The song ended quickly. Honestly, the guy sang really well—clear highs, solid lows. Shu Yuxin guessed he was probably from the School of Arts.

The song wasn’t too long, but during those few minutes, the young man never once revealed who his confession was meant for. By now, several balconies of the dormitory building were lined with girls—some likely just out of the shower, their hair still damp. The crowd around him had also grown significantly. Some, like Shu Yuxin, had been drawn over on their way back to their dorms, but most had rushed over purely for the gossip—mostly guys.

Right by the dorm entrance, the dorm supervisor—a middle-aged auntie—sat reclined in a folding chair, eyes closed, pretending to nap. She paid no attention to the gathering, acting as if she saw nothing at all. Probably, the guy had pulled some strings with her. Next to her, the sign that read “No males allowed beyond this point” still stood—but it might as well have been invisible, less noticeable than an ant on the roadside.

…An ant Shu Yuxin nearly stepped on.

Sensing the mood was properly set, the artsy young man strummed his guitar again and began another song.

This one was still a love song, but bolder in style. With his head bobbing dramatically, he radiated a kind of youthful passion. Shu Yuxin, however, felt completely out of sync with the vibe. To her, it was just amusing—though she did briefly worry he might tip backward too far and fall flat on his back.

That didn’t happen.

After belting out a dramatic climax, the young man gave his guitar strings a final, emphatic strum, then suddenly threw his head back and gazed up at a specific spot on the dormitory building. He took a deep breath.

The moment the real act began, all murmuring in the crowd ceased. Everyone stared intently at him, hearts racing with speculation—Who was he confessing to? And more importantly for some guys: Please don’t let it be the girl I like.

The suspense didn’t last long. The young man gathered his courage, cleared his throat, and shouted at the top of his lungs:

“Shu Yuxin from Software Engineering Class 2001! I’m Liu Haoran from Media Communications Class 1703! Will you… be my girlfriend?!”

“From the very first moment I saw you, I was utterly captivated!”

“Your aloof, icy expression—like a flower blooming high on an untouchable peak! Like a potent poison! It intoxicates me! It’s left me hopelessly, helplessly addicted!”

“Be my girlfriend! I promise you a lifetime of happiness!”

…

He went on like this for a full minute, pouring out a flood of sugary, over-the-top declarations.

Shu Yuxin nearly broke out in hives from the sheer cringe. She knew for sure she could never say anything like that—which probably explained why she’d never had a girlfriend before. Look at this guy: voice trembling with emotion, nearly in tears! If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was his mother.

So… why the hell had he picked her to confess to? Was he blind?

From his self-introduction, he seemed to be a junior—Class of 2017. But she was absolutely certain she’d never even seen him before.

While Shu Yuxin stood there bewildered, the young man finished his monologue. The crowd remained oddly silent—many were probably wondering who this “Shu Yuxin” even was. But the confessor wasn’t paying attention to them. His eyes were fixed desperately on the balcony of Room 213. The light inside was on, but no one appeared.

Of course no one would—because the real “Shu Yuxin” was right here in the crowd, munching on metaphorical popcorn.

Shu Yuxin knew exactly what was going on in her dorm. At this hour, Su Ya was likely still buried in books at the library. Cheng Xiaonan never came back before curfew, and it was still early. As for Peng Xiaoxiao—her roommate and certified shut-in—she lived by one rule: Never leave the dorm unless absolutely necessary. And after enduring over twenty days of grueling military training? She was probably deep in the comforting embrace of her video games.

Shu Yuxin remembered Peng Xiaoxiao once bragging about her expensive gaming peripherals—especially her headphones, which cost 2,500 yuan. Shu Yuxin couldn’t tell the difference between those and a 25-yuan pair, but their noise-cancellation was legendary. They worked so well as earplugs that Peng Xiaoxiao sometimes couldn’t even hear Shu Yuxin shouting right next to her face—let alone someone wailing below the dorm.

Seeing the silence stretch on, the young man refused to give up. He strummed a short romantic riff and cried out again, voice trembling with emotion:

“Shu Yuxin! I love you! I know you look down on ordinary admirers like me—but just give me a chance! One chance to prove myself! Can you just come out and meet me?!”

Shu Yuxin’s lips twitched into a wry smile.

Still, the balcony of Room 213 remained empty.

The young man’s shoulders slumped. His expression turned pitiful—like a puppy abandoned in the rain. Even his guitar drooped halfway down his chest.

That’s when his best friend stepped in.

From the crowd emerged a scrawny guy—probably weighed about the same as Shu Yuxin used to. He pushed up his slipping glasses and shouted at the top of his lungs:

“Shu Yuxin! Say yes! Shu Yuxin! Say yes!”

Humans love to follow the crowd—and the atmosphere was already charged. With someone leading the charge, the onlookers quickly joined in, chanting together:

“Shu Yuxin! Say yes! Shu Yuxin! Say yes!”

Shu Yuxin was pretty sure at least half of them had no idea what she looked like.

After a minute or two of chanting, some of the girls watching from balconies got bored—since the “lead actress” still hadn’t shown up—and retreated back inside. The chants gradually faded, replaced by murmurs and speculation.

Shu Yuxin, still blending into the crowd, overheard a few interesting snippets:

“Who is this Shu Yuxin? Doesn’t even come out to face him? So full of herself?”

“Duh—it’s that super aloof goddess among the freshmen. You know her?”

“Who?”

“Who else? Shu Yuxin! I saw her once. Honestly, she’s really pretty—but she always looks so deadpan, like the whole world owes her money.”

…

Shu Yuxin thought back.

…Yeah, that pretty much described her expression during training.

What else was she supposed to do? She had no one to chat with, no one to joke around with. Unless she was supposed to practice “ahegao” faces while marching in formation, a blank stare was really her only option.

But as the gossip started spiraling elsewhere, Shu Yuxin figured it was time to make *some* kind of move.

After a few seconds of consideration, she pulled out her phone. Making sure no one was watching, she sent Peng Xiaoxiao a window shake notification, followed by a message:

【There’s someone outside looking for me. Can you go out and tell him I’ve gone off to check into a hotel room?】

She slipped her phone back into her pocket and watched the crestfallen young man in the center of the crowd.

She almost chuckled.

If it weren’t for the sake of her reputation, she’d have told Peng Xiaoxiao to add that she’d gone to the hotel with a few other guys.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he eventually found out.