Professor Xie, isn't this a case of forcing customers to buy products that don't match the

The down jacket from Shangsong just arrived.

He opened the package, pulled out the overly chubby down jacket, and was about to put it on when he looked up and saw the sunlight streaming in through the window.

He took out his phone and saw: the temperature will rise in the coming week, it will be sunny, and the highest temperature will even reach 20 degrees Celsius.

He held the down jacket, unsure whether to wear it or not, his expression complicated.

Finally, he sighed, tidied up the down jacket, and stuffed it into the closet.

It's okay, the temperature will eventually drop.

I'll wear it for Professor Xie to see later.

That afternoon, he received a delivery notification.

He was puzzled.

He hasn't bought anything lately except that down jacket.

He carried the box back to his dormitory, opened it, and found boxes of stationery neatly stacked inside.

There were calligraphy brushes of different sizes, several pieces of Huizhou ink, and even inkstones, Xuan paper, and calligraphy copybooks.

Shang Song realized almost immediately that Xie Jing had sent it to him.

That evening, when the eldest brother returned to the dormitory, he immediately saw the box of stationery on Shang Song's desk.

The eldest brother put down his schoolbag and went over to look at the label on the stack of Xuan paper. He then picked up the ink sticks and flipped through them. His eyes immediately lit up: "Holy crap, fourth brother, you've struck it rich? This set isn't cheap!"

Shang Song had just finished showering and was drying his hair with a towel when he threw the towel down, rushed over, snatched the ink stick back from the eldest brother's hand, and carefully put it back in the box: "Don't touch it! It's mine! It's all mine!"

The eldest brother, seeing Shang Song like this for the first time, gradually developed a meaningful expression: "...Oh! Professor Xie gave it to you! No wonder!"

Shang Song didn't say anything, but the tips of his ears turned red.

The eldest brother clicked his tongue and continued looking at the box of stationery, his eyes growing increasingly envious: "Wow, fourth brother, Professor Xie is really generous to you. This set must cost at least a few dozen yuan..."

As he spoke, he reached out to touch the inkstone again, but Shang Song slapped his hand away.

"I'll buy you whatever you want, but these won't do." Shang Song closed the box and hid it behind his back, like a cat guarding its food.

The eldest brother almost died laughing at his expression. "Look at you, so possessive of your food. But seriously, what exactly is your relationship with Professor Xie? Master and student? Friends despite the age gap?"

"What do you mean by 'friends of different ages'?!" Shang Song instantly exploded, "How old is Professor Xie? He's young! And handsome!"

The eldest brother raised his hands in surrender: "Fine, fine, if it's not a friendship between people of different ages, then tell me, what kind of relationship do you two have?"

Shang Song opened his mouth, but didn't say anything.

Oh right, what's his relationship with Professor Xie now?

They meet every week without fail. Xie Jing gives him lessons, answers all his questions on WeChat, and has even sent him stationery. But it seems that's all there is between them...

Xie Jing never talks to him about his own affairs, and never lets him into his life. It seems that his relationship with Xie Jing is more like that of a teacher and student.

But he...

I don't want to be Xie Jing's student...

After pondering for two days, Shang Song finally came up with an idea.

He wanted to ask Xie Jing out.

Want to grab a meal?

Want to watch a movie?

Or maybe go shopping or something?

If Xie Jing agrees, does that mean that their relationship might be more than just that of teacher and student?

That Thursday afternoon, he sat in his usual spot, and after Xie Jing finished speaking, he timidly began to speak:

"Professor Xie, are you free this weekend? I'd like to invite you to dinner. There's a new Sichuan restaurant that just opened near the back gate of the school, and it has a great reputation..."

Xie Jing frowned, paused for two seconds, and then replied, "I have plans for this weekend."

Shang Song wasn't discouraged: "How about next weekend? Or... any evening is fine too. I saw a movie that just came out recently, and it has really high ratings..."

Xie Jing: "Movie theaters are crowded with diverse people, and the environment is enclosed, which is unsafe."

Shang Song was stunned, scratched his head, and said, "Well... it's okay if we don't go to the movie theater. I know a shopping mall that sells some interesting things. Shall we go check it out?"

Xie Jing: "There are too many uncontrollable factors in shopping malls, making them unsafe."

Shang Song fell silent.

He was rejected three times.

The little bit of energy I had left gradually dissipated.

He lowered his head, not daring to look at Xie Jing, and stared at the "Shuowen Jiezi" (a dictionary of Chinese characters) spread out in front of him, his eyes wide open and not daring to blink, his voice muffled:

"Professor Xie, I'd like to ask you a question."

"You come here to see me every Thursday afternoon, spend time giving me lessons, replying to my messages, sending me stationery..."

"Are you doing this because I'm your student?"

"Or is it because of... something else?"

He didn't blink, but water still splashed onto the "Shuowen Jiezi" (a dictionary of Chinese characters).

The printed text on the paper had bled out slightly, leaving a blurry edge.

Shang Song reached out to wipe it, but was afraid of tearing the paper.

He dared not look up, afraid that if he did, Xie Jing would see him crying.

How embarrassing!

Just as he was caught in a dilemma, at a loss and in a state of confusion, Shang Song caught a glimpse of Xie Jing's finger moving on the table, as if he wanted to reach out, but then inexplicably stopped.

Then, the hand was withdrawn.

Shang Song's heart sank even lower.

But then he saw a neatly folded dark gray handkerchief being gently pushed towards him by that slender, beautiful hand, and placed against his side.

Shang Song paused for a moment, then looked up.

Xie Jing looked at him.

Look at him intently.

"I don't have any students," Xie Jing said. "I don't accept students."

Shang Song blinked, tears streaming down her face, falling onto the handkerchief and onto the pages of the "Shuowen Jiezi" (a dictionary of Chinese characters).

Xie Jing just stared at him, and continued:

"I came here because you are here."

Shang Song's eyes widened, and he stopped crying.

After a long pause, he finally asked, bewildered, "So... what's our relationship now?"

Xie Jing: "I thought we were dating."

Shang Song: "...Huh?!"

His brain completely shut down.

Dating?

When did it start?

How come he didn't know?

He never even held hands with me!

He didn't even know where Xie Jing lived!

How did they end up dating?!

Shang Song suddenly clenched the handkerchief beside her, wiped her face, and then asked, "Professor Xie, is the 'dating' you're talking about... the kind of dating I understand? Like... a boyfriend?"

Xie Jing tilted his head slightly and asked seriously, "Meeting every week, writing to each other every day, exchanging gifts, and showing concern for each other's well-being—aren't these normal interactions?"

Shang Song touched his forehead to make sure he didn't have a fever, then pinched his thigh to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

Then, the tips of his ears slowly, slowly began to turn red.

He covered his face with the handkerchief, his voice coming from behind the fabric, still muffled, but with a hint of a raised lilt at the end:

Why didn't you say so sooner!

Xie Jing looked at his bright red ears peeking out from behind the handkerchief, and his own ears slowly turned red as well.