On the weekend, a little after three in the afternoon, Wen Ran was driving his mom’s BMW X3 down the road, steering with one hand while engaging in peak nonsense with his friend Shang Ge over the car’s hands-free system.
Shang Ge said he wanted to throw himself a funeral—while still alive—and asked Wen Ran what color scheme would be best for the decorations.
Shang Ge: “Pink? Light blue? I think blue feels more dreamy. I used to want that color for my wedding.”
He was being absurd. Wen Ran was even more absurd.
Wen Ran said, “White. That way you won’t need to change clothes either. Didn’t you always dream of having a wedding? You can wear a wedding dress and just lie there.”
“Oh! That actually makes sense.”
Shang Ge seriously started thinking it over.
Then he added, “Should I invite my exes?”
“Of course.”
Wen Ran continued, fully committed to the bit. “Absolutely invite them.”
“Let them all see how beautiful you still are even when you’re dead. Make you their eternal red string of fate, their white moonlight.”
“Every time they see a wedding dress, every time they see someone wearing one, they’ll think of you—of you lying there peacefully in a wedding dress, that breathtaking beauty no one could ever compare to.”
“Holy crap! Holy crap!”
Shang Ge got fired up on the other end. “White! White it is! Wedding dress! Yes! A wedding dress!”
Then his tone abruptly shifted. “What are you up to right now?”
Wen Ran chewed his bubble gum. “Taking my mom’s car in for maintenance.”
Shang Ge immediately said, “She’s still driving that gas guzzler?”
“Auntie really is something,” he muttered casually. “She’s loaded—why’s she still driving a gas car? Everyone’s on EVs now.”
Shang Ge had just ordered a Zunjie S800 a few days ago and said without thinking, “She should just switch to an electric car. No maintenance needed, and you even get access to the ‘Aito cafeteria.’”
“She says the maintenance shop has hot guys,” Wen Ran replied.
Sometimes Wen Ran’s mom was pretty abstract too.
As the saying goes: whatever kind of son you raise, that’s the kind of mom you get.
Wen Ran went around being absurd all day long, and his mom was even better at it. Just to coax her son into running errands and taking the car in for maintenance, she had to bait him like a fisherman chumming the water—claiming there were hot guys at the shop and telling him to hurry up before he missed out.
Wen Ran didn’t believe her at all.
“There really are?” Shang Ge did, though.
“Yeah, my ass,” Wen Ran said, driving along. “Do you believe there are hot guys, or do you believe I’m the First Emperor of Qin?”
“I’d rather believe you’re the First Emperor of Qin.”
Shang Ge sighed. “These days, good-looking people are all online, doing borderline content on TikTok.”
“In real life? Where are there any hot guys? I’ve never met one, anyway.”
Then Shang Ge asked, “How long will the maintenance take? Can you still make dinner tonight?”
“Come eat with me and help me plan my funeral setup—stage, decorations, all that.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Wen Ran agreed easily. He glanced at the time and said, “It should be done by five-thirty at the latest. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”
“OK!”
After hanging up, he followed the navigation for a bit longer and finally arrived at his destination, spotting the sign that read “Bumblebee Auto Care.”
“Bumblebee. You’ll do.”
He muttered that, turned the wheel, pulled over, and drove in toward the sign.
He parked in front of the shop and pushed the door open. A young man in a work uniform came over and asked, “Maintenance or repairs?”
“Maintenance,” Wen Ran said as he got out of the car. “Oil change.”
The young man walked closer. When he saw Wen Ran’s face clearly, he visibly froze, then paused before saying, “Uh… okay. Did you make an appointment?”
“I did. You told me to come between three-thirty and four.”
Wen Ran stood there casually, hands in his pockets.
“Alright. Keys, please.”
The man grabbed the car door, ready to get in.
Wen Ran tipped his chin. “They’re inside.”
The man got straight into the car, shut the door, started it, and drove it into the indoor garage.
So what, exactly, had he been stunned by just now?
Nothing more than Wen Ran’s appearance, which could honestly be described with one word:
Abstract.
Pink hair mixed with gold highlights, a row of metal studs along one ear, a diamond lip piercing, makeup on his face—a very trendy Thai-style freckle look. Dressed head to toe in black, covered in pockets of all sizes.
To the average person, he looked as bizarre as could be.
But Wen Ran didn’t care whether he was abstract or bizarre. Once the shop had the car, he had nothing to do. He wandered off to the side, fished his e-cigarette out of his pocket, popped the cap, pressed it to his lips, and lazily vaped while looking down at his phone.
Inside the shop, the young man parked the BMW at a work bay, turned off the engine, set up the lift, and raised the car. Then he said to another man at the neighboring bay, who was tightening lug nuts on a tire, “Hey, look over there. That guy.”
Luo Xiao turned his head, wrench still moving. “What about him?”
“There.”
The man gestured.
Only then did Luo Xiao look over and see a tall, slender young man dressed all in black standing not far from the entrance.
The young man had his back to him. Aside from all the black, the countless pockets, and that head of pink hair, Luo Xiao didn’t notice much else.
He withdrew his gaze and didn’t pay it any mind. “What’s up with this BMW?”
“Maintenance.”
“I’ll take it. You drive that one out once you’re done.”
“Got it.”
Near the entrance, Wen Ran scrolled through his phone, bored out of his mind.
There was nothing interesting to see, so he casually swiped a bit, half-lidded, then looked up, absentmindedly glancing around.
And then, at one moment—
With the e-cigarette pressed to his lips, he turned toward the inside of the shop and suddenly saw this:
In front of his mom’s car stood a man wearing a gray sleeveless vest.
The man was very tall. The car was already lifted high, yet he was still nearly as tall as the underside of the chassis.
He had an incredible build—broad shoulders, a narrow waist. The skin exposed by the vest was a deep honey tone, clearly sun-darkened, his muscles firm and well-defined.
He turned around and crouched to open the oil filter box, revealing most of his face: sharply defined features, a prominent brow ridge and nose bridge, a clean, sharp jawline. At first glance, he radiated pure masculinity.
Wen Ran froze.
He’d studied art since elementary school. Whether in college or after entering society, he’d seen plenty of good-looking men.
For someone to make him stop dead like this said everything about how striking the man was—and how perfectly he fit Wen Ran’s taste.
Yes. This was exactly his type: tall, big-framed, muscular, manly—not the delicate, pretty kind.
He’d met plenty like this before, but most of them were gym types, sculpted through endless weightlifting sessions. This man was completely different.
He was a bit dirty. His skin was dark, clearly tanned, lacking that pale, slightly unhealthy “clean” look common to city men.
When he raised his arms, natural muscle lines appeared—nothing exaggerated, nothing forced.
And when he turned sideways, the full chest beneath the vest was unmistakable.
Very well-built indeed.
Wen Ran kept looking. And looking. And before he knew it, he was staring.
The moment he realized what he was doing, he hurriedly pulled his gaze away.
And the instant he did, the tips of his ears burned red—what was he doing?!
His heart started pounding hard, thump thump.
Wen Ran quickly turned around, showing his back, and took a drag from his vape.
After several pulls, his heart was still racing. At that point, Wen Ran knew he was done—he’d already let that guy get under his skin.
A moment later, Wen Ran hid behind a tall, high-clearance Jeep near the shop entrance and secretly peeked at the man again.
This time, he saw him even more clearly.
The man was wearing work pants and a gray sleeveless vest. That skin tone—one look told you it was sun-tanned.
Every time he lifted or lowered his arms, clear muscle lines showed along his shoulders, back, and arms.
His shoulders were genuinely broad, sharply contrasted by a narrow waist.
His chest was undeniably solid too—the curve beneath the vest said everything.
And that face—high brow ridge, tall nose bridge, deep-set eyes, thin lips. Not the delicate, refined kind of Asian handsomeness. Just… good-looking. Manly. Insanely manly. Man to the max.
Wen Ran watched, completely smitten.
In that instant, he finally, fully understood the word “crush.”
How was this not a crush?
This was such a crush.
So damn good.
Perfectly his type.
Way too much his type.
He liked it—no, he loved it.
So excited was he that, as he stared, he actually squatted down, practically wanting to pound the ground—
Man. Too manly.
He liked him. He really liked him.
Wen Ran quietly raised his phone like a thief and snapped a few pictures of the guy.
As for why he was hiding…
Obviously because he knew exactly how unhinged he looked when he went full “abstract.” With today’s outfit? Meeting a crush? Don’t be ridiculous.
Right now, he wanted nothing more than to swallow his lip piercing whole.
He believed his mom now.
There really were hot guys. For real.
He was going to take every single gas-powered car in the house in for maintenance.
No—ten thousand times over!!!
After sneaking those photos, Wen Ran shrank back behind the Jeep’s rear end and started tearing off his earrings and lip ring one by one. He even wanted to rip out all his hair. As for this outfit—he was throwing it straight into the trash.
Nothing was allowed to interfere with his perfect image in front of his crush.
His beloved—no, formerly beloved—habit of being “abstract” now had to move aside. Yes. Step aside.
He practically wanted to find a giant bucket of makeup remover and dunk his entire face into it in one go.
So, not long later, after he was told the maintenance was done and the oil had been changed, Wen Ran reappeared—looking like this:
The clothes were still the same black, pocket-covered outfit.
But the pink hair was gone, hidden under a baseball cap.
The row of earrings was gone, his ears clean.
The lip ring and makeup were gone too, replaced by a large face mask.
With his cap pulled low and the big mask on, Wen Ran stood in front of his brand-new crush.
The crush, having taken off his dirty gloves, handed over the maintenance checklist. “Take a look. These are the services we did, here’s the total, and here’s the discount. See if there’s any issue.”
Wen Ran practically had to wrench his gaze away from that ultra-manly face under the brim of his cap and force it down to the paper in his hand. Then—
Then, with an utterly natural air, he pulled out his phone and said, “Can I add you on WeChat?”
“It’ll be easier for me to make an appointment next time.”
“And if there’s any problem, I’ll know who to contact.”
Come on, crush. Give it to me. Your WeChat.
The man pointed to the very bottom of the checklist. “There’s a QR code for the shop down there. You can scan that.”
Wen Ran: “……”
In that moment, Wen Ran had another very abstract thought:
Reject me, and you’ll regret it, man.
No—future father of my child.