Be Passionately In Love

Originally, they thought freshman year would be the busiest of college life, but unexpectedly, sophomore and junior years offered no chance to relax either—especially with Li Ke, the overachiever, around. The two could only squeeze in dates whenever possible. After switching majors, Chen Luzhou immediately threw himself into securing a postgraduate recommendation. His team won the F Award in the MCM, that year, over a hundred teams from A University participated, with more than half winning awards, but only a handful received the F Award—to be precise, their team was the only one from their university that year, among just ten globally. Though it was an exhilarating achievement, neither Li Ke nor Chen Luzhou felt particularly excited. They seemed almost numb to winning awards by then.

That night, after celebrating with their teammates and receiving the award certificate, Chen Luzhou headed back to his dorm. On the way, he decided to send Professor Bai a thank-you email—short but sincere.

After sending it, he tucked his phone into his pocket and looked up to find Xu Zhi staring at him. He smiled. "Why are you staring at me?"

Xu Zhi sighed, taking his hand as they walked toward the dormitory. "I just think you exhaust yourself. For Professor Bai, this might just be part of his job. Another professor might not even open your email."

Most university professors in China were swamped, barely having time to read every student’s email. Some professors would lecture with their inboxes full of unread messages. Xu Zhi couldn’t help but feel that her boyfriend’s heartfelt thank-you note might just sit unopened in some inbox, his sincerity wasted. The thought pained her.

That email never received a reply, and Xu Zhi assumed it had been lost in Professor Bai’s unread pile. Many, many years later, while browsing a bookstore with Chen Luzhou, she stumbled upon a book authored by Bai Jiang—Chen Luzhou’s former modeling competition advisor. Out of habit, she pulled it out and glanced at it. It was Bai Jiang’s autobiography.

The title read: Final Judgment

Intrigued, she skimmed the preface while Chen Luzhou wandered the economics section. It seemed like an ordinary memoir, but just as she was about to close it, two paragraphs at the end caught her eye—

"I once feared the phrase ‘final judgment’ more than anything. A colleague once criticized my teaching philosophy, arguing that my refusal to focus on research, publish papers, or chase awards didn’t align with the current education system. He warned me I’d be sidelined. Of course, he meant well—he urged me repeatedly, saying, ‘Old Bai, you’re almost sixty. To put it bluntly, you’ve got one foot in the grave. It’s time for your final judgment. If you retire as just a lecturer, people will think you failed as a teacher.’ For a time, I considered early retirement. Then, a few years ago, I coached some students for the MCM. To them, it might’ve been nothing special. But to me, it meant everything." "This actually isn’t the first time I’ve mentored students, but those kids made me feel that even at sixty, they wouldn’t care whether others had already made final judgments about them. They had a kind of fearless drive—not the reckless courage of newborn calves unafraid of tigers, but a determination to seek the best solutions while gradually expanding their understanding of the world. After the competition ended, one of the students sent me an email. This student was outstanding, and whenever I mention them to others, I can proudly say I was once their teacher. In the email, they expressed their gratitude and said something I still remember to this day: 'Teacher Bai, no matter how you look at it, you shine with handsomeness.' Well, as a teacher, I was deeply moved. After all, in sixty years, no one had ever called me handsome. Alright, let’s just leave it at that."

Xu Zhi understood the meaning behind Bai Jiang’s preface. She also believed Bai Jiang must have understood the intent behind Chen Luzhou’s email—otherwise, traces of him wouldn’t have appeared in the preface. In an educational environment that often went against the mainstream, Bai Jiang’s perseverance and unwavering dedication were truly admirable and indeed worthy of the word "handsome."

Satisfied, Xu Zhi closed the book and turned to look for someone in the economics section. After searching without success, she spotted Chen Luzhou in the children’s area, crouched on the floor with one hand resting on his knee, intently helping someone find a book. Beside him was a little girl with twin ponytails, swaying her head with innocent, carefree charm. Chen Luzhou pulled out a brightly illustrated picture book and handed it to her. The girl shook her head. "Not this one. There’s a pig on the cover."

Chen Luzhou pulled out another one.

Shake. No.

He tried again. "This one?"

She shook her head once more, enunciating each word deliberately, "Nooo, big brother, it’s a pig! A pig!"

Chen Luzhou let out an amused "Hey," still crouched with his hand on his thigh, and turned to tease her, "Why the name-calling?"

"I’m not calling you names!"

He resumed his search with undiminished patience. "You really don’t remember the title?"

"Nope."

"You can’t read much yet, can you?" Chen Luzhou stood up, scanning the higher shelves.

"Can’t I look at the pictures if I can’t read?"

"Impressive."

"It’s a pig, not a cow." The girl was adamant.

Chen Luzhou: "..."

Standing behind them, Xu Zhi suddenly felt how quickly time had passed—five or six years in the blink of an eye.

Back then, she had just graduated, and Chen Luzhou was in his second year of grad school.

It felt like she was still in the throes of passionate love with this man.

Even now, just thinking about him made her heart burn fiercely—even when he was right in front of her, holding a copy of Peppa Pig that made him look slightly less than brilliant.

Insisting on asking the girl:

"Did the hairdryer change its name?"

The little girl’s expression shifted from blatant, unrestrained admiration for the big brother to gradual disdain, until she finally hugged Peppa Pig to her chest and ran off without another word.

When the two returned home and stepped inside, changing shoes at the doorway, Chen Luzhou—that infuriating guy—had the audacity to say innocently, "That brat was totally hitting on me."

Suppressing a laugh, Xu Zhi tossed the car keys at him. "If you hadn’t mentioned the hairdryer, she might’ve kept at it a little longer."Chen Luzhou also smiled, turning to go into the bedroom to change clothes. Just as he lifted the hem of his shirt, a pair of slender hands wrapped around his waist from behind. He glanced down with a knowing look, deliberately lowering his voice to ask, "What do you want, huh?"

Xu Zhi’s hands wandered recklessly over his abdomen, tracing the lines of his abs with slow, teasing strokes. "What do you think?" she replied.

Chen Luzhou stopped undressing and turned around, one hand hooking around her waist while the other cupped her cheek, fingers tangling in her hair. As he soothingly stroked her hair, he leaned down, planting familiar kisses along her forehead and downward. The room was quiet, the atmosphere instantly heating up, filled only with the faint, intermittent sounds of their kisses.

Even now, whenever Xu Zhi did this with him, her heartbeat would uncontrollably race, her blood surging wildly through her body. Just one kiss from him made her legs go weak, as if she had no bones, unable to stand properly.

But as long as Chen Luzhou was nearby, she couldn’t help leaning into him. He had teased her more than once, "Where are your bones? Why do you always have to cling to me?"

Xu Zhi knew he loved asking questions he already knew the answers to, playing innocent even when he was clearly enjoying it—especially in bed. By now, they had each other’s quirks figured out. Chen Luzhou loved hearing sweet nothings from her and would keep pestering for them. In the early years, Xu Zhi could spout romantic lines effortlessly, but the longer they were together, the more she grew shy about it, feeling like it had become too formulaic.

So more often than not, she’d just sass him instead.

"Chen Luzhou, you better cherish this. In a few years, I might not even bother leaning on you. Better appreciate those eight-pack abs while you still can. Sigh."

Back then, the most frequent phrase in their WeChat chat history was:

"So all I am to you is eight-pack abs now? If you don’t love me anymore… just say so."

It had practically become Chen Luzhou’s catchphrase. Eventually, he stopped even bothering to finish the sentence, shortening it more and more each time she teased him—

"You haven’t come home in three days, girlfriend. If you don’t love me anymore… just say—"

"If you don’t love me anymore… just—"

"If you don’t love me…—"

Until finally, it was distilled into two succinct, universally understood words.

Xu Zhi: "Chen Jiaojiao…"

Chen Luzhou: "No. Don’t."

At the time, their class schedules were relatively light. Chen Luzhou had already rented an apartment off-campus, and Li Ke had set up a studio nearby—coincidentally right below Chen Luzhou’s place. Xu Zhi would visit on weekends. Once, during a National Day holiday, Cai Yingying came to Beijing and stayed for a full week. She and Zhu Yangqi had been fighting, and since she rarely visited, Xu Zhi cleared her entire schedule to accompany her, touring attractions until her mood improved. Only then did Xu Zhi realize she hadn’t seen her boyfriend in days. Just as she was about to send him a sweet message to smooth things over, she had only typed out his name—

When he instantly replied with two words:

No. Don’t.

Thinking of Chen Luzhou’s sulky expression, Xu Zhi sometimes found their chat history hilarious. But other times, she just couldn’t resist teasing him.

Still, her body was always honest. Chen Luzhou had joked more than once, "Only when we’re in bed do I feel like you still love me."

...Xu Zhi was forced to tilt her head back as someone showered her neck with lingering kisses, unable to suppress a soft moan. The atmosphere in the room grew increasingly intimate until she was nearly stripped bare, revealing skin as fair and delicate as scallion stalks. The next moment, she found herself being pushed into the bathroom. Chen Luzhou turned on the showerhead, tested the water temperature, then leaned against the bathroom door with a smile. "Why don't you take a shower first? I need to reply to Professor Liu's email—I glanced at it while driving but haven't had the chance to respond yet."

"Hurry up."

"Don't rush me." His lazy voice drifted in from outside.

"Chen Luzhou!"

"Alright, alright, I got it." For once, he didn't push his luck after getting his way. His voice, casual yet oddly obedient, echoed from the empty living room, clearly already focused on drafting his reply.

Such a well-behaved boyfriend—she shouldn't keep annoying him.

Xu Zhi sighed and turned off the shower, lost in thought.

She'd make it up to him later.