Chapter 11: The Eleventh Dimension 2/2

Song Fuzhi noticed that every time Shi Zhang called, he would address him as “Professor Song” with a slight upward intonation, as if confirming his presence.

“Um, I’m here,” Song Fuzhi replied.

Shi Zhang said, “I haven’t forgotten. I can’t forget such a significant matter.”

After a few seconds, Song Fuzhi realized that Shi Zhang was referring to not forgetting the marriage proposal. He couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “I know. I was just joking.”

Making a serious call to respond to a joke, the professor was indeed quite solemn.

“It’s just that we haven’t talked since that day, and I made a casual joke. Professor Shi, don’t take it to heart,” Song Fuzhi said.

“Because I didn’t know when you were free during the weekdays, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” Shi Zhang explained.

The professor was so considerate; every word was well placed. Song Fuzhi unconsciously lightened his tone: “I’m usually free after 9 p.m. You can message me on WeChat anytime, and I’ll respond when I see it.”

“Good,” Shi Zhang replied. “Only available after 9 p.m., Professor Song; you work hard.”

“Not hard,” Song Fuzhi said.

These three words had been repeated by Song Fuzhi many times over the years. Changing the topic, he said, “Professor Shi, I’ve looked into it a bit. Besides the ring, there are quite a few things to prepare for before getting married.”

Shi Zhang said, “Yes, we’ll prepare together.”

Song Fuzhi asked, “Should we find a time to do the pre-marital property notarization?”

He briefly explained the process to Shi Zhang. Song Fuzhi, with his excellent memory, could explain legal terms clearly after reading them once. The benefits and necessity were laid out logically, showcasing the legal protection it provided for both parties in marriage.

Song Fuzhi stopped after talking for a while, realizing he might have been too businesslike. Such an agreement seemed to delineate the relationship, as if afraid the other party would bite off a piece of one’s flesh. It felt like defending against the closest person.

Shi Zhang’s tone didn’t change: “I understand. I’ve looked into it before, and I think it’s good.”

Song Fuzhi tried to remedy: “Professor Shi, don’t mind it. I’m not trying to separate from you.”

“I know,” Shi Zhang interrupted with a smile. “I know, Professor Song. I think the same way.”

With such a sentence, Song Fuzhi felt relieved. When someone had a similar mindset, there was no need for extensive explanations. It felt very comfortable.

“Preparing the materials will take some time. How about finding a time to handle the notarization application and the ring together?” Shi Zhang suggested.

“Sure,” Song Fuzhi readily agreed. “Let’s get ready.”

As they began preparing the materials for pre-marital notarization, the reality of getting married truly set in. The required documents and various proofs were numerous, and Song Fuzhi, alone at home, searching through his computer and safe, gradually started to lose focus.

The safe was close to the display case for the action figures. While searching for documents, Song Fuzhi naturally reached out to the figures.

In fact, there weren’t many action figures on the display case, and the Gundam models weren’t numerous either. He had three layers of figures, which was far from the three cabinets full of them that Luo Luli had.

He had been exposed to anime since high school, and now, after fourteen or fifteen years, he had only bought so few.

Song Fuzhi felt he was the type of “onlooker” in the second dimension.

In his younger years, he frequented forums and browsed Tieba (Baidu Post Bar), silently supporting the works of great artists, both in fan fiction and fan art. He was responsible for silently giving likes.

Later, he got into building gundams. He would carefully assemble each one, attempting refined spray painting and weathering. Even Luo Luli praised his skills, saying that if he posted them online, he’d be hailed as a master. But Song Fuzhi never liked to share; he preferred to take his time doing it and enjoy it at home.

As he grew older, he became even lazier.

When watching an anime and reaching an exciting part with full-screen “Ah ah ah” and “so handsome,” he couldn’t even be bothered to open the barrage input box.

Sometimes Luo Luli would lament, “We, the old second-dimension fans…” and Song Fuzhi would interrupt her, jokingly saying, “What kind of second-dimension fan am I? I’m just here to mooch off you. Those big chefs are decades younger than me.”

Song Fuzi was truly low-key in the second dimension.

In his childhood, with busy parents, as long as his grades didn’t drop, they wouldn’t bother about his interests and hobbies. They didn’t know that every time he went to the bookstore, he spent the whole afternoon looking at manga instead of world classics.

When Song Fuzhi grew up, lived independently, bought his own house, and became mature, he wouldn’t bother telling his parents about his interests in anime characters.

So, until now, neither Professor Wang nor Dr. Song knew that there were so many plastic figurines in Song Fuzhi’s house, nor did they know about this hobby that he had maintained since high school.

Song Fuzhi played with the action figures for a while and absentmindedly pulled open the drawer under the display case.

The drawer was filled with books, stacked haphazardly and not very neatly.

It contained mainly photo books of cosplayers that Song Fuzhi had bought over the years. Among them, the ones he bought the most were from the cosplayer Zhang Yu, known as “Zhangyu Lao Shi.” From his first publication to the latest works, Song Fuzhi had them all.

But Octopus (Zhang Yu) mainly released more works in the early years; there haven’t been many in recent years. In the early works, the shooting techniques and makeup still carried a nostalgic flavor. Octopus’s figure had a younger and more tender appearance, presenting a different style. Song Fuzhi had repeatedly enjoyed these works many times, remembering the sequence of the pictures clearly. However, each time he viewed them, he still found it enjoyable; he never tired of Octopus’s figure.

Of course, Song Fuzhi also enjoyed looking at other handsome men, such as male actors, popular handsome guys from the internet, or other male cosplayers. As long as they looked good, Song Fuzhi enjoyed watching them. He was adept at finding good meals everywhere; this was his specialty.

Some foreign cosplayers had excellent figures and unique charm, with deep eyes and full muscles, exhibiting excellent body proportions. These handsome men took turns being Song Fuzhi’s material for bedtime viewing. However, in the end, his aesthetic preference always circled back to Octopus; it was hard to find anyone comparable on the internet.

Song Fuzhi flipped through Octopus’s photobooks, gradually feeling a surge of excitement. In this regard, Song Fuzhi never skimped on himself; when eating alone, he relished every bite.

So, without hesitation, he went to the bedroom. In the deep recesses of the closet was a small treasury, and he carefully picked out a few items. After choosing, he went to the bathroom. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he suddenly realized a serious matter.

He was about to step into marriage, and he needed to figure out how to tell his future husband that he preferred eating alone compared to having dinner together. Not only did he enjoy solitary dining, but he also had quite particular tastes.