Q University Forum
—[Finance Department’s Campus Heartthrob Suspected to Be Taken—Spotted Returning to Campus With a Bouquet and a Glowing Smile on the Last Day of Break]
Though no names were mentioned, the Finance Department only had a handful of well-known heartthrobs. Narrow it down to the ones worthy of the title “campus heartthrob,” and the list got even shorter.
As soon as the post went up, it sparked a wave of discussion. Students just returning from break were itching for entertainment, and this was the perfect gossip fuel.
[Your Finance Department has multiple heartthrobs? Our Civil Engineering program doesn’t even have one.]
[Who is it? X or Q? Can we get an open-book exam on this? If it’s Q, my roommate’s heart just shattered—he’s her dream guy.]
[Why’s S not in the running? After the welcome gala, his social media gained a ton of followers. He kept updating over the break too—won over a bunch of fans.]
[It’s definitely Q. I saw him yesterday afternoon coming back with a bouquet—there were red roses. He’s gotta be in a relationship.]
[He looks that good, and he’s rich too. Isn’t it normal for someone like that to have a partner?]
[Clearing things up on behalf of the person in question—I’m from the neighboring dorm in the same class. He bought the flowers for himself. Stop spreading rumors. He even split them up and gave us each some.]
[My roommate just came back to life. Can someone ask what his type is?]
[Just asked—he said his type is someone who could erase 8 a.m. classes from existence.]
[LOL. That’s my type too.]
With the post going viral came the dreaded 8 a.m. class. Over the seven-day break, Qi Xu hadn’t once woken up early. On the first day back, it took his dormmates physically dragging him out of bed. In class, he could barely keep his eyes open, yawning nonstop through three back-to-back major courses, and he practically collapsed the moment class ended.
The few guys who had received flowers were sitting around Qi Xu, quietly passing their phones to each other and reading the forum thread.
Xie Huai returned from outside and set a bottle of water on Qi Xu’s desk. Qi Xu wasn’t asleep—he sat up at the sound, opened the bottle, and took a few big gulps.
Seeing him awake, one of the guys leaned in, concerned: “Xu-ge, someone posted about you holding flowers last night. The whole forum thinks you’re in a relationship. I told you it’d cause a misunderstanding.”
Qi Xu thought he’d been keeping a low profile since the welcome gala—didn’t expect one bouquet to stir up this much attention.
“There were sunflowers, lilies, baby’s breath in that bouquet. But all your eyes can see are the two red roses? What is this, red-filtered vision?”
The group laughed. One of them added, “Let me clear it up for you, Xu-ge. Single and thriving—we’re not gonna let a dumb rumor cut your college life short.”
Li Yan leaned over to glance at the forum thread. Lots of people were asking about Qi Xu’s ideal type.
Trying to do the public a favor, he turned to Qi Xu. “Xu-ge, everyone wants to know—what’s your type?”
Qi Xu buried his face back in his arms and mumbled, “Someone who could make 8 a.m. classes disappear from this world.”
That got a huge round of agreement. The colder weather was making it even harder to get up, and more than half the class had barely made it to lecture on time.
When the bell rang again, the professor resumed teaching. Down below, students started organizing for their first group project of the semester.
Normally, dormmates teamed up, but this time the professor had specified five or more per group, and some students lived in mixed-class dorms, making standard groupings tricky.
Li Yan and Feng Zhenjie were hugging Qi Xu and Xie Huai’s legs metaphorically, very glad they ended up in Dorm 314.
The class entertainment rep, Chen Xiaohua, messaged Li Yan privately:
Chen Xiaohua:
You guys got your group together yet? Can me and Xiao Jieqi join?
Li Yan:
Let me ask Xu-ge and them first.
Chen Xiaohua and her roommate Xiao Jieqi lived in a co-ed dorm with students from another class. Chen was bubbly and sociable, while Xiao was soft-spoken and delicate-looking. Chen was definitely aiming for a high score—otherwise she wouldn’t be thick-skinned enough to ask to join the “genius group.”
Li Yan whispered to Qi Xu, “Xu-ge, Chen Xiaohua and her roommate want to know if they can join our group.”
Qi Xu shrugged. “Makes six, right? Perfect. Sure.”
Li Yan quickly messaged Chen Xiaohua back and added all six group members to a new chat.
But soon, other students started asking if Li Yan’s group had space. He had to tell them it was already full.
With the 5+ person requirement, a lot of students were stuck. Most dorm groups were one person short, but nobody wanted to split up their friend group. It left many scrambling.
The class rep posted in the class group chat:
Class Rep:
I talked it over with the class monitor. We’re thinking of doing a randomized group draw. It’d be faster and more efficient.
Li Yan:
But we already have our group. I sent you the list earlier.
Class Monitor (Gao Wenjun):
The teacher said self-organized groups are fine. If there are extra or leftover students, the class rep and I will redistribute them. Of course, it’d be great if everyone participated in the random draw to keep it fair.
Someone else chimed in:
If it’s random, then it should be completely random. No special treatment.
That came from Cai Dayuan—the guy Li Yan had just turned down. When he saw that two girls had made it into Qi Xu’s group, he got salty. He sat in the back muttering, convinced they were just trying to cozy up to the top scorers.
He and his friends started pushing hard in the group chat, backing the idea of mandatory random assignments.
The group project arrangements dragged on for an entire class period without resolution. During the ten-minute break between classes, the class rep walked around asking everyone’s opinion face-to-face.
Qi Xu, who didn’t check his phone during lectures, only now realized something was going on. He furrowed his brows and asked Xie Huai, “We have to regroup too?”
Truth was, he just wanted to cling to Xie Huai’s thigh. If there’s a top scorer willing to carry the group, why not? Especially now that he was basically relearning everything from scratch—he wasn’t confident he could earn a high grade on his own.
But Xie Huai definitely could.
Xie Huai, unbothered, spoke up in front of the entire class: “Groups that are already formed don’t need to be redone. This is a waste of everyone’s time.”
Cai Dayuan didn’t really dare to confront them directly. From the back row, he laughed awkwardly and said, “Wouldn’t not participating make you seem a little unsociable? Haha, come on, let’s all take part. Go with the class leader’s plan—random grouping is kind of fun.”
Qi Xu lazily raised his hand and said, “I’m not joining. I want to cling to Huai-ge’s thigh. My luck with random groups sucks.”
That earned another round of loud laughter. A bunch of students chimed in, joking that they wanted to cling to Xu-ge’s thigh too.
The neighboring dorm group had already finished forming their team and also disagreed with reassigning groups that were already done.
Hearing the guys speak up gave some of the girls the confidence to voice their thoughts too.
In the end, they scrapped the idea of random assignments. Whoever’s group was missing members just had to fill in the gaps. The group chat wasn’t helping, so they hashed everything out in person. Within ten minutes, the entire class had finalized their teams.
Despite his bad reputation in his last life, Qi Xu had always been in high demand when it came to group projects—because he got good grades. He usually secured a group almost immediately.
But his temper had been an issue. He didn’t tolerate freeloaders. If anyone joined just to coast and rack up participation points, he would boot them. And he made that clear right from the start.
Now, though, he was the one clinging to a top scorer. Shamelessly, too.
Their team had all silently agreed that Xie Huai would be the group leader. Tasks were divided up by drawing lots, and Xie Huai made it clear in the chat: freeloading wasn’t allowed. If someone didn’t know how to do something, they were expected to post in the group for help so everyone could solve it together.
Chen Xiaohua replied with a sticker:
“Roger that, sir. Mission will be completed.jpg”
After class, she brought Xiao Jieqi over to say hi to Qi Xu’s row and to schedule a time for offline discussions. Since they were all in the same class, it was easy to pick a timeslot without any overlapping lectures.
Everyone in the group added each other on WeChat to keep in touch.
To help everyone warm up to each other, Chen Xiaohua suggested they all go have lunch together at the cafeteria.
Nobody objected. As Qi Xu grabbed his empty water bottle to throw it away, Xie Huai snatched it out of his hands.
Qi Xu looked confused. “What are you doing? Planning to sell used water bottles for cash?”
Xie Huai tucked it into Qi Xu’s shoulder bag. “Use it to hold the flowers back in the dorm.”
“We already have cups in the dorm,” Qi Xu said.
As they stepped into the hallway, the wind picked up. Xie Huai casually zipped up Qi Xu’s jacket and teased, “You mean your pink mouthwash cup?”
Qi Xu: “……”
“What’s wrong with pink? Can’t I like pink?” he snapped.
The bouquet he brought back had been too big to finish distributing, so he stuck the leftover flowers into his own mouthwash cup. But then he didn’t have a cup to use, so he’d gone out that night to buy another—only to find that the only color left was pink.
That had completely set off his bad mood this morning. He ended up skipping the cup altogether and just scooped water in his hands to brush his teeth.
Clearly not a fan of the color.
Xie Huai didn’t argue. “You can like it. Real men love pink, don’t they?”
Qi Xu: “……”
This “real man” was about ready to punch someone.
Behind them, Chen Xiaohua and Xiao Jieqi listened to their conversation and couldn’t help but snicker. They tugged on Li Yan’s arm and asked, “Are they always like this in the dorm too?”
Li Yan grinned and replied, “Our Xu-ge and Huai-ge act the same whether they’re out here or in the dorm. No two-faced nonsense with them.”
The six of them chatted about their project assignments in the cafeteria, shared their opinions, then went their separate ways.
There was still more than half a month left for group discussions, so there was no rush.
Li Yan and Feng Zhenjie were the talkative ones, and Chen Xiaohua was a natural at socializing. She pulled Xiao Jieqi into it too, and both of them were active in the group chat. Every time someone brought something up, the messages would shoot up by the dozens.
They all got familiar quickly, and during their general ed classes, Chen Xiaohua would grab seats with Xiao Jieqi and Li Yan so they could ask the “big shots” questions right after class.
But Xie the Almighty was always swamped. The moment class ended, he’d be out in the hallway on a call. That left Qi the Almighty to step up.
Even though Qi Xu once said he’d cling to Xie Huai’s leg for dear life, he wasn’t just a freeloader—his skills wouldn’t allow for that.
Xiao Jieqi took over Li Yan’s seat, flipping through the info they’d collected and asking Qi Xu questions.
Qi Xu opened the group chat, glanced at the image that had been posted, then grabbed a pen and patiently explained to her how some of the online sources weren’t exactly reliable.
Xiao Jieqi listened attentively, nodding here and there and occasionally asking questions.
Behind them, Gao Wenjun frowned in displeasure as he watched the two sitting so close. He still hadn’t gotten over the fact that his suggestion for randomized group assignments had been rejected, which meant Qi Xu and Xie Huai ended up in the same group.
He knew that look in Xiao Jieqi’s eyes—it was admiration, maybe even infatuation. And he knew all too well how charming Qi Xu could be. The guy was a natural flirt.
His phone buzzed. It was a message from Shen Zeyu, asking him to come out.
They met in an empty classroom.
Shen Zeyu got straight to the point. “So, have you thought it through? I can help you.”
Gao Wenjun wasn’t naive. There was no reason for Shen Zeyu to help him—not when he was family with Qi Xu. Those wealthy elite families didn’t exactly embrace homosexuality.
“What’s your reason?”
Shen Zeyu suddenly smiled. “To help my second brother find happiness, of course. He’s mentioned you at home quite a few times. I can tell he has a soft spot for you. But because of how we were raised, he turned you down.”
Gao Wenjun’s emotions went on a rollercoaster. He was thrilled that Qi Xu had mentioned him at home, but also resentful that Qi Xu hadn’t even looked his way in days.
With a hint of hope, he asked, “What did he say about me?”
Shen Zeyu replied sincerely, “He said the class rep gave him some snacks. They were really good.”
Before the break, he had overheard one of Qi Xu’s roommates on the phone, saying something like, “The class rep was generous and gave our whole dorm a huge bag of snacks—at least we won’t go hungry on the way home.”
Seeing the delighted look on Gao Wenjun’s face, Shen Zeyu knew he’d played his cards right. If he could make it seem like Qi Xu liked men, then Xie Huai would be disgusted and never look at Qi Xu the same way again.
He wanted Xie Huai to see Qi Xu—who came from the backwater village of the Qi family—for what he truly was.
Gao Wenjun now felt like he’d found an ally. He confided, “You’re really going to help me? Qi Xu hasn’t shown even the slightest hint that he likes me. I have no idea what’s going through his head.”
Shen Zeyu replied, “You already know my brother grew up in a rough place. He’s naturally guarded. You need to come across as more genuine, more sincere. And look—when you said you only wanted a physical relationship, I think that may have offended him. Have you thought about actually dating him? Don’t you want something more than just sex?”
His words slipped into Gao Wenjun’s ear like a devil’s whisper—exactly what he wanted to hear.
At first, he’d gone for the “friends-with-benefits” angle because he figured men were ruled by desire. And with his own looks and status, he didn’t think Qi Xu would reject him.
Sure, Qi Xu was popular at school and always seemed to shine, but he’d lived eighteen years in a place like M City—worse off than him. Just because he had a taste of the good life now didn’t mean anything. At his core, he was still from the bottom. One day, Gao Wenjun was sure he could completely control him.
Yeah, a romantic relationship sounded so much purer than a hookup. Someone as “pure” as Qi Xu would probably fall for that.
Then he thought about Qi Xu’s family.
“Would your parents be okay with him liking guys?”
Shen Zeyu didn’t hesitate. “Of course. My parents are very open-minded.”
They absolutely were not.
That was exactly why he was going to push Qi Xu into liking guys—just to break him and Xie Huai apart. He didn’t actually care whether Qi Xu liked men or women.
Gao Wenjun, eager to move forward, asked, “So, what do I need to do?”
Shen Zeyu leaned in close and whispered, “Next weekend, both our classes are having an off-campus dinner…”
While struggling with an annoying mini-assignment, the best thing that had happened to Qi Xu recently was the prize money from a few days ago finally hitting his account.
He’d be even happier if it weren’t for those disgusting, harassing messages on his phone. He’d blocked one number, but another popped up the next day.
“Good morning” and “good night” texts like clockwork, along with pointless reminders to dress warm for the weather—he could ignore all that.
But what pissed him off was the creep who texted that he’d jacked off to his photo a few times.
Qi Xu couldn’t figure out how his personal info had gotten out. In this day and age, maybe it wasn’t that hard to dig up.
Then came another gross message. The guy said he’d dreamed about him last night—asked when he’d get to cuddle with him in the dorm.
Qi Xu had no way to deal with it. The guy used burner SIM cards, each registered under a different elderly person’s name.
Filled with disgust and anger, Qi Xu slammed his phone onto the desk, startling Li Yan and the others.
“What the hell, Xu-ge? Snake hit the wall again?”
He knew that when Qi Xu was bored, he either played Snake or messed with his prayer beads.
Qi Xu ripped open a dried fruit packet and bit down. “No. Thinking about changing my number.”
Feng Zhenjie said, “Changing your number’s a pain. You’ll have to switch all your apps, re-add contacts… My mom did it once—took her days.”
Qi Xu didn’t even want to look at that number anymore. Honestly, he was tempted to chuck the whole phone.
They had class that evening, so they started heading out.
On the way, Xie Huai asked, “Why do you suddenly want to change your number?”
Qi Xu frowned at the thought. “Some sick bastard keeps sending me gross messages.”
His expression was exactly the same as when the Shen family was praising Qi Guohui that time—same as when he had to run backstage and puke. Pure, unfiltered disgust.
“Mind showing me?” Xie Huai asked gently.
Qi Xu had no intention of letting him see—didn’t want to taint the young master’s eyes. “Just some loser’s delusions about me.”
Xie Huai’s tone suddenly turned firm. “Let me see.”
Qi Xu wasn’t sure why, but somehow he obediently handed over his phone to Xie Huai—without even thinking it was strange.
Xie Huai entered the passcode with precision. Qi Xu hadn’t changed it, and he also happened to know Xie Huai’s passcode, though he’d never actually tried unlocking his phone.
Xie Huai opened the messaging app and started going through the conversation logs. His gaze grew colder and his expression darker with each scroll.
Qi Xu had already deleted some of the more disgusting messages.
Xie Huai said firmly, “You need to change your phone. And your number. I’ll have Old Gao bring a new one over.”
Qi Xu quickly stopped him. “No need. Changing my number is a pain. I’m too lazy.”
Come to think of it, he’d had that number forever—it was practically engraved in his memory. He was reluctant to give it up.
There was no need to let some sick bastard force him into changing it.
Xie Huai handed him his own phone. “Use mine for now. I’ll hold on to yours.”
Qi Xu unlocked it and casually downloaded a Snake game. “I looked into it already—couldn’t find out who it is. Each number’s registered under different credentials.”
Xie Huai sent the list of numbers to someone and asked, “When did you start getting these messages?”
Qi Xu shrugged, not too bothered. “A few days ago, I guess? I don’t really remember. Sometimes I didn’t even read them—just blocked them right away.”
Along the way, Qi Xu began to sense something was off about Xie Huai’s mood—he seemed more upset than the actual victim.
Li Yan and Feng Zhenjie noticed too. They shared a quick glance, got spooked, and hurried to walk ahead—no way they’d mess with the big boss when he looked like that.
They’d always said Huai-ge’s poker face was terrifying.
Qi Xu, on the other hand, was still joking around. “Jeez, Huai-ge, that face is gonna scare people to death. No need to get this worked up over some creep.”
Nowadays, Xie Huai’s emotions were easy to read—whatever he was feeling was written all over his face.
Not like when he was twenty-eight—signing billion-dollar contracts, shaking hands with no hint of emotion. Not a flicker of it.
Xie Huai tightened his grip on the black phone identical to Qi Xu’s. “So you’ve been reading this crap every night before bed?”
Qi Xu shook his head. “You know I go to bed early. That loser’s a night owl. By the time he sends anything, I’m already asleep.”
Xie Huai’s expression eased a little.
When they arrived at the computer lab, Gao Wenjun happened to walk out and run into them. He smiled and greeted Li Yan and the others, then gave Qi Xu a quick nod as his gaze brushed past.
His eyes no longer carried that dark, bitter look from before. He seemed back to normal—like he’d finally let go of that awkward confession.
There was no more of that creepy, lingering stare either—he’d gone back to how he was before the National Day break.
Qi Xu had suspected Gao Wenjun before, but could someone really switch up their whole demeanor that drastically?
So when Xie Huai asked him if he suspected anyone, he didn’t mention who was on his mind.
