Chapter 1: Secret Crush

When you’re just window shopping without the intent to buy, every piece of clothing looks amazing; but the moment you actually want to make a purchase, you can walk until your feet are sore and still not find a single thing that fits.

Having a secret crush on Liang Yuanzheng was just like that. When Lu Canran washed her hair, carefully picked out her outfit, and put on makeup, she never ran into him. But when she let herself go—unwashed hair for three days, clothes thrown together at random—she would bump into Liang Yuanzheng more than eight hundred times in a single day.

Like right now.

Inside the examination room.

“Where does it hurt?”

“…My arm and face have been itchy. I think it might be an allergic reaction.”

“Roll up your sleeve. Let me take a look.”

Lu Canran dragged her movements, slowly rolling up her sleeve. Her right hand was crossed in front of her chest, tightly gripping the sleeve pulled up to her left elbow, trying to use her arm to block the small grease stain on the left chest of her shirt.

It was a splatter from last night when she went to Liyuan Restaurant for rice noodles, a terrible yellow spot that stood out glaringly against the white cotton shirt.

This was the tenth time she regretted not washing her hair or picking a fresh outfit.

Liang Yuanzheng lowered his head expressionlessly, his gaze sweeping across her trembling arm.

It was covered in red spots, as if they were growing between the layers of her skin and flesh. A few raised scratch marks connected into crimson lines, and where the resin button at the cuff lightly pressed into her skin, a small red welt instantly swelled into a half-sphere.

When he looked up, Lu Canran caught a cold, astringent scent from him.

She kept her breathing under control, carefully restrained—taking even one extra breath felt like an offense.

“Allergic urticaria,” Liang Yuanzheng said, eyes fixed on the computer screen. “It’s peak pollen season in spring. You’re allergic to cypress pollen. Have you been exposed recently?”

Lu Canran replied, “This morning I think I passed by…”

She slowly lowered her sleeve, her voice trailing off more and more, until it completely disappeared.

With a thud, Dr. Xue pushed open the door to the examination room and remarked, “Ah, an allergy.” He then began asking about Lu Canran’s allergy history and routinely prescribed medication.

The prescription was written by Liang Yuanzheng. His handwriting was thin and forceful. Lu Canran clutched the paper, crumpling it in her palm, and stood up. “Thank you, doctor.”

No one responded. Dr. Xue had turned to ask Liang Yuanzheng, “Xiao Yuan was asking if you’re free this afternoon. She’s moving, and I was thinking of having you and Xiao Zhong go help out.”

Liang Yuanzheng replied, “Would after four o’clock be okay?”

Lu Canran shifted toward the door. The cold metal handle pressed uncomfortably into her hand. Like a tiny mushroom crushed beneath dry branches and fallen leaves, she quietly turned her head for a quick, secret glance at Liang Yuanzheng.

He was bowing his head as he wrote, the white lab coat on him crisp and neat. An empty pen cap was clipped to the pocket at his chest. His thin lips bore not the slightest trace of a smile. He looked like a silent tree.

The little mushroom drooped its head in disappointment, rustling leaves and twigs falling over it once more.

As the door closed behind her, the seal was broken. All three of her roommates immediately rushed up to her in a flurry.

Lu Canran began to feel guilty for not living up to their expectations.

Zhu Huaxin, in a crop top and low-rise jeans, was the fastest to react. She leaned in, lowering her voice in excitement. “I’m so smart. The moment I saw it was Liang Yuanzheng inside, I stepped right out and left you two alone. So? How did it go? How many words did you exchange?”

Xu Qiao, clutching her 《1800 Essential Relay Questions for the Postgraduate Math Exam》, pushed up her glasses and asked, “Did you get his WeChat?”

Dorm leader Qin Bingshuang looked at the prescription clenched in Lu Canran’s hand. “You okay? It was just an allergy, right?”

Lu Canran answered each one.

“Six sentences. Three from him, three from me.”

“…I didn’t dare ask. Couldn’t find an excuse to ask for his WeChat.”

“It’s an allergy. He prescribed oral medication and a topical ointment.”

Zhu Huaxin stomped her foot and beat her chest. “What a great chance, and you missed it again. Just one sentence, one! ‘Hi, can I add you on WeChat? In case anything comes up later, I can contact you through WeChat.’ Is that really so hard to say?”

—Yes, it is.

Her roommates all tacitly believed what had just happened was a private date. Only Lu Canran knew that being alone with Liang Yuanzheng felt more like committing a secret crime—he was the clueless victim.

Lu Canran turned her head and looked around, then grabbed Zhu Huaxin’s arm, taking a few quick steps and whispering, “Do you think I’m bothering him too much?”

“What bother? The sweet bother of love?” Xu Qiao glanced at her watch. “Alright, I’ve got to go save a seat at the library. Don’t wait for me for lunch. I brought some bread and water. See you tonight.”

Zhu Huaxin continued giving Lu Canran ideas. “Listen to me, I just asked my brother. Liang Yuanzheng is currently assigned to the emergency department. You should go again this afternoon and say you got food poisoning, that your stomach hurts. Lots of people are getting food poisoning these days. Just fake it, say it’s for follow-up observation, and ask for his WeChat.”

Lu Canran asked, “Wouldn’t that be considered wasting medical resources?”

Zhu Huaxin replied, “You’re wasting your precious time instead!”

“Alright, Huaxin,” Qin Bingshuang laughed. “You’ve never even been in a relationship. Don’t try to play love coach.”

“Book knowledge counts too. I’m a Five-Heart Reader on Jinjiang^[1]“Five-Heart Reader” on Jinjiang refers to a reader who has earned high activity and engagement levels on Jinjiang Literature City, a popular Chinese online novel platform. The “five hearts” … Continue reading,” Zhu Huaxin said proudly. “And besides, who says you have to be in a relationship to give advice on love? Do our university career counselors all have work experience? Most of them stayed on right after graduation, and they still give us career advice, don’t they?”

Then she turned back to Lu Canran and said, “Your problem is that you’re too afraid of bothering other people.”

Lu Canran said nothing and quickened her pace.

It was true.

She was exactly the kind of person who hated troubling others, which was why she had quietly harbored her crush on Liang Yuanzheng year after year.

She didn’t even have his contact information to this day.

Everyone in Dorm 116 knew that Lu Canran liked Liang Yuanzheng—a senior three years above her, outstanding in both character and academics.

She had been secretly in love with him for more than three years.

Though they were both students at A University, the medical school and the affiliated medical institute he attended were part of a joint program, with little to no overlap in coursework. The chances of running into each other were extremely low. And ever since Liang Yuanzheng started his standardized residency training, Lu Canran had barely encountered him on campus—except, of course, on those days when she couldn’t be bothered to get up early to wash her hair, do her makeup, or dress nicely.

“All right,” Zhu Huaxin comforted Lu Canran, “at least he still remembers you. At least you went to the same high school, right? Worst case, just pretend you’ve got food poisoning this afternoon. I’ll support you there. I’ve got thick skin. I’ll help you ask for his WeChat…”

That afternoon, Lu Canran still couldn’t summon the courage to fake food poisoning.

She washed her hair in defeat, blow-dried it until it was clean and fluffy, and the more she thought about how she never ran into Liang Yuanzheng after washing her hair, the more discouraged she felt. She lay in bed, depressed, opened her phone’s photo album, and scrolled to Liang Yuanzheng’s QQ account. The avatar was still grey, showing “Offline.”

She tapped on it. Their conversation still remained where it had ended three years ago.

Back then, Lu Canran had fired off a long string of messages—starting with “Hello, Senior Liang,” followed by an enthusiastic self-introduction: she was his junior from the same high school, three years below him, listing her exact grades and class ranking, and asking whether she had a shot at getting accepted.

In the face of her overwhelming enthusiasm, Liang Yuanzheng had responded coolly. He said that based on past admission rankings, her chances of being accepted were high, but the odds of getting into the medical school specifically weren’t great. If A University was her only choice, he advised her to accept reallocation to another major.

He had been exactly right.

Her dream of becoming Liang Yuanzheng’s direct junior was shattered, and his indifferent attitude had chilled her to the bone.

Lu Canran counted on her fingers—she had run into him no more than five times this month.

So what if they ended up at the same university? It had been three years, and Lu Canran still didn’t even recognize all the students in her own major, let alone someone like Liang Yuanzheng, whose field had nothing to do with hers and who barely socialized at all.

Since entering university, Liang Yuanzheng didn’t seem to use QQ anymore. Lu Canran had never once seen his profile icon light up.

His QQ nickname was just his real name. He hadn’t enabled his Qzone, had no status message, no QQ Show, no customized avatar, no birthday or zodiac sign—nothing. Just like how she probably appeared in his world: “nothing at all.”

Lu Canran lay slumped over her desk in defeat.

Zhu Huaxin couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She took her phone and stepped out. Five minutes later, she kicked the door open, looking refreshed and triumphant.

“Canran!” she announced loudly. “I’ve spoken to my brother. In one hour, at the Zheng Ji’s Chicken Stewed with Mushrooms place on Commercial Street, he’s going to find a way to get Liang Yuanzheng to show up.”

Lu Canran shot up like someone on the verge of death suddenly revived. Before she could say a word, Zhu Huaxin had already dragged her up to change clothes and put on makeup.

Zhu Huaxin’s older brother, Jiang Si, was in the same year as Liang Yuanzheng. This year, after a dorm shuffle, the two of them ended up as roommates.

But Lu Canran had always believed that “a secret crush is a one-person thing,” and had rarely troubled others about it. It was only because of Zhu Huaxin’s impatient personality that she couldn’t stand watching anymore and began helping out by “gathering intel” every few days.

After much deliberation, Lu Canran finally chose a light sweater—gray—with a pale pink dress underneath and a pair of white sneakers.

Dorm leader Qin Bingshuang was applying a face mask. “It’s already this warm and you’re still wearing a sweater? Isn’t that a bit too deliberate?”

“She has no choice,” Zhu Huaxin said as she rummaged through Lu Canran’s small wardrobe, both eyes scanning to the bottom. “This is already her softest, most gentle-looking outfit. Canran, don’t go thinking you can wear anything just because you’ve got a pretty face.”

Then she turned and asked, “Sister Shuang, do you want us to bring you back something to eat?”

“Yes!”

The two of them dashed out the door in a flurry.

Lu Canran saw Zhu Huaxin as a seasoned love guru and followed her lead without question. On the way, she nervously asked, “Xinxin, should I change my WeChat nickname?”

Zhu Huaxin opened their pinned dorm group chat, tapped into Lu Canran’s profile picture, and said, “Hmm? Change it to what? Your profile pic is really pretty—let me see your nickname… Oh, ‘CBO First Edition.’ What’s CBO? Campaign Budget Optimization? This nickname does sound a bit cold and technical…”

“No,” Lu Canran explained, “when I was a freshman, I took an elective in cryptography. Coincidentally, Liang Yuanzheng took that class too.”

Zhu Huaxin immediately had a bad feeling. “Cryptography?”

Lu Canran continued, “In the first class, the professor taught Caesar cipher. Since classes were on Wednesdays, I used the number three as the key. Liang Yuanzheng’s initials are LYZ, and when you apply a Caesar shift of three, it becomes OBC. I thought using ‘OBC’ directly was too obvious, so I reversed the letters and added ‘first edition’ at the end…”

Zhu Huaxin’s eyes grew wider and wider as she listened.

Clutching the hem of her dress tightly, Lu Canran asked awkwardly, “Is my secret crush… maybe a little too obvious?”

Zhu Huaxin said, “Not bad. Have you ever considered joining the CIA?”

“No,” Lu Canran shook her head, “I probably wouldn’t pass the U.S. political background check.”

“Good that you know,” Zhu Huaxin said. “The nickname you came up with is like a puzzle in an escape room. How narcissistic would someone have to be to think this nickname was a secret crush on them? By your logic, if someone had a crush on you, and your initials are LCR, applying the same cipher gives OFU. Reverse the order and add some words—what, ‘UFO First Edition’?”

She added with a jab, “UFO First Edition? Sounds like the title of a book on alien research.”

Honest and diligent Lu Canran was still earnestly correcting her. “That only works if they also use ‘3’ as the key, but the reason I used ‘3’ is because Liang Yuanzheng and I had class on Wednesdays…”

Zhu Huaxin rolled her eyes so hard it practically echoed disappointment.

What Lu Canran needed wasn’t just the courage to ask for someone’s WeChat. Zhu Huaxin could help her get that contact, but she couldn’t personally guide her through each and every message in a conversation.

As a love coach, Zhu Huaxin passed on a simple tip for starting a chat—

After adding WeChat, Lu Canran should send a message to Liang Yuanzheng that evening, asking something about the university’s stray cat protection club. Then she would follow it up with, “Sorry, wrong person. Oh, by the way—” and from there, naturally steer the conversation to a real topic.

As everyone knows, in the adult world, it’s only after the words “by the way” that the real conversation begins.

Lu Canran perked up, listening intently, making notes as if studying for an exam.

Unfortunately, she never got to use it.

When the two of them arrived at the agreed-upon Zheng Ji’s Chicken Stewed with Mushrooms restaurant, only Jiang Si was there.

Jiang Si spread his hands helplessly and said that Liang Yuanzheng had just been called away by their senior, Xue Ningyuan. She happened to be nearby shopping and ran into him by chance, then asked him to help carry some things.

Zhu Huaxin was so furious she grabbed Jiang Si by the collar and dragged him all the way to the narrow alley behind the restaurant to scold him fiercely.

Lu Canran failed to mediate the fight. Though she felt disappointed, she also secretly let out a breath of relief. Somehow, every time she ran into Liang Yuanzheng, she got incredibly nervous.

Not asking for his WeChat wasn’t just about being shy. She was afraid of being rejected—because if that happened, she might not even have the courage to keep secretly liking him.

She was so afraid of failure, she’d rather never begin.

Still remembering their dorm leader’s request, and with the chicken and mushroom stew no longer an option, Lu Canran went next door to the bakery to buy some cheese bobo cream puffs.

Just as it was almost her turn, two young men came over, laughing and horsing around, and shamelessly cut in front of Lu Canran.

Her face flushed red with frustration. For ten full seconds, she debated whether to say “Excuse me, please don’t cut in line,” or “Sorry, but you’re cutting,” or if she should just swallow her indignation in silence—

Then a large hand reached over her head and tapped one of the guys on the shoulder. The voice that followed was as sharp and precise as a stainless steel scalpel—concise and firm.

“Go to the back of the line.”

Lu Canran and the two guys turned their heads at the same time.

There he was—Liang Yuanzheng.

His face was slightly flushed, still glistening with sweat. He wore a gray sweater, medium-blue jeans, and white sneakers. His shoelaces were tied meticulously, the lengths of the loops perfectly symmetrical. He was tall, lean, and quiet, exuding a cool, restrained kind of handsomeness.

The two men chuckled sheepishly and obediently walked to the back of the line.

Liang Yuanzheng didn’t even glance at her. He turned and walked away with a calm indifference.

Lu Canran stood frozen in place, torn for five whole seconds—should she go after the cream puffs or go after his WeChat? The person in front had already picked up the tongs and tray, and the shop assistant was smiling warmly at her, asking what she’d like.

“Three boxes of cheese bobo cream puffs,” Lu Canran said. “Please pack them in three separate bags. Thank you.”

She paid and took the bags, then dashed out of the store, looking around. Her heart was thudding wildly in her chest—bang bang, bang bang.

So many people. She stood there, lost, unable to spot a trace of Liang Yuanzheng.

“Lu Canran.”

Lu Canran spun around sharply, like a cursor circling on a Gaode Map.

Liang Yuanzheng was standing just one step behind her, on a slightly higher step.

His eyes were lowered, and his face was as clear and composed as the voice that had just called her name.

Lu Canran blurted out, “Thank you, doctor—”

“I’m not a doctor yet.”

“Um… senior.”

Liang Yuanzheng stepped down from the stair. The sun was about to set, and he moved from the unfiltered glow beyond the billboard’s reach into the shadow below.

All the tips Zhu Huaxin had taught her completely vanished from Lu Canran’s mind. She was so nervous that her brain was filled with nothing but “lalalalalalala he talked to me lalalalalalala.”

She knew she should ask for his WeChat, but her lips felt so dry they might as well have been sealed shut. It was as if the air itself had locked her words inside her throat.

Ask for his WeChat.

Liang Yuanzheng asked, “Feeling better now?”

“Much better, thank you.”

“Did you take the medicine?”

“I did, and I applied the ointment too.”

“In the next few days, it’s best not to go out too much,” Liang Yuanzheng said as his eyes glanced at the dessert bags in her hand. “And avoid spicy or irritating foods.”

“Mm… this one’s not spicy,” Lu Canran finally gathered her courage and held out one of the paper bags. “Thank you for helping me earlier. Let me treat you to a cream puff. This one’s really good.”

—And then… can I add you on WeChat?

Each syllable in her head was dry and awkward, like a stale little bun forgotten in the oven. She was still sweating, and the sweet scent of the bakery was thick in the air.

Liang Yuanzheng made no move to take it and politely declined, “I can tell. Thank you, but I don’t eat sweets.”

Lu Canran let out a soft, awkward “ah,” slowly pulling her hand back, completely flustered.

Add WeChat, add WeChat, add WeChat…

“Liang Yuanzheng—”

Someone was calling him. Liang Yuanzheng turned to look.

Lu Canran saw a guy waving at him, and behind him stood a tall, slender girl.

“Pollen allergies may not be serious, but you should still be mindful in daily life. Try wearing a mask when you go out next time,” Liang Yuanzheng said to Lu Canran. “I’ve got something to do. See you.”

Ah.

That sentence—“Can I add you on WeChat?”—still didn’t make it out of her mouth.

She was a well-behaved girl, and well-behaved girls always tread carefully through life, doing everything they can not to trouble others.

She didn’t have the courage to disturb Liang Yuanzheng.

“Okay,” Lu Canran replied, trying to smile despite the disappointment weighing her down. “Thank you, Senior. It was really nice seeing you.”

Maybe she was too upset, because she couldn’t keep that smile up for long. She quickly turned to leave—only to be stopped again.

“By the way, Lu Canran.”

She paused, trying to sound casual. “Yes?”

Liang Yuanzheng had already walked up to her.

He held his phone, calm and composed. “Let’s add each other on WeChat. If you have any other allergic reactions over the next few days, you can contact me directly.”

He looked every bit like a responsible future doctor, but Lu Canran’s heart was pounding so hard, it felt like she needed to call 110.

It hit her a beat too late—she hadn’t changed that way-too-obvious WeChat nickname, “CBO First Edition.” Flustered, she kept saying “Okay, okay,” while fumbling to open her phone, fingers trembling as she rushed to pull up her QR code. Her hands were shaking too much, and her brain was overloaded with joy, so she accidentally tapped the payment code instead. She scrambled to exit and open the correct screen again.

She never looked up, her toes curling inside her shoes from the embarrassment. Then it hit her—her dress had several wrinkles on it. She’d clutched it nervously along the way, leaving crumples that now looked like shy little mimosa leaves curling in on themselves.

Scan. Type. Send.

While adding her, Liang Yuanzheng remained utterly silent, his face unreadable, his manner calm and distant—so still he barely seemed to exist at all.

Lu Canran stared at her screen.

Ding.

A WeChat notification for a new friend.

She tapped it open.

UFO: 【I’m Liang Yuanzheng.】