Summer in Your Name

United States, Boston, Cheng Zhuoyang's rented apartment.

Zhang Shu's phone on the nightstand vibrated incessantly. He grabbed it, squinted at the screen, and saw a voice call request from Sheng Xia.

Zhang Shu answered and held it to his ear. "Why not a video call, baby?"

His voice carried the lazy, half-awake tone of someone just rousing from sleep. The next second, however, he snapped alert like a sharp-eyed eagle, sitting bolt upright.

Because the voice on the other end wasn’t Sheng Xia’s—it was a long-unheard, stern, middle-aged woman’s voice.

"Zhang Shu, resting?"

"Auntie, hello." His voice was calm, as if the earlier drowsiness had been Wang Lianhua’s imagination.

"Mhm, what time is it there?"

"Seven in the morning."

"Did I disturb your rest?"

"I’m usually up by now. I’m at a friend’s place today, so I slept in a little. It’s fine—I’ve stepped out to take the call. What is it, Auntie?"

As he spoke, Zhang Shu walked out of the room. Outside, Cheng Zhuoyang, who had just finished using the bathroom and was heading back to his room, looked at him with innocent bewilderment: Shu-ge is really something. To maintain a perfect image in front of his future mother-in-law, he doesn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus. Is this what it takes to be a businessman? Terrifying.

Zhang Shu talked in the living room for about ten minutes before hanging up. He then yanked Cheng Zhuoyang’s blanket. "Since you’re awake, get up. We’re visiting hospitals today."

"Don’t wanna. It’s boring."

"Then let’s go to a gaming company. Surely playing games is fine?"

"Don’t wanna. You’re not really going to play games—you’re just going to play me ."

"So you just want to stay in the lab, the library, or at your desk?"

Cheng Zhuoyang buried his face in the pillow. "Just go back, Shu-ge. I need time to think."

He knew why Zhang Shu had come to Boston, but Cheng Zhuoyang had no interest in starting a business and no plans to return to China anytime soon.

"I have to go back," Zhang Shu said, looking down at him. "If you don’t want to go out and see things, then I’ll book a ticket back to California for tonight."

Cheng Zhuoyang turned over.

Zhang Shu continued calmly, "I’ll send you another copy of the proposal and the technical equity agreement. Take your time to look them over. Zhuoyang, I need you."

Cheng Zhuoyang sat up, cross-legged like a child, but his expression was serious. "Shu-ge, you know as well as I do that right now, no research institute or company in China can provide the computing power and storage capacity my work requires… A startup is even less likely."

"Then what’s the point of your research?" Zhang Shu cut in, pulling a chair over and straddling it backward. "Breakthroughs for the sake of breakthroughs? Where’s your demand side?"

"I’m not cut out for entrepreneurship," Cheng Zhuoyang muttered.

"What is the ‘right stuff’ for entrepreneurship?" Zhang Shu countered.

Cheng Zhuoyang fell silent again. Knowing his temperament, Zhang Shu didn’t wait. He said gravely, "If you join Yixia, I can’t promise you the best research conditions at this stage. But Zhuoyang, if you ever decide to step out of the lab, you won’t find a boss who understands you better than me or colleagues more aligned with you. But for me, it’s different—whoever I hire, I’m confident I can make it work. And I can’t wait. I can’t wait until the day you’ve had enough of others and come looking for me. My company has to launch, and I need my team in place...""The research conditions in China aren't as poor as you imagine, and there's substantial support—all outlined in the proposal. Beyond that, you don't have to participate in anything you don't want to. No other company can promise you that, but I can. You can still conduct your research within your comfort zone, even continue pursuing your PhD..."

"I'm heading back to California first. You have half a semester left to think it over."

With that, Zhang Shu packed his things and booked his ticket in one swift motion. Before leaving, he turned back and stared at Cheng Zhuoyang for a long moment before adding, "Zhuoyang, I forgot to mention earlier—Liao Jing has been single all these years. Given her qualifications, it's really hard to understand why. I also don't get you. If you'd already decided to come to America and stay here, why did you even attend that mixer back then?"

Zhang Shu left.

Cheng Zhuoyang stood at the door for several minutes before returning to his desk, clutching his head and scratching his scalp.

And he had the nerve to ask if he was cut out for entrepreneurship?

Zhang Shu was the epitome of it—laying out sincerity, then striking at the heart.

...

Sheng Xia had no idea what Zhang Shu and her mother had discussed that day. All she knew was that after hanging up, Wang Lianhua retreated to her room. Sheng Xia spent the whole day in anxious suspense, but no statement ever came. When she asked Zhang Shu about it, he simply said, "Nothing serious. Your mom is a reasonable person."

Yeah, right!

Wang Lianhua had always been extremely sensitive about such matters. She wasn’t particularly traditional or rigid—she just placed far too much weight on the concept of "self-protection" and had her own strict definitions of it.

And so, Sheng Xia returned to campus burdened with unease and doubt.

The second year of her master's program was light on coursework, mostly revolving around her thesis. In her free time, Sheng Xia managed her short video account with a few undergrads, posting content about classical poetry analysis and linguistic nuances. With her striking appearance—especially when dressed in hanfu—her videos gained traction rapidly. The account's viewership soared, though the comments section kept clamoring for daily vlogs. To put it bluntly, they were "asking for the guy she lived with."

Her days were full and busy, but the moment she paused, longing would surge uncontrollably.

Sheng Xia secured her visa, took a week off, and combined it with Labor Day holidays to carve out ten free days.

On May 1st, she boarded a flight to California.

Before takeoff, she even told a little white lie—claiming she’d be intermittently recording programs over the next couple of days and couldn’t carry her phone, so not to panic if she went off-grid. Zhang Shu didn’t suspect a thing.

In May, the San Francisco Bay Area was slightly warmer than Heyan. This was Sheng Xia’s first time traveling abroad alone, and a flicker of nervousness made her regret the whole "surprise" idea—what if it backfired into a shock? But she was already here; she couldn’t lose steam at the last mile.

So she decided to take a cab to the Stanford graduate housing herself.

The moment she stepped out of the car, Sheng Xia froze. The driver said they’d arrived, but which building was it? She only remembered Zhang Shu mentioning a red-roofed, gray-walled structure, yet several buildings around matched that description—three-story cottages, two-story townhouses, and even a seven- or eight-story high-rise. None of the exteriors had markings or building numbers, making the area feel like one massive complex. Standing by the roadside, Sheng Xia sent Zhang Shu a message:

Sheng Xia: "Let’s go on a date."

Sheng Xia: "Share your location."The sent message kept spinning in circles. Sheng Xia was puzzled—she had activated international roaming, so how could there be no data? Just moments ago in the taxi, she had been chatting with Xin Xiaohe and the others in the group chat.

Several "ding" sounds alerted her to new text messages. When she opened them, she saw a notification for an overdue balance of over 500 yuan.

Sheng Xia frowned, frozen in disbelief. She had topped up more than 500 yuan before coming here—how could this happen?

But there was no time to dwell on the reason. In this foreign land, being without internet meant being utterly stranded. It was only then that she remembered Wang Lianhua had prepared a local U.S. SIM card for her, which she had stashed in her suitcase. So she crouched by the roadside, rummaging through her luggage for the card, drawing curious glances from passersby.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as anxiety and nervousness made her break out in a cold sweat. Her mind even began conjuring images of herself sleeping on the streets.

Just as she finished swapping the SIM card and closed her suitcase—whether by fortune or misfortune—she caught sight of Zhang Shu through a gap in the bushes.

He was sitting outside a café across the small garden, smiling and chatting.

Sheng Xia rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. He looked thinner than he had in their video calls. Even after being in the U.S. for over half a year, his style hadn’t changed at all—just like back home, he wore a T-shirt under an unbuttoned shirt, paired with jeans and sneakers, simple and clean.

Across from him sat a girl.

From Sheng Xia’s angle, she could only see the girl’s profile: a delicate, petite face framed by straight bangs, so small it looked no bigger than a palm. Her blunt-cut black hair was sharp and sleek, smooth as satin, giving her a polished yet aloof aura, like a girl straight out of a manga.

Sheng Xia glanced at her silent phone, where Xin Xiaohe’s last message in their WeChat chat had proven prophetic: "Don’t let your surprise turn into catching him in the act."

Hadn’t he said there were no beautiful Chinese classmates here?

At the same time, Zhang Shu’s phone on the table buzzed twice. At first, he only glanced at it casually, his posture and the rhythm of his conversation unchanged. But suddenly, his expression shifted. He grabbed the phone, sprang to his feet, and began scanning his surroundings.

In that instant, Sheng Xia straightened up, letting the bushes hide her disheveled state.

She didn’t know why she had instinctively hidden, but she immediately regretted it—she wasn’t the one who should feel guilty! So she crouched back down, lifted her suitcase, and pulled out the handle, ready to leave—when her phone rang.

Zhang Shu was calling her on voice chat.

She stared at the screen, letting it ring a few times before answering, her voice weak and carrying a hint of unconscious grievance: "Hello…"

"Don’t move."

His voice came through the phone before the call abruptly ended. Within seconds, Sheng Xia was pulled into a broad embrace. Startled, she nearly dropped her phone, but he caught it deftly before wrapping his arms around her again, tightening his hold as if trying to meld her into his body.

"Why did you come like this? I almost made you wait again."

Only then did the reality of "it’s really him" sink in for Sheng Xia. But her heart still ached with jealousy. She stubbornly kept her arms at her sides, refusing to return the hug, and muttered sullenly, "Sorry for interrupting your date with your beautiful classmate."

Zhang Shu chuckled, hugged her tightly once more, then slowly released her. Cradling her face with both hands, his gaze swept over her with focused adoration before he pecked her lips. "Jealous?"As he spoke, he pecked her lips again, showering her with tender kisses. Finding the phone in his hand bothersome, he moved it away from her face and stuffed it into his pocket, but his lips never left hers. The next second, he eagerly cupped her face and chased after her lips again.

It had been too long since their last kiss.

Her senses were filled with his scent. Sheng Xia lost all sense of time and place, kissing until she felt dizzy and unsteady on her feet. Only then did he slowly release her.

Her lips were numb, the base of her tongue was numb, and her legs had gone stiff from standing too long.

"Let me go say something to someone first," he whispered in her ear, holding her hand with one hand while pulling the suitcase with the other as they walked toward the café.

Sheng Xia didn’t understand but obediently followed behind him, staring blankly at the back of his head.

She missed him so much, so much—and she still wanted to kiss him.

Inside the café, the manga-style girl glanced at her watch and said to Zhang Shu, "Ten minutes. You were gone for ten minutes."

Zhang Shu lowered his head with a faint smile. "Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Let’s call it a day for now. We can talk again when we’re back in China."

The girl’s expression remained indifferent. "I probably won’t have time to wait. I have a decision I need to make today."

Zhang Shu didn’t hesitate. "Then it must be very important to you. A gentleman doesn’t take what others cherish. I have something more important too."

The girl gave him a questioning look.

Zhang Shu said, "A date with my girlfriend."

The girl froze, glanced at Sheng Xia, then nodded and took a sip of her coffee. "What a shame. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Sheng Xia was utterly confused, but Zhang Shu led her away.

He lived in the same building as the café. The apartment was old, but the dormitory was well-equipped, complete with a kitchen and living room. Since he had roommates, he simply packed a few clothes and took Sheng Xia to stay at a hotel.

During their brief stop at his dorm, Sheng Xia noticed many things related to her: his computer screensaver was a photo of her in Hanfu, his desk held the three books she had published, and the framed photo on his desk was also of her.

What surprised Sheng Xia the most was that it was a photo from her sophomore year of high school, taken by Sheng Mingfeng during the finals of a writing competition.

How did he have it?

"This photo… where did you get it?"

Zhang Shu, who had finished packing—just a single bag—glanced at it casually and replied offhandedly, "Your dad sent it to me."

"Why?" Sheng Xia was stunned. When had he been in contact with her father? And to the extent of exchanging photos?

Zhang Shu thought she was asking why he had sent that particular photo, so he answered casually, "Didn’t you say I never knew the 16-year-old you? Well, now I do."

Sheng Xia: "…"

So by leaving it here, forcing him to look at it every day, that counted as knowing her?

"Childish," she remarked.

Zhang Shu took the frame from her hands and placed it back on the desk, retorting, "How is it childish? My girlfriend is naturally stunning—whether at 16 or 23, she’s always breathtaking."

Sheng Xia’s cheeks flushed. This guy—who said the photo was childish?!

On the way to the hotel, Sheng Xia remembered what had happened earlier and asked, "Didn’t you say you didn’t have any beautiful female classmates?"

"She’s not really my classmate. I only just found out from Cheng Zhuoyang that she’s studying natural language processing at Stanford."

"Then who is she?"

Zhang Shu seemed surprised. "You don’t recognize her?"

Sheng Xia shook her head, bewildered.Zhang Shu: "She's the girl I saved at Yifang Bookstore back then, named Yuan Zhiyi."

It had been so long that Sheng Xia couldn’t recall the girl’s face, but the icy impression remained vivid. "Wasn’t she deaf and mute?"

"No, just hearing-impaired. She stopped speaking because she couldn’t hear. I wanted to bring her on as a partner, and she’s considering it."

"Then did I just interfere with your important business?" Sheng Xia’s heart tightened. Her so-called surprise might not have been much of a surprise after all.

"Not at all. You are the important business. I’ll never stand you up again for a date."

He said it so naturally, without any particular emphasis. Sheng Xia squeezed his hand, still uneasy. "Next time, don’t do this. Just tell me—I’ll understand."

Only then did Zhang Shu realize how much it bothered her. He pinched her cheek. "Really, it’s fine. She was distracted anyway—fishing for her own interests while I fished for mine. Mutual benefit."

…

By the time they reached the hotel room, Sheng Xia had barely set down her luggage before he trapped her in his arms, his deep kiss descending. She responded just as fervently until they tumbled onto the bed together. He paused to ask, "Any more interrogations?"

Sheng Xia was already dizzy from the kiss, her mind blank except for the urge to claim him. She shook her head. "No..."

Zhang Shu: "Then I’m going to push my luck."

"Don’t misuse idioms, mmm—"

And push his luck he did—far beyond mere inches. He was insatiable, endlessly greedy, never satisfied!

She didn’t ask how he felt, and he didn’t ask why she had come. Their unspoken longing was etched into each other’s bodies.

By the time the storm subsided, it was deep into the night.

What kind of date was this? Skipping every step to get straight to the point. The room was so small, yet they’d left traces everywhere, as if they’d gone sightseeing. Like she’d traveled miles just for this.

At some point—she’d lost count—she grew hungry and demanded food. He ordered room service, and she thought she could finally rest. But halfway through the meal, his hands started wandering again. Afterward, she refused to eat out of anger, and he coaxed her with sweet promises, swearing he’d behave. Yet the moment she finished eating and rested for a bit, he…

Sheng Xia finally understood what Xin Xiaohe meant about men needing to "hand in their dues" on time. If he held back too long, he wouldn’t be the one suffering—she’d be the one overwhelmed.

Exhausted, she didn’t want to say another word, but Zhang Shu kept nuzzling into her neck, murmuring, "Baby, baby..."

So annoying!

During the day, he’d seemed so composed, as if her arrival hadn’t thrilled him much. Only now did it seem to hit him, as he clung to her, refusing to let go.

So childish!

Wasn’t he the real baby here?

She finally interrupted his muttering to ask, "What exactly did you say to my mom?"

Zhang Shu lifted his head from her chest. "I thought there were no more interrogations?"

"I’ve decided to interrogate now."

"Full of energy after eating, huh?"

"..."

Furious, Sheng Xia kicked him. "Fine, don’t tell me!"

"Again?" This time, Zhang Shu was quick, catching her leg. "Stop trying to kick me. You’ll regret it if you break something."

"Shameless!"

"Mm. Being shameless is how you get a wife." He dropped the playful grin, climbing off her to fetch his laptop. "Want to get up and watch?"He was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs below, standing there with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Sheng Xia felt her face grow warm and turned away. "I'm not getting up."

Zhang Shu smiled nonchalantly, sitting by the headboard with his laptop on his knees. He opened a folder and turned the screen toward her.

Inside was a compressed file containing several documents.

"Yixia Technology Co., Ltd. Business Plan"

"Yixia Technology Co., Ltd. Project Prospectus"

"Yixia Technology Co., Ltd. Equity Design Plan"

"Prenuptial Agreement"

Yixia Technology – ArcialVision.

She wouldn’t believe the name was just a homophone. She had seen his business plan before, but the cover hadn’t listed the company name. So, she had just learned that he had registered the company using her name.

She began to understand. He must have sent this file package to Wang Lianhua, right? Entrepreneurs place immense importance on their first company, often naming it after themselves. After all, if it fails, it becomes a memory; if it succeeds, the name will be tied to the man for life.

If this wasn’t enough to prove his intentions, then the "Prenuptial Agreement" was practically a contract of servitude.

It was filled with clauses, many of which referenced the equity design plan and the prospectus. Combined, they conveyed one clear message: if they divorced—regardless of fault or who was at fault—Zhang Shu would leave with nothing. All assets, equity, and even earnings from patents created before the divorce would belong to Sheng Xia.

Later, Xin Xiaohe happened to learn about this agreement. Lawyer Xin sighed, "This is downright simp behavior! Might as well add, 'Even after divorce, I’ll keep making money for my ex-wife.'"

At that moment, Sheng Xia’s mind went blank.

A prenuptial agreement?

They hadn’t even discussed marriage yet. How had he already prepared this? Most people drafted prenups to clarify asset divisions—what was he doing?

"Did you write this as a military pledge?" Sheng Xia asked, stunned.

"Writers do have a way with words," Zhang Shu replied with his usual carefree expression. "That description does hit the mark."

Sheng Xia: "There’s no need for this..."

Zhang Shu’s expression turned serious, his gaze firm. "We don’t need it, but Auntie does."

His words sent a tremor through her heart. She stared at him, dazed. "But this is so unfair to you. Are you really willing to hand over everything you’ve built?"

Zhang Shu moved the laptop aside, looking at her in disbelief. "What do you mean? Do you think we’ll get divorced?"

Sheng Xia: "..."

He lay down, pouncing to nip her lips. "Don’t even think about it."

Early the next morning, Zhang Shu was again awakened by his phone. Sheng Xia, nestled in his arms, blinked sleepily.

Annoyed, he kissed her forehead and rolled over, reaching across her for the phone.

Seeing Cheng Zhuoyang’s name on the caller ID, Zhang Shu smirked and answered.

Sheng Xia lay beneath him, watching as he ruffled his messy hair, his confident smile blending youthful clarity with an air of dominance—it was mesmerizing.

"My fish has taken the bait," Zhang Shu said, switching to speakerphone.

Cheng Zhuoyang’s voice came through, laced with frustration. "Have you settled things with Yuan Zhiyi?"

Zhang Shu: "Pretty much."Cheng Zhuoyang: "Oh..."

Zhang Shu: "What's up?"

"I..." Cheng Zhuoyang hesitated, "I just wanted to ask, if I graduate here, will I still be in time?"

Hearing this, Zhang Shu silently broke into a wide grin and even winked at Sheng Xia, nearly throwing up a "victory" sign on the spot to celebrate.

But his words came out calm and steady, "You can sign first, keep studying as usual, and your salary will still be paid. When you officially join the project, we'll sign the technical equity agreement."

"The salary isn't really an issue, but Yuan Zhiyi's side..." Cheng Zhuoyang's voice was full of concern.

Sheng Xia bit her lower lip, thinking about Cheng Zhuoyang's sheep-like personality—ah, the genius scholar, getting sold out while still counting money for the seller!

Zhang Shu: "Don't worry, I'll handle it."

They discussed some details over the phone. While talking, Zhang Shu got up, brushed his teeth, and washed his face. By the time he hung up, he was fresh and cheerful, happily cupping Sheng Xia's face and kissing her repeatedly.

Sheng Xia stared at him. "Why do I feel like you're acting like Cao Cao right now, after tricking Guan Yu?"

Gleefully scheming to secure a talented subordinate.

Surprisingly, Zhang Shu didn't deny it. "As long as I'm not Yuan Shao or Liu Biao, it's fine."

Sheng Xia didn’t understand why he suddenly brought up those two—what was the comparison even supposed to mean?

"Cao Cao wasn’t exactly a pure-hearted good guy, you know?" she reminded him. She wasn’t entirely complimenting him.

Zhang Shu frowned. "Relax, I don’t covet other men’s wives."

Sheng Xia: "……Who’s even talking about that?"