The Academic God Becomes an Internet Sensation After Joining a Dating Show - Chapter 68 - The Rose

When Qing Lin returned from the backyard, Shen Xuzhi was already looking for him.

The moment he caught sight of Qing Lin stepping through the gate, Shen Xuzhi instinctively moved forward, his chest tightening with unease. Deep down, he feared Qing Lin might be avoiding him—that subtle withdrawal, those quiet shifts in behavior that, little by little, could turn them back into strangers.

That was something Shen Xuzhi could not allow.

Yet if he were to confess again now… would Qing Lin push him away?

He stood tall before him, expression faintly sorrowful, like a loyal dog abandoned by its master. If Qing Lin truly no longer wished to meet his gaze, then he—

But Qing Lin lifted his head, amber eyes locking onto him with startling intensity.

Shen Xuzhi blinked. “?”

The man before him had a sharply cut chin and porcelain skin, his neck stretched taut as he tilted his head back. Under the slanting light, those amber eyes gleamed with a brilliance that stole Shen Xuzhi’s breath away.

His heart stuttered; caught beneath that unwavering gaze, he suddenly felt flustered.

Qing Lin seemed utterly unrestrained, studying him without hesitation. His eyes lingered on every detail of Shen Xuzhi’s face, as though deep in thought. Then, catching sight of the lollipop in Shen Xuzhi’s hand, he asked, “What’s that?”

“I got it for you. Strawberry flavor.” Shen Xuzhi peeled the wrapper away, his voice carrying a rare note of hesitation. “You—”

Qing Lin didn’t wait for him to finish. He leaned in, lips parting just slightly as he closed his mouth around the lollipop still held in Shen Xuzhi’s hand.

Shen Xuzhi: “?”

Those lips were naturally thin, pale in color, carrying their usual air of aloofness. Yet now, with the lollipop resting between them and the paper stick curling upward, they carried a teasing allure—carefree, and unexpectedly sensual.

“Thanks, Shen Laoshi,” Qing Lin murmured, his words muffled by the candy.

Then he nodded toward the house. “I’ll go check on Miaomiao first.”

Shen Xuzhi froze in place.

…Huh?

He didn’t understand.

Wait—what was Qing Lin doing? Hadn’t he just blushed when Shen looked at him?

Was this… a subtle rejection? Did Qing Lin mean to remind him that they should stick strictly to their contractual arrangement?

Qing Lin stepped into the house, slipping the lollipop from his lips.

The candy’s sweetness lingered faintly in his mouth, it’s strawberry cloying on his tongue. The recording was still underway. The contract still stood.

No emotions during work—that had always been his rule.

But…

He slid the candy back between his lips, his tongue tracing the sugar-coated surface as heat spread across his face, betraying feelings he could no longer fully suppress.

He lifted a hand to his neck, as though to hide the warmth rising there.

Mr. Shen looked devastatingly handsome today, as always.

______________________________________________________________________________

Since returning from school, Shang Miaomiao had unexpectedly begun paying far more attention to his appearance.

That morning, he even fastened a small bow tie around his neck and, brimming with pride, insisted on showing it off to Qing Lin and Shen Xuzhi before they departed for the day’s recording.

Qing Lin couldn’t help feeling curious. Who on earth had captured Miaomiao’s admiration so thoroughly? And… was it really something his parents would approve of knowing?

“Hello, everyone! Today we’re traveling to the Dali Flower Sea in Yunnan!” the director’s bright voice rang out.

“Nestled at the foot of Cangshan Mountain and facing the sparkling waters of Erhai Lake, we’ll spend a relaxing afternoon here together. Let’s look forward to it!”

Qing Lin, Shen Xuzhi, and Shang Miaomiao boarded the car, setting off toward their destination.

Throughout the ride, Qing Lin sat by the window, his eyes quietly following the scenery that sped past.
The landscape flowed by in a blur as the vehicle moved forward, Erhai Lake sparkling brilliantly under the sun.

Shang Miaomiao dozed between them, his soft breaths steady and even. Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin sat apart, each glance betraying the other’s thoughts. Shen Xuzhi longed to find something to say, while Qing Lin’s mind was consumed with how to confess.

He wasn’t certain if it would truly count as a confession, but at the very least, he needed to tell Shen Xuzhi that he liked him too.

His heart fluttered restlessly, though outwardly his expression remained calm. The contrast left Shen Xuzhi unsettled, a faint unease tightening in his chest.

Just then, something cool pressed lightly against his forehead.

Shen Xuzhi turned and saw Qing Lin holding an ice pack to his brow, silently mouthing.

“Motion sickness?”

He didn’t suffer from motion sickness, but Shen Xuzhi’s impeccable manners—and his yearning for even the smallest show of closeness—refused to let the moment pass. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head ever so slightly, leaning into Qing Lin’s touch, feigning discomfort.

The relief didn’t come from the cold pack at all, but from the warmth of those soft, steady hands.

Qing Lin studied him quietly, gaze lingering on the sharp bridge of his nose and the elegant lines of his eyes. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then, after a pause, he abruptly pressed the ice pack fully against Shen Xuzhi’s face and drew his hand back.

Shen Xuzhi: “…”

He truly couldn’t understand.

Before long, they arrived at the Dali flower fields.

Qing Lin gently roused Shang Miaomiao, who blinked his drowsy eyes open and clung to him in a half-asleep daze. The afternoon sun here was kind; the air felt neither harsh nor oppressive.

The fields stretched endlessly, blossoms ablaze with summer’s fervor. The fragrance in the air was crisp and sweet, each dew-kissed petal shimmering as sprinklers misted the breeze.

Shang Miaomiao brightened at once upon stepping out of the car, dashing headlong into the sea of flowers with delighted shouts. He ran free until Shen Xuzhi eventually caught up and pulled him back.

[Waaah waaah waaah!! I want to go there too!!]

[It’s absolutely gorgeous, like Alice’s secret garden!]

Together, the three of them made their way to the garden café.

Tasks awaited them, of course, though today’s were light: assist the flower farmer with watering and take promotional photos for the café.

The café’s flower field was carefully designed, its layout imbued with a quiet sense of ceremony. A white Western-style colonnade stretched into the horizon, flanked by vibrant blossoms in alternating patterns, a deliberate harmony of colors crafted for the eye.

Concerned Qing Lin might tire, Shen Xuzhi suggested he take photos instead, while he worked alongside the farmer under the summer sun.

Shang Miaomiao eagerly joined him, his interest piqued as he listened to the farmer explain each flower variety.

The sea of blooms rolled endlessly around them, fading from pink to white in seamless gradients. Hydrangeas stood tall and proud, their splendor set against the graceful perfume lilies beside them, their beauty merging into one vast, breathtaking canvas.

Qing Lin lifted the camera and began his task.

Photography here required little effort—the flowers were already arranged in nature’s own perfect design.

After capturing a few shots on the western side, he straightened, turning the lens slightly. Not far away, Shen Xuzhi stood among the blossoms, focused intently on his work.

The instant the figure entered the frame, Qing Lin pressed the shutter without hesitation.

An exceptionally photogenic face—its usual sharp lines softened by sunlight. Oblivious to the camera, Shen Xuzhi kept his gaze lowered, meticulously trimming branches and leaves.

So beautiful.

Qing Lin zoomed in, adjusting the angle. No matter how he framed it, every line of that silhouette seemed flawless. Shot after shot filled his camera, until its memory held almost nothing but Shen Xuzhi’s figure.

Nearby, Shang Miaomiao splashed happily with the watering can. Spotting Qing Lin with the camera, he bounced up and waved. “Linlin! Linlin!”

Through the viewfinder, Qing Lin looked up—and at that exact moment, Shen Xuzhi raised his head.

Their eyes met.

What should have blurred in the distance sharpened through the lens: brows arched gently, the corners of his eyes tilted upward, dark pupils gathering scattered flecks of noon light. It was as if he carried an armful of freshly cut, golden sunflowers, turning to look only at him.

Qing Lin’s heart lurched violently, as if struck by cathedral bells, the echo carrying the fragrance of flowers deep into his chest.

He tore his gaze away, lowered the camera, and pressed his hand against his lips. His face was burning.

Ah. There was no doubt.

Just then, a tap on his shoulder pulled him back.

“Um…” A shop attendant, a girl in her early twenties, smiled nervously. “Our café is holding a special event right now—guests can personally pick flowers to give to someone special. Would you like to join?”

Qing Lin followed her gesture to the entrance, where a sign stood in elegant lettering:

Handpick Flowers for Your Beloved.

Beloved.

His heart skipped a beat. The word alone seemed to constrict his chest, scattering the haze of his thoughts.

“Over here is our rose field,” the girl continued, her voice lilting with enthusiasm. “The pink roses are in full bloom—they pair beautifully with champagne roses, perfect for a bouquet. Would you like to make one for Shen Laoshi? I think he’d be very happy to receive it.”

Roses. For Shen Xuzhi.

Qing Lin turned toward the fields, where vibrant petals swayed in the breeze. A sudden surge of anticipation welled in him.

He could almost see it: Shen Xuzhi’s face when handed the bouquet, the rare softness in his eyes. He would be happy. He had to be.

I want to give him roses.

“Sure,” Qing Lin replied, his lips curving into a smile. Light danced across his amber eyes, deep sockets casting faint shadows that only accentuated his striking beauty.

The young shop attendant froze for a heartbeat, her cheeks coloring. His smile was dazzling, too vivid, too real—she felt immersed in a scene from a film.

Soon, Qing Lin changed into the provided apron and gloves before stepping into the rose fields.

Roses had thorns, after all. With careful hands, he clipped a bloom under the guidance of the staff.

“Our pink roses are gorgeous this season,” the attendant explained cheerfully. “Pink symbolizes romance and tenderness. They’re a declaration of love.”

Qing Lin paused, the freshly cut rose held between his fingers. He lifted it closer, studying its delicate layers of petals, his lips pressing together in quiet thought.

It wasn’t a uniform shade of pink. From the base of each petal to its edge, the color shifted gradually—deep red at the roots, fading delicately into soft pink at the tips.

Qing Lin carefully cut several stems and gathered them into his arms before returning inside the shop with the clerk.

“Let me take it from here,” the young girl offered with a smile. “I’ll wrap it for you—make it look absolutely beautiful.”

Qing Lin lowered his gaze to the bouquet in his hands, the roses still glistening with fresh droplets of water. He wondered fleetingly if it had been Shen Xuzhi who had watered them just earlier, lending them that vivid freshness.

Lifting his eyes, he asked softly, “May I wrap it myself?”

A smile tugged at his lips as he added, “I’d like to prepare it for him with my own hands.”

“Of course! Absolutely.” The girl nodded quickly. “Then, come over here. Roses have thorns, so we need to trim them first before wrapping.”

Qing Lin followed her to a long white platform, its surface scattered with small tools and lengths of ribbon. Under her patient guidance, he learned how to trim the thorns properly.

For half an hour, he worked quietly, bent over the roses, trimming them one by one until each stem was smooth and safe to hold.

“Wow, you’re really good at this! Now let’s move on to wrapping,” the girl encouraged. “Do you think a brighter color would suit best? Or maybe the apricot white—it has a really soft, elegant look.”

Just as Qing Lin picked up the bouquet to answer, a sharp sting pierced his finger. He flinched. A thorn had slipped through, pricking him deep enough to draw blood.

The girl gasped. “Oh no! It’s bleeding! Did I miss one? Wait, wait—don’t move, I’ll grab a band-aid—”

“It’s fine. Just a scratch,” Qing Lin said calmly, though his brows knitted slightly. “Let me finish trimming first.”

He glanced down at the rose. A thorn, still stained faintly with his blood, clung stubbornly to the stem.

Silently, Qing Lin raised the scissors and clipped it off. Then he examined every other stem again, making certain none remained.

He didn’t want even the smallest thorn to hurt Mr. Shen.

“Qing Laoshi…”

The sudden voice broke the quiet. A staff member from the production team had approached him, looking hesitant.

Qing Lin turned, his tone polite but quick. “What’s wrong?”

The staff member shifted uneasily. “The live stream has been temporarily stopped.”

Qing Lin blinked, only then noticing that the cameras around him had been removed.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

The staff member lowered his voice, choosing his words carefully. “It’s because of the comments. They shut the broadcast down. The specifics… you should take a look yourself.”

He handed Qing Lin an iPad and a pair of headphones.

Qing Lin slipped them on.

The moment the screen lit up, his entire body went rigid.

On the display appeared a face—twisted, menacing, horrifyingly familiar.

A face Qing Lin had sworn never to see again in this lifetime.

Qing Baihu.

His blood ran cold.

Why… why was Qing Baihu in Hangzhou?

The post was a candid shot uploaded by a passerby on Weibo.

[@RandomNewbie: Today at lunch I ran into this drunk old guy who ordered a ton of food but then tried to skip out on the bill. When the staff confronted him, he got aggressive—and guess what he shouted?! He claimed his son was Qing Lin! That Qing Lin!! Then he started ranting about ungrateful brats and big shots. Holy crap, is a scandal about to break?!]

Pictures don’t lie—I’m not making this up!

[Video]]

The video opened with a coarse, slurred voice, dripping with rage.

Qing Baihu’s drunken face loomed close to the camera as he slammed a hand down on the table.

“Listen up! My son could be Qing Lin! That big star! The movie star! The one on screen! He’s loaded!”

“This measly sum? Forget hundreds—thousands, tens of thousands—I can cough it up anytime!”

He tipped back another shot, then clutched the bottle like a weapon, cursing loudly. “Qing Lin, you ungrateful bastard! Come see your old man! Where the hell are you hiding?!”

“I slaved away raising you, and now you hook up with some rich guy and toss me aside?!”

The Weibo post shot up the rankings, racking more than 300,000 likes in hours, climbing straight to the top of the trending chart.

The comment section seethed.

[Holy shit, that’s Qing Lin’s dad!? My idol just fell off a cliff—what kind of background is this?]

[Wait, am I the only one who caught that part? He said Qing Lin abandoned him after finding a sugar daddy?? What’s even happening??]

[Ungrateful son… sugar daddy… I—I can’t even process this.]

Even the production staff couldn’t hide their pity. One of them murmured, hesitant, “I don’t know how this escalated so quickly… Mr. Qing, maybe you should—”

“Sorry.”

Qing Lin’s voice cut through, soft yet unyielding. He rose swiftly, brushed past the staff, muttered another apology, and stepped out, clutching the bouquet of roses still trembling in his hand.

His phone vibrated violently in his palm. Dozens of missed calls flashed across the screen—all from Qing Yejie.

He dialed back at once.

“Ge! Ge! Finally!” Qing Yejie’s frantic voice burst through the speaker. “That asshole Qing Baihu—he found out where you live! He said he’s coming to your place tonight!”

Qing Lin froze. “What?”

“Yeah! That fucking bastard! He’s completely lost it! And he got your address somehow—what the hell is he planning to do?!” Yejie’s voice cracked, a mix of fury and panic. “Gege, tell me you’re not in Hangzhou! Damn it, this guy picked the worst time to show up—what the hell is he thinking?!”

“Gege?!”

“Why aren’t you saying anything?!”

Qing Lin’s chest tightened painfully. His fingers dug into the bouquet, knuckles blanching white.

No.

Not that house.

He needed to go back. Now. Immediately. This instant.

He drew a sharp breath, trying to force composure back into his voice—

But the moment he turned, he saw Shen Xuzhi rushing toward him, his eyes filled with unmistakable worry.

Wang Zhan followed close behind, but Shen Xuzhi barely noticed. The second he spotted Qing Lin, he closed the distance in long strides, reaching out instinctively.

“Mr. Shen…” Qing Lin’s lips were pale, his voice hoarse, the words almost swallowed by the turmoil inside him.

“I’m here.”

Shen Xuzhi bent slightly, his hand lifting to stroke Qing Lin’s hair with aching gentleness. His voice was low, steady, coaxing like a shelter against a storm.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Qing Lin couldn’t bear the weight of the situation any longer. Forcing the words out in a stiff voice, he said, “Mr. Shen, I want to go back.”

“Alright.” Shen Xuzhi’s answer came without pause.

He turned immediately to Wang Zhan. “Check the flights back to Hangzhou. Book the earliest one available.”

Wang Zhan hurriedly opened the booking app, fingers moving quickly across the screen. After reviewing the options, his expression turned strained. “Xu-ge, the earliest flight is in five hours. We won’t reach Hangzhou until tomorrow.”

Too late. That would be far too late.

Qing Lin’s thoughts raced as he considered other options. Trains were impractical—too slow. Right now, the only way back quickly was by plane. But how? What else could he do?

Then he heard Shen Xuzhi, without the slightest hesitation, simply said, “Charter a plane.”