Chapter 8

Finally finishing her pre-bedtime routine, Wen Yan unplugged her fully charged phone and climbed quietly into bed. Each bed in the dorm had its own blackout canopy, like four little standing tents. As she got onto her bed, her gaze was first drawn to the copy of Stray Birds by her pillow. She lay on her stomach, feet lightly crossed and lifted behind her, and reached for the poetry collection.

Her phone buzzed—someone in the year-group chat was sending messages. Wen Yan put the book down and picked up her phone. Someone was asking where to pick up new textbooks. After scanning the group messages, she noticed three new friend requests in her WeChat contacts—all from the year group, with profile pictures that looked like male students. She didn’t recognize any of them. Over the past few days, people had been intermittently adding her from the group, and she hadn’t accepted any.

Just as she was about to close the page, Wen Yan suddenly noticed a new friend recommendation. It read: “Phone Contact: Fu Lanzhuo.”

Wen Yan’s eyelashes trembled slightly.

It must have been because she’d saved his number—WeChat automatically recommended him to her.

Actually, earlier, she’d secretly hoped Fu Lanzhuo would agree to let her transfer him the money for the snacks, so she could add him on WeChat. But he’d refused.

Now that he was being recommended to her, though, it wouldn’t be too much to add him herself, would it?

And even if she did add him, so what?

Her thoughts suddenly became a bit jumbled. After hesitating for a long while, she finally tapped “Add.”

Fu Lanzhuo’s WeChat name was quite literary—”Yuan Ning.” His profile picture was an oil painting. Wen Yan zoomed in and recognized it as The Storm on the Sea of Galilee by the famous Dutch painter Rembrandt.

A buzz—her phone vibrated.

Wen Yan zoomed back out and saw that Fu Lanzhuo had accepted her friend request.

Her toes curled together slightly. She turned over, and in the dim canopy, the phone screen illuminated her pale face.

【Hello Mr. Fu, this is Wen Yan.】

She sent that line.

Yuan Ning: 【Mm.】

Over on his end, Fu Lanzhuo had just gotten out of the car and handed the keys to the villa’s butler when his gaze dropped to the phone.

Wen Yan’s WeChat profile picture was adorable—a little cartoon dumpling. He didn’t recognize it. He stared at it for a while, then long-pressed to save it and did a reverse image search. The signal outside wasn’t great—the loading circle spun for a while before the result popped up—

Chiikawa (ちいかわ), also known in Chinese as “Ji Yi Ka Wa,” a character created by Japanese artist Nagano.

His phone buzzed with a new message.

Zhe Mu w: 【Are you home yet? Thank you for your hard work tonight.】

【Just got in.】 Fu Lanzhuo replied.

Zhe Mu w: 【Glad you’re home. Thank you so much for today.】

That wording seemed fine—she truly was grateful. Wen Yan continued typing: 【Get some rest, Mr. Fu.】

A while passed without a reply from Fu Lanzhuo. Wen Yan thought he wouldn’t respond, and drowsiness crept into her mind. She put her phone down, ready to sleep—when the screen lit up.

The oil painting profile: 【Can you call me something else?】

Wen Yan picked up her phone. 【Is there something wrong with how I address you?】

Yuan Ning: 【There’s nothing wrong with it, but I don’t like it.】

Zhe Mu w: 【Then what do you want me to call you?】

A few seconds passed before the reply came back:

【Haven’t thought of anything yet. But “Uncle” or “Mr. Fu”—don’t call me those anymore.】

“…”

Did he think it made him sound old?

Wen Yan realized that.

Zhe Mu w: 【Okay, I understand.】

【How are you finding university life?】 Fu Lanzhuo asked.

The topic shifted abruptly. Wen Yan stared at the screen and replied: 【Freedom, challenge, the unknown.】

The chat went quiet for a moment.

Yuan Ning: 【Seems like you value “freedom” a lot—you put it first.】

Was he making small talk with her now? Wen Yan drew her knees up. 【I didn’t pay attention to the order. But university is definitely freer than high school. At this time in high school, the school would cut the internet and power.】

Yuan Ning: 【Then make the most of your university life.】

Rumble—a sudden clap of thunder outside the window.

Wen Yan’s lashes trembled. 【Mm.】

—

The next morning, 8 AM, Qingda Wen’nan Building.

Wen Yan had arrived early—she had a student union interview this morning. She was interviewing for the Publicity Department. After signing in at Wen’nan Building, she was led by a student union member to a meeting room to wait.

There were three people ahead of her.

Qiu Xue hadn’t arrived yet. She’d woken up early this morning and was taking the subway to campus, still on her way.

Wen Yan had The Count of Monte Cristo in her backpack. She was reading it when a figure hurried over in a jog and sat down in the empty seat beside her. Wen Yan looked up.

Qiu Xue was a little out of breath, holding a pack of sandwiches and a bottle of milk.

“Phew, I’m exhausted. Good thing I’m not late.” Qiu Xue shrugged off her backpack strap.

“Wasn’t your interview scheduled for 8:30?” Wen Yan asked, seeing how rushed she was.

“Yeah, it is 8:30. But when I signed in, the senior told me there’s only one person ahead of me now—I’m up soon.” Qiu Xue said.

“Maybe some of the people ahead of you didn’t show, so it’s moving faster.” Wen Yan said.

Qiu Xue was interviewing for the Rights and Interests Department, different from Wen Yan’s.

Qiu Xue tore open the plastic wrapper on her sandwich, looking worried. “What do I do, Yan Yan? I’m so nervous.”

Truth be told, she didn’t really want to join the student union. Her mother had made her sign up, saying that in college she should join more clubs—especially the student union—because being in it would enrich her campus life.

Wen Yan looked at her and said, “Don’t be nervous. The seniors interviewing us went through the same thing last year. They’re only one grade above us, really.”

Qiu Xue took a deep breath. “You’re right. I need to relax.”

Wen Yan smiled. “Mm.”

Just then, two figures walked past the meeting room doorway, drawing everyone’s attention.

The Wen’nan Building’s conference center belonged exclusively to the student union. The largest meeting room on this floor was tucked at the end of the corridor, with more than a dozen smaller meeting rooms on either side. They were waiting in the outermost one. Each meeting room had a glass partition wall facing the hallway, so those inside could see outside.

Qiu Xue leaned closer to Wen Yan. “Those two just now—that’s student union president Jiang Luer and vice president Jin Yang. They’re both so good-looking. I heard they’re a couple. I saw on our school’s forum that Jiang Luer comes from a really wealthy family—she doesn’t live on campus and drives a Porsche to school every day.”

Wen Yan had just finished listening to Qiu Xue when a sigh came from behind them: “Senior Jin Yang is so handsome!”

“I’m joining the student union just to see him.”

“But he already has a girlfriend—and she’s the union president. Keep your voice down, or you might not even pass the first round.”

Qiu Xue overheard the chatter behind her too. She smiled at Wen Yan and said, “Jin Yang really is handsome. But he and Jiang Luer are probably just here for show—they won’t be interviewers. We’d have to make it to the second round to see them.”

“Next—Qiu Xue! Rights and Interests Department.” Right after Qiu Xue smiled, her name was called. She quickly stood up and set her half-eaten sandwich and unfinished milk on the small table attached to her seat.

Not long after Qiu Xue was called in, it was Wen Yan’s turn. She’d thought she’d have to wait at least another ten minutes, but the three people ahead of her came out quickly.

She walked straight to the third room at the end of the corridor—the meeting room for the Publicity Department interview. As she reached the door, she heard someone inside complaining.

“Either they come in completely unprepared, or they’re way too shy, or they have zero interest in painting and design. When I asked one guy why he was applying for Publicity if he wasn’t interested, what did he say? He said, ‘Oh sorry, I applied to the wrong department.’ Oh my god—can people take this a little more seriously?!”

From the tone, Wen Yan could tell the speaker was both exasperated and resigned. She raised her hand and knocked on the door.

The room went quiet instantly. Half a second later: “Come in.”

Wen Yan pushed the door open.

Inside, there were two interviewers—both male. One wore grey round-frame glasses, the other was replying to a message on his phone.

“Hello… Wen Yan.” The guy on the left pushed his glasses up forcefully, unable to stop himself from standing. He greeted her again: “Hello! Wen Yan! Hello, hello!!”

Interviewer #2 was bewildered by his companion’s sudden odd behavior. He looked up from his phone—and froze too.

“Junior Wen Yan, hello! Please, have a seat!” He stood up too, his hand trembling slightly as he extended it toward Wen Yan.

Wen Yan’s lips curved slightly as she reached out. “Hello to you both.”

…

Meeting Room 401.

Jiang Luer was sitting on Jin Yang’s lap, sucking on a lollipop. She held her phone in one hand while the other circled the button on his shirt collar. As she circled, she undid the button and slipped her hand inside.

Jin Yang was watching interview footage on his computer, unmoved. After a while, though, he finally couldn’t hold back—he grabbed Jiang Luer’s wrist.

She let out a little “ah” and pulled the empty lollipop stick from her mouth, tossing it into the nearby trash can. She waved her phone at Jin Yang. “Wei Ling told me a really gorgeous girl came to interview for Publicity. I want to go see how pretty she is—enough for Wei Ling to use such an exaggerated word.”

Jin Yang raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not allowed to come. In case she’s actually that pretty and steals you away.” She tried to stand up, but Jin Yang wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back down.

“Wait.” His voice was cold.

Jiang Luer bit her lip—she knew this brute couldn’t handle being teased.

Click. She heard Jin Yang use the remote to lock the meeting room door.

—

Qiu Xue was scrolling through an American drama on her tablet when she finally saw Wen Yan come out. She took off her earbuds, hit pause, and stuffed the tablet into her backpack. “Yan Yan, how’d it go?? What kind of questions did they ask you?”

Wen Yan hadn’t expected Qiu Xue to wait for her outside. Her interview had been long—the two interviewers had asked her over a dozen questions, taking nearly half an hour.

“So many.” Wen Yan was a little thirsty. She pulled a water bottle from the side pocket of her backpack.

Qiu Xue: “No wonder it took so long. I came out fifteen minutes ago. When I didn’t see you, I figured you were still in there—there’s no way you went in after me and came out first. I even texted you and you didn’t reply.”

Wen Yan took a couple of sips of water and hummed in acknowledgment.

“What did they ask you? Over a dozen questions—that’s way too much pressure!” Qiu Xue shook her head, thoroughly perplexed. “Back when we first got the student union flyers, the senior who handed me mine was so enthusiastic—she practically begged me to come and experience the student union. And guess what? She turned out to be one of my interviewers today. But she was so serious! Completely different from that day. I almost cried from their questioning—the other interviewer was even more serious than her!”

Wen Yan hesitated. Her two interviewers hadn’t been serious at all—their gazes were just too intense, both competing to ask her questions. She said, “But at least it’s over. When I came out, they said the results would be posted before 6 PM today. If I pass, there’s a second round of interviews tomorrow.”

Qiu Xue pouted. “I hope I don’t make it. I don’t want to go through another interview like that. It’s just a student union—what’s the big deal? They treated me like a criminal.”

Just as she finished speaking, she caught sight of two figures at the very end of the corridor and immediately fell silent.