriented. Why wasn’t Qi Xu angry? Why wasn’t he fighting back?

Qi Xu thought his expression was hilarious and shook off his hand.

Then Shen Zeyu said, “Please don’t ignore Mom’s messages. Don’t fight with the family because of me. They really love you.”

Qi Xu casually patted at his sleeve like brushing off dirt, gaze lowered, voice emotionless.
“Why would I fight with them? They just wired me my living expenses. I love them too. And I love you, little brother.”

The Shen parents, whether out of guilt or strategy, had been avoiding confrontation and instead sent money as a stand-in for emotional connection. Qi Xu gladly accepted every cent.

Shen Zeyu: “…”

There was a hollow, sinking feeling—like swinging a fist and hitting cotton.

Meanwhile, the crowd around them was already firing up their phones and typing away on the forums:

“The Real and the Fake Young Master: Your Cologne Is Toxic – Now Featuring ‘I Really Love You, Don’t Miss Out on Love.’”

Forum comments:

“This is nuts. I need more episodes, stat.”

Just when everyone thought the drama was over, someone else made their entrance.

Wearing a staff badge on his chest, Xie Huai stepped out of the employee entrance.

“Qi Xu.”

Qi Xu didn’t even glance back at Shen Zeyu. He turned and walked straight toward Xie Huai.

Shen Zeyu, the cockroach that just wouldn’t die, clung to his mission of handing over that ticket.

“Ah Huai, Second Brother doesn’t have a ticket!”

At the staff entrance, Xie Huai unclipped the badge from his neck and placed it around Qi Xu’s.

“He’s a family member. Doesn’t need a ticket.”