Xu Ye wasn’t going to give Zhiwei any more details than that.
For now, he was just enjoying the bragging rights. If Qingqing ever found out he’d been talking about her, she’d have him blocked and deleted before the day was over.
He rested at home for an hour or so, then headed out for his shift. On the way, he ran into his dad coming back from work.
“Xiao Ye — set an early alarm tomorrow morning.”
“Why?”
“The gaokao results come out tomorrow. How do you not remember that?”
He genuinely hadn’t thought about it. He laughed. “Relax, Dad. I’ve got everything under control.”
He took off before his dad could respond.
Xu Ye’s father stood there, somewhere between amused and baffled. The kid had been a nervous wreck during every practice exam in his third year of high school — and now, the night before his actual results dropped, he was strolling away without a care in the world.
Was he serious? Did he actually make it into a top-tier school?
If that happened, the ancestors would be weeping with joy.
At the bar, it was still early. Xu Ye and Zhou Ying did a quick tidy-up together, then he leaned against the counter and pulled out his phone.
Xu: Zhiwei, results are out tomorrow. you figure out where you’re applying?
Social Anxiety Patient: can we not talk about this, I’m already stressed.
Xu: stressed about what, didn’t I tell you you’d clear the standard cutoff?
Social Anxiety Patient: don’t change the subject. where are you going for university?
Xu: Shanghai.
Social Anxiety Patient: that’s pretty far.
Xu: come with me.
This was something Xu Ye had actually thought about. In the original timeline, Zhiwei had gone to university in the provincial capital — and that was where he’d met the woman who later cheated on him. If Xu Ye could pull him toward Shanghai instead, Zhiwei would never cross paths with her. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Social Anxiety Patient: let’s see what my scores look like first.
Xu: fair enough.
Xu Ye couldn’t remember Zhiwei’s exact score from the first time around — just that it had been slightly higher than his own.
While they were chatting, the class group chat had come alive. Everyone buzzing about tomorrow.
Their class had been a regular stream — not the accelerated track — and for regular students, clearing the university entrance threshold wasn’t a given. Based on previous years, their class could expect fewer than ten students to make it, and most of those would only barely clear the line, which meant private universities with tuition starting at ten to twenty thousand yuan a year. A lot of students in that position chose to go to a good vocational college instead.
The chat was running through names.
“Li Nan, Gu Mengyao, Qin Zhiwei, Duan Qingjun — those four have a decent shot. Their scores have been pretty consistent.”
“I heard from Zhiwei that Xu Ye actually did pretty well this year.”
“He’s lopsided though. Doesn’t matter how well he did overall — he can’t pass English.”
“Exactly.”
Zhiwei, who had just finished texting Xu Ye, immediately jumped into the chat:
“English is mostly multiple choice. One in four odds. What if he hits everything?”
“That’s not how it works.”
Xie Hong, one of the guys from the KTV night, chimed in: “If Xu Ye makes it into a real university, I’ll crawl.” [TL: “I’ll crawl” (我直接爬) is a Chinese internet slang expression of disbelief — roughly equivalent to “I’ll eat my hat” or “I’ll be absolutely shocked.”]
Jiang Lei followed right behind him: “LOL, I’ll eat something I shouldn’t.”
Xu Ye read through the chat and felt nothing except mild secondhand embarrassment at how young they all sounded. He closed QQ and opened WeChat.
Xu Ye: results are out tomorrow morning. you figure out which school you’re going for?
Qingqing: Shanghai Conservatory of Music.
Xu Ye: a conservatory? you’re going to an arts school?
Qingqing: I’m an arts student. always have been.
Xu Ye: that explains a lot.
Qingqing: don’t break my guitar.
Xu Ye: I’m treating it like treasure. sleep with it every night.
Qingqing: disgusting.
Xu Ye: I’m not sleeping with you, what’s disgusting about that.
Qingqing: shut up.
Qingqing: the song you wrote — can you send me the lyrics and music?
Xu Ye: you want to sing it?
A full minute passed. Nothing.
Xu Ye: I’ll sell you the rights if you want. make it officially yours.
Qingqing: fine. how much?
Xu Ye typed a number without thinking much about it.
Xu Ye: 10000.
Qingqing: deal.
Xu Ye: ???
Xu Ye: wait, you actually have that kind of money?
Xu Ye: what if I said fifty thousand?
Qingqing: not expensive.
Xu Ye: I already regret this. can we renegotiate?
Qingqing: no. it’s done. send me the lyrics and music, I’ll transfer the money to your account.
Xu Ye: I feel like I just got robbed.
Qingqing: card number.
Xu Ye: making sure I don’t back out?
Qingqing: yes.
Xu Ye: card’s at home, I’ll send it after my shift.
Qingqing: those two manga you mentioned the other day — I searched for them online and couldn’t find anything.
Xu Ye went quiet for a moment.
Xu Ye: uh, those are foreign ones. won’t show up on domestic sites.
Qingqing: oh.
Xu Ye: anyway, getting busy. talk later.
Eleven thirty that night.
Xu Ye got home, sent Qingqing his card number, and ten thousand yuan landed in his account almost immediately.
He stared at his phone.
He knew she had money. He just hadn’t quite processed the scale of it until now. A prospective university student who could casually send ten thousand without blinking.
Cool composure. Beautiful. And rich.
Every stat maxed out.
He got out of bed, wrote the lyrics and melody out by hand on a sheet of paper, photographed it, and sent it over. [TL: The song 《如果有一天我变得很有钱》 was written by Mao Buyi (毛不易) and released in 2017. Xu Ye is again quietly borrowing from a future that hasn’t happened yet.]
Xu Ye: young miss — goods delivered, payment received, we’re square.
Qingqing: noted. you may go.
Xu Ye: at your service, my lady~
Qingqing read the message and rolled across her bed laughing — twice. She saved the photo, then started humming along to the melody.
She was ranked third in the Shanghai Conservatory of Music’s entrance auditions. Her voice, when she let it, was something — lazy and soft and smooth, with a quality that felt completely her own. Two run-throughs and she had it down, the song sitting in her voice like it had always been there.
What she didn’t know was that in the room next to hers, Jiang Meilin was standing in her pyjamas with her ear pressed against the shared wall.
She listened for a moment, head tilted.
That song is…
She folded her arms across her chest, eyes narrowing slightly, voice barely above a whisper.
“She’s not actually falling for him, is she?”
(End of Chapter)