After receiving the bad news about the house, Wen Di was struggling with a difficult choice for a few days, and suddenly an idea flashed in his mind: Aren’t there some old classmates in Beijing?
Jiang Nanze, who was less than two kilometers away, sneezed.
In the campus bullying incident, when Wen Di claimed to ‘have a friend in the media’, it wasn’t just an offhand remark.
After returning to China, perhaps due to setbacks in job hunting and wanting to change his mood, Jiang Nanze started accounts on various media platforms, diligently updating science videos and jokes, and often live-streaming. Because the topics were interesting, he was good-looking, and he was a top student from two prestigious universities, his number of fans grew dramatically, quickly making him a rising star in the science popularization community. Regardless of whether he aspired to this, the fact that he was seriously making videos meant he had climbed out of his emotional low, which Wen Di found very reassuring.
While feeling reassured, Wen Di also thought that since his old friend was busy with his career, and someone needed to improve the living environment at home, he, being hardworking, was the perfect choice as both a roommate and logistic support.
However, the moment Jiang Nanze opened the door, Wen Di heard the sound of bubbles bursting.
The messy clothes, the slovenly owner, and the boxes of junk food were all gone. The floor was clean, the furniture was neat, and in the corner, there were even a feeder and a cat bed…
Cat bed?
A Siamese cat strolled out of the bedroom and stretched. Jiang Nanze scooped it up, scratched its chin, and said, “Our coal miner is here.”
Wen Di stood there with his mouth open for a long time, and finally could only reach out and touch the cat.
In the chilly early spring, the heat had already been turned off, yet Jiang Nanze was wearing a shoulder-exposing vest, his bare arms exposed. Wen Di didn’t know what kind of trendy fashion this was, but at least he pulled it off.
Jiang Nanze slumped onto the carpet in front of the sofa. The cat jumped out of his arms, raised its tail high, and walked away proudly.
Wen Di cautiously walked over, sat to the side, and kept a little distance from him. “What’s been going on lately?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Your room is actually livable now, that’s not normal.”
“I’m so hurt ah. We have a new member in the family, can’t I tidy up a bit?” JJiang Nanze picked up a bag of potato chips and threw it to him. “But you, I haven’t asked how your married life is going.”
During the New Year, they had chatted online, and Wen Di had casually told him about the flash marriage in Las Vegas. Jiang Nanze sent over a dozen shocked emoji, which surprised Wen Di. He had already spilled the beans to his ex-boyfriend, so it should have been all over the high school grapevine by now. But Jiang Nanze said that no one knew at all and laughed at him for being childish. “Originally, he was the one who dumped you. If this news gets out, it’ll look like you gave him a green hat.[footnote]In Chinese culture, ‘wearing a green hat’ means being cheated on by a partner.[/footnote] He wouldn’t do something that embarrassing.”
At the time, Wen Di thought that old friends should share juicy gossip, but now he suddenly regretted telling him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have to deal with this seven aunts and eight uncles-style post-marriage interview.
Wen Di crossed his legs and casually said, “It’s alright, it’s alright.” Then, he decided to steer the conversation toward something more favorable for himself: “Let’s not talk about that. I need to discuss something serious with you.”
He explained his housing dilemma, looking at his old friend with hopeful eyes, as if he was looking at a savior bathed in divine light.
Then, Jiang Nanze cruelly and coldly rejected him: “No.”
“I can help take care of the cat,” Wen Di said. “I can even help you edit your videos.”
Jiang Nanze raised an eyebrow. “You can edit videos?”
“Before, when Old Liu started a media account, I did the editing, post-production, and even managed the fan group.”
Even after all that, Jiang Nanze remained unmoved by Wen Di’s versatility. “Why don’t you just live with your husband?” he said. “He’s right next door; you wouldn’t even need to move your luggage.”
Wen Di faintly sensed that something about that statement was off.
Absentmindedly, he picked up the bag of chips from the table while trying to figure out the source of his discomfort. Was it something Yu Jingyi had said?
Suddenly, an idea flashed in his mind and he stopped chewing, his gaze fixated on Jiang Nanze.
“What’s wrong?” Jiang Nanze shifted uncomfortably.
“How do you know we’re neighbors?”
Jiang Nanze was silent for two seconds, then asked in confusion, “Didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t,” Wen Di put down the chips, the smile on his face disappearing, “I never said he lived next door.”
Jiang Nanze’s gaze drifted toward the dead insect trapped in the lampshade. Wen Di watched his feigned confusion and suddenly recalled certain things.
To be precise, certain coincidences.
Bian Cheng running into him at the same Japanese restaurant in Zhongguancun.
Bian Cheng running into him and his ex-boyfriend at the hotel.
Wen Di had coincidentally bumped into Bian Cheng’s younger brother at the school he was doing internship—Jiang Nanze had recommended that place.
Thinking back, there were indeed too many coincidences in the first half of the year.
Wen Di remembered something else. Jiang Nanze had met Bian Cheng five years ago, but during the class reunion, he acted as if he was meeting him for the first time.
Wen Di stood up, walked over to Jiang Nanze, bent down, and stared straight at him. “When did you find out he was my neighbor?” he questioned.
Jiang Nanze uncomfortably scratched his nose. “A bit earlier than you.”
“How much earlier?”
“More than half a year?”
“So you knew from the start!” Wen Di grabbed him by the shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
Last semester, Wen Di was both complaining to him about the neighbor and crushing on the professor—did he know they were the same person?
“Wait,” Wen Di realized things might be worse than he thought. “When did you know that I was married?”
“En…” Jiang Nanze’s eyes were evasive. “A little before I knew he was your neighbor.”
Wen Di choked. So, Jiang Nanze had known the whole truth all along. From his perspective, what had Wen Di been doing these past few months? A memory-loss patient cursing and chasing after the husband he’d been married to for five years?
What a social death! Give him a shovel, and he could dig his way to the United States right now.
“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“I was going to say it at first, but who knew you two would become enemies instead of neighbors? It was hard to bring it up,” Jiang Nanze said, suddenly laughing. “And then things just got more interesting—bursting the bubble too soon would’ve been a shame.”
Wow, this guy was acting as a matchmaker and pulling the boat while eating melon seeds and watching the fun!
Wen Di quickly realized something wasn’t right. How did Jiang Nanze know where Jiang Yu’s school was? Too many coincidences—it wouldn’t have been possible without information from Bian Cheng’s side..
“You,” Wen Di fixed his face with his hands and stared at him with narrowed eyes, “have an accomplice, don’t you? Who is it?”
Jiang Nanze, showing no sense of guilt, responded with extreme indifference: “Can’t you guess?”
That’s right, Wen Di thought, Bian Cheng only had one friend, Song Yuchi.
“You know Song Yuchi?” Wen Di asked. “When did you meet?”
“Last year,” Jiang Nanze said. “He went to the U.S. for an exchange in his fifth year of Ph.D. We happened to meet.”
That was even before Wen Di moved into the teachers’ apartment.
Jiang Nanze clapped his hands. “It took us almost two months to figure out that my friend who was robbed in Las Vegas was actually his childhood friend’s flash marriage partner. Just so happened I knew you were going to live in Heqing Garden, and he knew Professor Bian had adopted a younger brother and might be moving. He suggested that we arrange for you two to live close to each other, so you could meet naturally, spend time together, and gradually develop feelings. But who would have thought that instead of bonding, you two ended up becoming enemies. Seeing you two dragging it out with no progress and you kept not remembering what happened back then, I figured maybe some external stimulus was needed. So I invited He Wenxuan to the hotel for your birthday…”
“And the Japanese restaurant?” Wen Di was amazed at how vast his social circle was. “The Japanese restaurant was picked by You Jun. How do you know her?”
“Song Yuchi knows her,” Jiang Nanze said. “She’s the president of the microfilm club, and Song Yuchi is one of her actors. If you’ve ever watched The Blooming of Malan Flowers…”
Wen Di’s long-buried memories suddenly came back to life. Right, this person was the one who played Deng Jiaxian that year.
He crossed his arms and sighed. These two people let go of the shortcut and instead they mobilized every contact they had to arrange for him to meet Bian Cheng. Truly, they were model fun-seekers.
Jiang Nanze was still happily reminiscing about his matchmaking experience: “You and your husband cursing each other online every day, and then you chasing him offline. I haven’t seen anything this entertaining in the past ten years, hahaha…”
He leaned back against the sofa, laughing so hard he was nearly toppled over. Wen Di looked at him coldly, and after a moment, he asked, “What’s your 50-meter sprint time?”
“Ten-point-three seconds?”
“You’re dead.”
Wen Di grabbed Jiang Nanze by the collar. Realizing he was serious, Jiang Nanze quickly wriggled free, knocking over a chair as a barricade, and bolted toward the door. Wen Di chased him down the hallway, catching him just outside.
“You are a trouble-stirring jerk who likes to watch the fun,” Wen Di twisted Jiang Nanze’s arm, “and you are gloating over other people’s misfortunes!”
Just as he was about to dish out some justice, a hand suddenly reached out, pushed his arm away, and then pulled Jiang Nanze back, separating the two.
“Xue di,”[footnote]xue di (学弟): literally means junior brother[/footnote] Song Yuchi smiled as he stepped in front of Jiang Nanze, “let’s talk this out peacefully.”
Jiang Nanze was still wearing that flashy vest, and Song Yuchi took off his coat, draping it over him to cover his bare arms.
Wen Di looked at this nauseating scene, and his anger reached its peak: Well, two against one, this is a lack of martial ethics!
“You!” Wen Di pointed at him, “How could you sell out a friend’s information?”
“Let’s look at this matter dialectically,” Song Yuchi said. “We just arranged a few encounters for you two. Everything else was entirely up to you.”
“You could’ve just told me everything directly!”
“Ah, but you two are just too amusing…” Seeing Wen Di glaring at him, Song Yuchi changed his tone, saying, “We’ll apologize.”
“Sorry,” Jiang Nanze poked his head out from behind Song Yuchi.
Wen Di snorted coldly, shoving his hands into his pockets, and glanced at the two people in turn with a condemning look, focusing on Song Yuchi because he seemed to be the mastermind.
“On a cold day like this, don’t just stand outside; let’s go in and talk,” Song Yuchi said, “I’ll make it up to you.”
Wen Di pursed his lips, trying to appear aloof, but was very curious about how these two ended up together. Eventually, with Jiang Nanze coaxing and urging him, he was ushered through the door.
“Sit,” Song Yuchi said, more like the host than Jiang Nanze. “What would you like to drink?”
Wen Di shook his head, refusing hospitality from the enemy. He walked past the conspiring couple with his head held high, taking the seat on the sofa farthest from them. “No need.”
He watched the other two people sit down next to each other at the table and gritted his teeth. “So, how are you planning to explain this to your old friend?” Wen Di asked, staring at Song Yuchi. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll cut ties with you?”
“That won’t happen,” Song Yuchi replied. “He has a pretty good temper.”
Wen Di stared at him for a moment: “You’re talking about Bian Cheng from T University?”
“Yes,” Song Yuchi said, “Although he can be annoying when he talks, he rarely gets angry.”
“Isn’t it because all those people were pissed off by him?”
Song Yuchi chuckled. “Really, even when students gave him a 1 on his course evaluations, he still wrote recommendation letters for them. Last semester, he was convinced you were just using him to spite your ex-boyfriend, but he didn’t hold a grudge.”
Wen Di never expected this unique perspective. He thought back over their past arguments. “Then why did he finally snap in the end?”
“He was just a bit sad,” Song Yuchi said, “The only time in his life he performed exceptionally was at a wedding he thought was romantic, and you completely forgot about it.”
Wen Di snorted, crossing one leg over the other and hugging his knee. The Siamese cat, ears perked, trotted over and rubbed against his pant leg, which worked wonders for calming the mind, and Wen Di’s anger unknowingly dissipated by more than half.
Looking at the couple sitting across from him, Wen Di suddenly realized where the cleanliness of the room came from: “Do you live together?”
Song Yuchi nodded proudly. “Just recently moved in. I begged him for ages before he finally agreed.”
“Alright ba,” Wen Di said, “I guess I have to find another way to deal with the housing.”
“What housing?”
Wen Di explained about his senior’s return to China, and Song Yuchi’s eyebrows shot up to chipmunk-level heights.
“Why don’t you just live with your husband?” he said. “He’s right next door, you don’t even have to move your luggage much.”
“Are you guys NPCs?!”
The two across from him turned their heads in unison to look at him, both with the same puzzled expressions.
Wen Di shook his head speechlessly, and suddenly realized that he was more like an NPC, being arranged clearly by them.
“I just think we’re not suited for living together long-term,” Wen Di explained to them. “We end up arguing too easily.”
Song Yuchi, who had witnessed one of their fights, nodded in agreement. “But,” he added, “it’ll definitely be fine in the end.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s emotionally stunted,” Song Yuchi criticized his childhood friend without mercy, “but he really likes you, sometimes even without realizing it himself.”
“Is that so?” Wen Di didn’t show it on his face but felt a hint of expectation rising in his heart, “How did you see that?”
Song Yuchi scratched his ear and sighed. “Well, that’s a long story.”
After Bian Cheng’s father’s condition stabilized, Bian Cheng returned to the United States. To Song Yuchi’s surprise, he had bought a ticket to Las Vegas.
“You’re not thinking of going back to find him, are you?” Song Yuchi said. “It’s been days, he’s probably already gone!”
“I know,” Bian Cheng replied.
There was a one in ten million chance that the person would still be there. No matter how slim the chance was, he would always give it a try.
Even if he had already left, maybe that person left a message at the front desk or some clue could be found at the hotel.
But to his disappointment, that person didn’t leave a note or a phone number. And even after Bian Cheng offered a hefty ‘tip’, the hotel said it could not disclose information about its guests.
He went back to the bar where they had first met and the hotel where they had booked their wedding, but still found nothing.
He meticulously replayed every conversation in his mind, trying to dig up any detail about the person’s identity but in the end he got very little. He only remembered the date of birth and the issuing province on the passport.
But the passport was issued in Beijing, which didn’t necessarily mean the person lived there. Even if they did, Beijing had tens of millions of residents, spanning 16,000 square kilometers—it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
“Forget it, forget it,” Song Yuchi said. “The chances are slim.”
Bian Cheng nodded, seemingly giving up on the idea. But then, strange occurrences began happening one after another.
The first time was when the two went to eat at Sanlitun. Halfway through the meal, Bian Cheng suddenly stood up and walked out.
“What’s wrong?” Song Yuchi was puzzled.
“I think I saw him,” Bian Cheng pointed at the long queue in front of the store.
But that person was not there.
The second time, Song Yuchi invited him to go skating at the newly built skating rink at T University. Halfway through putting on his shoes, Bian Cheng suddenly stood up and walked out.
“What now?” Song Yuchi felt exhausted.
“I think I saw him,” Bian Cheng said, pointing to a student in front of the lockers.
But that person was not there.
The third time, Song Yuchi brought health supplements to visit Bian Cheng’s grandfather. As the door opened halfway, Bian Cheng suddenly…
“Alright ba,” Song Yuchi said, “where is he this time?”
Bian Cheng pointed to an office in a skyscraper two kilometers away.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Song Yuchi shouted angrily, The glass curtain wall is reflecting light! Who can you see!”
“He really looks quite similar,” Bian Cheng insisted.
Song Yuchi sighed and patted him on the shoulder: “If I were God, I would definitely arrange for you to meet again.”
Unfortunately, not only was it like a needle in a haystack to find someone in the vast capital city, but even within T University, a campus of tens of thousands of people, they had to go through countless times of brushing past each other before they met.
After talking about the ridiculous past, the couple started a new round of sighing. Wen Di said goodbye to them, walked out of the corridor thoughtfully, gazing at the sky of the capital.
The rare clear blue sky had wisps of white clouds drifting by, giving a sense of tranquility that transcended the passage of time.
He took out his phone and dialed.
Bian Cheng quickly answered the call.
“Let’s meet,” Wen Di said. “I have something I want to discuss with you.”
The other party immediately asked: “Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.”
Wen Di told him the name of the community. By the time he walked to the roadside, the familiar Cadillac had already arrived.
He watched as Bian Cheng got out of the driver’s seat. “So fast?”
“What a coincidence, I was just looking for you,” Bian Cheng replied.
Bian Cheng invited him to sit in the passenger seat. As Wen Di opened the car door, he noticed a folder placed on the seat. Normally, he would assume this was Bian Cheng’s file, but there was a sticky note on top with his name written on it.
He picked it up; it felt quite heavy. “What is this?”
“I wanted to give you your materials,” Bian Cheng said. “I just organized them.”
Wen Di’s face was filled with confusion. Did he and Bian Cheng really need any paper materials for communication?
“This isn’t going to be a postnuptial property agreement ba?”He asked jokingly.
Bian Cheng looked at him in surprise and he had to explain that it was a joke, then he curiously pulled out the document: “Then it could only be…”
He paused.
At the top of the document, it read: ‘Overview of the directions of quantitative analysis of Shakespeare’. Below was a categorized index, covering everything from author identity and text attribution to stylistic and linguistic features, emotional themes, character networks, historical and cultural backgrounds. Each direction listed representative paper indices, with nearly 16 pages of references—enough to write a doctoral thesis.
Wen Di looked at the document, motionless, as if someone had suddenly pressed the pause button on time.
Bian Cheng had been waiting for him to express his opinion, but after a long silence without any response, he took the folder back and pulled out a USB drive: “This is the electronic version.”
Wen Di stared at the small metal piece, as if it required great effort to understand what it was.
“A while back, I was talking to a professor from the computer science department. In 2016, an AI-generated novel passed the preliminary selection of the Hoshi Shinichi Literary Award,[footnote]This is a real life event btw! It happened in Japan. I think the title for the novel is ‘The day a computer writes a novel’[/footnote] and he got really interested. He’s also using big data to analyze literary works. It seems that publishing papers on quantitative text analysis in good journals is relatively easy, and the process is fast. I thought it was a good direction, so I gathered some literature. Of course, it’s just a suggestion.”
Wen Di swallowed a few times before finally finding his voice: “Why are you helping me find references?”
“Don’t you want to work in academia?” Bian Cheng said. “Since you’ve made the decision, it’s better to aim for a higher platform. Besides, this is an interdisciplinary direction of arts and science. Penn even places computational linguistics in the computer science department—it’s a kind of cross-disciplinary shift, you could say.”
Wen Di took the USB and the other materials, resting them on his lap. After a long pause, he finally said, “Thank you.”
“I’m actually wondering,” Bian Cheng asked, “You have a science background and are doing literary studies, shouldn’t you have thought of quantitative analysis long ago?”
“My advisor isn’t in this field. He doesn’t understand it,” Wen Di replied. “And neither do I. I haven’t touched math since I entered college.”
Bian Cheng thought for a moment and said, “You’re a fast learner. I’m sure you can handle it. If you run into any problems, I can teach you.”
Wen Di smiled. He still really liked Professor Bian as a teacher.
The file folder in Wen Di’s hands wasn’t heavy, but he understood its weight. A person who absolutely detested Shakespeare had painstakingly delved into Shakespearean studies, sifted through hundreds of papers, and produced this review for him.
He thanked him once more, “Thanks for the hard work.”
“It’s nothing. I read through papers pretty quickly,” Bian Cheng remembered the original reason for the call. “By the way, you said there was something you wanted to discuss?”
Oh, right. Wen Di almost forgot the main issue after getting sidetracked by the literature. He straightened up.
“The senior who rented me his apartment is coming back soon,” he explained, “and I’ve had conflicts with my roommates in the PhD dorm, but rent in Beijing is just so expensive.”
He counted silently in his head. One second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds, five seconds.
Then Bian Cheng spoke: “How much do you need?”
Wen Di closed his eyes in despair.
Alright, after so many encounters, he knew the secret to communicating with Bian Cheng: never beat around the bush—not even by 0.5 degree.
He sighed and said, “It’s not that I want money.”
Bian Cheng was silent for a moment, then asked tentatively, “Do you want to move in with me?”
Wen Di was relieved. Previously, it took this person three months to guess the right answer; this time, it only took half a minute. This young man is worth teaching, this young man is worth teaching.[footnote]孺子可教: The young man is promising and worthy to be taught.; The boy is worth teaching.[/footnote]
“I was just about to ask,” Bian Cheng explained, “but I was afraid you’d be angry.”
“Why?” Wen Di was confused. “You’re offering me a place to stay; why would I be angry?”
“Didn’t you say that every time we spend more than twelve hours together, I end up saying something wrong and you get angry?” Bian Cheng said. “If we live together, I’m worried I’ll make you mad again.”
Wen Di smiled helplessly: “There are two phrases that, no matter the time, will never be wrong.”
“What?”
“I miss you,” Wen Di said, meeting his gaze. “And I like you.”
Bian Cheng looked at him.
“Don’t worry ba,” Wen Di said, “Even if you make me angry and run away, I won’t go far.”
He held Bian Cheng’s hand.
“I’ll be waiting for you to catch up,” he continued, “and then you just have to say these two sentences to me.”
The author has something to say:
The next chapter will focus on the secondary couple (the boiler guy and the jellyfish catcher). There won’t be any development in the main couple’s relationship, so if you’re not interested, make sure not to purchase the wrong chapter.
The cohabitation arc will start in the chapter after that.
T/N: Yes, yes, another episode of me not sure from which work this line is from because everything I found is not helping.
Awnnnnnn🥹🥹🥹🥹