The Academic God Becomes an Internet Sensation After Joining a Dating Show - Chapter 61 - 0.2℃

Qing Lin felt an unexpected sense of contentment. He had no clue what these two were competing over, but having their attention showered on him like this felt… really good.

By the time dinner wrapped up, most of the fans at Yunxiang Mountain had drifted away.

After one last bit of recording, they’d finally be free to make their way back and rest.

Miaomiao, however, hadn’t let him breathe since leaving the restaurant.

“Linlin, Linlin, are you tired?”

“Linlin, Linlin, did you have fun today?”

“Linlin, Linlin! When we get back, can I recite to you the English words I memorized yesterday?”

The little dumpling bounced along the path ahead, turning back every few steps to check on him.

Pulled along by Miaomiao’s hand, Qing Lin answered each question with a smile. “Not tired. Yes, I had fun. Sure.”

Miaomiao lit up, tugging harder as he pointed out the glowing lights of Dali’s nightscape.

Behind them, Shen Xuzhi trailed at a slower pace. Watching Miaomiao monopolize Qing Lin’s hand, he finally caught up and, imitating the boy’s singsong tone, said, “Linlin, I want to hold hands too.”

Qing Lin almost doubled over laughing. Quickly, he stretched out his free hand. “Here, here. Take it, take it. Hold as much as you want.”

[Hahahaha Shen Laoshi!]

[Shen Laoshi: Who cares about my public persona? Holding hands with my wife is what matters.]

[Affectionate men always have the best luck.]

Since the moment felt so good, Qing Lin decided to savor it.

They soon reached a covered walkway with a bench and sat down to rest.

The night wind was chilly, and with the strong gusts at the mountaintop, it whipped their hair into a mess.

When Qing Lin and the others took a break, they recalculated their “temporary parents” score. After submitting it and getting approval, that task was considered complete.

When the livestream wrapped up, the production team approached them, hoping to film a bonus segment.

“We’ve got a little game prepared,” the assistant director explained. “If Shang Miaomiao completes the challenge, he’ll win an ethnic-style shawl.”

He brought out a puzzle board—basic number-matching, the kind used in kindergarten. Once the numbers were filled in, the pieces had to be arranged into an animal shape to complete the challenge.

But as soon as he heard the rules, Miaomiao flat-out refused.

“I don’t want to,” he said.

The abrupt rejection clashed with the clingy childlike act he’d shown with Qing Lin just moments earlier.

Seeing his attitude, Shen Xuzhi frowned and stepped in. “You shouldn’t treat the hardworking staff this way.”

Miaomiao puffed out his cheeks in irritation. “I’m not doing such pointless things. Honestly, I don’t get why this show always insists on stuff like this. They could just hand us the prize.”

With his constant complaints about how “childish” it all was and his refusal to cooperate, the retake was stuck.

Left with no other option, the staff turned to Qing Lin. “Qing Laoshi…”

Qing Lin caught the hint. Miaomiao’s thoughts were always impossible to pin down.

He tilted his head, glanced at the nightscape of Dali, then folded his arms and deliberately exclaimed, “Brr, it’s freezing out here!”

Miaomiao’s ears perked up immediately. “Linlin, are you cold?”

The lights of the night glowed against Qing Lin’s pale, refined features—one streak of light catching the corner of his eye, another tracing the line of his jaw. He looked genuinely chilled.

“Yes,” he said softly. “It’s too bad I didn’t bring a coat. But… if you can win me that shawl, I probably won’t be cold anymore.”

Since he was young, Miaomiao had watched his father’s fragile health and sickly appearance. Seeing Linlin like this triggered the same fear—that he’d really fall ill. “Then… then I’ll go win it for you, Linlin!”

He rushed off, but not before calling back to Shen Xuzhi. “If he gets cold, hug him!”

At the challenge station, Miaomiao tore through the number problems with ease, though he struggled with the spatial puzzle and took forever to piece it together.

“Congratulations, Miaomiao, you’ve completed the challenge!”

Miaomiao let out a long breath. Finally, it was done.

But before he could celebrate, Shen Xuzhi stepped forward, accepted the shawl from the crew, and carefully draped it over Qing Lin’s shoulders.

Qing Lin gave him a bright smile. “Thank you, Shen Laoshi.”

Then he turned to Miaomiao with a teasing look. “See that, Miaomiao?”

Miaomiao: “…………………”

Miaomiao exclaimed. “I won this fair and square! I should be the one putting it on him! Xuzhi stole my credit! He’s a big meanie!”

He stomped over, pushed Shen Xuzhi out of the way, and launched a flurry of tiny fists against his leg.

Shen Xuzhi crouched down, steadying him. “Alright then—go ahead and do it.”

Eyes red with frustration, Miaomiao snatched the shawl and, with trembling hands, draped it over Qing Lin himself.

Shen Xuzhi looked at the boy, speaking slowly and clearly, each word deliberate.

“Miaomiao said Linlin needs to be cherished, and that’s why you wanted to win him the shawl, right?”

Shang Miaomiao nodded.

“But Linlin isn’t the only one,” Shen Xuzhi continued. “There are so many others working hard behind the scenes, putting in just as much effort. They deserve to be cherished too. Even a small word or gesture from you can hurt those who give their all. It’s fine to favor Linlin, but you must still respect others. You were very rude to the brothers and sisters working on the show just now. Don’t you think you should apologize?”

Miaomiao blinked at Shen Xuzhi’s serious expression, startled.

But he could tell that Xuxu really meant it—he was truly upset. And Miaomiao knew deep down he had been wrong.

Fiddling with his little hands and pouting, he finally turned toward the cameraman and crew. “Sorry, big brothers, big sisters… Miaomiao was wrong just now…” he mumbled.

The staff, caught off guard by the apology, quickly waved it off. “It’s okay, it’s okay. As long as the recording is finished.”

Qing Lin, watching Shen Xuzhi patiently teaching the boy, couldn’t help but smile.

Shen Xuzhi straightened up and turned. Under the soft glow of the lights, Qing Lin stood draped in the bluish-green shawl, smiling at him with a quiet radiance.

He smiled back. “What is it?”

Qing Lin shook his head, the corners of his lips still curved.

The rugged summer night softened into a watercolor haze.

“Shen Laoshi is so gentle,” Qing Lin said quietly. “Marrying you would truly be happiness.”

When filming finally wrapped, both Qing Lin and Shen Xuzhi thanked the crew. Wang Zhan had come to pick them up.

He helped Shang Miaomiao into the car first. The child, worn out from the day, fell asleep almost instantly.

Qing Lin assumed he’d be heading home with Miaomiao, but as he was about to climb in, Wang Zhan stopped him.

“Linlin,” Wang Zhan said, “it’s rare for the set to clear out like this. Why don’t you spend a little more time with Xuzhi? I’ll take care of Miaomiao.”

Before Qing Lin could answer, Wang Zhan shut the chauffeured van’s door. Pointing toward the mountain, he added, “Xu-ge is up there. Tell him I’ve taken Miaomiao back first.”

With that, Wang Zhan slipped into the driver’s seat and drove away with Miaomiao.

Qing Lin stood there in a daze, watching the car disappear before glancing around.

The production team had cleared out completely—there wasn’t a single person left behind.

Only a few scattered lights still glimmered on Yunxiang Mountain. From where he stood, the edge was too far to see the view below; only the deep, faintly shadowed sky stretched above.

Qing Lin wondered where Shen Xuzhi had gone. He considered calling, but when he lifted his head, his eyes caught on an arrow sign.

[Please go this way, Linlin ^3^]

The arrow pointed toward the summit of Yunxiang Mountain.

Though Qing Lin didn’t fully understand, seeing his own name written there, he followed it up the path.

[Please turn here]

[Please step onto these stairs.]

[Almost there, keep going.]

Through hazy figures and dimly lit lamps, Qing Lin made his way slowly toward the mountain’s peak.

At last, he reached the final sign:

[You can turned around now.]

Obediently, he shifted, facing the other side.

In that instant, the darkness before him erupted into light. Lamps glowing from the ground stretched out endlessly, warm hues paving the path like ribbons of fire. Below, Cangshan Mountain and Erhai Lake seemed to float in the night like scattered stars. Even the last blush of sunset still lingered at the horizon.

At the end of the illuminated path stood a cliffside chapel.

And there, at a glance, he saw Shen Xuzhi.

The man stood in front of the white chapel, looking at him with quiet tenderness.

“Since no one else was here,” Shen Xuzhi said, “I reserved the place and arranged the lights in advance. I thought you might like it.”

The flickering lights, linked together, formed a long, continuous ribbon, twinkling high above Dali like a mirror of the city lights below.

Drawn forward, Qing Lin followed the glow until he reached him.

The immaculate white chapel clung to the cliff edge, offering a sweeping view of Dali—its high-rises stretching faintly into the distance.

Shen Xuzhi extended a hand and guided him to the entrance.

“This is the Cliff Chapel,” Shen Xuzhi said softly. “With Cangshan Mountain and Erhai Lake behind us, and the city falling away below. The night view here is breathtaking. I wanted you to see it. I hope you like it.”

Qing Lin’s throat tightened, a faint tingling spread across his lips. His eyes gleamed as if washed by rain. “I love it,” he whispered.

Shen Xuzhi exhaled softly, relieved.

Then he reached behind him and produced a small box.

Inside lay the temperature-sensing wristband Qing Lin had once given him.

“This should be called…” Shen Xuzhi’s deep voice dropped to a murmur, “a limited-time return.”

He lifted the bracelet between his slender fingers and took Qing Lin’s hand. “May I put it on you?”

Qing Lin nodded.

It felt almost like exchanging rings.

Amid the embrace of nature, the dazzling city below, the sacred chapel above—it was as if all creation bore witness.

An indescribable feeling stirred in his chest.

A wild thought flickered across his mind: if it was for love, even leaping off this cliff together would feel like the most romantic thing imaginable.

“Tick.”

A mint-scented breeze swept through the green leaves, and the bracelet pulsed with warmth.

Even knowing it was only a programmed response, Qing Lin heard the thunder of his own heartbeat as his temperature spiked.

Shen Xuzhi’s brow softened. His voice drifted close to Qing Lin’s ear, deep and mellow, like velvet over warm stone.

“Qing Lin,” he said, “our temperatures are rising.”

Thump.

Was this even allowed?

No cameras. No audience.

Qing Lin’s heart raced as if it might leap from his chest.

Looking at the man before him, he felt, for the first time, truly and completely loved.

He lifted his gaze, vision blurring as heat gathered behind his eyes. Through the chapel’s shadow, the pink-tinged sky spilled diamond-shaped patterns of light.

But only Shen Xuzhi knew the wristband’s temperature-sensing program had long been erased.

That rise of 0.2℃ was because of him.

From the very beginning until now.

Since the temperature has already begun to change, can I allow myself to think—just a little—that you’re slowly beginning to like me too?

What a beautiful delusion it is, to keep telling myself “I love you so much” while waiting, day after day, without forgetting.