Shine on Me

Just as I was about to leave campus, I unexpectedly ran into Siliang. Uncharacteristically unladylike, she called out to me loudly—so loudly that pretending not to hear was impossible.

"Xiguang."

I stopped my bike. "Siliang."

She glanced at the thesis in my hand. "Here to get revision feedback?"

"Yeah."

"How's the paper?"

"A complete mess."

"Come back to the dorm. Everyone can help look it over. After all, we're graduating soon, and there aren't many days left for us to be together." When I didn't respond, she paused, studying my expression. "Are you still upset about that incident? It was a misunderstanding, wasn't it? Rong Rong didn't mean any harm. You don't have to hold a grudge like this."

I tilted my head slightly. Honestly, I've never understood why she's so invested in whatever's going on between me, Rong Rong, and Zhuang Xu. She's been like this since way back.

After a moment's thought, I asked, "Siliang, do you really believe Rong Rong meant no harm toward me?"

"Why would she?" she said with a smile.

"Once, you and Rong Rong were in the dorm. Actually, I was there too, hidden behind the curtains, so you probably didn't see me. I heard you ask Rong Rong if she was afraid Zhuang Xu would be taken away by me."

Her smile froze.

"Do you remember what Rong Rong said?—'Don’t you think she’s the perfect touchstone? She comes from a wealthy, influential family and is pretty too. If Zhuang Xu rejects this golden ladder, I can probably trust that he won’t change his mind later.'"

I mimicked Rong Rong's tone perfectly, repeating the words that had left me stunned for so long. Watching Siliang's awkward expression, I smiled and said, "Then I went back to Wuxi."

Siliang watched me get on my bike without another word, making no further attempt to stop me.

I figured after this conversation, Siliang probably wouldn’t be so eager to play peacemaker anymore. Sure enough, my phone stayed quiet for the next few days.

Truthfully, I didn’t have the energy to dwell on it. According to my advisor’s feedback, my thesis needed a complete rewrite. I had a splitting headache and no idea where to start. I only had myself to blame for choosing an unfamiliar topic—regretting it now was pointless.

As I propped my chin on my hand, staring blankly at the computer screen, my phone suddenly rang. The number looked vaguely familiar.

After a moment’s hesitation, I answered.

"Nie Xiguang?"

I froze.

"It’s Zhuang Xu."

I know it’s you, I thought silently, but all I said was a stiff, flat, "Oh, it’s you."

Then silence.

He paused on the other end, sounding just as awkward as I felt. "Check your email. I sent you something."

An apology? A commendation? Surely not a love letter?

Before opening my inbox, my mind raced through all sorts of guesses, but I never expected it to be a thesis.

I stared at the downloaded Word document, its bold black title the very source of my recent frustration—"Analysis of Oligopoly in the Network Economy."

The call was still connected. Zhuang Xu’s voice came through: "I rewrote the paper. It’s completely different from my own. You can use it directly—there won’t be any issues."

I was at a complete loss for words.

Neither anger nor joy felt appropriate, and my gradually quickening heartbeat only made me more uncomfortable.

When I didn’t respond, he hurriedly said, "That’s it... I’ll hang up now. Let me know if you have any questions."

Then the call ended.I zoned out for a while before remembering to check the thesis. Zhuang Xu's reputation as the top talent in the International Finance department was well-deserved—his arguments were clear and well-supported, unlike my own patchwork thesis that lacked any logical flow as I scrambled to meet the word count.

But... why would he send this to me?

Zhuang Xu had always carried an air of aloof pride. Last year, a senior reportedly offered him 5,000 yuan to ghostwrite a graduation thesis, which he flatly refused. Rong Rong often said he was too rigid and uncompromising. Yet now, he'd broken his own principles to write my thesis, even explicitly stating I could use it directly.

Leaning over my computer, I muttered, "Maybe... that was an alien who called me earlier..."

Alright, I admit—after the initial shock passed and the shame of my poor writing faded, a faint smugness bubbled up inside me. It felt like we'd suddenly grown closer, sharing that ambiguous intimacy of a mutual secret.

Scrolling through the document, my thoughts raced chaotically. Was this his roundabout way of apologizing? Or...

A lightning-bolt realization struck. My finger froze on the mouse as if paralyzed, every trace of earlier happiness draining away.

Or... was he apologizing on Rong Rong's behalf?

Staring at the thesis, the possibility grew stronger. After the misunderstanding cleared, Xiaofeng had called repeatedly to apologize. Siliang and A Fen checked in too. But Rong Rong, who'd accused me most harshly that day, hadn't said a single word.

Besides, hadn't Zhuang Xu disliked me before? Why would he help with my thesis just because I'd been wronged this time?

So... this was the only logical explanation.

I numbly closed my inbox. At least those fleeting heart flutters stayed in my head—no one knew, sparing me another embarrassing joke.

After lying in bed awhile, I picked up my phone, rehearsed some lines, and dialed the earlier number to politely decline the thesis.

A dormmate answered. "Looking for Zhuang Xu? Hold on."

After a pause, the voice returned. "Is it urgent? If not, call later—he's asleep and won't wake up."

"Sleeping now?" It was dinnertime.

"Yeah," came the reply. "He's been pulling all-nighters working on some materials... Oh wait, he's stirring. Let me get him."

All-nighters? I froze—for this thesis?

From our office encounter to now was barely a week. Even for Zhuang Xu, rewriting a 10,000-word thesis on the same topic with completely different arguments in such short time must've been grueling.

My heart unexpectedly softened. If not directly for me, he'd still helped me indirectly. Yet this made me ache more—perhaps jealous that Zhuang Xu would go this far for Rong Rong. In this emotional tangle I could barely decipher, I already regretted calling.

But it was too late to hang up. Zhuang Xu came on the line.

"Hello?" His voice carried sleep.

"Um... I..." My prepared diplomatic speech vanished. "I... that..."

A pause. "Nie Xiguang?"

"Yes, it's me...""Is there a problem with the thesis?"

"No, nothing."

Then silence again.

"If you have any questions, you can ask me."

"Oh, okay... goodbye then." This time, I quickly hung up before he could respond.

I imagine Zhuang Xu on the other end must have been baffled, completely clueless as to why I called just to spout nonsense.

Of course, I didn’t copy his thesis outright. I read through it thoroughly, grasped the main ideas, and then spent several times more effort than usual to gather my own materials and rewrite it from scratch. There were still a few similarities, but the difference was that I had downgraded what could have been an excellent paper to just a good one.

Sometimes, in the middle of being busy, I’d suddenly pause and remember him saying I could ask him if I had any questions. He said it twice—probably not just out of politeness. If I really did ask, he’d likely explain patiently, just like when he tutored my cousin. So, my original intention of choosing the same thesis topic as him would have been fulfilled.

But now, even with my thick skin, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

He had already made it so clear—his heart belonged to someone else.

When I resubmitted the thesis to my advisor, he was noticeably much more satisfied, though he pointed out a few more revisions. The thesis was pretty much finalized.

After the third draft, it was almost time for the defense.

It was already the end of May.

In just half a month, I would officially graduate—

While writing this chapter, I suddenly thought of a devious plot, but unfortunately, neither Rong Rong nor Zhuang Xu were that bad, so I had to scrap it. What a shame.

Also, the thesis topic needs to be adjusted. Zhuang Xu is in the International Finance department—he probably wouldn’t write a thesis on internet economics.