The Academic God Becomes an Internet Sensation After Joining a Dating Show - C50 - End of the World

Orphic fans support group (@^▽^@)

[Fatty: OMG OMG OMG!]

[Wind in May: Ta?!!]

[Mu Yecun: WTF WTF what the hell is going on!]

[Daily Log: Orphic said that they’re the head of CP fans?? Ahhh!! I’m so confused!]

[Small Balloon: So, @Orphic, are you actually fake??]

The group instantly plunged into chaos, messages flooding the screen faster than Qing Lin could even follow.

[Wind in May: Perhaps… @~, could you provide more proof? (nervously)]

Qing Lin didn’t reply, only began uploading one file after another.

[~: [Weibo backend screenshot.jpg]]

[~: [Recording of drawing Shen–Lin CP fanart.avi]]

[~: [Backend chat log, QQ account screenshot proof.jpg]]

[~: [Screenshot proof of not replying to Follow Heart production team.jpg]]

[~: I’ve never accepted commercial commissions, nor have I ever organized crowdfunding for merchandise.]

[~: I hope everyone stays cautious.]

[~: I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner. Any losses you’ve suffered, I’ll make sure to cover them.]

[Mu Yecun: Damn…]

[Fatty:!!! Sorry! Ta, I love you!]

[123: Ahhh, the real artist is here! Ahh!]

[Arale: Ahhh, so the Ta really is a ShenLin fan!! Finally, the fan art has a home!]

[Wind in May: Can’t believe I was fooled by an impersonator for so long. @Orphic, have some shame!]

[Small Balloon: @Orphic, how shameless!!!!]

[Sugar: @Orphic, get lost, disgusting!!]

Even Orphic’s Little Sweetheart chimed in.

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: Ta, are you done explaining?]

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: I saw your Weibo. Why post that all of a sudden?]

Qing Lin answered her with a screenshot of the group chat.

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: OMG, you’re awesome, really! (Hug and kiss!)]

“Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts and turn off or switch your phones to airplane mode. Thank you for your cooperation.”

A flight attendant walked over to Qing Lin. “Excuse me, sir, please switch your phone to airplane mode. We’re about to take off.”

Qing Lin looked up. “Okay.”

Just before switching it off, he tapped out one last message to Ou’s Little Sweetheart.

[~: I’m a bit busy right now. Could I trouble you to enter that group chat and help gather information on the people who lost money in the crowdfunding?]

[: I’ll send compensation to all of them at once later.]

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: No problem!]

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: You’re too kind, Ta! Obviously, it was that scammer who stole the money, yet you’re the one making it right.]

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: People like that should be exposed! Sue him! Let everyone know!]

Qing Lin turned off his phone.

He leaned back in his seat, tilting his head toward the ceiling as a long breath escaped him. Though the plane was heated, the warmth felt insufficient, and Qing Lin gave a faint shiver. All he wanted now was sleep. Closing his eyes, he tried to empty his mind, willing himself not to think of anything.

—

“Ding—Flight has arrived at Ushuaia.”

Ushuaia, the farthest city in the world.

Perched at the southernmost tip of the American continent, it rests on the southern shore of Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego, ringed by mountains and gazing out toward the Beagle Channel.

Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin left the airport and drove into the city.

Ushuaia seemed forever wrapped in a delicate veil, cold yet captivating.

Once a penal colony, Ushuaia was now a town of colorful clapboard houses, rickety staircases, and low buildings with corrugated roofs slanted steeply to shed the snow. Above it all, snow-capped peaks towered over the vast, icy sea.

“Hello, couples! Welcome to Ushuaia!” Feng Jian, today’s follow PD, greeted cheerfully. “As the final stop of our Argentina journey, the production team hopes you’ll enjoy this last experience to the fullest. We won’t be giving you too many tasks and your travel expenses are all covered!”

Zhang Nanyin led the group in applause.

“From here on, it’s all free time. We’ve prepared some references for you.” Feng Jian passed the itinerary guidelines to both pairs. “You’re free to choose whichever you’d like to visit.”

Zhang Nanyin took the guide, scanned it, and said, “I love this so much. Every option feels really meaningful.”

With limited time, the two couples followed the production team’s arrangements and began their journey.

The wind in the small town was fierce, whipping through their hair and carrying a damp chill that seemed to drift up from Antarctica.

Qing Lin tugged his scarf down slightly, lifting his head as he and Shen Xuzhi arrived at their destination.

At the train station ticket counter, a “Follow Heart” sign read:

“Take a ride on the End of the World Train, and journey together toward eternity.”

They bought two tickets, boarded the train, and were served food and drinks.

The conductor, a middle-aged Argentine man, was warm and friendly, chatting easily with the passengers. As the train moved forward, the breathtaking scenery of Tierra del Fuego National Park streamed past the windows. With a whistle, the train crossed rivers and mountains, as if journeying not only across land but through time itself.

Full of humor, the conductor began to share tales of chasing love in his youth. If the ride had lasted longer, he might have burst into song.

By the time it ended, Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin had arrived at the End of the World Post Office.

In truth, the post office was privately run by a retired Argentine postal worker, an old man with pride in his bearing and a temperamental nature, who kept no regular hours and opened the door only when it suited him.

No one knew his exact schedule, yet luck was on their side. Just as they approached, the old man happened to unlock the door.

“Buenas tardes.” The old man welcomed them inside.

“Here at my post office, you can put a commemorative stamp on a postcard and send it to someone important.”

He laid out an array of colorful postcards and special stamps, then peered at the two young men before him. Adjusting his glasses, he added, “If the most important person is already by your side, then perhaps think of someone you love in the faraway world.”

The post office was small, its walls lined with photo frames of every size.

Qing Lin turned a postcard over and over in his hands, yet for a long time he could not bring himself to write down a name.

Shen Xuzhi, having finished his own, stamped it neatly and walked over.
“Is there anyone you want to send yours to?” he asked.

Qing Lin glanced at his watch, it was already time to head to their next location. He shook his head, handed the postcard back with a faint smile.

“I think leaving it here on the wall is just as meaningful.”

The old man accepted the card, noticed there was no address or name, and asked, “Not thinking of sending it to family?”

Qing Lin’s pale eyes drifted toward the wall, where a colorful mosaic of blessing-filled postcards had been left behind by tourists.

“We were lucky enough to catch the post office open today,” he said quietly. “I doubt we’ll be fortunate to receive a postcard back.”

—

China. In a dilapidated residential block.

Qing Yejie climbed the crumbling low-rise, crushing a soda can beneath his shoe with a sharp crack. Reaching the door, he slammed his fist against the iron gate, shouting in fury, ‘Ma Zi! Ma Zi! Get your ass out here!”

The sheet metal rattled violently, plaster crumbling from the walls as the whole building echoed with the pounding.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing!”

The landlady came rushing over, scolding angrily. “Why are you banging like that! What kind of trouble are you trying to stir! Keep this up and I’ll call the police!”

Qing Yejie’s face was dark, his expression filled with ferocity. “Where’s the person living here?” he demanded.

“He moved out a few days ago!” the landlady snapped, brandishing her broom as if to drive out a rat. “Keep this up and you’ll damage property! Get out, now! Go, go, go!”

Grinding his teeth until his jaw ached, Qing Yejie’s bloodshot eyes blazed with rage. He kicked the door hard and spat out a curse. “Fuck your mother!”

Guo Daishu stumbled over, hurriedly trying to restrain him. “Calm down, brother, calm down! If that lady really calls the cops, we’ll be in trouble!”

“Ma Zi ran off!” Qing Yejie roared, shoving Guo Daishu aside.

“Ran away?!” Guo Daishu exclaimed. “Then what about the money? You didn’t manage to contact him?”

“If I had contacted him, would I still be here?” Qing Yejie snapped. “Damn it, who told him to start a crowdfunding campaign on his own, and even take commercial commissions under that name! That’s a crime! And now it’s blown up, the real account owner found out, and that bastard actually ran off!”

“Hey, hey, Yejie!” Guo Daishu, staring at his phone, suddenly smacked Qing Yejie on the shoulder. “Isn’t this your QQ account?”

Qing Yejie leaned in to look, his pupils contracting sharply. The incident had already been exposed online, and among the attached images was a screenshot of his very own QQ interface.

And the person who posted it was—Huai Si.

Huai Si, the immensely popular illustrator with nearly ten million followers on Weibo.

[@HuaiSi-er: At the request of @Orphic, I am helping collect information from the victims of this incident. If you were affected by this fraudulent crowdfunding scam, please DM my assistant. Thank you for your cooperation.

Also, everyone, please be vigilant and confirm official accounts to avoid being deceived.

[image] [image] [image]]

“Holy crap, this person has almost ten million followers. That’s terrifying traffic. It’s already at a hundred thousand likes!” Guo Daishu blurted.

Qing Yejie snatched the phone out of his hands. “Let me see.”

The comments beneath were a mess of insults.

[So disgusting.]

[…]

[Has this person never been educated? Don’t they know this is copyright infringement? Crowdfunding and illegal printing—this is against the law.]

[Ou-ta, please sue him quickly! He even took commissions under your name!!]

[Never seen such a shameless person. Expose him!]

“It’s over, Yejie. Are we going to jail?” Guo Daishu’s hands shook uncontrollably. “But—but this was all Ma Zi’s idea! We didn’t do anything ourselves. Even the times we went online were set by him! And now he’s run off! But you’re the one who got exposed. Won’t that big shot think you did everything? What if he sues us? Should we… should we beg him for mercy?”

Qing Yejie didn’t hear a word. His mind was almost blank, eyes fixed on a few lines in the comment section.

[God, with drawing skills like that he actually dared to impersonate Ou-ta.]

[He thinks he’s so amazing. Someone should hold up a mirror so he can see what he really is.]

[Heard he was even giving advice in the group chat. Isn’t that hilarious?]

[Unbelievably thick-skinned.]

…

…

“Yejie! Yejie!” Guo Daishu called.

Qing Yejie jolted back to his senses, cold sweat dripping down his face. He forced himself to steady his breathing but staring at the flood of insults scrolling across the screen, a chill deeper than winter crept into his bones. For the first time, he felt true fear.

“We… we should go beg him first.” His hands and feet were ice-cold.

“Y-yeah, okay… we’ll think carefully about what to say.”

—

On the other side of the world, in Argentina.

Cormorants wheeled above the Beagle Channel. It was a rare day without snow, with sunlight faintly breaking through the heavy clouds.

The boatman lifted his horn and called out, “Those heading to the lighthouse, please board here.”

The lighthouse at the end of the world. It was one of Ushuaia’s must-see attractions. A single ticket could carry you there, to the very edge of the earth.

The wind over the channel was sharp, cutting with bitter cold.

Qing Lin and Shen Xuzhi boarded the ship.

On camera, Qing Lin carried himself with the same steady professionalism as always, showing no cracks in his composure. Yet in the quiet moments between takes, Shen Xuzhi caught the loneliness that flickered beneath his blank expression.

The vessel moved at a slow, deliberate pace, almost as if it sailed with a will of its own, giving tourists time to lift their cameras and capture the horizon.

Beyond these waters lay Antarctica.

Since the segment wasn’t being streamed live, Shen Xuzhi signaled the cameraman to stop recording. He switched off his own portable device, then leaned over to turn off Qing Lin’s microphone.

Qing Lin looked up in surprise. “What are you…”

Shen Xuzhi drew his hand back, brushing through Qing Lin’s hair as though it were the most natural thing. “Let’s take a break.”

It was as if they shared an unspoken understanding. He said nothing outright, yet it felt as though he could see straight into Qing Lin’s heart.

Qing Lin lowered his gaze and murmured, “Thank you, Shen Laoshi.”

He slipped out of the cabin and pulled out his phone. Too much had happened while he’d been filming, and now he realized just how far behind he was, with no idea how the situation had spiraled.

In the group chat, messages exploded one after another.

[SpicyLala: Go check Weibo! Huai Si posted for Ou-ta!]

[Chronicle: Holy crap, crap, crap, crap! Huai Si! This is like a two-fandom miracle!]

[Wind in May: Aaaah, I’m losing my mind!]

[Pretty Qiqi: I can’t believe it—the two artists actually know each other! I’m so touched!!]

Huai Si… could it be that Huai Si?

Qing Lin hurriedly opened Weibo. On the screen, Huai Si was gathering details from those who had suffered losses.

But hadn’t he only asked his fan?

Could it be…

Qing Lin switched to his chat with Ou’s Little Sweetheart.

[~: Are you Huai Si?]

The reply came almost instantly.

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: Yes, baby!]

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: It’s me, the real one, not some impersonator. I can even send you backend screenshots.]

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: [Weibo backend ID screenshot.jpg]]

Qing Lin was stunned.

[～: But you’re not that ‘Ou’s Little Sweetheart’…]

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: Don’t call me that! I really am your sweetheart! Kiss kiss, baby! I love your art so much!]

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: I’ve been wondering how to get close to you… Ahhhh, finally I’ve got you, my treasure [kiss.jpg]]

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: That awful guy, impersonating you—good thing I’ve got sharp eyes. I could tell instantly those tutorial drawings weren’t yours.]

[Ou’s Little Sweetheart: I exposed him for you. He needs a lesson!]

Qing Lin’s emotions were tangled. His favorite illustrator had turned out to be his fan… and the person she had just exposed was his own younger brother.

He returned to Weibo. The site was flooded with righteous fury, every comment dripping with ridicule and condemnation.

Everyone claimed to punish evil and reward good, but their words, full of insults and ridicule, pounded across keyboards and shredded a person apart from behind the screen.

Give him a lesson…

Teach him a lesson…

Qing Yejie’s Q/Q account had been exposed, and soon people began doxxing him. Even without revealing his real name, nearly every trace of his online life had been tracked, as if they were all waiting to drag him straight to hell.

Qing Lin’s eyelashes trembled, his face paler than ever, the hope in his eyes fading away.

He was going through this own path again.

At that moment, his phone rang.

It was a call came in through QQ.

The voice on the other end was unmistakably Qing Yejie’s.

“I’m sorry, Ou-ta, for disturbing you so late.”

“We… we know we were wrong, but I don’t know the details. I was manipulated too…”

“Please, I beg you to forgive me… please don’t report me. I’m still in school, I…”

The voice on the line was humble and timid, nothing like the boy he remembered.

“Qing Yejie.” Qing Lin slowly closed his eyes, tightened his chest, and spoke,

“I am Orphic.”

There was sudden silence on the other end.

Qing Yejie could hardly believe what he heard. He felt as if he couldn’t speak. His throat burned with jagged pain, every word he tried to utter piercing and broken.

“Qing Lin…”

After an agonizing pause, a hoarse voice whispered, “…You’re Orphic… you…”

Then the sound hit, sharp as ice colliding with thunder and fire, exploding in an instant.

“You knew it was me? Was it fun to toy with me?! Is it fun?!” Qing Yejie shouted into the phone.

Qing Lin felt his throat tighten, his nose suddenly stinging, his body as if swept by icy waters, salty and piercing.

It was suffocating.

“Calm down first…”

“How can I calm down!” On the other end, Qing Yejie’s voice trembled with tears.

“Why… why does it have to be you…”

Unable to hold himself together, Qing Yejie hung up. The dial tone beeped, severing the connection.

Qing Lin lowered the hand holding the phone.

The wind here wailed through the strait.

To the left stretched the Atlantic, to the right the Pacific. Across the vast waters, ripples spread endlessly, the deep blue-black sea refusing to catch even a hint of sunlight, dark and terrifyingly profound.

All he felt was the chill in his heart.

The captain’s horn sounded once more.

“The cruise has now arrived at the End of the World Lighthouse—”

Groups of tourists streamed onto the deck, snapping photos and taking selfies in lively clusters. Qing Lin stepped outside as well. He walked to the railing, staring at the lonely, romantic solitude of the world’s end.

Nearby, a young couple murmured to each other: “The end of the world is also a beginning. Today, throw all regrets into the sea; tomorrow, start anew.”

Qing Lin listened, his eyes fixed on the lighthouse.

What should he do?

He had too many regrets. Too many in Ushuaia alone. He hadn’t had time to finish listening to the train conductor’s love story, to hear him sing that song full of longing. He hadn’t had time to cross forests or plains to see the emerald lake even once. He hadn’t had time to send postcards from the post office at the end of the world, nor to realize who he truly loved.

Wasn’t it said that no matter the differences, no matter the sorrow, all would melt before grandeur?

Then why did his heart feel colder than his eyes?

The red-and-white lighthouse stood alone on the rocky island. Even with the crowd of visitors, separated by untraversable waters, few could truly reach it.

Shen Xuzhi had been searching for Qing Lin for a long time. On the other side of the deck, he finally spotted the solitary figure and walked up behind him.

After a long silence, his voice mingled with the sound of the sea: “Can you leave all your unhappiness here?”

Qing Lin did not respond.

The lighthouse stood lonely. The cold Antarctic wind swept through the Beagle Channel, brushing past him slowly.

“At the end of the world, every step forward is a step toward home.”

“Shen Laoshi.” Qing Lin’s smile was tinged with sadness. “Let’s go home.”