◎ Behind the mask of the internet, it’s hard to tell if someone is human or ghost, let alone their gender. ◎

Ever since Xu Tiancheng started posting workout progress photos—commonly known as “pump shots”—his account had quickly gained a large following. He barely remembered most of the users flooding in, but one account had become so familiar that it was impossible to ignore.

First, and least importantly, the account had no name. Just a blank space. No matter how weird a username was, nothing was as memorable as a complete absence of one.

Second, he had already noticed this blank-space account before. Back when his page wasn’t this crowded, she frequently popped up, asking fitness-related questions. Xu Tiancheng had assumed she was a beginner. Maybe it was just his professional instincts, but he always tried to reply, hoping to help newcomers avoid mistakes.

Now, there were too many people. He couldn’t read every comment. The app’s algorithm automatically pinned the most liked comments to the top, and seven or eight times out of ten, the top comment came from this user—dubbed by fans as “No Name Teacher.”

Her highly upvoted comments were always bold and direct. Her open thirst was cleverly wrapped in humor and wit, making it entertaining rather than offensive. Even when the remarks leaned slightly inappropriate, they somehow never felt intrusive.

After seeing them enough times, he naturally remembered her.

Recently, his parents had settled overseas. There was a brief period of adjustment, but they quickly adapted and became quite comfortable in their new community.

He had learned all of this through his sister’s vlogs.

As long as they were doing well, that was enough for him. Xu Tiancheng had been independent for a long time and was always busy. He never had the habit of making frequent calls home.

Now that the Xu parents had finally gotten to know all their neighbors and settled down, they suddenly remembered they should probably call their son to let him know they were safe.

Without a doubt, what started as a routine call to check on his well-being quickly turned into another relentless attempt to urge him to find a girlfriend.

Xu Tianyu’s unconventional decision to have a child without marriage had shaken the deeply traditional views of the Xu family’s parents. After going through a long process of opposition, acceptance, and finally coming to terms with it, the elderly couple eventually updated their mindset to be relatively more modern. Having grandchildren was no longer a priority; after all, their daughter was already pregnant with twins. In less modern terms, the Xu family now had heirs.

So, their greatest hope for Xu Tiancheng was simply for him to find a partner.

They believed this was already the bottom line after making countless compromises, yet they were still met with silent resistance from Xu Tiancheng. The couple soon realized a new problem—he didn’t seem interested in dating at all.

Every time the topic of a girlfriend came up, Xu Tiancheng would evade it. This time, his response was even more absurd—he said it was meaningless.

Mother Xu frowned. “Meaningless? What do you mean by meaningless?”

Father Xu chimed in, “We’re telling you to find a girlfriend, not watch an acrobatics show!”

After a long and fruitless argument, Xu’s mother was so frustrated that she let out a laugh.

“Then tell me, what kind of person do you find interesting? Give me an example. At least tell me someone who meets your standards. I’ve never heard of anyone describing a girl as ‘interesting’ before.”

Without warning, a certain username flashed through Xu Tiancheng’s mind. It was just a fleeting thought.

He knew continuing this conversation was pointless—whether he found someone or not was his own business. So, he casually brushed off the topic and quickly ended the call, which only infuriated his mother further. She immediately bombarded him with ten voice messages, each precisely fifty-nine seconds long, just to scold him.

Xu Tiancheng opened the first two messages. His mother’s voice was loud and clear, switching between Chinese and English. It made him laugh.

By then, he had already walked over to the leg press machine, found an empty spot, and set down his water bottle and towel—along with his phone.

Yet, for some reason, just as he turned away, he hesitated. Without thinking, he picked up his phone again and opened his latest post from this morning, scrolling down to check the comments. The so-called “No Name Teacher” hadn’t shown up.

Many people in the comment section were eagerly waiting, leaving messages asking about the whereabouts of this mysterious user. Xu Tiancheng found it amusing.

When he checked his previous post, sure enough, the top-liked comment was from her. Someone had already brought her up, asking, “Why is No Name Teacher late today?” A few hours later, she replied, “I won’t say a word until my lawyer arrives. I’m afraid my hands will type something illegal.”

He clicked into her empty profile. A pink gender symbol indicated she was female—but then again, on the internet, identities were a mystery. With a mask on, no one could tell if someone was human or a ghost, let alone their gender.

At this point, Xu Tiancheng didn’t think much of it. His impression of her remained vague—”She can be a little shameless sometimes, but she’s quite witty. If she were a real-life friend, she’d probably be fun to be around.”

Today was leg day. He pushed himself to the limit, a brutal session that left him completely drained. When he finally collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily, he could barely move.

But he felt good. Drenched in sweat, exhausted yet exhilarated, this was one of the rare moments in recent times when he felt genuinely relaxed.

A damp towel rested on his forehead, cooling him down. He reached for his phone and, as usual, posted a workout update.

Just then, a message popped up from No Name Teacher.

His screen was filled with countless unread messages from her, all changing from unread to read. Compared to the witty comments she left in the comment section, her private messages were far less creative—just a series of copy-pasted “Hi, are you there? Look at the abs.”

For once, she had actually put in some effort.

“Hi, male Bodhisattva, are you there? I have something to say. Whether it’s appropriate or not, I’m saying it anyway.”

Xu Tiancheng pushed himself up with one hand, leaning against the mirrored wall. His other hand was still inside his workout glove, making it inconvenient to type, so he simply replied with an ellipsis to show his speechlessness.

He didn’t think much of it.

He had just happened to notice her presence, happened to feel a slight, almost negligible curiosity, and happened to see her message come in. So, he casually responded—that was all.

But he couldn’t explain why.

It had been a long time since he had felt even the slightest interest in anyone.

Maybe it was fate? He wasn’t sure.

Even though Xu Tiancheng didn’t mean anything special with his reply, the other side seemed to take it as some kind of permission. She didn’t show the usual hesitation people have when talking to strangers, nor did she approach the conversation with the initial awkwardness of someone unfamiliar. Instead, she came at him head-on.

But even “head-on” wasn’t the right way to describe it.

Her approach was bold and relentless, but at the same time, it carried an air of nonchalance.

She confidently sent out signals, responding smoothly and effortlessly, as if she had done this many times before.

Xu Tiancheng wasn’t someone who enjoyed flirting online. Right now, he didn’t even have the motivation to take the initiative in anything. So, he just let her set the pace and followed along.

That was until she finally threw out a line—

“I thought my sincerity had moved the God of Abs. Turns out, the god has simply shut the door on me.”

Xu Tiancheng suddenly felt like this was going too far. He could sense his ears heating up—not out of embarrassment, really. His mother was like this. His sister was like this. It ran in the family. Nothing he could do about it.

He felt it was getting excessive, so without overthinking, he responded.

A moment later, she sent back a sticker of someone looking heartbroken.

Based on everything she had said in the comments and private messages, Xu Tiancheng figured that, regardless of whether she was male or female, she was someone confident, outgoing, and not easily affected by others’ opinions. That’s why he was certain she wouldn’t be truly hurt by his two indifferent replies.

As for what she really thought, Xu Tiancheng had no way of knowing.

All he knew was this—

From that moment on, the person who used to leave a comment on every single one of his posts completely vanished from his page.