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It seemed as though every single student at Shanghai University knew about Wei Ying’s boyfriend.
This in and of itself was not notably strange—many people were in relationships, and made comments about their significant others. What was strange, though, was that most people simply did not believe that Wei Ying’s boyfriend was real.
This conclusion was not reached due to any fault from Wei Ying himself. Quite the opposite, because once people noticed that he mentioned his boyfriend, it became easier to notice that Wei Ying mentions his boyfriend all the time—in innocuous conversations that had nothing to do with the aforementioned boyfriend, when discussing random topics, whenever Wei Ying would get the chance, it seemed. The root of the problem stemmed from Wei Ying’s veritable vagueness when speaking about his boyfriend. For a long time, most people didn’t realise anything special because Wei Ying simply spoke as if everyone was already familiar with the people that played roles in his life.
The inherent problem with this, though, was that Wei Ying simply wasn’t friends with everyone, despite his friendly nature and natural inclination toward flirtation—another point against him in the great ‘Is Wei Ying’s Boyfriend Real’ debate.
The ‘Is Wei Ying’s Boyfriend Real’ debate was a hot topic. Not only was it discussed amongst the students that shared his major—“My boyfriend was so proud of me when I got the acceptance letter for my masters in physics,” Wei Ying smiled at a couple of other students who were being debriefed in their first course of the semester. “He always believes in me, of course. He’s the sweetest!” He hadn’t noticed the looks some of his peers exchanging looks of discomfort at the frank simpering that Wei Ying was doing.
It wasn’t only the physics department that debated the existence of Wei Ying’s boyfriend. The topic was popular amongst most of the science students, and had even breached containment as a topic in the business and economics faculties after Wei Ying had been seen eating with one Jiang Cheng—later confirmed to be his adoptive brother, much to the disappointment of those betting on Jiang Cheng being the boyfriend of question. It had been a hot topic for all of three days, before the frankly frightening glares from Jiang Cheng had finally discouraged any and all from speaking to him about his brother. The visceral disgust on his face when some brave soul attempted to talk to Jiang Cheng about the boyfriend was enough to shut down that avenue of discovery, as well.
Most people remember the first time Wei Ying had mentioned his boyfriend. It had been at a mixer event after the first week of classes, after he had already proven himself to be a charming, knowledgeable, mischievous man. He’d already won the hearts of no less than three of the women in his classes, and one particularly gregarious man who seemed a little too willing to branch out.
It had been something of a heartbreak event, then, when at the mixer he’d clarified his status as devotedly in a relationship. A loving, long-term relationship, on top of it all.
It was hard to miss him at the mixer—he was tall and loud, his laugh carrying on the soundwaves of the school-appropriate music. His long hair tossed back over a shoulder with each swaying dance move, each new schmooze of professors and other students. His admirers would claim it was a scene straight from a romance movie—the way he’d smile and knock his head back, the way his hands seemed to be able to touch anyone on the shoulder or arm with just the right amount of casual confidence that it didn’t seem out of the ordinary at all.
It wasn’t a surprise, then, that no fewer than six people—four gals, two guys—had tried to shoot their shot that night. All of them had been turned down with a small smile that couldn’t exactly be described as apologetic because Wei Ying simply wasn’t sorry. He had shrugged, smiled, and said with a voice that spoke volumes about his feelings, “Sorry, I have a boyfriend.”
The issue should have been done with then and there.
It, somehow unsurprisingly, wasn’t.
Wei Ying continued to be smart, funny, charming. He never stopped being devastatingly handsome, extremely helpful to his peers, exceedingly friendly. It made the masses restless, because through all of this there was the rumour of a boyfriend, but there simply wasn’t any proof. To top it off, Wei Ying was probably one of the only people on campus who didn’t put his entire life online on social media. Wei Ying’s online presence was a desert, and even the few pictures he’d shared could hardly be described as an oasis: a few pictures of restaurant food, a picture of him with a woman and baby with face obscured (his nephew, according to the caption), and a low-resolution shot from some sort of symphony orchestra dated years back. Absolutely nothing to fuel the gossip mill.
It just made the whole debate even more mysterious, added even more fuel to the fire. Wei Ying—stunningly pretty, charming, handsome—with nothing online? Maybe the boyfriend was famous, or a politician, or—heavens forbid—super controlling and jealous? It was unclear to everyone. That, plus there weren't any pictures of the boyfriend online either. It made people question even harder: is he at Shanghai U as well? Who is he? What’s his name? Does he even actually exist?
For the longest time, the only thing anyone knew about Wei Ying’s boyfriend was that he was a man, and that he was in a relationship with Wei Ying.
Lots of people—in the ‘Wei Ying’s Boyfriend is Fake’ brigade, mostly—simply believed Wei Ying was making the entire thing up. It was easier to turn people down if you could blame it on someone else, namely a boyfriend, was it not? Their campaigning that Wei Ying’s boyfriend wasn’t real was hardly effective, though. Wei Ying continued to reject people with the same excuse, despite the seemingly common knowledge that he was in a relationship. It didn’t deter anyone, and Wei Ying was friendly enough and enough of a cheapskate that he was willing to still sit down for a meal and a drink with one of his admirers if it meant that he was getting a free meal and a lively conversation out of it. If it was a tactic some used to get more information on the mystery boyfriend, too, well… that was their secret to keep.
Eventually, and to the thankfulness of everyone invested in the story of Wei Ying’s love life, they did start to get a couple of crumbs of information.
There was still no name, despite the number of times that Wei Ying had mentioned the boyfriend. Somehow, no matter how many times Wei Ying spoke about the man, he always managed to use a nickname.
The first time they’d all heard one of these nicknames was immediately post-class one day, when Wei Ying’s phone began ringing with a ringtone that seemed entirely unlike him—dulcet and longing chords from a guqin, playing a sombre melody. He’d answered with the biggest smile anyone had seen yet, eyes shining as he spoke fondly into the receiver, “Hey, baobei, did your class let out early? How’s your ankle?”
The student next to him—notorious gossip Jin Zixun—had nearly fallen over from how he’d tripped. A part of him was internally frustrated from not looking over to read the name that had displayed when Wei Ying’s phone had started ringing, but this tidbit of information would have to make do. Wei Ying calls his boyfriend baobei, can you believe that, he’d immediately started texting to his group of Wei Ying’s Boyfriend Truthers. It was as close to a name as they’d gotten.
‘Wei Ying’s boyfriend’ was henceforth called Wei Ying’s baobei.
It was months later—agonising months of not getting any new information—that they finally learned a name.
The name came up completely randomly, and totally unintentionally, one late Friday evening right as the autumn semester let out for Lunar New Year. Wei Ying’s sister, Jiang Yanli, had already graduated years earlier, and had shown up with a pudgy little baby that Wei Ying immediately cooed at and held like this baby had hung the moon and stars. Onlookers thought it was a good sign and prayed silently that Wei Ying’s baobei wanted children.
It was only by chance that there was someone close by enough (pretending to be absorbed in their phone, earphones in for the sake of hiding their eavesdropping ways) to hear the conversation between Wei Ying and his sister.
She had been glancing at her phone, hands free for once while Wei Ying bounced the chubby baby in his arms, when her eyes had widened. “We should get going soon, A-Ying. A-Zhan’s flight lands soon, doesn’t it?”
“In a couple of hours. I figured we could drop by my flat before we go pick him up, that way we don’t have to double back on the way to yours?” Wei Ying had answered, hiking the baby onto his hip like a proper little housewife.
“Of course!” Jiang Yianli had smiled prettily at Wei Ying, pinching one of his cheeks. “A-Zhan has made you so much more organised. I’m glad you’re spending the holidays here instead of flying out to see him again.”
“I still don’t understand why he doesn’t just stay here,” Wei Ying whined, pouting not unlike the baby that he was still cradling to his chest.
“You know he wants to come back,” Jiang Yanli placed a placating arm on Wei Ying’s arm. Her smile really was something out of a movie, calming and sweet and maybe this was where Wei Ying got his kindness from? “He’s only in Beijing for now, he’s going to come back.”
Wei Ying’s rebuttal was lost on deaf ears as they walked away from the silent-earphoned eavesdropper.
All three of them—namely, Jiang Yanli, Wei Wuxian, and unnamed nephew—were blissfully unaware of the shockwave they had just sent through the student body. With just a couple of sentences, they’d all received more information about Wei Ying’s baobei—A-Zhan—than they’d had in months. All while the siblings and little nephew walked away, looking like the picture of ignorant bliss. They had no idea—Jiang Yanli had no idea—that everyone was wondering if she was a New Year miracle.
They had new, fantastic pieces of information. The vibrations of cell phones receiving WeChat messages across campus was not unlike those of a minor earthquake. The most important information was now being made common knowledge—Wei Ying’s baobei was called Zhan, and he lived in Beijing. No wonder no one had seen him yet.
Multiple students that evening looked toward the heavens and thanked silently for Jiang Yanli and her innocuous hint dropping. She truly was the angel that they hadn’t asked for, but had needed.
By the end of the school year, the list of facts about Wei Ying’s baobei had expanded. Not exponentially, but with enough information that even the Wei Ying’s Boyfriend Deniers were having trouble coming up with plausible explanations for all of the facts. This meant that the Wei Ying’s Boyfriend Truthers were winning bets left, right, and centre. Jin Zixun, somehow, was taking a lead in all of this, and had become something of a one-stop-shop for anyone looking to refresh themselves on the facts.
His list was short, but not lacking in detail (something his peers pondered, because Jin Zixun was nothing if not airheaded in his classes, and his detailed list confused more than just a couple):
1. His name was Zhan (family name hitherto unconfirmed).
2. He lived in Beijing.
3. He was also still a university student, though which university remained unconfirmed. Rumours had him pegged as either a Peking Uni student, or a student at the Beijing University of Technology. This made for yet another debate amongst the Boyfriend Truthers, both sects having frankly impressive theories to back up their positions.
4. Wei Ying favoured nicknames, including but not limited to baobei, er-gege, and er-gongzi. This was especially titillating as information because it revealed a second fact: Wei Ying’s boyfriend was a second born son. The way that they all found this out was during a rather dull tutorial session when his phone had started ringing.
As a rule he should have been excused from the class, with points docked for disturbance, but it seemed as though the professor had been anticipating this (perhaps she knew the boyfriend? Yet another debate in the making, if you asked Jin Zixun). Wei Ying had barely stepped out of the classroom to take the call, and his voice carried in the silence, “Er-gege, can I call you back in, like, an hour or so? I’m almost out of classes. Ok, I love you, baobei.”
5. He played football. This was learned when Wei Ying had asked a classmate, some guy called Su Minshan who was on the football team as exclusively standby, if he had any recommendations for lotions because, “My boyfriend sprains his ankle sometimes when he goes at it too hard and I want him to be comfortable while he sits on the bench like you are.” (A couple of people silently snickered at the sly dig, but mentioned nothing of Su Minshan’s beet red face.)
6. He injured himself frequently enough that it worried Wei Ying—star athlete or bumbling fool another debate that had yet to be settled.
It was in light of the football revelation that people began to come to the conclusion that Wei Ying’s boyfriend must be some sort of athletic god (the Bumbling Fool camp had to concede that a prestigious university wouldn’t allow some loser on the field to injure himself unless being paid serious bribery money, and that had lead to another debate). Wei Ying could be spotted every so often wearing football jerseys, old ratty things from high school teams, or European teams that were so out of date they had the names of players who had already been traded.
When summer came, most people forgot to keep up with the drama of Wei Ying’s baobei (the title had caught on, and felt somehow more real than referring to the man by his alleged given name). It had seemed that the mystery of Wei Ying’s love life had come to a natural conclusion as everyone was too busy with summer jobs, internships, and their own lives to even think about anything else. If, sometimes—not periodically, never ever, especially not in the case of Jin Zixun—a student checked Wei Ying’s social media profiles every couple of weeks (definitely not like clockwork) to see if there were any updates, then so be it. It was no one’s business, and who could judge, really, when online checks on classmates was so common it was weirder not to check up on people's holiday photos.
(There had only been a couple of updates; a photo of what looked like a family barbecue with food so red it made some people’s eyes water upon looking at it, a photo of the sunset over some mountains, and a photo that could be described as a selfie, if it had to be.
It was of Wei Ying, shirtless, with a tattoo on his chest. It was still red and raw, clearly taken at the artist’s studio, of a little rabbit in a circle. Delicate and sweet, and somehow it fit him well despite the fact that no one would look at Wei Ying and decide on a rabbit as his animal counterpart. The caption, though, is what made the Wei Ying’s Boyfriend Truthers rise up like zombies from the grave—always his silly rabbit. It was ridiculously cheesy, and almost corny enough to make even his greatest supporters cringe.
It made everyone wonder if Jin Zixun was going to add to his list of facts—was Wei Ying’s boyfriend a rabbit breeder, perhaps? Was he on a football team called the Rabbits? It was another mystery for the ages.)
The only thing that was more frustrating than Wei Ying’s utter lack of engaging content online was the fact that there was seemingly nothing online for his boyfriend, either. Wei Ying followed too many accounts, from family and friends to musicians and artists, to narrow down which account might belong to his beloved. Wei Ying was mutuals with way fewer—his brother and sister, a Nie Huaisang, one Wen Ning and Wen Qing, and a couple of accounts that seemed, frankly, abandoned.
(There was a private account, with a stock photo of a donkey as the profile picture, that he was mutuals with as well. The username—@hanguangjun—seeminly meant nothing. It must have been someone who had purged and started a new account, and was quickly written off as nothing important.)
That following September, there was a development that made the whole debate between the Truthers and the Deniers come to a complete halt.
A group of students from Peking University were doing something of an intercity exchange, coming for the autumn semester while a group of Shanghai U students flew off to Beijing to bring pride to their school. It was at another mixer (less official, this time, and more so just a group of students meeting at a local pub, having beers and peanuts), and they’d all been making friendly with the exchange students in from Beijing when one woman—short of breath, excitement written across her face—siddled into the booth with a triumphant smile.
“Guys,” she’d exclaimed too excitedly, panting and downing one of the beers on the table with no effort despite the carbonation. “Baobei-gonzi has crazy long hair—like Han Dynasty long.”
The table erupted in shouts, chatter loud and lively enough to let the woman catch her breath. The waiter who was serving the table immediately stopped rolling his eyes when he realised just how many more pitchers of beer the table was ordering.
“Oh wow, colour me surprised.”
“I didn’t peg Wei Ying as the long haired type considering, you know, his own long hair? This makes the bottom debate even more precarious…”
“How did you find this out? Did he finally post baobei-gonzi online?”
“Who’s baobei-gonzi?” one of the exchange students asked with a quizzical look written all over his face.
The table was quiet for a few seconds, garnering worry from the waiter who was at the beer tap preparing another thirteen drinks and worrying that he might have been losing his whole table. It was an unfounded worry—the table was soon screeching again with information that went over his head, even, and he’d heard quite a few tales in his years as a bartender.
“There are so many layers to this onion.”
“I wish Zixun was here to give you the deets,” one particularly drunk student clamoured.
“Fuck Zixun,” another butt in. “You know he tried to charge me a ‘Wei Ying refresher fee’ not two weeks ago?”
“I heard Zixun is out to break them up, you know,” the woman who had originally broken the news said around a mouthful of peanuts. “He’s up to no good, as always.”
That one student who had asked turned out to be one Nie Huaisang—absolute life of the party, smile like an emperor, and somehow an even bigger gossip than Jin Zixun (who, secretly, everyone was glad to see somewhat dethroned, if only because he was annoying and pessimistic).
It was no surprise, then, when he and Wei Ying got on like a house on fire. What was shocking, and it was really almost impossible to hide the surprise on all of their faces, was when Nie Huaisang spotted Wei Ying on campus on a sunny afternoon and had spread his arm while an absolute shit-eating grin had spread across his face.
Wei Ying was shouting ‘Nie Huaisang’ with a matching grin, running into the man’s arms, and scooping him up not unlike his nephew within seconds. It was a sit-down-and-breathe moment for all those who bore witness to the scene.
“Wei Ying, you filthy academic!” Nie Huaisang had shouted, giggling as he was lifted into the air like he weighed as much as a feather. Everyone around exchanged what the absolute fuck glances, incredulous and confused.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were part of the exchange program, you whore?” Wei Ying exclaimed. They didn’t even need to send in a covert eavesdropper—Nie Huaisang and Wei Ying were louder than a small jet engine.
“It was a surprise!” Nie Huaisang said back. “Da-ge wanted me to come back for some in-field experience at the firm, and it happened to be perfect timing. I’m surprised A-Zhan didn’t falter and tell you already, but he’s such a man of his word.”
The exchange sent no less than three observers to their knees, completely unnoticed by both Nie Huaisang and Wei Ying.
Nie Huaisang knew Wei Ying. Huaisang and Wei Ying were friends. And, most importantly, Huaisang knew Wei Ying’s boyfriend, was close enough with baobei-gongzi that Nie Huaisang had told him personally about his exchange program. Wei Ying’s boyfriend knew Nie Huaisang’s da-ge. It was enough to send one particularly caffeinated student into the infirmary with reports of cardiac arrest (not, though—just too much caffeine, according to one of the campus doctors).
Reports, as the weeks went on, seemed to reveal even more. Nie Huaisang’s da-ge was absolute besties with baobei-gonzi’s older brother, therefore forcing the two of them into a relatively close relationship. Nie Huaisang could be heard bragging once—drunkenly—to Wei Ying, “You can’t be his best friend because you guys are soul mates and in love,” he’d said, elongating the ‘O’ to comical lengths. “Ergo, I am his best friend.”
Suddenly, with the arrival of one stylishly dressed and conversationally talented man, the entire game had changed. What had seemed like a last-year conversation was once again the main topic of discussion, somehow hotter off the proverbial presses than it had ever been before.
It was funny, in Nie Huaisang’s opinion, just how many people tried to speak to him about baobei-gonzi, also known as Wei Ying’s Boyfriend, also known as real name Zhan, A-Zhan if close enough to him. Nie Huaisang would laugh them all off, saying, “A-Zhan would be nowhere without me. His social life would be truly suffering if I hadn’t stepped in to help.”
Nie Huaisang, despite his rapid reputation as a gossip, a partier, and an easy friend, was not a complete moron. He knew immediately upon the first line of questioning at that initial mixer that Wei Ying’s boyfriend was a little too much of a topic of discussion.
He’d questioned exactly once why everyone seemed so obsessed with Wei Ying’s boyfriend—and when he’d relayed the news to the man in question over a face-call, only to receive little more than a blank stare back. “As long as Wei Ying is safe and happy, I am all right with the gossip,” he had said, with absolutely zero reaction to Nie Huaisang’s incredulous stare.
What was really surprising to Huaisang, though, was Wei Ying’s unfettered ignorance. He was seemingly entirely oblivious to the fact that he was one of the hottest topics on campus, that everyone around him wanted a piece of the Wei Ying Lore pie. It was almost impressive how unaware he was, and Nie Huaisang would have laughed if it wasn’t just the slightest bit pathetic.
Nie Huaisang secretly loved it. Not only did he quickly usurp the position of Jin Zixun as head gossip on campus, but he was treated as something of a local celebrity at the university. It left him with so many opportunities for fun and games.
Every so often, he deigned to grace the common folk with his wisdom, dropping a fact about the infamous baobei-gongzi and watching as the masses lost their collective minds with the new lore they had to fit into the carefully constructed images they’d made together. Nie Huaisang, who thought Wei Ying was an attractive man, for sure, but had never been obsessed with his looks the way others had been, was astounded at the way news spread about him. He wondered if Shanghai University was simply lacking in good-looking men (no shade meant to Wei Ying, of course) and this was why there was so much gossip going about. He was absolutely floored that he could mention a very insignificant fact and he would hear about it no less than thirty minutes later in the massive WeChat group he’d been added to before everyone knew his relationship to Wei Ying.
“I don’t know much about guoyue, but A-Zhan’s absolute favourite is Peng Xiuwen. I read one of his papers on it—like the amazing friend I am—but he lost me after the third paragraph. Auditory art isn’t my forte, I’m much more of a fashion queen,” he’d told one applied mathematics major on his way back to the dorms one night after a few drinks. Later that week, and ongoing, it would be relatively normal to hear the sounds of the erhu, dizi, xiao, and guqin creating the soundtrack for both mellow and hyper study sessions.
Wei Ying, after a straight week of hearing classical music played on traditional instruments, had finally added to the conversation—“My boyfriend plays the guqin! He’s majoring in practical musical application,” he’d exclaimed with a smile brighter than the sun.
Nie Huaisang, who had placed a bet that Wei Ying would comment nine days post music revelation, held out his hand with business cards with the details of his digital information for funds transfers.
Nei Huaisang also mentioned in passing A-Zhan’s pets—
“His bunnies are too rambunctious for me, I’m afraid. I’m more of a bird fiend, myself. But little Bichen and Suibian are sweethearts, if a little over-enthusiastic about each other, if you catch my drift.”
The only thing people had caught were the facts: baobei-gonzi had pet rabbits, their names were Bichen and Suibian, and they, seemingly, fucked like rabbits do. No one bothered to comment aloud about how odd the names seemed.
Much like how no one bothered to ask Wei Ying questions directly (because he was so scattered he would answer a question no one had asked), no one bothered Nie Huaisang with questions either (because there was some sense of decorum, and it would be outright rude).
Nie Huaisang, though, was another Official Blessing sent from the heavens, in the eyes of the students of Shanghai University. In the one autumn semester he’d spent with them, he’d become the number one go-to for gossip. He’d brought them all a significant number of interesting facts, rounding out the ongoing list.
7. Baobei-gonzi had long as fuck hair (“Han Dynasty length,” everyone remembered from the beginning of the semester).
8. He favoured classical instruments.
9. He was majoring in music.
10. He had two rabbits named Bichen and Suibian. Allegedly this was an inside joke between Wei Ying and Boyfriend that no one was privy to. This made it slightly more romantic, but still.
11. His favourite movie was Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (this was mentioned by none other than Wei Ying himself, two films deep into the mid semester, post-midterms movie martial arts movie festival).
12. He was a skilled musician and seemed adept at most instruments, but his favourite was the guqin.
13. He was a talented singer, as well (“One time I had this wicked fever,” Wei Ying shared, speaking with his mouth full of food. “He sang me to sleep and wiped my forehead clean of sweat. I think that’s when I knew he was the one for me.”)
14. He was a good cook (“Once my boyfriend made me all sorts of Szechuan dishes when I had my first proper family get together with him,” Wei Ying had mentioned over a pot of steaming rice and enough red-hot meat to make even the most adventurous spice connoisseurs second guess their choices. “His family eats so bland and I ate it all because I wanted to make a good impression on his uncle, but ever since he carries a big jar of chilli oil in his backpack.”)
The spring semester was less exciting, especially since the exchange of students between Beijing and Shanghai had come to an end. It was funny—the students of Shanghai University had gotten so used to the random drops of information Nie Huaisang fed them that it was almost difficult to go back to the near radio silence that was Wei Ying. For all that he spoke, he said very little. It wasn’t as if they had nothing to go off of, now, though. It was clear that the mystery of Wei Ying’s boyfriend was slowly but surely becoming unravelled.
Over the summer holiday Wei Ying got an internship at the Dafan branch of Wen Enterprises with a couple of his fellow classmates and they made sure to share any and all new baobei-gongzi information. Said info was shared in the very same WeChat group that Nie Huaisang was still a part of, much to his delight. Summer meant two juicy new pieces of gossip.
15. A-Zhan’s family was old-money rich, traditional, and very influential.
16. Due to baobei-gonzi’s rich, old-money family, the planned summer move to rejoin back in Shanghai was delayed. Apparently, and with a little thumbs-up reaction from Nie Huaisang on a couple of messages in the WeChat group to confirm it all, Wei Ying’s boyfriend would be hindered slightly so as to ensure his own career was ‘properly on track’, whatever that meant.
They all collectively found out that baobei-gongzi had graduated months earlier and was meant to move back to Shanghai over the summer (an event that warranted its own block party, complete with police escort, in the opinions of the Wei Ying’s Boyfriend Truthers), but was road blocked by his uncle who insisted upon planning for the future and not just following Wei Ying around like a lost puppy. In the eyes of the Boyfriend Deniers, this was an absolute win—another point to prove that the boyfriend simply does not exist.
(Somehow, to the shock of no one, really, Jin Zixun transferred teams and was now a staunch Boyfriend Denier, and proudly so. He’d tell anyone that would listen that, “There’s no way anyone would like Wei Ying enough to be in a long-term, long-distance relationship.” Most believed he felt this way because Wei Ying seemingly was incapable of remembering who exactly Jin Zixun was no matter how many times they crossed paths.)
It was right as summer was about to hit that the greatest debate amongst the Boyfriend Truthers broke out—Wei Ying had received a care package of what appeared to be rich-people things exclusively: rare treats, pricey alcohols, a hairpin that looked to be carved from real jade and with a tassel of real rubies.
The extravagance had cemented a new fact.
17. Baobei-gongzi was obscenely rich, and overly lavish in his gift giving.
This led to the aforementioned great debate of whether it was ethical for Wei Ying to be dating someone so grossly wealthy. Wei Ying had always lived in the more run-down of student housing, had eagerly and willingly told anyone about his working class parents (before they had died and he’d been adopted into the wealthy Jiangs, which was a debate they’d all settled much earlier—as a child Wei Ying could not control who he was adopted into, therefore the wealth of his adoptive parents was not a reflection on himself. Yes, there was some hypocrisy, but no one looked too hard at that.) Was it then fair for Wei Ying to seem like just a regular person, when he clearly had access to such funds? Was it even his own money he used to donate to shelters and social causes the student union would sponsor?
It meant that the following school year started off on something of a bad foot, as the feelings about Wei Ying and Rich Boyfriend festered.
No one treated Wei Ying differently, of course. Despite having a potentially problematic fave, he was still, undoubtedly, their fave. And so life went on, with slightly frigid stares, maybe people were a little less inclined to give Wei Ying their time or share snacks. It wasn’t that bad.
Then the news broke. All Hell broke loose with it.
“Code RED everyone,” one student wrote in the WeChat group on a rainy Thursday evening. The weather had been particularly bad, cold and stormy and atypical for the time of year. It was the main topic of discussion, especially since Wei Ying hadn’t done anything particularly interesting or juicy enough to share.
“What’s going on????” another student wrote back.
“Baobei-gongzi has a son.”
“WHAT??”
“Single dad vibes?? Are we getting hot DILF vibes?”
“Oh my god, when I said baobei-gongzi was his sugar daddy I didn’t think I was actually speaking the truth about the daddy bit.”
“Somebody hold me, I'm about to start hyperventilating.”
“How do you know this?”
“Wen Ning posted,” the original student wrote. “I think it’s the first time he’s EVER posted something personal and I was just about to unfollow because I really couldn’t care less about Wen Ning’s video game streaming but then I saw it.”
“Don’t be a tease, what did you see?”
“He posted a picture of a little hand holding a big hand and captioned it ‘Always a treat when A-Zhan visits with A-Yuan <3’.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s his SON, though. What are we thinking chat?”
“Someone ask Nie Huaisang!!”
“@Nie Huaisang, DILF ????”
The entire campus seemed to be holding its breath waiting with deep anticipation for a reply from Nie Huaisang, who had been rather quiet recently in the group.
“You didn’t hear it from me,” is all Nie Huaisang wrote back, and that was as good of a confirmation that they were going to get.
Rumour had it that no less than six students were sent to the infirmary that day. Even more got sent to the infirmary after the newest Great Debate took a physical turn, or so the story went. It was absolutely not a unanimous agreement, causing what might be the greatest divide the Boyfriend Truthers had faced yet.
Half of them believed that Zhan (who didn’t even deserve a fun name anymore, in their opinions) had impregnated a woman and then stolen custody of the baby. The other half believed some tragic story, the woman had died in birth and baobei-gongzi had stepped up to the plate. The connection to the Wens was not looked into too deeply, because it didn’t bring much to either side of the discussion. The mystique of A-Yuan’s origins was enough to tide over the general population of the university for weeks to come.
It was only when Wei Ying started looking more and more tired that people started to become worried. Maybe there had been a breakup?
(The Boyfriend Deniers loved that theory, but the Truthers were adamant that it was simply stress that was making Wei Ying seem exhausted and overworked. The twenty-kilogramme eye bags he was sporting were a fashion statement, thank you very much.)
It was unanimous (for once) that Wei Ying was Not Doing Well. The potential breakup was still a spot for debate, but there was no question in anyone’s mind that Wei Ying was struggling. They all wondered if it was due solely to the absence of his boyfriend, or if there were other underlying issues. Regardless, everyone agreed that there was something needed to cheer Wei Ying up.
Something ended up being a variety of things: extra spicy dishes showing up when someone would order food to the dorms, calming guqin music playing on the communal speakers, watching CrouchingTiger, Hidden Dragon during dorm movie time. It was in vain, unfortunately. Wei Ying would smile the tiniest smile known to man for a few seconds before his face would drop, back to the solemn and slightly sad expression he’d been wearing for too long.
One spectacular Wednesday, though, everything changed.
The sun was shining brightly, unusual considering how gloomy the weather had been recently. The temperature was mild, and more people were spending the afternoon outside rather than in. It was on that fateful Wednesday that the stars and planets aligned, that the gods looked down upon the earth and decided generosity was in the cards.
“You seem lost,” said one particularly brave girl to the stranger who had turned up on campus. She had no riding in any game, but had simply seen the god-like handsomeness of this complete stranger and had decided she needed to shoot her shot.
Handsome man startled, though his face remained impassive and blank. “I’m looking for someone,” he said. The look in his eyes clearly read ‘I’m not interested in flirting with you’. His demeanour was ice cold, not a caring bone in his body when it came to the woman he was speaking to. He seemed like a man on a mission, and he would accomplish whatever task he had set himself to.
“Maybe I can help you find this person?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes. No harm in charming it up, right?
“You may know him,” said Handsome man. “Wei Ying? He’s a physics major.”
The woman’s blood ran ice cold through her veins. Wei Ying. A handsome stranger was looking for Wei Ying. He was tall and had nice hair and perfect teeth and delicate features. A man no one knows is looking for Wei Ying.
She had been silent for a beat too long. “If you’re unable to help I will be moving on. Thank you for your assistance—”
“Holy shit,” she gasped, cutting him off and not sparing a glance at his furrowed brow. “Baobei-gonzi? Are you Wei Ying’s boyfriend?”
“You know Wei Ying, then?”
“Follow me,” she said. She didn’t have the courage to grab him by the wrist and drag him along, but the temptation was very real. Instead, she took off at a steady pace—it wasn’t going to be hard to find Wei Ying. This semester his Wednesday afternoons were spent at the local park at the centre of an abundance of university buildings, studying while lounging about in the grass.
When they were close enough, the girl left some space as maybe-boyfriend walked forward.
“Wei Ying,” he called, voice still as steady, not yelling, not shouting. One would think he was using a megaphone with the way Wei Ying’s entire body jerked, like a fish on a line being tugged out of water. Wei Ying’s mouth dropped open, shock written across his face.
“Wei Ying,” handsome-man-maybe-boyfriend repeated, and Wei Ying’s face split into the most radiant smile, the tiredness that had been plaguing him disappearing as if it had never existed in the first place.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying shouted, scrambling to his feet before taking a running jump at handsome-man-definitely-boyfriend. The collective sigh of every student on campus was audible around the world. The way that Wei Ying opened up like a flower in bloom, the way his body language immediately read as overwhelmingly happy, was captured in an admittedly creepy sneak shot that was immediately shared in the WeChat group. This was met with divided opinions, half denouncing the creep shot, the other half grateful they got to see The Moment. In both cases, everyone could begrudgingly admit that the picture was adorable.
The moment was broken slightly, though, by the odd looks both Wei Ying and boyfriend Lan Zhan—with a family name now!!!—gave to the onlookers who were all internally whooping and cheering.
A week later, Wei Ying brought the entire world to a standstill with a new post online.
A picture: Wei Ying pressing a kiss to Lan Zhan’s cheek, with a chubby little toddler sitting in Lan Zhan’s lap (face hidden with a cute little sticker of a radish). Geotagged with a park not far from Shanghai U that Wei Ying had been seen in countless times before, and with the caption “This is Lan Zhan and A-Yuan. You can all stop debating now. ”
It was, according to legend, an internet-breaking moment in the WeChat group.