The Academic God Becomes an Internet Sensation After Joining a Dating Show - C41 - A Date

Qing Lin remained seated in silence.

Since childhood, he had always been a model student—earnest, disciplined, rational. Calmness had long become instinct, and he treated dancing just as he had treated every exam or competition, meticulously taking each step with precision.

But he had forgotten something.

Tango was not life.

It wasn’t about discipline, nor about flawless execution. It was about him, about Shen Xuzhi.

Shen Xuzhi knelt half on the ground, his dark pupils fathomless, like ink that refused to dissolve. A sudden tremor shook Qing Lin’s heart, filling the hollow inside him.

“Shen Laoshi!” He grabbed Shen Xuzhi’s arm without thinking. “Go on a date with me!”

Shen Xuzhi: “!”

Happiness came too suddenly, striking him like lightning.

“I know why Nanyin-jie and her team won,” Qing Lin said with firm clarity. “Stacey was right. Tango is about freedom, about emotions flowing. They won because of the atmosphere they created together.”

His gaze grew serious. “Shen Laoshi, we should work on deepening our feelings.”

Shen Xuzhi’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he asked hoarsely, “How should it be done?”

“These past days we’ve only been filming,” Qing Lin explained. “We haven’t really seen Buenos Aires at all. When we finish recording later, would you… would you come out with me to look around?”

Of course, Shen Xuzhi was more than willing—willing a thousand times over. He felt like a big dog whose tail could not stop wagging. “Alright.”

Later, outside the set, their time free at last, they bumped into Zhang Nanyin and Liu Xin at the doorway, both already changed out of costume.

Adjusting her hat, Zhang Nanyin said, “Liu Xin and I are heading out for some late-night food. Want to come? Our treat.”

But Shen Xuzhi’s mood was far too buoyant to join. It was as though pink blossoms had bloomed all around him. He smiled with rare brightness. “No need, Nanyin-jie. We’re going on a date.”

“Oh my.” Zhang Nanyin covered her mouth in mock surprise. She knew the two had been paired on the show, but she hadn’t expected it to… actually be real? “Are you two really…”

Shen Xuzhi gave no confirmation, nor denial, but his face was lit up with a joy rarely ever seen.

Just then, Qing Lin approached from behind. Shen Xuzhi quickly went to meet him, wrapping a scarf around Qing Lin’s neck with careful hands, then smoothing down his fringe. His voice softened, gentle as if spoken by a lover. “It’s cold outside.”

“Thank you,” Qing Lin said quietly. He turned, noticing Zhang Nanyin and Liu Xin nearby, and greeted them politely. “Hello, Xin-ge, Nanyin-jie.”

The two exchanged a look before smiling back at him, their gazes oddly kind.

Qing Lin: “?”

“Well then, we’ll leave you two to it~” Zhang Nanyin tugged Liu Xin along, laughing. “Linlin, Ah Zhi, see you tomorrow. Have fun~”

Qing Lin watched them go and murmured, “They look so affectionate.” His eyes lingered briefly on their tightly clasped hands.

Then Shen Xuzhi’s voice came from beside him. “Let’s go too.”

Qing Lin nodded and followed him outside.

The night air was much colder than he’d expected. The wind in Argentina was always strong, though at least it carried some moisture, not like the biting, dry winds up north.

“Hoo—” Qing Lin exhaled, his breath turning white in the cold, misting briefly before being swept away by the night breeze.

“The temperature’s dropped a lot lately,” he remarked, rubbing his hands together. “First time feeling this kind of chill in July. It’s strange.”

They walked side by side. Shen Xuzhi only gave a quiet “Mm,” unsure what to say.

Perhaps the date had come too suddenly, because for once, Shen Xuzhi felt a bit at a loss.

He couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at Qing Lin. The boy’s bright, tranquil eyes, half his face hidden beneath the scarf Shen Xuzhi had wrapped around him, and his hair catching the streetlight with a faint golden glow.

Shen Xuzhi thought that since this was Qing Lin’s so-called date, he ought to do something. Yet what could he do that wouldn’t scare him, that wouldn’t be too abrupt but would still find its way quietly into his heart?

And then, something brushed his fingers.

Shen Xuzhi froze.

The winter chill had numbed his hand, but the light touch burned like fire, searing warmth straight into his palm.

Qing Lin said nothing. His amber eyes stayed calm, unruffled, as though there was nothing unusual at all. Without a word, he had simply taken Shen Xuzhi’s hand.

Shen Xuzhi turned his face away, covering his mouth with his free hand, his ears reddening at a speed visible to the naked eye.

When had the little one learned this?

The cold was sharp enough to freeze thought itself, each gust of wind cutting with crystalline clarity. Paired with the boldness radiating from his lover, Shen Xuzhi felt his strength to resist slipping away.

Still, he let go of the tension surprise had brought, quietly seeking the spaces between their fingers until their hands intertwined fully, sharing warmth.

______________________________________________________________________________

Leaving the Rose Palace behind, Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin strolled toward the obelisk that Qing Lin had wanted to visit.

They had always been this way, speaking little, yet never burdened by discomfort or awkward silence. Their hands remained intertwined from the very beginning, never once letting go.

Buenos Aires. Its name in Spanish means “good air.”

Even at night, the breeze carried a freshness, tinged with the scent of grass.

It was, in every sense, a city made for lovers.

No matter how late the hour or how sharp the chill, couples lingered on park benches, elderly pairs ambled side by side, and young lovers kissed along the roadside.

Such an atmosphere allowed people to truly relax.

Qing Lin felt it then. That being with Mr. Shen was not just pleasant, but natural. Free. Right.

They wandered aimlessly through the streets, their conversation light and unhurried. They sampled fragrant sausage-stuffed bread, bought a small bouquet from a street vendor for ten pesos, and shared icy Argentine ice cream in a narrow alley, laughing when the frozen sweetness smeared across each other’s faces.

Originally, Qing Lin had planned to visit places with more purpose for the date, but in this aimless walk, he seemed to rediscover something.

Romance existed in everyday life.

Shen Xuzhi accepted the coins the shopkeeper handed back to him and said softly, “Gracias,” before returning to Qing Lin’s side.

The young man stood a short distance away, clean and composed, a light gray plaid cashmere scarf covering his Adam’s apple, white steam escaping from its folds.

Shen Xuzhi reached for his hands again, enfolding them gently. “Is it too cold?” he asked. His gaze drifted toward the glow of a nearby storefront. “Let’s warm up inside that shop.”

Qing Lin nodded, and together they stepped into a small, cozy café. The owner, a friendly, slightly chubby man, greeted them warmly.

“Bienvenidos!”

They chose a seat by the window, and soon the owner came over again with a smile.

“Cold outside, isn’t it? You both look frozen—come, warm yourselves up! Here’s the menu. If I may recommend, hot cocoa with cheesecake is the best for a night like this.”

After thanking him, Qing Lin opened the menu. He couldn’t read the Spanish words, but the pictures of cakes were enough to stir his appetite. He lingered for a while, torn between choices, until his gaze settled on a strawberry mousse.

Just then, a voice broke the quiet. “Do you want the strawberry mousse?”

Qing Lin turned, meeting Shen Xuzhi’s eyes, more beautiful than the night itself.

“Ah, yes, that’s good,” Qing Lin murmured, rubbing the tip of his nose. “Mr. Shen, do you also like strawberry mousse?”

Shen Xuzhi closed the menu, poured hot water into Qing Lin’s cup, and answered in the most natural way, as though stating something ordinary.

“Because you like it.”

The café played elegant music, a singer at the counter sang in the background, and faint murmurs of conversation drifted through the air.

And then, quite suddenly, Qing Lin recalled a saying: The beginning of love is to know what the other person likes.

But his beginning had been flawed—too calculated, too utilitarian. He had only tried to guess the kind of person Shen Xuzhi might prefer, molding himself into a partner who would please him, keeping up the image of the perfect couple, meeting expectations as if ticking off a list of KPIs.

Along the way, he had forgotten the most important thing—what Shen Xuzhi truly liked.

The food that comforted him, the little pastimes that made him smile, the books he reached for in quiet moments. Not the facts listed on Baidu Encyclopedia, but the things that belonged only to him.

Qing Lin’s chest tightened. Straightening, he leaned a little closer and asked softly,
“Mr. Shen, what do you like?”

Then, he added, “Like the food you enjoy, the things you like to do… anything. I just… I want to know you better.”

Shen Xuzhi lifted his gaze, meeting his eyes with a depth that seemed to draw everything into silence.

The owner arrived with their cake and cocoa, steam rising in delicate curls, sweetness drifting around them like a quiet embrace.

“I’m actually a pretty laid-back person,” Shen Xuzhi said softly. “I don’t have anything I’m particularly fond of.”

He paused, eyes lowered to the cup before him. “But if I had to answer, there are two things. And when it comes to those, it isn’t just liking—it’s love.”

Qing Lin looked at Shen Xuzhi, the passing car lights illuminating him briefly.

“One is music,” Shen Xuzhi continued, “the other… is a secret.”

He stirred the cocoa and took a slow sip. It was sweet, yet never cloying—gentle, balanced, lingering. Just like this moment, as though serenity itself could stretch on forever.

Qing Lin listened in silence.

“I hope,” Shen Xuzhi said, his voice quiet, almost tender, “that one day, if possible, I can tell you in person.”

The dim café framed him in soft light, outlining the calm beauty of his features. Qing Lin felt warmth spreading steadily through his chest.

“Ah, it’s snow!”

The sudden cry of delight startled him.

He quickly turned toward the window. Beyond the glass, snowflakes drifted down, soft and weightless, glowing faintly as they caught the streetlights.

It was snowing.

“Wow, snow in Buenos Aires is rare,” the owner said, smiling at them. “You’re really lucky.”

People on the street and inside the café seemed to forget the cold.

They looked up, stepping outside, joyfully feeling winter’s gift.

Qing Lin stared through the window.

Snow in July.

It needed no description. It was too dreamlike to belong to words.

Qing Lin’s heart surged with sudden impulse. He turned swiftly, grasped Shen Xuzhi’s hand, and said, “Mr. Shen, let’s go out together.”

They hurried outside, swept into the small gathering of strangers. Snow brushed their hair, clung briefly to their coats and cheeks before vanishing into drops. Around them, couples kissed, held each other close, and even began to dance in the falling snow.

A tango in the snow. How romantic.

Qing Lin wasn’t sure if it was the influence of the environment or simply the perfection of the moment, but a bright smile curved his lips as he extended his hand toward the man beside him. “May I invite you to dance?”

Shen Xuzhi’s answering smile was warm, touched with quiet elegance. “It would be my honor.”

They held each other’s hands and swayed together in the middle of the street, surrounded by strangers who, too, were lost in the same fleeting magic. There was no music, no practiced choreography, no need for rhythm or direction. He simply enjoyed the moment.

And in that quiet realization, Qing Lin finally understood what Stacy had meant.

In a torrential rain, among crimson roses, when passion blazes too fiercely to be contained—we dance.

Beneath the gentle moonlight, with lovers destined never to meet again, entangled in silence and unsaid words—we dance.

In a dreamlike town at night, as snow drifts down and people embrace and marvel, unable to put into words the sacred luck of the moment—we dance.

He was happy.

Dancing made him happy.

And dancing with Shen Xuzhi made him very happy.

The clock struck midnight, and Buenos Aires welcomed a brand-new day.

By the time they returned, a thin veil of snow had already settled on the streets. The snowfall had not lasted long, yet perhaps it was for that very reason that it lingered in memory, fleeting moments carving themselves deeper and leaving one yearning all the more for the next

They walked slowly, side by side, retracing familiar streets.

Then, quite suddenly, Qing Lin stopped.

Shen Xuzhi, who had gone a few paces ahead, noticed the absence of footsteps beside him. He turned back, his gaze seeking Qing Lin in the snow.

The street grew quieter, the distance between them remained, and the snow reflected the sparkling light upon their pale faces. It was a scene almost beyond description.

Qing Lin couldn’t name the feeling stirring within him. It rose and fell like a tide, at times fierce, at times quiet.

At last, unable to contain it, he looked at Shen Xuzhi and asked softly, “Mr. Shen, do you think we’re… closer now?”

Shen Xuzhi shook his head at the question. “Not enough yet.”

Almost without thinking, as if drawn by some unseen spell, Qing Lin responded, “Then… what should we do?”

Their eyes met at the perfect moment. Beneath the falling snow, Shen Xuzhi opened his arms.

“Hug me.”

“Not because I asked, but because you want to. Because you like me. Because you want to hold me, to take the initiative.” His voice was calm, low, settling in Qing Lin’s ears like music that quickened the heart. “Can you do that, Qing Lin?”

Qing Lin felt the tone was deeply moving, like the gentle sound of a cello, soft and steady, or like a quiet conversation by the fire on a winter night.

Without a second thought, he stepped forward and embraced him.  Qing Lin sank into Shen Xuzhi’s arms, and though Shen Xuzhi seemed briefly taken aback, he soon lowered himself and held him close, drawing him fully into his embrace.

“How does it feel?’ Shen Xuzhi asked in a low voice.

Qing Lin buried his face against him, holding on tightly as a flush of shyness crept in. ‘…Warm.’

“And?”

“…”

The man holding him didn’t speak.

Good—his hands hadn’t let go.

“Qing Lin,” Shen Xuzhi whispered with a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I can hear your heartbeat.”

The street felt as tranquil as a river. Leaves from the surrounding Bauhinia trees rustled gently in the wind, their whispers brushing against the heart.

Really, Qing Lin.

I never expected you to fall for me right away. But I’ve always been hoping, always been praying, that you would slowly draw closer to me.