The Academic God Becomes an Internet Sensation After Joining a Dating Show - C37 - Painting

The next morning, when Qing Lin stirred awake, he found himself nestled in Shen Xuzhi’s arms. A firm hand was wrapped securely around his waist, and the man’s chin rested lightly atop his head. Curled up tightly, Qing Lin was pressed close against his chest.

Qing Lin: !

He had never woken up to something like this before, and his reaction was nothing but pure instinct.

One beat of shock, two of panic, three—and his leg shot out.

With a solid thud, he kicked Shen Xuzhi clean off the bed.

The sudden impact jarred him awake.

Shen Xuzhi: ….

It wasn’t until Qing Lin saw him on the floor that he realized what he’d done. Scrambling forward, he asked in a rush, “Mr. Shen, are you okay?”

Shen Xuzhi sat there, still dazed. Rubbing at his temples, he lowered his head without replying, only hearing Qing Lin apologizing over and over.

The next second, a hand came down over Qing Lin’s head.

With his head pressed, Qing Lin lost his balance slightly and stopped talking.

The two of them stayed like that for quite a while, before Shen Xuzhi finally muttered in a low voice, “Good morning.”

“G-Good morning,” Qing Lin answered sheepishly.

Shen Xuzhi released him, got up from the floor, and ran a hand through his hair. Without another word, he walked into the bathroom, leaving behind a single line: “I’ll wash up first.”

Then he quickly shut the door behind him.

Inside, Shen Xuzhi caught sight of his reflection in the mirror—a face clearly marked by lack of sleep.

How could he possibly have slept?

Qing Lin, on the other hand, had slept soundly through the night. In his sleep, he instinctively leaned toward whatever was beside him. Shen Xuzhi knew it was nothing more than a sign of insecurity, yet he still could not resist the selfish urge to hold him close.

After Qing Lin had drifted off, Shen Xuzhi lay awake for a long time, watching him in silence.

It was unbearable.

But he couldn’t let go of such a rare opportunity.

By the time Shen Xuzhi had washed up, cooled his head, and changed his clothes, Qing Lin was already dressed. He moved with a brisk energy that made Shen Xuzhi, still weighed down by heavy eyelids, seem sluggish in comparison.

Qing Lin turned his head toward him. “Mr. Shen, you’re done washing up?”

“Mm.” Shen Xuzhi tugged at the collar of his sweater, his gaze falling on Qing Lin’s clear, springlike expression. “You look like you’re in a good mood.”

“Yes.” Qing Lin handed him a cup of coffee he’d just brewed. “We’re heading to Buenos Aires later.”

Shen Xuzhi: …

See, in his heart, Qing Lin was only thinking about Buenos Aires.

He doesn’t even think about him.

Still lively, Qing Lin busied himself with the hotel’s small electric cooker, cracking an egg into the pan. “Just wait a bit, I’ll make breakfast.”

Shen Xuzhi lifted the cup to his lips. The coffee was bitter, but for some reason he tasted sweetness in it. The thought made him lower his head with a helpless smile. It felt as if he had developed some strange, unshakable habit.

At half past eight, both groups gathered at the same spot they had visited before returning to the hotel yesterday. Together, they boarded the ride bound for Buenos Aires.

“Let’s pay the fare upfront,” the assistant reminded.

As Qing Lin watched the money being passed over, his heart gave a small twinge. If not for the cheerful weather, he would have muttered a few quiet complaints about the show being too stingy.

But the winter sun was enough to brighten anyone’s mood.

Buenos Aires that day was draped in a brilliant blue sky, thick clusters of cotton-like clouds scattered across it. Their first stop was San Telmo, the old central district of the city.

Mediterranean-style colonial buildings from the nineteenth century lined the streets, where the air carried the tart fragrance of arabica beans drifting from outdoor cafés. Elderly gentlemen lingered in conversation, while at a flower stall, a child received a bouquet from a mountain of blossoms.

Here, crumbling doorways led into antique shops tiled in bright colors, and labyrinthine alleyways hinted at the city’s decadent elegance. It was no wonder Buenos Aires was called the Paris of Latin America—prosperous, mysterious, and brimming with character.

[Buenos Aires!]

[It feels so European—like the perfect blend of European elegance and nobility and South American passion and exuberant spirit.]

Both groups stepped out of the car, blending into the romantic, mysterious streets.

“My impression of Argentina used to only be football. That was a mistake,” Shen Xuzhi said.

Qing Lin’s gaze drifted over the graffiti-painted walls before landing on a violinist in a suit playing at the mouth of an alley. He sighed softly. “No wonder Borges loved this city so much, saying it was ‘as eternal as water and air.’”

The assistant gave a brief introduction of the surroundings, then clapped his hands. “Alright, next, you’ll all have some free time to experience Buenos Aires for yourselves.”

“Free time, hubby! We can actually go sightseeing!” Zhang Nanyin exclaimed.

Liu Xin nudged his partner. “Want to find Bar Sur? Don’t you really love Happy Together? Should we go check it out?”

[Ahhh Leslie Cheung!!]

[I want to go too, I’m so jealous, sob sob!]

The assistant continued, “Since everyone must be tired from the ride, the crew has prepared Argentine yerba maté for you.”

Staff handed each of them a cup of maté.

Qing Lin took a small sip, his brows instantly knotting together.

“Oh my god, it’s so bitter.” Liu Xin smacked his lips. “It’s really strong, bitter and a bit numbing at first, but the aftertaste comes quickly.”

Qing Lin stuck out his tongue. He had never been much of a tea drinker, and the unsweetened yerba mate tasted unbearably bitter to him. Shen Xuzhi, on the other hand, remained perfectly composed, sipping calmly as if nothing were unusual.

“Shen Laoshi, don’t you find it bitter?” Qing Lin asked.

Shen Xuzhi pursed his lips against the cup. “It’s fine. The taste is a bit like raw pu’er, though not as refreshing.”

Just then, a staff member handed Qing Lin an envelope. “Qing Laoshi, this is your reward budget for completing today’s intimacy-boosting task.”

“Thank you.” Qing Lin accepted it politely.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you what today’s intimacy-boosting task is,” Liu Xin said, suddenly remembering.

Zhang Nanyin tapped his chin. “Hmm… how about this—you two take photos in ten different couple poses!”

“Cough!” At those words, Shen Xuzhi, mid-sip, suddenly choked on the mate tea. The liquid caught in his throat, and he bent over, coughing hard.

“You okay? Did it go down the wrong way?” Qing Lin reached out immediately, patting his back. “I told you it’s bitter. You shouldn’t drink it so fast.”

[No, no, Linlin, this lsp definitely didn’t choke from drinking too fast.]

[This old sp was definitely thinking of bed positions! Definitely! Absolutely!]

[Lying down, sitting, holding, straddling…]

“I’m fine,” Shen Xuzhi said quickly, straightening up. Zhang Nanyin grinned. “For today’s mission, find ten passerby and have them take ten different couple photos of you two.”

Qing Lin nodded, the task sounding simple enough. Then Liu Xin dramatically produced two identical sweatshirts from who-knows-where. They were blindingly hot pink, with bold letters across the chest: WE ARE LOVERS.

Zhang Nanyin laughed. “And don’t forget to wear these matching couple outfits!”

[HAHAHAHAHAHA]

[What kind of clothes are those? A Latin American specialty??]

[How did they manage to look both tacky and flashy at the same time?? Peak social death!]

Qing Lin: “…………”

Qing Lin stared blankly, as if they feared people wouldn’t realize they were a couple unless it was literally stamped across their chests.

After a quick exchange, Qing Lin and Shen Xuzhi found themselves on the street in those outrageous couple sweatshirts—both garish and strangely fitting with the Latin American vibe.
The midday sun streamed through tall green trees, casting dappled shadows across the cobblestone streets.
Walking through Buenos Aires, with its open-air markets draped in white cloth, Gothic and Romanesque architecture, and walls covered in vivid graffiti, they could see how the city’s contrasts blended seamlessly together.

Even amid the city’s eclectic charm, Qing Lin and Shen Xuzhi attracted more attention than the surroundings. After all, two strikingly handsome Asian men were bound to turn heads.

“Wow, look at those two.”

“They’re such a perfect match!”

“Are they a couple? They’ve got a camera—should we go ask for a photo together?”

Foreigners sipping drinks outside open-air bars raised their glasses to them, while passersby offered their congratulations with a cheerful “Enhorabuena!” A few young women even rushed over, hoping for a picture.

“The Mapuche people really are warm and enthusiastic,” Qing Lin sighed. “Let’s hurry and get these photos done.”

Although Shen Xuzhi enjoyed hearing strangers call them a ‘perfect couple,’ the moment he noticed Qing Lin’s discomfort, he chose not to push it. Instead, he approached a man in sunglasses and asked in English, ‘Hello, we’re traveling here as a couple. Could you help us take a photo?’”

The man twirled his mustache with a grin. “Of course!”

Shen Xuzhi handed him the camera and moved to stand beside Qing Lin.

Through the viewfinder, the man frowned. “You two don’t have a pose?”

Qing Lin suddenly remembered. This was supposed to be about couple poses. After thinking for a moment, he slowly raised his fingers in a peace sign.

Shen Xuzhi looked at him, finding the gesture so cute he nearly laughed, but he followed along, also holding up a “V.”

[You two are too adorable]

[So pure! I’m dying from the sweetness!]

The man in sunglasses wasn’t satisfied. “But you’re a couple! That pose won’t do!”

He rattled off a long explanation in rapid Spanish. Neither Qing Lin nor Shen Xuzhi caught a word.

Seeing their confusion, the man strode over and physically adjusted them. He turned them to face each other, placing Qing Lin’s hand on Shen Xuzhi’s shoulder. Qing Lin followed without hesitation. Then he guided Shen Xuzhi’s hand to rest firmly on Qing Lin’s waist.

The light touch sent a flutter through Qing Lin’s stomach, his body responding with an involuntary shiver. He tried to pull back, but it only drew him closer, his chest brushing against Shen Xuzhi’s.

Their faces were now so close that Shen Xuzhi’s lips nearly hovered over his forehead.

[This country really knows how to be bold.]

[Aaaah make sure we get the unedited originals!!]

The man beamed and lifted the camera. “Perfecto! Look at each other!”

Qing Lin: “……”

Qing Lin stayed frozen, overwhelmed by the closeness.

Shen Xuzhi’s low voice rumbled near his ear, carrying a smile. “Will you look at me?”

Qing Lin didn’t dare. Mr. Shen’s presence was overpowering, his warm, insistent breath brushing against Qing Lin’s ears, making him instinctively want to shrink away.

His ears burned scarlet as he lowered his gaze even further. “…No.”

Shen Xuzhi chuckled softly, pressing his forehead gently against the crown of Qing Lin’s head. “Alright, then don’t.”

[AAAAAAAHHHHHH]

[If they’re not a real couple, I’ll devour them!!]

[Ahhh, Shen is fully immersed in the scene!!]

[I’m going insane from the sweetness!!]

The man in sunglasses snapped the shot, unable to stop praising them. “Excellent, truly excellent.”

When it was done, Qing Lin immediately stepped aside, putting some space between them. He fanned at his flushed cheeks. If they had to keep posing like this, when would it ever end?

Meanwhile, Shen Xuzhi checked the camera. The man leaned over with a grin. “Look at that—such tender eyes. You must really love your wife.”

Shen Xuzhi studied the photo, Qing Lin’s shy awkwardness only making him more endearing. A quiet laugh escaped his lips. “Mmm.”

After expressing their thanks to the man in sunglasses, the two of them rounded up a few more people and completed a total of ten photos. Qing Lin then accepted 5,000 pesos from the show staff.

“Now we’ve got ten thousand,” he said, holding the money up for Shen Xuzhi to see.

“Then we can go have a proper meal,” Shen Xuzhi replied, calm and steady.

Qing Lin frowned. “Ten thousand isn’t really enough. What else can we do to earn some money?”

At that moment, their attention was caught by a small cluster of photographers across the street. Curious, they walked over—and froze in surprise to see Ning Yian and Su Mingxuan already there.

“Oh, what a coincidence,” Ning Yian greeted them, her eyes lighting up. “Your matching couple outfits look great.”

“They’re a couple now…” Su Mingxuan began, but Ning Yian cut him off, “Hurry up and memorize it!”

“What are you memorizing?” Qing Lin asked, stepping closer.

“We’re doing a task,” Ning Yian explained. “One person memorizes famous buildings in Argentina, the other draws them for the first to guess. If we get ten right within two minutes, we earn 20,000 pesos.”

[Seriously? Letting An-an do the drawing while Xuanxuan guesses—a clumsy one with a terrible memory.]

[Haha, what a joke!]

“All right, time starts now,” a staff member announced. “Face this way.”

Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin hovered nearby, unsure where to stand, quietly watching the show unfold.

At the sound of the “ready” signal, Ning Yian grabbed a pen and began to draw.

“First, the first two characters—”

“Hmm… Rose Palace?” Su Mingxuan guessed.

“Yes, yes, right!” Ning Yian confirmed.

“Next, look closely. I’ll draw the first character. Let’s see if you can guess it.”

They moved smoothly, the task progressing almost effortlessly. Qing Lin found himself impressed by Ning Yi’an’s drawings and Su Mingxuan’s knack for making precise guesses. Who could have recognized that a trapezoid filled with rows of squares represented the Colon Theater? Clearly, only these two.

[Ning Yian, a true icon of abstract art!]

[Silly couple, so in sync! Xuanxuan guessed it right! He really loves An-an.]

“Last one,” Ning Yian muttered, glancing at the sheet, hesitation flickering across her face. She sketched a square filled with smaller squares.

Su Mingxuan frowned. “Isn’t this the Colon Theater again?”

“Thirty seconds left,” the staff reminded.

Panic set in. “No… how… how do I draw this?” Ning Yian exclaimed. She turned to Qing Lin, almost pleading. “Hey, Qing Lin, can you help me figure out how to draw this?”

Even though she hadn’t expected any help, Qing Lin stepped forward. He glanced at the sheet and said, “I’ll draw this.”

Grabbing the pen, he quickly sketched a man in a loose long coat with a thick beard. His lines flowed smoothly, and though it was a rapid sketch, it already showed a surprising level of skill.

Su Mingxuan’s eyes lit up the moment he saw it, and without hesitation he answered, “That’s… the Ateneo Bookstore!”

[I’m stunned! That sketch!]

[Wow, so vivid! You can immediately tell it’s Ateneo!]

[QL can draw!! Amazing!]

The countdown ended.

“Congratulations to the couple for completing the task! You’ve earned 20,000 pesos!”

Ning Yian didn’t rush for the money. Instead, she stared at Qing Lin, admiration shining in her eyes. “I didn’t know you could draw like this!”

Qing Lin felt a little embarrassed under her sparkling gaze. “It’s nothing.”

“No, no, no! It is incredible,” she insisted. “Even the sketch is so vivid! Can you… draw people? Can you draw me?”

Qing Lin found it easy enough, and the artistic atmosphere of Buenos Aires made him quietly eager. He picked up the drawing board. “If you don’t mind, of course I can.”

Delighted, Ning Yian stood still, posing as his model. The boy, fully focused and dressed in bright colors, soon drew a small crowd. When Qing Lin concentrated, he radiated a presence that made everyone fall silent, hesitant to disturb him.

After about ten minutes, the quick sketch was finished.

“Oh my gosh!” Su Mingxuan exclaimed, marveling at the drawing of Ning Yian. “Top student, you’ve got this skill too? What can’t you do!”

[I’m genuinely impressed—this drawing is incredible!]

[Ahhh, you made Yian even more beautiful! Absolutely stunning! Double chef’s kiss!]

[QL is actually a talented artist!]

[Smart, talented, handsome, and can draw—if someone like this had been in my school, I’d never forget them!]

Qing Lin’s lips curved into a quiet smile as he handed the sketch to Ning Yian. He was just about to turn and say something to Shen Xuzhi when a voice called out from behind.

“Are you a street artist? Could I commission a drawing from you?”

It was a middle-aged woman, elegant and well-dressed, her English crisp and deliberate. Qing Lin opened his mouth to decline, but she was quick to add, “I’ll pay. I love your art and would like to take one home as a collectible.”

It sounded like admiration rather than business, until she continued, “9,000 pesos per piece. How about it?”

Qing Lin’s eyes lit up at once. Alright, money was important after all.

“Of course, ma’am.” He set his drawing board firmly on the stand, posture calm but confident. “What style would you like?”

“Oh, wonderful!” Her delight was palpable. “ I would like something like this…”

And just like that, Qing Lin became a street artist for the day.

Business flowed to him with startling ease. A handsome young man, serious yet cold in bearing, sketching beneath the golden light of Buenos Aires—irresistibly magnetic. Even a few of his old YouTube fans happened to pass by, their excitement spilling over in incoherent gasps.

“Ahhh, you’re Lin! Are you coming back?”

He explained gently that he was currently filming a show. Without hesitation, they each bought two high-priced paintings of the “God of Luck.” Soon, more gathered, onlookers first, then clients lining up in patient expectation.

[Hahaha, Linlin is making a living!]

[9,000 pesos per piece. That’s 258 per painting! He is so valuable!]

[Ahhhh, I want a handsome guy to draw for me too!]

[Now I believe he was really a big streamer on YouTube!]

Nearby, staff noticed Shen Xuzhi lingering silently, his gaze fixed on Qing Lin, unmoving. Worried it might disrupt the planned interactions, one of them leaned over and asked in a low voice, “Shen Laoshi, should I tell Mr. Qing to stop drawing for now?”

“No need. Let him draw,” Shen Xuzhi said.

His voice was quiet, almost indulgent. The sunlight filtered through the trees, stirring with the breeze and catching in amber glimmers on Qing Lin’s long, slender fingers wrapped around the brush. Shen Xuzhi’s eyes softened.

“I like watching him paint,” he murmured.

The music of tango drifted through the street, colors blending on the canvas as though Buenos Aires itself spilled into the paper. Time slipped by unnoticed. Bronze statues cast rotating shadows as the sky deepened toward dusk.

When Qing Lin finally lifted his brush from the last commission, he blinked up in confusion, momentarily unsure of the hour. Then he saw it—the blazing sun dipping toward the end of San Telmo.

The sunset.

The world seemed to fade into a single hue, drenched in a blazing orange-red, like wine spilled across the lively street, leaving everything steeped in a warm, intoxicating glow.

Gothic facades framed both sides as the road climbed upward; cars crawled along, and passersby paused, faces tilted skyward to drink in the light.

Shen Xuzhi leaned casually against the wall of Posadas Wine House, his back to the street, his figure blending naturally into the molten glow.

He was watching the sunset.

And Qing Lin was watching him.

The familiarity struck again—shadows overlapping with some half-remembered reflection by the sea, something both distant and close. Almost as if… they had been here before.

Sensing the weight of his gaze, Shen Xuzhi turned. Against the backlight, his profile was haloed in gold, his eyes carrying a quiet warmth.

“Qing Lin,” he said softly, “look how beautiful it is.”

Memories spilled unbidden through Qing Lin’s mind—birds scattering across a gray sky, sunlight lingering on youthful shoulders, bursts of color across exhibition walls, a muted starry night. And now, here, in a foreign city, brush still in hand, the sun softening into dusk—someone turned toward him and said softly, Look, it’s beautiful.

“Mr. Shen!” Qing Lin called out. “Please don’t move, wait a moment!”

His brush darted quickly, dipping into pigments, blending them across the paper.

This was no sudden whim—he had decided long before.

He wanted to paint Shen Xuzhi.

That angle, that back, the face softened into blur.

Had they met long ago?

Qing Lin painted Shen Xuzhi, then lifted the paper, letting the last rays of light pass through it.

Buenos Aires, the city itself, was extraordinarily romantic.

Uncertain, he whispered, almost to himself, “Do you think… we might have met earlier than we believed?”

The wind carried his words away, the microphone failing to catch them.

If Shen Xuzhi had heard, he probably couldn’t help but tell him.

Yes, indeed.

Cherry blossoms in May. Plane trees in July. Pines and cypress in December. A memory suspended in time, known only to one.

They had actually met long ago.