“Crap, I didn’t bring my car.”
Pei Tingsong, a textbook ABC at his core, immediately let an F-bomb fly as frustration kicked in. Fang Juexia didn’t respond, quietly focusing on washing the dishes like he hadn’t heard a thing.
“You have a car?” Pei asked while tugging on his cap, still wearing the same grayish-purple hoodie from the day before.
Fang Juexia flicked the water off his hands. “Yeah.”
It wasn’t a fancy ride, but it got the job done. Still, he had no intention of offering it up. “You can call a ride.”
Pei Tingsong glanced at his watch. “This time of day? Almost impossible to get one.”
“I need to head to the company later,” Fang Juexia replied.
“It’s on the way. Just drop me off first.”
Before Fang Juexia could react, Pei had already grabbed the white puffer jacket hanging on the entryway rack and wrapped it around him in one swift move, zipping it up with a dramatic zip!
“Let’s go.”
This guy was just…
Fang Juexia couldn’t even find a word for him.
Pei Tingsong wasn’t like anyone he had ever met before.
In the end, the inevitable happened: Fang Juexia’s car pulled up outside P University’s bustling main gate. He lowered the brim of his cap, keeping his face down.
In the passenger seat, Pei Tingsong was passed out cold. When Fang Juexia gently nudged him awake, Pei frowned, pulling his beanie down over his eyes in protest.
Fang Juexia sighed.
Then deadpanned, “Roll call started.”
Pei shot upright like he’d been electrocuted, yanked his hat up, and glared at him for three full seconds.
Fang Juexia simply opened the driver’s side door. “Get out.”
“So soon?”
Not soon at all.
Twenty-three minutes, six traffic lights, four of which held them up for over forty seconds each. At least there hadn’t been any major congestion.
Pei adjusted his beanie in the side mirror before hopping out. He closed the door, tilted his head slightly, and waved back at Fang Juexia inside the car. “Thanks.”
Fang Juexia nodded and watched him jog off into the crowd with his backpack bouncing behind him.
Just then, his phone buzzed—it was a message from his mom.
[Juexia, I was watching your show and noticed you weren’t in the last episode. Are you sick?]
Fang Juexia suddenly remembered—he had completely forgotten to tell her. So much had happened lately, and he hadn’t expected that even the pre-recorded episode would get completely cut.
[No, I’m totally fine. I just didn’t feel like continuing with that show anymore, so I left. Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll call you tonight.]
After sending the reply, he reached for the ignition to start the car—but something on the passenger seat caught his eye.
A black matte cardholder sat there, with a student ID half-slid out. He flipped it over, and sure enough—Pei Tingsong’s photo stared back at him.
Even his campus ID photo radiated that same devil-may-care arrogance.
Fang Juexia instinctively reached for his phone to message him, only to realize… he didn’t even have Pei Tingsong’s contact info.
Well, it was just a student ID.
He’d drop it on his desk when they got back to the dorm.
Fang Juexia held the little campus card in his hand, staring at the beaming smile of the youngest member printed on it. It reminded him of the time back in school when he lost his own student ID.
No card meant no food, no library access, and some classrooms even required a scan to enter.
Sigh.
In the end, Fang Juexia tucked the card into his pocket, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out of the car. Thankfully, he had a good memory. During breakfast, Pei Tingsong had mumbled the building number to himself while checking his class schedule on his phone, and Fang had overheard it.
The campus was bustling with people. He pulled up his mask and pressed his cap low over his forehead. Still, unfamiliar with the area, he followed the map for a while but couldn’t find the building Pei mentioned.
I guess I’ll have to ask someone.
Even on that short walk, quite a few girls had already started glancing at him. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Fang looked around and spotted a particularly tall guy up ahead with a reliable-looking back. He quickened his pace, lowered his mask a bit, and approached him.
“Excuse me, could I ask you something—”
The moment the guy turned around, Fang Juexia was startled.
Wait… isn’t that Zhou Ziheng? The actor who filmed Escape Alive with my senior?
Even though the man was wearing thick black-framed glasses, Fang recognized him immediately. Now that he thought about it, Zhou Ziheng did attend P University. Realizing he’d rudely frozen mid-sentence, Fang cleared his throat and quickly finished asking his question.
“It’s actually right nearby,” Zhou Ziheng said, pointing. “Just turn right and cut through that little path—see the gray building there? That’s the one.”
“Thank you,” Fang said, bowing slightly. “Thank you, senior.”
To his surprise, the famous top-tier actor lit up with excitement. “I knew it! I was wondering why you looked so familiar. Aren’t you in Kaleido? What are you doing here?”
“Yeah, I’m Fang Juexia,” he replied, lifting his head. The wind swept aside the brim of his cap, revealing the faint red birthmark near his eye. “I… came to drop something off for our group’s youngest member.”
“Oh, I know—Pei Tingsong, right? He’s pretty well-known on campus.” Zhou Ziheng looked pleased with himself for remembering. He reached out and gave Fang a friendly pat on the shoulder, like a true senior. “I really like your songs. Let’s meet up sometime! I’ve got to run to the lab now.”
Watching the senior walk away, Fang Juexia still found it a bit surreal—who would’ve thought that this imposing actor was actually so warm and approachable?
Following the directions, he finally found the teaching building where Pei Tingsong’s class was.
“Room 422…” Fang murmured to himself as he entered the elevator. But he soon regretted this decision.
The elevator was small and mirrored on all sides. He could clearly feel several girls eyeing him, especially one who had hurriedly rushed in and stood at an angle just ahead of him. Fang lowered his cap further to cover the birthmark and looked down at his sneakers.
“Um… excuse me…” a hesitant voice said. “Are you Fang Juexia?”
So much for staying low-key.
He looked up and smiled—neither confirming nor denying it. The girl took that as a yes, and her voice suddenly became thrilled and a little shaky. “Oh my god, I—I’m such a huge fan of yours!” Then something seemed to click, and her eyes lit up. “Wait, are you here to see Pei Tingsong? I—I take the same elective as him! It’s the class today!”
Fang glanced at the time displayed on the elevator’s panel, then looked back at her and said plainly, “You’re already late.”
“I knew it!” she squealed, even more excited. “You are here for Xiao Pei! Oh my god, I stayed up until 3 a.m. scrolling through the trending topics—this is so real, so real…” She slapped a hand over her mouth like she was afraid she’d make too much noise, looking like a startled little creature.
“It felt too real.”
Fang Juexia was completely confused.
Pei Tingsong was sitting near the window by the door, quietly attending class. All of a sudden, there was a soft noise from the entrance—someone had come in late. A girl tiptoed into the lecture hall. Since this elective wasn’t very popular, there were more seats than students. Without hesitation, the girl sat right in front of Pei Tingsong.
He gave her a glance, then turned his attention back to the lecture.
“The Ship of Theseus appears to follow the reasoning of a classic sorites paradox, but in fact it’s fundamentally different. The latter uses a basic logical predicate—often a vague one…”
When the professor mentioned the Ship of Theseus, Pei Tingsong paused the pen he’d been spinning between his fingers. He suddenly drifted off in thought.
He felt like that ship now—constantly dismantled and rebuilt piece by piece. Everyone around him seemed determined to replace his old parts with new ones.
But once every single plank and component had been swapped out, was he still himself?
What does it even mean to preserve your true self?
As he was lost in thought, the girl in front of him suddenly turned around and placed a card on his desk.
It was his campus ID.
Pei Tingsong froze, assuming he must’ve dropped it somewhere and she had picked it up. He whispered a quiet “Thanks,” and took it back.
“It wasn’t me,” the girl said in a hushed tone. “Someone asked me to give it to you. And he told me not to tell you who it was.”
Naturally, Pei Tingsong asked, “Who?”
“Brother Juexia,” she said, her expression abruptly lighting up with excitement. “He just left.”
Fang Juexia?
Pei Tingsong instinctively looked out the window. He didn’t actually expect to see anything, and he didn’t even know why he was doing it. But somehow, he did see something.
Down below, walking away along the path, was a figure wrapped in a snow-white puffer coat. Long slender legs carried him steadily out of view.
Pei Tingsong rested his chin on one hand, his index finger lightly tapping his ID card.
That… he hadn’t expected.
He didn’t think Fang Juexia would come all this way just for him. Last night during the livestream, it had felt like that outer shell of his had finally started to soften a little—but after just one night, it seemed like the cold, distant version of him had returned.
Still…
Why didn’t he just text me on WeChat?
It suddenly occurred to Pei Tingsong—he didn’t even have this guy’s contact info. Not a single way to reach him.
Back at the dorm, He Ziyan’s phone buzzed.
[Xiao Pei: Yan-ge, can you send me Fang Juexia’s WeChat?]
Pei Tingsong was holding his phone. Normally he paid decent attention in class, but right now, he just couldn’t focus. It was a while before he finally got a reply from He Ziyan.
[Ziyan-ge: What’s this? Getting ready to go public?]
[Ziyan-ge: He’s in the Kaleido group chat, you dummy.]
[Ziyan-ge: Non-differentiableLife business card]
Pei Tingsong frowned. What kind of WeChat name is that?
Non-differentiable life?
Still, he clicked into Fang Juexia’s profile anyway. The avatar looked strange at first glance, but when he tapped on it, he realized it was a half-finished Sudoku puzzle. A guy with a face like that—pretty enough to make people jealous—but at his core, he was boring as hell.
Just as I thought. Fang Juexia and I are complete opposites.
Even though he was still mentally roasting him, Pei Tingsong sent the friend request anyway.
During the break between classes, he tried to catch up on sleep, resting his head on his arms. But the moment his face touched his sleeve, he caught a whiff of that faint, cool scent—just like the one from last night’s bed. And in an instant, he was pulled right back to that sleepless night.
So damn stubborn. Just like its owner.
Pei Tingsong suddenly lifted his head, startling the boy sitting next to him. The other guy thought he was about to leave, so he scooted back to make room. But instead, Pei Tingsong reached out and tugged him back down.
“Hey, I wanna ask you something.”
The classmate was a bit flattered—this was Pei Tingsong after all. An idol, and one of those rare prodigies who didn’t even study that hard yet still landed the school’s top scholarship. Even the professors sang his praises. He always kept to himself and didn’t mingle with any crowd. And now here he was, asking him a question? The guy cleared his throat, ready for a serious academic discussion.
“Y-yeah, sure. Go ahead.”
But the model student in front of him suddenly stretched out his arm and held it up to the guy’s nose with a dead-serious expression, like some kind of mystic.
“Do you smell anything?”
“…Huh?” The guy was totally confused.
“Just smell it.” Pei Tingsong even rolled up his sleeve to make it easier.
Though clueless, the boy obediently sniffed. “Hmm… yeah, kinda.”
So the scent’s still there! Pei Tingsong pressed on, “Does it smell good?”
The guy wasn’t sure what answer Pei wanted, so he just told the truth. “Yeah… smells nice…”
“What do you mean nice?!” Pei Tingsong suddenly snapped, yanking his arm back and sniffing it himself, grumbling to no one in particular.
“What’s so good about it? What even smells good about this?!”
The boy was completely confused, still trying to figure out what just happened, when the other hand reached over again.
“Smell it one more time.”
Surely he’d get the right answer this time.
Putting on an exaggeratedly serious face, he gave it another sniff and said—completely insincerely—
“Hmm, yeah, doesn’t smell good. Really bad.”
But Pei Tingsong pulled his hand back again, frowning.
“Who are you calling ‘smells bad’?”
The guy: ???
He stared blankly at Pei Tingsong, who was now sniffing at his own sleeve and collar, muttering under his breath. He had no idea how to react.
Then, mercifully, the class bell rang.
The poor temporary deskmate was finally rescued from this philosophical trap with no right answer.
Clearly, there’s a divide between geniuses and normal humans like them.
—
By the time Fang Juexia finished dance practice, it was already noon.
Only then did he notice a friend request waiting on WeChat.
The username was Resister, with no message or note attached.
The second he saw the name, his gut instinct told him it was Pei Tingsong—and He Ziyan’s message confirmed his suspicion.
He accepted the request. After all, they were teammates now.
Fang Juexia was meticulous by nature—he immediately added a note to the contact. For easy searching, he always used a consistent format.
Not long after, his new “friend” sent a message.
[Kaleido Pei Tingsong: didn’t even notice I lost the card. thx]
That casual “thanks” was classic Pei Tingsong, American-style.
But Fang Juexia wasn’t in the mood to acknowledge it.
Just as he was about to type a denial, a photo popped up—
A snapshot of his back, taken from the classroom window.
Pei Tingsong watched the “typing…” indicator appear, then stop, then start again. He grinned to himself, feeling smug.
As he walked out of the classroom, two girls nearby were still gushing about the latest trending topic.
“Ugh, they’re seriously too sweet! That candy wrapper kiss? Absolute genius!”
“Is this how I’m supposed to be full for the New Year? On dog food? How are they so real…”
The melon-eating crowd had no idea the melon was walking right past them.
Pei Tingsong’s phone buzzed. He took it out, unlocked it, and a smile automatically spread across his face.
[All I’ve Got Is Looks: no need to thank me.]
But as the next message popped up in the chat, the smile slowly froze on his face.
[All I’ve Got Is Looks: just think of it as me repaying a debt.]
