The Academic God Becomes an Internet Sensation After Joining a Dating Show - Chapter 67 - The Awakening

Qing Lin gazed at Shen Xuzhi.

The streetlight spilled an indistinct beam across them, cutting shadow and light into sharp contrasts. The lines of Shen Xuzhi’s features, the faint hues across his face, held that unique blend of softness and clarity that made him impossible to ignore.

Shen Xuzhi shook his head.

Qing Lin’s heart skipped a beat.

He clenched his fists and turned away, his expression flustered.

How presumptuous of me.

The thought echoed bitterly, and his pale lashes lowered in quiet defeat.

Above them, the clouds scattered, and a thin haze veiled the crescent moon. Its luminous glow filtered down through the mist, draping the two figures at the alley’s entrance in a soft, ethereal light.

“It’s a bit serious.”

The words came from the man kneeling on the ground, his low, gentle voice rippling through the heavy night air.

Qing Lin turned to look at him.

The night shimmered in his eyes, and his words carried a quiet intimacy, tinged with the faint warmth of alcohol, drifting slowly into Qing Lin’s ears.

Soft as a sigh, yet heavy as a stone, his words fell between them. Tilting his head back, Shen Xuzhi held Qing Lin’s gaze.

“No, that’s not right… It’s too serious.”

Then, with the faintest waver in his tone, Shen Xuzhi murmured, “I like you too much. What am I supposed to do?”

The misty air trembled against Qing Lin’s lashes.

The gravel path beneath them was narrow, and a fragile beam of light slanted across, brushing against the untouched strands of his hair. The air seemed to thrum with unspoken feeling, tugging faintly at his chest.

Before Qing Lin could even respond, his vision blurred with mist.

Shen Xuzhi stilled, his gaze instinctively searching Qing Lin’s face. Slowly, his eyes traced over each delicate feature before he lifted a hand, brushing his fingertips against his cheek.

“Why are your eyes red?” he asked softly, a quiet concern threading through the haze of alcohol.

Qing Lin couldn’t explain it. He didn’t know why, nor could he stop it. His eyes simply reddened of their own accord, and he let it happen.

Shen Xuzhi brushed the stray strands of hair from Qing Lin’s forehead, his fingers lingering as they gently rubbed against his brow. His touch was tender, soothing against the stubborn dampness at the corners of Qing Lin’s eyes.

“Are you sad?” Shen Xuzhi whispered. “Why are you sad? Did I say something wrong?”

Qing Lin shook his head.

“Don’t be sad,” Shen Xuzhi murmured, his hand closing gently around Qing Lin’s, his thumb rubbing against his palm. “Don’t let my affection weigh on you like a burden.”

“You’ve already done so well, Qing Lin.”

“You’re already enough.”

His fingers slid between Qing Lin’s, intertwining gently. His touch skimmed the back of his hand, fingertips tracing each knuckle with the careful patience of someone memorizing, cherishing, and holding on.

Qing Lin’s eyes, heavy with unshed moisture, lingered on Shen Xuzhi, yet it felt as though they weren’t truly seeing him.

His ears flushed crimson, as though he had been drinking, and as he bit down on his lip, that same red bloomed across his mouth.

What was this feeling?

Qing Lin closed his eyes.

Countless fragments flickered through his mind.

Watching fish swim in the aquarium, dancing beneath July snow. Kissing amid the roar of a stadium crowd, drinking beneath the azure glow of icebergs. Playing love songs on the piano at the foot of a mountain, exchanging warmth before a sacred chapel.

Remembering every detail of his preferences—like the strawberry mousse at an Argentine bistro, the shaved ice from Ocean World on Rowan Island, the flower-shaped pastry he had only casually mentioned in Dali, Yunnan.

The repeated apologies, the soft “I’m sorry.” The respect and care, offered without hesitation.

The sky vast, the clouds brilliant. Whenever he called, there was always an answer.

In Dali’s pristine distance, when he looked, Shen Xuzhi’s gaze always met his. Clouds drifting through both sky and water.

“Xuxu loves you very much.”

“I can also see that you love Xuxu very much too.”

The night breeze swept away all lingering desire, leaving only a profound, pure affection.

Qing Lin opened his eyes.

Ah.

This is… love.

______________________________________________________________________________

When Shen Xuzhi awoke the next morning, he found himself lying in bed at his family’s villa.

His head ached faintly from the hangover. He sat up, rubbing his temples, and glanced around—yet the space beside him was empty.

Fragments of memory stirred. Shen Xuzhi all but leapt from bed, determined to find Qing Lin.

Before he could step forward, the door creaked open.

Qing Lin entered, carrying a tray. Spotting Shen Xuzhi awake, he set it carefully on the bedside table.

His expression was composed, distant, as he spoke evenly. “Today’s recording isn’t too demanding, Mr. Shen. Rest a little longer. This is a hangover soup.”

After speaking, he turned toward the door. “Drink it first. I—”

But his hand was caught.

Shen Xuzhi’s fingers closed firmly around his wrist. Qing Lin turned back quickly and met the intensity of his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Shen Xuzhi said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it so soon, or at least not so abruptly.” His voice was hoarse, unsteady. “Did I scare you? I’m sorry.”

Heat radiated from his palm, searing against Qing Lin’s skin. Qing Lin stepped closer, reaching out to touch his forehead, checking for fever. The warmth was no more than natural. “You drank a bit too much yesterday.”

When he didn’t pull away, Shen Xuzhi gently drew him closer.

He lifted his head, his words firm and clear.

“I like you.”

“I really like you.”

It wasn’t drunken confusion.

It was truth spoken even after the haze of alcohol.

Qing Lin’s ears burned, caught off guard by the blunt confession laid bare in full sobriety.

He turned his face aside, his voice faltering. “I… never imagined you would like me.”

“As long as you don’t dislike me.” Shen Xuzhi took his hand, resting his head lightly against his abdomen. His voice softened, steady yet vulnerable. “Qing Lin, you can take your time thinking about it.”

“I can wait.”

From where he sat, Qing Lin could clearly see the flush spreading across Shen Xuzhi’s ears and neck, burning crimson.

Like a big dog.

He… really does seem to like me.

A faint flutter rose in Qing Lin’s chest. He was just about to reach out and ruffle Shen Xuzhi’s hair when the door suddenly burst open.

Shang Miaomiao barreled in, calling out at the top of his voice, “Xuxu! Linlin! Why aren’t you up yet?!”

Startled, Qing Lin pushed Shen Xuzhi away in a hurry.

He turned back, slightly flustered, only to see Miaomiao standing there. Thankfully, he hadn’t brought the photographer with him.

The little boy studied them with suspicion, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with you two?”

Qing Lin and Shen Xuzhi exchanged a glance before smiling in unison at him. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Hmm…” Shang Miaomiao stroked his chin, unconvinced. “Did you two fight?”

“No, we didn’t fight.” Shen Xuzhi sat upright on the bed, his tone calm and even.

“Oh, really?” Miaomiao’s doubtful eyes shifted back and forth between them.

“Really.” Qing Lin leaned closer to Shen Xuzhi for emphasis—only for the man to slip an arm around his waist and pull him into an embrace. “We’re totally fine.”

Seeing them cling together like that, Miaomiao finally gave a half-hearted nod. “Then don’t fight. Hurry up and come eat! Today’s breakfast was brought over by the staff sister—there are shumai!”

With that, he scampered off.

Qing Lin let out a quiet breath of relief.

Yet now, with Shen Xuzhi’s arms still wrapped around his waist, he felt inexplicably shy. He nudged him lightly until Shen Xuzhi finally released him.

“Kids really are perceptive,” Qing Lin murmured, glancing at the hangover soup sitting by the bedside. “Do you feel unwell anywhere?”

Shen Xuzhi shook his head. “No.”

“How could you drink so much?” Qing Lin said. He lifted the bowl, hesitated, then—slightly embarrassed—handed it back for Shen Xuzhi to drink himself.

Shen Xuzhi accepted it, though his thoughts drifted back to the phone call he’d received the previous night. His expression darkened for an instant, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he only said, “Maybe Su Mingxuan and the others gave me a wake-up call.”

Qing Lin turned his head, unable to bear his straightforwardness.

After they finished washing up, the two stepped out of the room. By then, the cameras were already rolling—today’s recording had begun.

Breakfast was neatly laid out on the table, the family already gathering around.

[Good morning!]

[Linlin looks so pretty today! Shen Laoshi, Shen Laoshi, Shen Laoshi! So handsome!]

[What a hearty breakfast!]

Shen Xuzhi pulled the takeout from the bag—congee, rice noodles, shumai, fried dough sticks, and steamed buns.

“Wow! Miaomiao wants rice noodles!” Shang Miaomiao pointed excitedly.

Shen Xuzhi turned to Qing Lin. “What about you?”

“Anything is fine,” Qing Lin replied.

So, Shen Xuzhi poured him a cup of soy milk, added a fried dough stick, and set a black rice cake on his plate.

Qing Lin glanced over.

All the dishes laid out were ones he loved.

And whenever moments like this happened, the memory of Shen Xuzhi’s confession would unbiddenly rise in his mind.

His face warmed. The blush wasn’t obvious, but a faint red still tinged his cheeks.

Shang Miaomiao, ever sharp-eyed, immediately cried out, “Linlin, why is your face red?!”

Startled, Qing Lin instinctively touched his cheek.

“Are you sick, Linlin? Does anything hurt?” Shang Miaomiao asked in concern, stretching out his chubby hand to check his temperature.

Qing Lin bent down slightly, allowing the little one to cup his face. “I’m fine, Miaomiao. Maybe… just a little warm.”

“Let me see.”

Shen Xuzhi leaned closer, gently moving Shang Miaomiao’s hand aside. With a quiet motion, he turned Qing Lin’s face toward him, his cool fingertips brushing lightly against his skin.

Qing Lin’s breath caught. That flawless face was now so close.

“…”

Whoosh.

His cheeks flared an even brighter shade of red.

[Whoa, whoa, whoa—something feels different here.]

[What happened between you two?! What happened!]

[He’s blushing! Why is he blushing? So cute!]

[Ahhhhhh! What’s happening? What’s happening?!]

“No, I’m fine.” Qing Lin quickly composed himself. “Let’s eat first. Let’s eat.”

During breakfast, Shen Xuzhi listened as Shang Miaomiao enthusiastically shared his plans for a wedding. Though taken aback, he saw his sincerity and excitement and couldn’t bring himself to dampen his spirits.

Qing Lin ate quickly. Once finished, he excused himself and slipped away.

He drifted to a quiet corner, away from the cameras, and lowered himself to watch the open sky.

Gentle summer light spilled over the gravel path of the courtyard, filtering through the green vines that climbed the walls.

Settling at the back of the house, his long, fair neck tilted slightly, forming an elegant line.
Bangs falling over his eyes, his pale skin almost unnaturally bright, he perched delicately on the edge. With his slender frame and serene, expressionless face, he radiated a fragile, melancholic beauty.

No… what was he doing?

This was far too strange.

Qing Lin quieted down in the gentle breeze.

He slowly absorbed the calm, beautiful sky, the gentle weather, the serene surroundings—and the presence of the person he cared knowing he was here.

Qing Lin had never been one to overthink. Being shy or hesitant with Shen Xuzhi here would serve no purpose; not only could it affect the upcoming filming, but it would also feel disrespectful to the one who had bared his heart with such honesty.

Since Shen Xuzhi had already confessed…the first thing he needed to do now was—

Respond to his love.