By the time Shen An returned to the apartment, it was already past eight in the evening.
He pushed open the door, a faint smile still lingering on his face. Glancing over, he saw Xu Yijing sitting quietly on the sofa, her eyes glued to the laptop screen as her small hand clicked rapidly on the mouse.
Earlier, he had wondered why Xu Yijing, as the Student Union Vice President, seemed even more idle than Chen Nannan, the Club Federation President.
But now, it was finally time for Xu Yijing to get busy.
“Senior Sister.”
He greeted her softly and turned to head back to his room for a shower.
After playing ball all afternoon, his clothes were soaked through with sweat. Fortunately, he didn’t have a strong body odor—even with all that perspiration, the smell stayed mild.
Xu Yijing turned her head. “Hold on a second,” she said coolly.
“Hm?” Shen An looked at her in confusion.
“What’s the deal with you today?”
Xu Yijing narrowed her eyes, as if chiding him for barging in unannounced.
Shen An scratched his head awkwardly and grinned. “Ah, talking about that is embarrassing. I went for the Art Troupe audition today. The text they sent me had this address on it.”
“I woke up a bit late and kept Senior Sister Zhao waiting for a few hours. Right when your meeting was about to start, she switched to another classroom but didn’t notify me in time.”
“So I accidentally walked into the wrong one.”
A flicker of puzzlement crossed Xu Yijing’s eyes. “You’re saying the message from the Art Troupe said B101?”
“Yeah.”
Shen An walked over, pulled up the text, and handed her his pink brick phone to prove his innocence.
Xu Yijing stared at the pink brick phone, her lips twitching slightly.
This guy’s taste was… uniquely eccentric.
It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it, but every time, she couldn’t help silently roasting him in her mind.
Her gaze shifted to the phone screen. Sure enough, the message clearly read B101.
“I see. Just make sure to arrive earlier next time,” Xu Yijing said mildly. “It’s not great to keep people waiting, after all.”
Shen An raised an eyebrow. “Point taken, Senior Sister.”
“Oh, right—your dinner.” Xu Yijing pointed to the takeout on the side.
“Whoa, you’ve been taking care of me every day, Senior Sister. I really feel bad about it,” Shen An said politely. “How about I just grab some meat and veggies from the supermarket from now on? I can handle cooking myself.”
Xu Yijing smiled faintly. “It’s no trouble at all. Why go to the extra effort? Cooking for yourself is a hassle too.”
“You seem free now, but once you’re officially in the Art Troupe—on top of classes—you’ll see how packed your schedule gets.”
Shen An chuckled inwardly and nodded. “True enough. Then at the end of each month, you can tally up the takeout costs, and I’ll pay you back from my wages.”
Xu Yijing waved him off impatiently. “No need. Go take your shower—I have work to do.”
Her delicate nose twitched faintly, as if put off by the sweat scent.
Shen An’s natural scent was always light, but up close like this—and with Xu Yijing being such a stickler for cleanliness—it was bound to bother her a little.
“Thanks, Senior Sister.”
Shen An thanked her politely and headed to his room.
The moment he turned away, the faint smile on his lips vanished.
Even Chen Nannan knew that B101 had been in use by Teacher Pei first thing that morning, followed seamlessly by the Student Union.
How could Xu Yijing, the Student Union Vice President, not know?
She knew. She definitely knew.
But she hadn’t said a word.
Shen An suspected that Zhao Qingyu had sent him to B101 deliberately—not just to mess with him, but also to disrupt Xu Yijing.
If he’d arrived early, he’d have run into Teacher Pei.
If late, Xu Yijing.
Either outcome seemed to serve Zhao Qingyu’s aims.
And Xu Yijing’s silence now only confirmed the subtle tension between her and Zhao Qingyu.
Shen An grabbed the takeout on his way to his room. After his shower, he ate while chatting idly with Song Rui.
Last night’s late-night melancholy playlist session had undoubtedly brought them closer. Song Rui was much more relaxed around him now, less shy and timid.
She even tossed in little jokes now and then to liven things up.
As for Chen Nannan, she was probably buried in work by now, so Shen An didn’t want to bother her too much.
Tonight, though, his chatting companions weren’t just Song Rui—they included Wang Yuqiong too!
His talks with Song Rui were mostly personal, but with Wang Yuqiong, they leaned toward business.
Naturally, their conversation revolved around the Art Troupe.
Wang Yuqiong’s first audition had gone great too, earning her a spot in the second round ahead of schedule!
So tomorrow, like Shen An, she’d head to the Art Troupe for more interviews.
Shen An was on the final round, while hers was the second.
As they chatted, Shen An suddenly asked Wang Yuqiong, “What questions did the interviewers ask you today?”
Wang Yuqiong paused. “Huh?”
“No, just curious. Wondering if they were the same.”
“Probably, right?”
Wang Yuqiong knew more about the Art Troupe than he did. “First-round questions are standard: Why do you want to join the Art Troupe? What are your thoughts on it? Why do you think you’re suited for the work?”
“Those are the big three, with maybe one or two extras depending on the interviewer.”
“Then they score you on the signup sheet.”
“Sixty or above passes; below that, you’re out.”
Shen An: …
“My first-round questions weren’t those.”
“Hah?” Wang Yuqiong asked in surprise. “What were they then?”
“She asked me: If you were giving yourself a gift, what would you choose?”
Wang Yuqiong: ???
“For real.”
“Hmm, maybe because of Senior Sister Zhao?” Wang Yuqiong couldn’t figure it out, so she said, “She’s never been an interviewer before, after all.”
“And as Deputy Troupe Leader, she can ask whatever she wants.”
“But I bet you handled whatever she threw at you just fine.”
Shen An’s lips curved up. “Wang, you seem to have a lot of faith in me—whether it’s the class rep election or the Art Troupe interviews.”
“I figured you’d run for class president too, but you didn’t go for anything.”
“Class cadre stuff isn’t my style. I prefer freedom.”
“Laziness, you mean!” Wang Yuqiong called her out.
“Ahem, give me a little face here?”
“Pfft~”
Wang Yuqiong fired off a string of cute emojis, then got to the point: “I wanna ask you something too. Why’d you vote for Shen Lianyao?”
“Because I didn’t want her to lose too badly.”
Shen An replied.
“Huh? What if she won?”
“Tch, aside from mine, every single vote went to you.”
“That’s just the outcome. The election process is full of unknowns—you can’t reason backward from the result.”
“Actually, it’s less about the result and more about my confidence in you.”
Shen An explained, “I think you’re the best fit for class president—the one who should get it.”
“I’m sure I’m not the only one; everyone else in class thinks so too.”
“So under those circumstances, Shen Lianyao was bound to lose against you.”
“She lost, sure—but zero votes? That’s just too humiliating.”
“You didn’t need my one vote anyway, right? Giving it to her let me draw some heat off you.”
It was a clever way to put it.
By not voting for her, he was showing absolute faith in her landslide win.
Why vote for Shen Lianyao?
To spare her a total wipeout.
This painted Shen An as a total good guy—one tilted in Wang Yuqiong’s favor.
Even without his vote for her, his confidence in Wang Yuqiong was rock-solid.
Plus, a zero-vote shutout—even if fair—could brew invisible tensions.
Wang Yuqiong and Shen Lianyao might not mind, but gossip would stir things up.
They might start off fine, but those whispers could cap their bond at “classmates.”
That was the “drawing fire” Shen An meant.
One vote’s drama could shift focus from Wang Yuqiong’s crushing victory to “Who voted for Shen Lianyao?”
Not all the heat, but enough to ease some.
“You’re as warm-hearted as ever. I’m really glad to know you.”
Wang Yuqiong replied.
As ever?
Shen An didn’t dwell, chalking it up to Song Rui.
After all, he’d helped Song Rui plenty. Whether she’d spilled everything to Wang Yuqiong or just some, he had no idea.
Wang Yuqiong dropped it and asked, “So how’d you answer Senior Sister Zhao’s question?”
“I said, if I were giving myself a gift, I’d send a bouquet of flowers.”
“Flowers?” Wang Yuqiong replied softly. “That’s kinda romantic. Most men don’t get their first bouquet until their own funeral.”
Shen An paused, stunned.
“So you’ve heard that one too.”
“You didn’t actually say that to Senior Sister Zhao, did you?”
“Yep, I did!”
“Then don’t we just click?” After the words, Wang Yuqiong added a covering-mouth emoji.
“What about the second round of interviews?”
“I’m more curious about yours than mine.” Shen An shot back. “Any insider scoop?”
“No scoop needed.”
Wang Yuqiong explained directly. “The second round tests the freshmen’s skills and talents—like music, dance, whatever you’ve got.”
“Then they assign you to a group based on that.”
“……” Shen An fell silent.
“Yours wasn’t the same either, was it?” Wang Yuqiong teased.
“How to put it? The whole vibe was totally different.” Shen An hesitated to elaborate.
Before she could press him, he cut in quickly. “So, which group are you hoping for?”
“Me? I’m good with anything.”
Wang Yuqiong typed quietly. “I know a little music, a bit of dance. The Model Group would suit me too.”
Was this what an all-rounder looked like?
“Which one do you want me to pick?” Wang Yuqiong asked, a hint of expectation in her words.
“Me? I’d love for you to go to the Model Group.”
“Because of my height?”
“Nah, your vibe and your figure.” Shen An complimented her. “You’re perfect for it.”
“You’d walk in and be the Model Group’s ace right off the bat.”
“Pfft~” Wang Yuqiong stared at the screen, her pretty face flushing pink. “You’d fit right in there too.”
“Tall, handsome—you’d have all the girls swooning.”
“Perfect! Then we both join the Model Group and become the ultimate male-female ace duo!”
Through this lighthearted banter, Shen An subtly shifted her focus. By the time their chat wrapped up, she hadn’t circled back to his second-round interview.
All the while, he was also texting Song Rui.
Meanwhile, back in Dorm 105.
Song Rui and Wang Yuqiong lay sideways on their respective beds, tucked under their blankets, the glow of their phone screens lighting up their faces.
Zhang Tong and Li Li exchanged glances, both seeing the bewilderment in each other’s eyes.
What was going on here?
Song Rui hitting the hay early was one thing, but Yuqiong too?
