Chapter 62#
The Storyteller (Part 14)#
They thought they were speaking quietly. Ye Sheng’s hearing was excellent — he caught every word without missing a single syllable.
He capped his pen without any particular reaction. If he let other people’s comments get to him, he never would have survived long enough to grow up in Yinshan.
Ye Sheng kept his attention on the task at hand, handing out maps and orientation booklets to incoming freshmen.
“Th — thank you, senior.” A girl’s cheeks were flushed pink from the sun. She took the booklet with both hands, visibly nervous.
A senior girl beside her, noticing the excessive formality, stepped out from under her parasol with a smile. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room.”
After seeing off the last person of the morning shift, the student council soon wheeled over a large standing fan from one of the dormitories. Someone came to cover for Ye Sheng so he could go eat lunch at the canteen.
Ye Sheng gave a nod of thanks and left. On his way out, he heard a cluster of boys talking about him behind his back — the same rotating vocabulary as always: “strange,” “Yinshan,” “scholarship student,” “crime rate,” and so on.
When you are poor and vulnerable, everything you do is wrong. Your restraint reads as weakness and incompetence. Your pushback reads as aggression and a lack of breeding. Ask for anything and you’re “playing the poor card.” Accept the situation without complaint and they sneer at your failure to fight for yourself.
Ye Sheng had never personally experienced this particular flavour of treatment — the cruelty he’d grown up with in Yinshan was simpler and more direct: robbery, beatings, and insults to your face. But he’d watched it happen to enough people there to understand: poverty is the original sin.
And poverty’s sin isn’t only material. It’s spiritual too. Today even television, entertainment, and the media are controlled by the wealthy. The economy and technology grow more sophisticated year by year, and yet society displays a poverty gap that grows more extreme in lockstep.
He passed under the canopy of trees along the shaded path. Brilliant sunlight filtered down through branches and green leaves, and a cool breeze lifted the hem of his shirt.
Ye Sheng looked down, absently turning his room key over in his fingers. The clear metallic clink of it helped settle his mind a little.
He decided to swing by the dorm first.
All along the corridor, in and out, the sounds of people hauling luggage and rearranging furniture filled the air.
Outside room 404, he heard voices before he even got close.
“Hey, number one, number two — what on earth did you two eat growing up? You’re both enormous.”
“Hm? I just eat a lot. Everything.”
“I’m one-eighty-three. Number two’s probably about the same.”
“Ha — so all my roommates are good-looking guys. How come none of you were active in the freshman group chat?” This was Chen Can, his tone carrying layers of complicated feeling.
He’d dressed up specially today — designer clothes, fresh haircut — and walked into the dormitory feeling like he owned the place. Then he’d taken one look at Wang Zixiu and Kang Xiaoxiao, and his confidence had quietly short-circuited.
After two months of chatting in the group, Chen Can had built up a rough mental picture of these two: Wang Zixiu was an earnest, straight-laced pushover type, and Kang Xiaoxiao was a lovable, slightly dim big lug.
The earnest bookworm he’d imagined wore gold-rimmed glasses, had refined features, and when he smiled it was like a breeze through clear skies — cultured and gentle.
The lovable big lug he’d imagined had a crew cut, sunny energy, thick brows, bright eyes, and a natural, confident ease — your quintessential athletic good-looker.
Standing next to these two and their effortless, entirely unaffected presence, Chen Can’s meticulously arranged hair and outfit suddenly felt like they were trying far too hard.
Chen Can’s actual height was one-seventy-seven — he usually rounded up to one-eighty — but facing roommates who towered nearly a full head above him, he couldn’t quite bring himself to lie.
Kang Xiaoxiao explained good-naturedly: “I’m not big on group chats. Spent the summer getting my driver’s licence and learning to swim. I only really check the dorm group, haha. Besides, we’d all meet each other when school started anyway.”
Wang Zixiu smiled, neat and gentle: “Same as number two.”
Chen Can: “…”
He quickly covered his discomfort by pivoting the topic. “Wow — driver’s licence, swimming lessons, you two had a productive summer. Unlike me. My dad dragged me on a self-drive trip across Europe for the whole break. Visited more than ten countries. I saw so many landscapes my head was spinning.”
Kang Xiaoxiao was genuinely impressed. “That’s way more exciting than anything I did.”
Wang Zixiu admitted it cheerfully: “You’re both more accomplished than me. I spent two months gaming.”
Kang Xiaoxiao perked up immediately. “Oh — you game, Old Wang? Turns out you can’t judge a book by its cover.”
“Of course,” Wang Zixiu said. “I play pretty much everything.”
Chen Can, sensing his chance to recover, immediately “dropped his guard” and threw himself enthusiastically into the group, playing the entertainer.
“Come on, come on — the three of us are duo-queuing tonight. I main Yasuo mid, hahaha, I’m cracked.”
After a bit more chatting, Chen Can noticed the spotless floors and the tidy balcony and bathroom, visibly surprised. “Oh — you’ve already cleaned the room?”
Wang Zixiu shook his head. “No. It was like this when I got here. Must be number four.”
Kang Xiaoxiao said, “Speaking of — where is number four? Haven’t seen him all day.”
Chen Can waved a hand. “Still at his part-time job, probably.”
The Huai’an University dorm layout was the standard bunk-over-desk configuration.
Chen Can’s bed was directly across from Ye Sheng’s. He looked at Ye Sheng’s bare, minimal desk and said with exaggerated concern: “Looks like number four really did come with almost nothing. Doesn’t even have a laptop.”
He was making a play for these two, keeping things light. “I’m telling you, number one, you never should’ve volunteered to be dorm head — that’s a thankless job. I actually think number four would be perfect for it. Look — none of us were even here yet and he’s already swept the floors. The guy works and studies all hours of the day, barely in the room anyway — at least being dorm head would give him some presence. Otherwise it kind of looks like we’re leaving him out.”
Wang Zixiu said, “It’s fine. I was class rep all through high school. I’m used to looking after things.”
Chen Can moved on. “Have either of you actually seen number four yet?”
Wang Zixiu and Kang Xiaoxiao shook their heads.
Chen Can leaned forward with interest. “What do you reckon he looks like?”
Wang Zixiu gave a helpless smile. “How would I know?”
Chen Can said: “I’ve seen short videos about Yinshan before. My impression is that everyone from that area — men and women alike — has a kind of sameness to them. Malnourished. Short. Skinny. They walk hunched over and can’t look people in the eye.”
He deliberately struck a slouching, furtive pose and laughed. “From what I’ve heard, Yinshan has a really high crime rate, so people who grew up there tend to be a bit on edge — can’t hold a conversation. And you can already see it with number four — barely said two words in the group chat over two months.”
Wang Zixiu’s brow creased slightly. “Number three. Don’t say any of that in front of him.”
“I know,” Chen Can said. “I have some sense.” His four-year university plan was to study hard, build connections, develop both emotional and academic intelligence, and become someone people talked about. A timid, bookish scholarship kid from Yinshan was decidedly not in his social circle. Even as a roommate, he wouldn’t bother getting close. Some people are simply from a different world — no point wasting the effort.
“What time do you think number four gets back?” Chen Can said.
Kang Xiaoxiao: “Tonight, probably.”
Chen Can: “Tough life. They really do say poor kids have to grow up fast.”
With that, Chen Can crouched down to sort through his luggage, and Kang Xiaoxiao headed to the bathroom to get laundry from the machine.
Then the door handle turned.
Wang Zixiu, the only one still in the main room, thought someone was coming to visit and walked toward the door.
“Hi there — who are you looking for?”
A long, pale hand pushed the door open.
When Wang Zixiu saw who was standing in the doorway, his sentence died in his throat. He just stared.
The room’s air conditioning hummed quietly, the cool air drifting out.
Ye Sheng saw a stranger and paused mid-twirl of his key — but he recovered quickly. One hand still on the door handle, he curled the key into his palm with the other, pulled the door shut behind him, and walked in.
He was wearing the student council’s uniform shirt from the orientation day — a clean white button-up that traced the lines of an eighteen-year-old’s lean, upright frame with complete fidelity.
Ye Sheng had long legs. He’d been out in the blazing heat all day, and yet there was not a trace of summer warmth on him.
His current operating principle was be civil to people, so he greeted his new roommate with a polite nod.
“Hello.”
Brief, quiet, clear.
Wang Zixiu didn’t follow trending topics closely. On top of that, the photos associated with Ye Sheng’s various appearances on the trending list had never been particularly clear — a side profile the first time, just his voice the second, and shaky candid footage the third.
He was simply struck by the exceptional looks and bearing of the person in front of him.
It didn’t even occur to him that this might be number four.
“Are you looking for someone?” Wang Zixiu asked.
Chen Can, still crouching over his luggage, looked up at the sound of a cool, indifferent voice — and nearly bit through his own tongue.
The things people care about the most are always the things they measure themselves against.
Take Chen Can.
When he met someone new, the first thing he clocked was height — then he rated their looks — then he assessed their clothes and tried to gauge their family background. And all of that carefully tended superiority had just run headfirst into something it couldn’t rank.
His suitcase was already fully sorted. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to stand up. He stayed crouching. “Oh — hey, man, you looking for someone?” He broke out his widest, most welcoming grin.
Ye Sheng didn’t really need anyone to introduce themselves — he’d already worked out who was who.
He glanced down at Chen Can briefly and said, without particular inflection: “No.”
He walked forward, long legs stepping right past Chen Can, expression cool and unhurried, and set his key down on the desk with a quiet click.
At the sound of the key hitting the desktop, Chen Can’s ears started ringing.
Ye Sheng said: “Hi. I’m Ye Sheng.”
“…”
“…”
Silence.
Kang Xiaoxiao chose this exact moment to walk out of the bathroom with a basin of laundry. He heard the voice and broke into a grin. “Huh? Is that number four?”
He padded out in bare feet, still smiling — and walked into a room of uncanny stillness. Wang Zixiu stood by the door, floored. Chen Can’s expression looked like he’d been struck by lightning.
And the fourth roommate they’d been hearing about for months but never met stood at the desk, backlit by the window, his profile like something from a painting.
Kang Xiaoxiao’s mind worked in fairly direct lines. The more he looked at that face, the more familiar it seemed, until he said, incredulously: “Number four — are you the freshman who keeps trending?”
“…”
*
Everyone was present, and it happened to be lunchtime, so they all headed out together to pick up some daily essentials from the campus shop. Ye Sheng was going the same way and tagged along.
If there were a university competition for the best-looking dormitory, Room 404 would have debuted on appearance alone. Four guys of entirely different aesthetics, each one a feature in his own right in the campus landscape.
Ye Sheng rarely spoke first. Most of the conversation was Kang Xiaoxiao or Wang Zixiu asking questions, and Ye Sheng answering.
Notably, the usually gregarious Chen Can was uncharacteristically silent the entire walk.
Kang Xiaoxiao: “Number four, with a face like that — how come you didn’t audition for the promo film?”
Ye Sheng: “I can’t act.”
“You don’t need to act for that — looking good is the whole requirement. You’ve trended three times already. Did the class advisor come find you?”
Ye Sheng: “Yes.”
Kang Xiaoxiao: “Wait — your class advisor personally asked you to be in the promo film? So you’re basically cast as the lead?”
Ye Sheng stated plainly: “No. I can’t act. I’ll be an extra.”
In reality, he didn’t even want to be an extra.
What was the point.
Humiliating.
Ye Sheng had precisely zero interest in spending more time discussing his own face. He quickly steered the conversation elsewhere. Over lunch, a message came through in the freshman group chat about a casual meet-up — someone had already booked a venue at a music bar near campus.
Ye Sheng was not a natural socialiser, and he had even less inclination toward large crowds. Without a second thought, he declined with a work excuse. He had the orientation afternoon shift at four o’clock anyway. He finished eating and said goodbye to his roommates. He’d never intended to build close friendships with anyone in university — this might well be the only meal they ever shared.
After he left, Wang Zixiu was still laughing with Kang Xiaoxiao.
“You have no idea how stunned I was when I opened that door and saw him.”
“I was pretty lost too. I’d been chatting with him in the group and assumed number four was this quiet, kind of pitiable little guy — turns out the real person is this cool.”
“Shame number four’s not coming to the meet-up. He’d have done the whole room proud.”
Chen Can, who had been quiet for the entire walk, finally spoke. He managed a casual laugh. “Haha, I wouldn’t go that far. The way I see it, number four going would probably embarrass us.”
“Huh? Why?”
Chen Can: “If he can’t even split the bill, that’s embarrassing, isn’t it.”
Kang Xiaoxiao: “Oh.”
By the time Ye Sheng got back to the orientation tent, the peak heat of the afternoon had already passed.
The sun sank lower toward the skyline, stretching long shadows across the boulevard. Cicadas screamed themselves hoarse in the trees.
The senior students beside him, now that the temperature had dropped a little, started chatting amongst themselves.
“I waited here all day and the legendary junior never showed up. All I wanted was to see what a prodigy looks like. Is that so hard.”
“Honestly, if his family background really is that impressive — the school president probably handled his enrolment directly. He wouldn’t be queuing at orientation.”
“You know what, you’re completely right. Damn. We got our hopes up for nothing.”
“If only we could get him to join the student council — then we’d never have to worry about event funding again.”
“For the sake of the department, I would be willing to personally pursue an acquaintance.”
“Same!”
“Ha. First you’d need to get his contact information.”
The group devolved into general slacking — some scrolling their phones, some people-watching. Only Ye Sheng sat quietly, keeping an eye on the time. After today’s orientation duty, he would have fully completed the assignment his class advisor had given him.
He opened his phone. Huang Qiqi had messaged him about the promotional film.
[I looked it up, junior — the old arts centre you mentioned is a filming location for the promo film every single year. It’s a landmark. They shoot there annually.]
[Oh right — about the promo film. I’ve been chatting with some people from the civil engineering department lately. Apparently they’re doing a joint event with the architecture students this month — they’re writing a historical overview for every building on campus. I think we could work alongside them. We could combine the secret admirer storyline with the campus history angle. The male lead studies architecture. The female lead is his junior from high school, and she chose this university specifically to walk the same paths he once walked. The first location could be the old arts centre! Honestly, the history of how it was built is genuinely dramatic!]
Ye Sheng: “…” The history of the old arts centre’s construction was, indeed, genuinely dramatic.
After putting his phone away, he looked up and found three new freshmen standing in front of him. They’d apparently come from the same high school and arrived together to register, each with a parent in tow — a cluster of over a dozen people who had surrounded him completely. Ye Sheng took the enrolment documents from them and got to work.
While he was encircled by the crowd, a black Maybach rolled onto the campus.
Ning Weichen sat in the back seat, eyes lowered, turning his letter of acceptance over in his hands with idle disinterest.
Butler Li brought the car to a stop near the main square and said deferentially: “Young Master, we’ve arrived.”
Ning Weichen looked out at the orientation scene — all that unmistakable first-day-of-school energy — his expression cool, the peach-blossom eyes unreadable.
After he stepped out, he immediately drew the gaze of every passing “new classmate” in the vicinity.
Ordinarily, freshman registration was the kind of thing that could be fully handled by Butler Li. But Ning Weichen was here because of one thing Ye Sheng had said: “show up to school yourself.” He’d been through university once already — he had no novelty left to wring from the experience. For someone in his position, a university degree was simply another line item to be completed in the long list of things expected of an heir.
From the moment the Maybach entered the campus grounds, it had been the subject of hundreds of stares.
The student council contingent was completely stunned.
“Oh my god — are incoming freshmen just rich this year?!”
“That car is genuinely beautiful.”
“Another young lord.”
And then Ning Weichen stepped out.
In an instant, all the noise and bustle seemed to go quiet. Every mouth closed. Every pair of eyes filled with undisguised awe.
Some people, it seemed, are simply born to be the centre of everything — observed and admired as a matter of course.
The summer evening breeze moved softly around them. By the time Ning Weichen approached the registration table, several of the student council members were still pointing their phones at him, slack-jawed.
“You don’t need to keep the camera on me. Thank you.”
Ning Weichen raised a hand slightly and said it quietly. His hands were beautiful — long, pale, and precise.
“Oh — yes, sorry!” The cluster of people flushed all at once and snapped their phones down.
Ning Weichen glanced around. He didn’t see who he was looking for, and looked back at the table. He passed his documents to the student beside him, looked down at the form presented to him, and said: “I sign here?”
“Yes — yes, right here.”
Ning Weichen took the pen between his fingers and signed his name in one fluid, unhurried motion. The handwriting was elegant and confident, as if he were not signing an enrolment register but executing a business agreement.
“Junior — once you sign, you’re all done! And — this is our orientation booklet, you can, um, take one and have a look.”
The student council members were all struggling to form sentences.
Ning Weichen: “No need.”
Having finished his registration, Ning Weichen was ready to find Ye Sheng and report back on his achievement — but when he raised his eyes, the crowd of students and parents that had been swarming the nearby table had dispersed, and there stood Ye Sheng alone, head bowed, sorting through documents.
Ning Weichen stood where he was, tongue touching the edge of his teeth, and let out a quiet laugh.
Ye Sheng sorted documents. Ning Weichen watched him from a short distance away, smiling.
In the student council group chat, however, the messages were coming in fast.
[WHAT. Holy. He is actually so gorgeous. I always thought “killing with a glance” was just an expression and then here we are.]
[I literally could not make eye contact with him 😭😭😭]
[That dramatic?? Really??]
[Yes. That dramatic. He barely said a word and yet somehow said everything.]
[Right, exactly that feeling. I knew rich kids had good genes and tended to be good-looking — I did not expect this. Like, he’s genuinely on the same level as Ye Sheng junior??]
[The difference is one makes you want to worship from afar, and the other makes you fall in love on the spot.]
[😭😭 It’s the peach-blossom eyes — they just look like they’re full of feeling no matter who they’re looking at.]
[Privileged background. Prodigy. This is what the real campus legend of Year One looks like.]
[Reading your descriptions, this Young Master Ning sounds like he’s actually quite approachable? Ha, funny how that works — the richest people have the least arrogance, and the people with nothing act the most insufferable.]
[That’s a bit much though…]
[I personally don’t think this young lord has a good personality at all. He looked around at the start and then barely registered the rest of us after.]
[However bad his social skills, he can’t be worse than someone who goes a whole day without saying a single word. Honestly, kind of ironic — I was already tired of those three trending posts, and couldn’t really say anything when you were all gushing about him yesterday. But now that we have someone to compare, can you finally see how much Ye Sheng puts on that detached act?]
[The other guy’s background and credentials blow him out of the water, and he’s still not half as arrogant.]
This person was still going — tearing one person down to build another up, broadcasting their resentment freely.
When you can’t win on looks, you import someone with comparable looks and use them as a crowbar to pry the other person apart. It was a particular kind of move.
Then someone else spoke up in the chat.
[Um — the new junior… seems to be walking toward Ye Sheng junior’s table?]
[???]
[????]
The documents were finally in order. Ye Sheng looked up — and met the gaze he’d been aware of for some time but had chosen not to acknowledge.
Ning Weichen, having received the attention he’d been waiting for, broke into a smile and walked over.
His peach-blossom eyes curved.
“I’ve registered,” he said. “Can I take you to dinner now, big brother?”
The words were soft and fond. The expression behind them was all mischief.