Summer in Your Name - 80

"Hang in there, push a little harder, once you get to university, everything gets easier!”

This was a phrase high school teachers loved to repeat.

It was, fundamentally, a lie, or at best, a selective half-truth.  

It was fine to believe it back then, but after high school, you definitely shouldn’t take it seriously.

If the college entrance exam was life’s great watershed, then university was the delta beyond it: deceptively calm and wide on the surface, but was entirely built on sediment over time. Some tread forward carefully, accumulating rich soil over four years; others drifted along aimlessly, swept into the vast ocean of society, floundering without direction.

University made the free freer and the disciplined more disciplined. It was only after university that the drastic divide truly emerged.

It was a Saturday with no classes, yet the dorm was empty. Sheng Xia and her roommates were at the library, scouring through the ‘reading lists’ assigned by their professors for the week.

Such was the life of a literature major, the bulk of the work happened outside the classroom. People often said literature majors had few classes and an easy time, not realizing that the endless lists of books couldn’t be finished even with a full class schedule.  

Sheng Xia and her roommates weren’t in the same program. Her major, Classical Chinese Literature, had only three students—two boys and one girl. The ratio was nothing short of a miracle, given the overall 1:9 male-to-female ratio in the literature department.

Among the professors, however, the gender ratio was more balanced.

The counselor liked to joke, “See that, guys? Don’t be discouraged. Those who persist in the literature department are either sages or legends!”

And indeed, legends they were.

Almost every class reshaped Sheng Xia’s worldview. The authors of books she’d read, the editors of her textbooks, the descendants of great scholars, now stood before her on the lecture podium, speaking with effortless eloquence. The ‘friends’ mentioned in their anecdotes were figures straight out of biographies. It felt truly magical and wonderful.

 

Sheng Xia’s advisor, Professor Tan, known affectionately as Duke Tan, was a legend in the department, famous for his humorous and witty, almost stand-up-comedy-style lectures. 

Freshmen didn’t have his classes in the first semester yet, but Duke Tan insisted he wanted to meet the three ‘trailblazers’ who had dared to major in Classical Chinese Literature.

And so, Sheng Xia turned down Zhang Shu’s date invitation.

 

Zhang Shu frowned at Sheng Xia’s WeChat reply.

This was the second time she’d turned down a date with him.

The semester was only two weeks in, and her rejection rate was a perfect 100%.

Last week, she’d said she was visiting the university history museum on Saturday and hanging out with roommates on Sunday, so she turned him down. This week, it was a meeting with her advisor.

Her reasons were solid enough, but Zhang Shu couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

After all, visiting the university history museum or hanging out with roommates wouldn’t take a whole day. Surely she could squeeze an afternoon, or an evening?

She didn’t seem all that eager about their ‘dates’. If anything, she seemed faintly reluctant.

No way around it.

It was his fault, their first date had left her with a bad impression.

Instead of heading to the library, Zhang Shu spent his free time browsing the school forum.

In an era dominated with apps and mini-programs, even Affiliated High School had adopted the trendy ‘Xinfeng’ mini-program. Yet, the computer science department of one of the nation’s top universities still used an old-school BBS for academic exchanges. This genuinely surprised Zhang Shu.

The forum interface looked dated, but the content was cutting-edge enough not to disappoint.

It was all solid, practical stuff.

Whether he fully understood it or not, Zhang Shu browsed through all the posts, bookmarking standout threads and drafting a rough study plan based on his course schedule.  

He needed to play catch-up.  

Unlike any other departments in the school, the Computer Science Department was dominated by students with competition backgrounds. In Zhang Shu’s dorm, he was the only one who’d gotten in through the standard college entrance exam. The others? One had an international informatics competition gold medal, another a silver, and the third had gotten in through the ‘Innovative Talent’ program after competing in an international robotics championship.  

Apart from holding a slight edge in physics and math, Zhang Shu expected to be completely crushed in core major courses. By finals, he’d likely be struggling.  

Although the semester had just begun, the signs were already there.

After all, for those with informatics competition experience, first-year core courses were practically child's play.

That was their head start, something he couldn’t overcome overnight.

He’d take it step by step. Anxiety wouldn’t help anything.

At five in the afternoon, Zhang Shu left the dorm and made his familiar way to Heqing University.  

If the mountain won’t come to me, I will go to the mountain.

His roommates often teased him, “Zhang Shu probably knows his way around Heqing better than Haiyan.”

It was true. He hadn’t explored much of Haiyan University. What was there for a bunch of guys to do together, anyway?

They’d see a lake and say, “This spot’s pretty nice.” They’d see a pavilion and go, “Cool pavilion.” They’d see couples tangled under the trees and grumble, “Damn lovebirds.”

Boring.

Zhang Shu would rather go to Heqing and be the ‘damn lovebirds’ others complained about.

---

Professor Tan lived on campus. Sheng Xia and her two ‘fellow disciples’ brought some fruit as a courtesy and visited him together. 

At Heqing, few programs had advisors from freshman year like the literature department did. Compared to the competitive atmosphere in other schools, the literature department was relatively utopian, earning it the nickname ‘Noble Threshold’. 

But it was only relative. After all, where there were people, there was competition.

The moment they stepped inside, the scent of books and ink greeted them.  

Professor Tan’s home was decorated in a style from twenty or thirty years ago. A white lace cover adorned the leather sofa, and a full wall of books stood behind it. Books were piled on the floor and the coffee table. Teachers’ Day had just passed, and the room was filled with flower bouquets, still in their wrapping, the carnations already wilting.

Duke Tan looked up from his computer, his hair streaked with grey, age spots dotting his cheeks. His eyes were sharp as he peered over his reading glasses. “You’re here. Have a seat, let me just reply to a student’s email.”

Sheng Xia and the two boys sat down. Though the professor seemed amiable, they still felt somewhat uneasy.  

Duke Tan muttered to himself, "Taking advantage of an old man, they are. Been replying to this email since Teacher’s Day, and it’s still not settled."  

One of the guys said, “Teacher, you have students everywhere. Even after graduation, they still remember you.”  

Duke Tan chuckled, “The Orchid Pavilion is gone, the Jin Lie Garden but ruins¹…"  

(¹: Classical metaphor for the passing of golden ages, implying that even glorious gatherings and places eventually fade into ruins.) 

"You must be Sheng Xia." Duke Tan said, walking around his desk and easily recognizing the only girl in the group.

Sheng Xia stood. “Hello, Professor.”

“Sit, sit. I’ve read a bit of your book.”

Her two classmates looked surprised. Sheng Xia, aside from being surprised, felt nervous. How could her humble work be worthy of such esteemed attention? Yet beneath the anxiety flickered a quiet anticipation for his evaluation.

Duke Tan removed his glasses and suddenly sighed, “Ah, if you ask me, there was no need to write it at all!"  

Sheng Xia felt a pang of defeat, tension knotting in her chest.  

Then, just as suddenly, he shifted his tone, playful now. "Did I scare you, little girl? Ah, I mean this admissions requirement wasn’t necessary. The literature department isn’t here to train writers. Making you write this and that for admissions, that’s just not right! Don’t you agree?”

The three students exchanged glances. Their professor was openly criticizing the school’s admissions process, should they chime in?

Better not.

Duke Tan's demeanor was slightly different from what they had imagined, and his temperament was rather hard to read.

Thus, this first meeting was largely a one-sided outpouring from Duke Tan, with the trio mostly listening, though many of his words left them pondering.

Later, after the old scholar had vented to his heart’s content, he started asking about their personal circumstances.

He asked the usual questions: where they were from, why they’d chosen this major, whether they liked Classical Chinese, and so on.

Sheng Xia listened as the two boys answered smoothly, mentally preparing her own responses. Yet when it was her turn, the question shifted entirely: “Little girl, have you considered pursuing a graduate degree in Classical Chinese?”

Wasn’t it a bit early to ask that just after starting freshman year?

All of Sheng Xia’s prepared answers crumbled. She nodded instinctively. “I have.”

Compared to the long-winded answers before her, hers felt a bit sparse, so she added, “During the most stressful time in senior year, when I decided to write a book to apply to Heqing, I already thought it over.”

Duke Tan merely pursed his lips, his attitude unreadable. "This major is different. Think carefully about where you come from and where you’re going. From the very beginning, understand how you’ll study. Don’t idle around, but don’t waste time either.”

After leaving the faculty apartments, one of the boys brought it up first. “Sheng Xia, it seems Duke Tan thinks highly of you. I think he wants you to be his grad student?”

Sheng Xia was flustered. “No way.” 

A professor of his stature wouldn’t lack for grad students. Sheng Xia knew her place.

Professor Tan hadn’t asked her the same questions as the others because she’d already expressed her love for Classical Chinese in her book’s afterword, no need to ask again.  

The guy smiled. “No need to be modest. It’s just us here. I was placed here through Adjustment² and will probably just muddle through before I switch majors. I heard you were admitted through the Strong Foundation program. That’s impressive.”

(²: Refers to the process where students are reassigned to a different major or program, often one they did not initially choose, due to score limitations or availability.) 

The other guy asked, “Sheng Xia, is your masterpiece available in bookstores? What’s it called? I’d like to have the honor of reading it.”

The term ‘honor’ had been overused to the point that it now sounded like exaggerated flattery, but he probably meant no harm.

Sheng Xia replied, “My grades weren’t enough, so I had to find another way. It’s hardly a masterpiece.”

“What’s the title?”

“There weren’t many copies printed, and it’s not widely available. It’s hard to find.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. Your publisher’s no good. With beauty and a talent like you, they’re sitting on a marketing goldmine!”  

“…”

The three of them waited by the roadside for the campus shuttle to take them back together.

Sheng Xia was lost in thought. 

Right now, she wanted to see Zhang Shu. Desperately.

She wanted to tell him exactly what the teacher had said, to hear his thoughts. She knew he wouldn’t say anything like ‘honoring a masterpiece’.

She checked the time and decided to head straight out of the campus gate and take a taxi to Haiyan.

Just as she was about to speak, one of the guys suggested, “Should we make a group chat?”

The other had no objections and already took out his phone.

Sheng Xia didn’t hesitate either. The boy scanned her QR code to add her as a friend, quickly set up the group, and edited everyone’s display name.

As she copied the group name into her contacts, she heard them talking.

“Why’s that guy across the street staring at us?”

“Looking at Sheng Xia, probably?”

“Haha, danger everywhere, huh?”

“I thought the etiquette team³ at the opening ceremony was impressive, but our department’s standards are even higher. It almost makes me not want to transfer.”  

(³: A group of students, often selected for appearance and poise, who assist with formal events like ceremonies or receptions.) 

“Why transfer? The Literature Department’s great. If you’re in a good mood, you can be the department’s heartthrob!”

The guys in the literature department often joked about the gender ratio. Sheng Xia didn’t pay much attention and put away her phone, ready to say goodbye. But as she looked up, she caught sight of a tall, straight figure across the street.

Zhang Shu braked his bike by the roadside, one hand on the handlebars, long legs braced on the ground, as if he’d just stopped and ready to leave at any moment, his gaze fixed in their direction.

His eyes were as sharp as an eagle’s.

And his crouched posture on the mountain bike only adds to it.

Willow branches swayed above his head, but Zhang Shu hadn’t absorbed any of the tree’s gentleness. Even standing still, he exuded an intimidating presence.

Sheng Xia’s heart skipped without reason, her phone nearly dropped from her fingers.  

Beside her, one of the boys asked, “Hey, Sheng Xia, how about going to the cafeteria directly? Want to have dinner together?”

Sheng Xia snapped out of her thoughts and replied softly, “Not now. My boyfriend’s here.”

The words ‘my boyfriend’ coming from Sheng Xia’s mouth, sounded especially tender and sweet. The two boys were stunned.

After dropping this bombshell, Sheng Xia dodged the passing bicycles and hurried over to Zhang Shu, her face beaming. “What are you doing here?”

 

He often came over, so that wasn’t surprising. She was just surprised to run into him here.

Especially when she wanted to see him so badly.

It was as if he’d fallen from the sky.

Seeing her excited, almost giddy expression, Zhang Shu dialed back his sharpness. But his words were still less than gentle. “Is Heqing on lockdown? Can’t I come? If I didn’t come, could you just have your arms around others⁴? Adding just anyone who asks for your WeChat?”  

(⁴: An idiom describing someone surrounded by admirers or romantic partners, often used humorously or critically.) 

What ‘arms around others’? Such slander!

The ‘fallen from the sky’ fantasy in Sheng Xia’s mind instantly shattered. She felt like laughing but decided to smooth the lion’s fur instead. “They’re my classmates. There are only three people in my major. We went to see our advisor together.”  

A flicker of embarrassment passed through Zhang Shu’s eyes, vanishing as fast as it came. He let out an “oh,” glancing at the two guys now boarding the shuttle, eyes clearly still lingering their way, then looked back at her. “Doesn’t your department have only a dozen or so boys?”

And two of them ended up in her program?  

“Mhm.”  

Zhang Shu: “They sure know how to pick.”

Sheng Xia: …Why’s his tone so weird?

Zhang Shu scratched her chin lightly with his fingers. “Why were you standing so close when adding WeChat?”

Close? Sheng Xia tried to recall the scene.  

Zhang Shu took out his phone, pulled up his QR code, and motioned for her to step back with a tilt of his chin. “Try it. Stand two meters apart and scan me.”

Sheng Xia held back a laugh and obediently raised her phone, stepping back two steps before opening the camera, recording.  

On the screen, Zhang Shu’s handsome face was dead serious as he rattled on, “Can’t scan it? Fine, move a bit closer, one meter.…Still no? Do you even have internet? Sixty centimeters max, no closer. If it still doesn’t work, you should change your phone…”

“Pfft—” Sheng Xia couldn’t hold it in any longer. Her face peeked out from behind the phone, eyes smiling “Yeah, can’t be too close, or the sourness might over… Mmph!?”

Over… overwhelm…  

The rest of her words were swallowed as he pulled her for a kiss.  

What overwhelmed her instead was the crisp, clean scent of his.   

Fresh and sharp, like grass basked under the blazing sun, a scent she’d only ever caught on him.

He didn’t wrap his arm around her waist or cradle her head as he usually did. The hand that pulled her over loosely held hers, while his other hand naturally steadied the handlebars. He remained seated on the bike, posture lazy, tilting his head up to peck at her lips.

Aside from the initial rough press to seal her words, the kisses that followed were gentle—one after another, from the corner of her mouth to her lips, even her chin. Unhurried, aimless, as if he were teasing her. Yet there was skill in it. Each kiss was deliberate, varying in depth and sensation. 

Sheng Xia could have pulled away at any moment. But these fleeting, relentless kisses were harder to escape than a deep kiss would've.

And she didn’t want to escape.

Another campus shuttle rumbled closer. He stopped as if nothing had happened, the corners of his mouth curved, his eyes glued to her face, looking up at her slightly.

The moment the shuttle passed, he tilted his head and kissed her again, relentless.

She peeked through her lashes, catching the smile at the corners of his lips.  

The sound of his pecks made her whole body warm. Why was this more embarrassing than a deep kiss?

The setting sun sank lower; evening breeze rustling the willow branches.  

Bikes passed occasionally, each one making Sheng Xia’s heart tremble.

Had they been kissing for a bit too long?

She suddenly opened her mouth and gave him a light bite before letting go, scolding, “Enough!”

Zhang Shu arched a brow slightly and nodded, his expression one of satisfaction. “What were you doing just now? Filming me? Getting bold, are we?”

He’d noticed?  

Only then did Sheng Xia remember and glanced at her phone.

It was still recording?

Zhang Shu took her phone, stopped the recording, and watched the playback with a meaningful smile. “What’s this supposed to be, a love documentary?”  

Sheng Xia’s face flushed red. “No!”

Ignoring her protest, he continued, “How about I help you gather more material tomorrow?”

Sheng Xia: …?

Zhang Shu studied her from head to toe.  

She studied him right back.

The hair he’d cut for military training had grown out a bit. It wasn’t as prickly when she touched it anymore. In just a few days, the boy’s hair had softened slightly, feeling just right to the touch.

Who was it that said a buzz cut was the only true test of a handsome guy?

Without his bangs in the way, Zhang Shu’s forehead and brows were fully exposed, so handsome it was hard to look away.

Oh no, she was staring.

Zhang Shu caught her mischievous hand, naturally kissed the back of it, held it in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Looking up, he asked, “Go on a date with me?”  

She was silent.

Zhang Shu lowered his voice. “This time, Zhang Shu won’t make Sheng Xia wait. Never again, okay?”

---

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