“Never mind that, Zhu Zhu—so this freshman, right? What does ‘Senior Qin’ even mean? Does she have time? Why is she asking you?”
Qin Yu Wen felt like she’d opened a whole new world.
Zhu Zhu had changed. She really had changed.
But it was only when she noticed the shift in Zhu Zhu that she realized her feelings had cooled.
A flood of thoughts raced through Qin’s mind; she imagined countless scenarios, only to end up with one conclusion.
She still couldn’t figure it out.
Like a curious baby, she stared at Su Bai Zhu, hoping to wring an explanation from her lips.
Su Bai Zhu opened her mouth slightly; Qin instinctively swallowed, afraid she’d hear those two familiar words.
But disappointment hit.
Instead of dropping the words, Su Bai Zhu gave a serious explanation:
“When I met him online, I signed up with your name.”
Qin’s eyes widened.
No wonder the freshman had been acting all mysterious after the boot‑camp, even borrowing her game account.
She’d thought Zhu Zhu was being generous, helping her rank up, only to find the account was already maxed out.
“We just met online?” Qin shouted, “When? How did I miss it?”
“Prof Gu is terrible at games, so he asked his brother to tag in, but his brother couldn’t handle it alone, so he roped me in… There was one slot left, and I took yours.”
A lightbulb flickered on in Qin’s head, as if the long‑off lamp finally turned on.
“That was the ‘gentle brother’?”
Qin finally remembered.
Back then Luo Ye was still a high‑schooler.
Prof Gu had said Luo hadn’t dated anyone yet.
Prof Gu had also said he was good‑looking.
Prof ...wait, does Prof Gu have a brother‑complex?
Never mind.
Qin had a vivid memory because she’d been devouring romance novels at the time—pure‑heart male leads left her defenseless.
Her own gaming skill was terrible, so she’d followed the “two top‑dogs” Luo and Zhu Zhu into matches just to hear that pure‑heart male voice.
“Zhu Zhu, you actually snagged Prof Gu’s brother? An older‑brother‑younger‑brother romance?”
Seeing Qin’s shocked expression, Zhu Zhu replied flatly:
“There’s nothing between us. It’s all pure.”
“Right, right, our ice‑queen’s mouth is harder than bone. I get it—nothing more than a normal boyfriend–girlfriend thing. First love, pure as it gets.”
Zhu Zhu: …
No words left.
But from a certain angle, she actually agreed with Qin’s line.
She grabbed her phone, switched to Qin’s identity, and typed: “Free.”
Soon after, Luo Ye sent another message:
Son: My roommate wants your Green‑Bubble.
Seeing that, Zhu Zhu handed the phone to Qin, letting her handle the chat.
It was the first time Luo Ye talked to the real “Senior Qin” on QQ.
Qin Yu Wen: Which roommate? The campus heart‑throb?
Son: Nope.
Qin Yu Wen: I decline.
Luo Ye blinked, a little stunned.
It felt like Senior Qin had turned into a completely different person.
Wang Da Chui, spotting the message, turned black‑eyed and scoffed:
“Male idols are the worst sinners.”
“Alright, he won’t add me, and to him you’re basically a stranger, so of course he’ll pick the pretty one.”
“Sigh.”
Wang sighed, helpless:
“Am I doomed to die alone, never finding love?”
Luo Ye didn’t even want to reply.
Is that love?
From Liu Bing‑Xin to Tang En Qi, to Qin Yu Wen—if you ignore character, just look at looks, every one is a total beauty.
You’re clearly just a playboy, eyeing her body; I’m too embarrassed to call you out.
Luo kept these thoughts to himself, then tried to console his friend:
“Chui, love’s something you have to hunt down yourself. Maybe you’ll turn around and find it right away.”
Wang glanced back.
Behind him, Yu Qiu Yu, basketball tucked under her arm, walked by. Seeing Wang look back, she surprised, “Wang Da Chui? Small world! I was just about to hit the court, wanna join?”
Wang: …
Luo: …
He swore he was only speaking off‑the‑cuff.
“Sure, even if love’s a mess, I’ll still shine on the court.”
Wang puffed out his chest, confidence returning.
Yu Qiu Yu slung an arm around his shoulder. She was only 1.62 m, so she’d have to tiptoe to reach his shoulder, but her personality let her become “brothers” with anyone, male or female, after a quick chat. So she and Wang were now solid bros, heading to the gym together.
Left alone, Luo fired off another message to Senior Qin:
Son: Senior Qin, I still owe you a meal. Let me treat you later, okay?
On the other side, Qin saw the ping and instantly lost it, furious:
“Player, this jerk already has you, and now he wants to treat me to dinner? Zhu Zhu, this guy’s no good, I’m not okay with it.”
Su Bai Zhu didn’t react; she kept her face flat and said:
“Three.”
“Huh?” Qin looked utterly confused.
Zhu Zhu continued:
“Two.”
“What?”
Qin’s mind was a blank—why the sudden countdown?
“One.”
The moment the word left Zhu Zhu’s mouth, her phone buzzed with a Green‑Bubble message:
Son: Senior, wanna grab dinner tonight?
Son: Last time I bumped into Senior Qin at the cafeteria entrance, I promised to treat her. Want to go together, Senior? If you’re not coming, I’ll wait until you’re free and ask again.
Qin was speechless.
Then she burst out laughing, covering her mouth, pointing at Zhu Zhu’s phone and mercilessly mocking:
“That note is hilarious, hahahaha! Zhu Zhu, why don’t you change it? Hahaha, I’m dying.”
Zhu Zhu: …
Her icy stare swept over Qin, who shivered and quickly said,
“My bad, Zhu Zhu…”
“But that note is really funny, hahahaha, I can’t handle it.”
After the laughter, Qin calmed herself and said,
“Zhu Zhu, hand me the phone, I need to reply to the freshman.”
Zhu Zhu passed the device over.
Qin grabbed it, replied on QQ that tonight she could eat together.
Then, while Zhu Zhu was watching TV, Qin’s eyes darted to the phone, and with lightning‑fast fingers she changed Luo’s remarks on both QQ and Green‑Bubble from “Son” to “little baby.”