Sheng Xia noticed that Zhang Shu had become obsessed with the Three Kingdoms.
While she edited photos and videos, he binge-watched the TV series. When she memorized textbooks, he read the novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms .
Sheng Xia was puzzled. "Didn’t you read this in middle school?"
"I did, but I’m not familiar with it."
"Why the sudden need to get familiar?"
Zhang Shu lifted his head from the book, fixed his gaze on her, and after a long pause, reached across the desk to pull her in for a fierce kiss before sitting back down to read without another word.
Sheng Xia: "……"
After finishing the novel, he moved on to studying historical records, flipping through Book of the Later Han and Records of the Three Kingdoms in turn. The classical texts were dense, so Sheng Xia became his living ancient Chinese dictionary, providing on-the-spot annotations.
Every time she explained something, he would praise her: "So impressive."
Sheng Xia: "Exaggerated."
As finals approached, Zhang Shu occasionally brought Cheng Zhuoyang to Heqing, so Sheng Xia also invited Liao Jing.
They studied separately, occasionally exchanging ideas.
During breaks, Sheng Xia and Zhang Shu would discuss Three Kingdoms generals, debating for half an hour on why Guan Yu couldn’t defeat Pang De, then another half-hour on whether Guan Yu could defeat Ma Chao.
Yet throughout, their discussions remained calm, their tones never rising even when they disagreed. If Sheng Xia’s thoughts lagged and she couldn’t counter his arguments, her voice might betray a hint of frustration.
Zhang Shu, however, remained unflappable—whether saying "You’re right" or "You’re wrong," his tone never wavered.
Liao Jing and Cheng Zhuoyang were the opposite.
Their gaming sessions drew stares from everyone in the café.
Of course, it was mostly Liao Jing raising her voice while Cheng Zhuoyang stayed silent, which only infuriated her further.
Sheng Xia was confused. "Are they playing against each other?"
Zhang Shu: "No, one’s the jungler, the other’s the support."
Sheng Xia: "So they’re on the same team?"
"Yeah."
"And they still argue?"
"Teammates argue the most."
"Got it."
As soon as Sheng Xia finished speaking, Zhang Shu cupped her face and turned it toward him. He stared at her for two seconds before simply pinching her cheek.
It hurt a little.
From his gaze, Sheng Xia sensed restraint. She knew that if no one were sitting across from them, he would’ve kissed her again.
Back in the dorm that night, Liao Jing remarked, "I’ve noticed you two never fight. Have you ever argued?"
Sheng Xia had never considered the question and paused at the thought.
It seemed they hadn’t.
She might occasionally flare up with minor frustrations, but Zhang Shu always detected and defused them instantly.
They had never engaged in heated shouting matches, let alone given each other the silent treatment.
"People say small fights spice up a relationship. If you never argue, how do you deepen your bond?"
Sheng Xia thought for a moment before answering earnestly, "Does kissing count?"
Liao Jing: "……Might as well add overnight stays while you’re at it."
Sheng Xia didn’t know how other couples were, but she felt they kissed far too often. People said the honeymoon phase lasted three months—if you didn’t grow tired of each other, things would stabilize. Stability also meant passion fading.
But they didn’t seem to follow that pattern.
Whenever they were together, their hands stayed linked. Even during walks, Zhang Shu would often stare at her, and if she met his gaze, he’d kiss her. Sometimes, if she got annoyed, she’d bite him—only for him to laugh and soothe her with light pecks, his hand stroking the back of her head until she calmed down, before deepening the kiss again.His favorite kissing positions were either with one hand around her waist and the other cradling the back of her head, or cupping her face with both hands—both postures that exuded a strong sense of dominance.
By the time he finally released her, it was she who seemed unable to pull away, dazed and disoriented, making her earlier "resistance" appear like nothing more than a coy ploy.
Sheng Xia also had a favorite way of kissing.
She loved standing on steps or the curb to kiss him, his arms wrapped around her waist. When they parted, he would tilt his head slightly to gaze up at her, his eyes slowly drifting from her lips to meet hers. That moment of locked eyes always sent a flutter through Sheng Xia’s heart.
A genuine flutter.
Being with him brought new flutters every single day.
Why would she ever want to argue with someone like that?
Sheng Xia countered Liao Jing’s earlier remark: "You and Cheng Zhuoyang argue every day—in person, on calls. Has it ever been ‘playful bickering’ for you?"
"HAHAHAHA!" Zhong Lujie, who had been quietly observing the exchange, burst into laughter.
Liao Jing’s face stiffened, and she turned away.
Sheng Xia thought her question was perfectly reasonable—she genuinely wanted to know the answer.
Zhong Lujie was still laughing. "Xiaxia, don’t provoke her. She’s already torn about whether to admit she’s actually into plaid shirts now."
Sheng Xia: "Should I tell Cheng Zhuoyang to stop wearing them, then?"
Liao Jing: "Sheng! Xia!"
Zhong Lujie clutched her stomach, laughing. Sheng Xia always managed to crack her up.
When they first met, Zhong Lujie had only noticed how pretty and even-tempered Sheng Xia was. As they grew closer, she realized that beneath her gentle demeanor lay a quiet depth—approachable yet hard to truly get close to. But after spending even more time together, she discovered Sheng Xia was actually quite down-to-earth, with an endearing "beautiful airhead" charm.
For instance, her sense of humor and what she found funny often diverged from everyone else’s, giving her a lovable, slightly detached vibe.
On top of that, she was genuinely warm-hearted and incredibly attentive to those around her.
If a girl like that didn’t have a boyfriend, the literature department’s doors would surely be stormed by suitors, wouldn’t they?
Even some overconfident underclassmen had once entertained ideas, but after inquiring about Sheng Xia’s boyfriend, they retreated sheepishly.
Some people were just like that—deterring rivals without even needing to show up.
...
As seniors, the girls of Room 219 carried themselves impressively. Zhong Lujie had risen to a director position in the college student union, Fan Jingshu became a debate team coach, and Liao Jing was now leading planning meetings for the drama club...
Only Sheng Xia held no official title. In the photography club, she had no assigned role and rarely joined outdoor shoots—after her first outing ended with her being pulled in as a model, she found it uncomfortable and opted to do her own thing instead, occasionally attending club lectures to learn.
She simply captured snippets of daily life, posting weekly photo collections on Weibo and monthly vlogs. What started as practice gradually became a habit, especially since rewatching her videos revealed that most of the content revolved around Zhang Shu. How could someone be so effortlessly photogenic from every angle? The more she filmed him, the more she wanted to document their moments. Her selfies grew more frequent, and her editing became increasingly polished.
She never used tags or trending topics, with only a handful of followers like "Teacher Sprite" and Xin Xiaohe leaving likes and comments. During exam weeks when she went silent, Teacher Sprite would even nudge her to post updates.
Seasons passed—summer faded into autumn, winter gave way to spring—and the ever-changing world was preserved in her little corner of the internet.
Sheng Xia’s days drifted by leisurely, but Zhang Shu’s life moved at a breakneck pace, his location constantly shifting. He didn’t even have regular holidays.During winter break, he stayed in the lab, accompanying his advisor on research trips across various locations—including Nanli. But the schedule was too tight, passing by his hometown three times without entering.
The following semester, he applied for summer research and spent the summer at Stanford for an academic program.
Sheng Xia wasn’t idle either. Inspired by her discussions with Zhang Shu about The Three Kingdoms , she wrote a collection of heroic biographies, adopting a gentler perspective on historical figures across different eras. After working on it for over half a year, she finally submitted the manuscript.
Zhang Shu claimed credit: "Shouldn’t I get a few tax points for this?"
Sheng Xia was generous, even though the royalties were still a distant prospect. "Then what do you want?"
The moment the words left her mouth, she knew it was a mistake. Sure enough, Zhang Shu’s face suddenly leaned in, his gaze tracing a path she knew all too well.
Sheng Xia instinctively closed her eyes, warm breath brushing against her skin—but the expected kiss never came. Slowly, she opened her eyes again, meeting Zhang Shu’s amused gaze.
She’d been tricked. Sheng Xia glared at him and was about to turn away when her cheeks were suddenly cupped, his warm, damp lips enveloping hers.
"I want first reading rights."
That simple?
Sheng Xia blinked. "Just that?"
"I want to read it now."
Unquestioningly, she sent him the digital version.
And so, he read from morning till night, even after dinner, still engrossed, occasionally discussing bits with her. Before they knew it, they had passed curfew—Sheng Xia completely unaware.
Zhang Shu was still asking, "Song Jiang is the top hero of Liangshan, but in your book, he’s ranked so low? Dead last?"
Sheng Xia yawned. "Second to last—he’s the grand finale."
"Then who’s last?"
"Didn’t write that one yet."
"You like Song Jiang?"
"I guess so."
Sheng Xia was too drowsy to think, answering whatever he asked. Noticing his slightly surprised expression, she sobered up a little and countered, "Don’t you like him?"
"Not particularly." Zhang Shu was as honest as ever—on topics like this, he never pretended to agree just because she liked something.
"He is controversial, after all."
So they continued their "debate" until the café staff reminded them: overnight study hours had begun.
Sheng Xia jolted. "It’s midnight already?"
The street between Heqing University and Haiyan University was lined with cafés that functioned normally during the day but transformed into study hubs for students at night. After midnight, it was officially "overnight study" time—during exam weeks or thesis defense periods, seats were impossible to find.
Sheng Xia frowned. "I’ve missed curfew again."
Zhang Shu stated calmly, "I brought my ID."
The implication: Don’t even think about sending me away.
Though staying at a hotel had become routine after missed curfews, Sheng Xia still flushed with embarrassment every time, barely lifting her head except for facial verification.
This time, when she heard Zhang Shu’s account had been upgraded to platinum membership, her ears burned instantly.
What the—
Why do hotels even have loyalty programs?!
Sheng Xia just wanted to hurry upstairs, not listen to any membership perks.
"Before, when I went out with professors and seniors, I was always in charge of booking rooms, so my account leveled up fast," Zhang Shu explained beside her, as if trying to cool down her ears. "Has nothing to do with you."
The front desk clerk gave them an ambiguous glance, and Sheng Xia swore she saw her smile when she looked down!
Ugh, annoying! Why did he have to explain like that?!
The moment they entered the room, Sheng Xia threw herself onto the bed, grabbed a pillow, and buried her face in it, muffling a groan as she rolled around.Zhang Shu stood quietly by the bed, waiting for her to calm down. He knelt on one knee, pulling away her pillow. "Still shy? When will you stop being shy?"
This question had troubled him for a long time.
With the pillow gone, Sheng Xia covered her eyes with her hands and blurted out, "Of course, it won't be embarrassing once it's legal."
The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted it. Sure enough, she heard his laughter the next second. He then lay down on top of her, pinning her hands above her head. "The phrasing of a great writer is truly extraordinary. So authoritative?"
Before she could respond, he kissed her lips. "Oops, that's illegal."
He kissed her again, grinning. "What's the penalty?"
Then he nibbled her lower lip. "Which law even covers this?"
With a sudden, deep suck, he pressed seriously, "Hmm?"
Sheng Xia was flustered by his final syllable, unable to answer.
As kisses rained down, he freed the hand that had been restraining her.
Sheng Xia felt her armpits tense from the strain, her whole body stiffening as she stared at him wide-eyed.
His hands and lips were both busy, only pausing between kisses to ask, "Is this a crime now?"
"Mmm—" Sheng Xia whimpered in discomfort—90% numbness, 10% pain.
"How about this?"
Her eyes reddened with a mix of shame and frustration, on the verge of tears.
Zhang Shu propped himself up to study her, his gaze lingering before he lowered his head again, peppering her with soft kisses.
"I want to commit a crime," he murmured, his voice vibrating so close it seemed to echo in her ear. His soft, thick hair tickled her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
Sheng Xia whispered, "A-Shu, I need to shower first..."
"We'll have to shower again later anyway..."
"Shower first..."
"Can't wait."
"Then... turn off the lights..." Her voice was barely audible.
Zhang Shu rested his forehead against hers, mumbling, "What if I don't?"
"You're pushing your luck!"
"Unfair. Where have I pushed? As for luck... well, that's not quite it yet..."
Realizing the innuendo, Sheng Xia's face burned. "You're shameless! A scoundrel!"
"If you keep blushing like this, I'll start feeling like a downright villain," Zhang Shu quipped, kneeling over her as he arched his back. Gripping the hem of his T-shirt, he pulled it off in one swift motion, revealing his narrow waist, broad chest, and shoulders—his taut muscles casting shadows like ridges on smooth, glossy white chocolate.
Sheng Xia instinctively turned her head away, but his discarded T-shirt landed right in front of her on the pillow.
The next second, he cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. Forehead pressed to hers, he bargained, "How about concurrent sentencing? I’d serve a life sentence willingly."
Though phrased as a question, he didn’t wait for an answer before methodically proving just how far he’d push his luck.
Sheng Xia always showered first. By the time she dried off, he’d emerge, damp and wrapping her in an octopus-like embrace, planting kisses on her cheeks before stealing her pillow and settling in without another move.
Just as she was drifting off, his voice murmured in her ear, "When do you want to make it legal? I’ll go along whenever."
Instantly wide awake, Sheng Xia turned in his arms, propping herself on his chest to create some distance. "You’re not even of legal age yet?"
Zhang Shu opened his eyes, grinning. "So you’re saying once I am, it’s fine?"
Of course not!
"It can’t be too early. Who gets married while still in school?"Zhang Shu's tone rose in disbelief, "So you're saying you want to stay shy for another five, six, seven, or eight years?"
Sheng Xia was preparing to pursue Professor Tan's graduate program in ancient Chinese literature, which required a combined master's and doctoral degree. By the time she finished her Ph.D., it would take at least six years.
"Undergraduate is definitely not an option!" Sheng Xia thought seriously. "And the master's stage isn't ideal either..."
Forget about her own feelings—Wang Lianhua would probably be the first to object.
Zhang Shu's frown deepened, as if already worrying about the next five, six, seven, or eight years.
Sheng Xia kissed his chin, her hand sliding under the blanket to trace his abs. In this state, they felt soft on the surface but still angular, firm, and smooth—just like chocolate.
"Baby."
"Hmm?" She moved lower, her actions teasing.
Zhang Shu tensed up, his voice low. "Don't want to sleep, is that it?"
Sheng Xia wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm learning how not to be shy... Just wait for me a little longer."
Zhang Shu glanced down and saw the tips of her ears peeking through her hair, flushed pink. Her eyes still sparkled in the dim room.
She looked up at him intently, obedient and earnest.
"Wait for me"—a phrase with double meaning.
Zhang Shu interlaced his fingers behind his head, lying open and unresisting. "If you pass tonight, I'll consider it."
After a brief hesitation, Sheng Xia leaned down to kiss him, trying to recall how he did it. She intended to mimic him, but halfway through, her whole body grew hot. The warmth of his skin under her palm pulsed intensely, making her freeze. With a whimper, she collapsed onto him, nipping his Adam's apple in frustration before burying her face in the crook of his neck in surrender. "I can't..."
Her body swayed with the motion of nestling into his neck, and Zhang Shu, her human mattress, grew tenser by the second.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he stroked her hair rhythmically, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling with a resigned chuckle. "You can. No one does it better than you."
He flipped her over, cradling her face as he kissed her deeply.
...
Sheng Xia had asked him to wait for her, but Zhang Shu knew—she was the one waiting for him.
She wasn’t in a hurry, but his pace wouldn’t slow down.
Zhang Shu’s GPA climbed by fractions each semester—no small feat given his starting point. He’d once said his major courses were leagues behind those of competition-focused students and predicted a gap by junior year.
But it never happened.
In his busiest academic year, he earned top honors. Draft after draft of business proposals were sent out, though most vanished without a trace.
While others stressed over their theses, Sheng Xia breezed through. She’d published two books in three years and countless papers, her rich original material making plagiarism checks a non-issue—earning her plenty of envy.
She even found time to edit videos and post on Weibo, her rhythm unchanged.
If there was any shift, it was Professor Tan treating her as his protégé in advance, assigning tasks without hesitation—though he also shielded her. When negative reviews of her books surfaced online, the old scholar would unexpectedly fire back.The professor who used to rant, "Linguistics is linguistics, literature is literature—what's the point of combining them? Negative plus negative equals positive, cold friction generates heat," seemed to have either had an epiphany or simply compromised over the past three years. Occasionally, he would even remark, "There is a unique brilliance in interdisciplinary studies." While his students thought Professor Tan had mellowed, Sheng Xia felt an underlying unease—it was the calm before the storm.
With Professor Tan's permission, Sheng Xia occasionally featured him in her vlogs, gradually encroaching on Zhang Shu's "screen time," with quotable lines aplenty.
"Xiaxia, out of all of us, you're the only one who feels like a true literature major—no, the ideal literature major should be exactly like you."
On the last night of their junior year, Liao Jing suddenly sighed during their dormitory chat.
Liao Jing was preparing for a cross-disciplinary postgraduate entrance exam, aiming to study law.
"Yeah, 'the fragrance of ink, words that carry songs'—it's an unattainable kind of life," Fan Jingshu mused. She had secured an internship at a TV station and planned to start working after graduation.
Zhong Lujie was torn between continuing her studies or heeding her parents' advice to take a civil service exam.
It's often said that the senior year is the second major turning point in life after the college entrance exam. But Sheng Xia felt this pivotal moment was arriving early—some were already preparing in their junior year, while others had mapped out their paths from the moment they stepped onto campus.
Thinking about it, she realized she had no concrete plans. She had always gone with the flow, embracing whatever came naturally.
"Hey, Xiaxia, Zhang Shu is grinding so hard for his GPA—is he planning to study abroad?" Liao Jing asked.
Sheng Xia shook her head. "I haven't heard anything about that."
The topic was a sensitive one because Cheng Zhuoyang was preparing to study abroad. Liao Jing and he had been in a nebulous relationship for over a year—no official commitment, yet they acted like a couple in every way except intimacy.
The reason was simple: Cheng Zhuoyang had planned to go abroad since freshman year. Every activity during his undergraduate years was a stepping stone toward MIT.
Liao Jing continued, "But both he and Zhang Shu have been in the lab for so long, working on AI-related stuff, right? Studying abroad seems like the only path forward..."
"Probably can't bear to leave," Fan Jingshu chimed in. "Who could bear to go abroad and leave Sheng Xia behind?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't be able to either," Liao Jing agreed, her tone tinged with quiet melancholy.
Was that really it?
Sheng Xia stared at the ceiling, sleepless the entire night.
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