Chapter 100: Pre‑Date Nerves
847 Words
Eleven‑fifty a.m.
Luo Ye stared at the ticket‑sale page for Ai Wen Jun’s upcoming concert, ready to pounce. Even mid‑tier celebrities now required fans to camp online or pay for agents to snag seats. Luo’s luck usually paid off—one click and a ticket was his.
At 12:00 p.m. he hit the “Buy” button.
A prompt appeared:
“Please fill in your real‑name information.”
“What?”
He entered his name, then his phone number, waited for the verification code, chose a seat, and completed the mandatory steps. By the time he clicked “Confirm” a few minutes later, all tickets were gone.
His face went ashen. He’d lost, not because of bad luck, but because he didn’t know the hidden steps for a concert purchase.
A notification pinged from Xu Xiao Jia: she’d grabbed two front‑row tickets. Her picture showed the seat numbers. Luo’s jealousy was brief—he had other plans.
He took a deep breath, dialed his cousin Gu Ming‑Xuan. The line clicked, and Gu’s laughing voice rang out.
Gu: “Yo, little bro! What’s up? Why are you calling out of the blue?”
Luo, a little embarrassed, said, “Gu‑go,… the Ai Wen Jun thing…”
Gu: “You want concert tickets? I have a couple. But didn’t you swear you’d never go see her again? I thought you were scared of her.”
Luo: “That was before. I’m now her #1 fan.”
Gu: “Fine, I’ll mail you two tickets. I’ve got other things to do, so I’m hanging up.”
If you have a paper ticket, you bypass the real‑name verification and just present it at the door. Luo felt a wave of relief.
He messaged Su Bai Zhu: “Got the tickets—thanks to a ‘little connection.’”
She replied with a crying‑face emoji—she hadn’t snagged any. She then sent him a transfer of 800 yuan for the front‑row tickets. Ai Wen Jun’s tickets were cheap because she earns more from sponsorships; the low price made them hard to get.
Luo accepted the money, aware that Su wasn’t the type to spend on others without a reason.
He stretched in his dorm, watched the “Date Planning Proposal” document he’d written, and then deleted it. He realized a plan was useless—dating would unfold spontaneously. He’d still pick the venue, of course.
He had plenty of time; today was Thursday, a few days before the weekend.
Soon enough, the clock struck midnight and it was Friday.
Luo found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, bewildered at how fast the week had flown. He’d done what? He was now a day away from the date.
Sleep wouldn’t come, so he scrolled through short videos: “Dating pitfalls for guys—what NOT to do.” The algorithm seemed to have sensed his anxiety. The clips warned of tiny mistakes that could ruin a date, and Luo’s nerves surged.
It was already the early hours of Saturday. Wang Da Chui, still playing a two‑character game, peeked over.
Wang: “Kid, why are you still up? What time are we meeting?”
Luo: “Ten o’clock.”
Shen Qiao had already fallen asleep, and Li Hao Yang was out early—his schedule was like a model’s: lights out before 11 p.m., up at 7 a.m.
Wang: “Man, you’ve got seven hours left to sleep.”
Luo: “Can’t.”
Wang: “Put down the phone, you’ll pass out.”
Luo set his phone down, and within a minute he was asleep.
“Kid, when will you find love?” Wang whispered half‑asleep.
“Six—seconds later—sleep.”
Wang kicked his legs, closed his eyes, and slumped into sleep. Modern college students can switch off in seconds.
Morning arrived at 8 a.m. The dorm was a nest of curled‑up bodies, the cold night’s chill still lingering. The “coach” was probably out on a morning run and had taken a quick nap.
Luo got up, washed, and prepared for the date. After hours of nervous anticipation, the anxiety was replaced by excitement. His heart hammered as soon as he opened his eyes.
He changed into a black han‑fu—his second one. Black felt sleek, and gold dragon patterns ran down the sleeves, giving him confidence. He could finally wear a han‑fu on his own.
Half‑dressed, he dashed to the barbershop across campus. A good haircut is a man’s second face, after all. He got a tidy, stylish cut, then returned, redressed in the han‑fu. He struck a pose before the mirror, took a selfie, grinned at his reflection.
It was just past nine. He slipped out of the dorm, heading toward the faculty apartments, moving stealthily to avoid being seen. He was about to do something huge.
- Writer
