The real young master thought he was hated by everyone

After military training finished on Friday afternoon, Li Heng took his time eating in the dining hall and returned to the dorm just in time to see Xue Ce, who was dragging a suitcase and preparing to go home.

To ensure student safety, the dorm manager checks the rooms every night before lights out to confirm that all students are in the dorms and not staying out late. However, local students who want to go home for the weekend are given some leeway. Earlier in the week, the dorm manager asked about their dorm and recorded the information.

There’s no evening self-study on Friday. This means students are allowed to be absent on Friday and Saturday, but must check in by Sunday night, as classes start again on Monday. If a student has an emergency and cannot return, they need to request leave from their counselor in advance and have a roommate inform the dorm manager. Otherwise, it counts as a warning, and three warnings lead to an official reprimand.

“Not going home?” Xue Ce, in a pretty good mood, asked him. “If you need a ride to the subway, I can ask my family’s driver to drop you off on the way.”

Li Heng thanked him, amused, and explained that he might leave later. 

For some reason, Xue Ce seemed to believe that Li Heng lived in a more remote part of the city, where he’d have to take the subway end-to-end. A few days earlier, he even asked if Li Heng’s neighborhood still had urban villages where people planted small vegetables on the roadside.

Li Heng found it hard to answer that question, feeling that nodding or shaking his head would both be awkward. After all, he did live in the suburbs, on a private road with only a few distant neighbors separated by greenbelts. His family’s garden even had a small vegetable patch that Uncle Fu tended.

This only reinforced Xue Ce’s belief that although Li Heng was a local, he wasn’t a “true local” and probably came from an average background. Wei Zhuowei thought he might need an eye exam. 

“Even I, with no understanding of photography, can tell how expensive your lenses are,” Wei commented, baffled.

“There’s another possibility,” Li Heng replied lazily, “My gear could be from years of saving and being frugal. When I got into college, my family made a sacrifice to buy it for me.”

Wei Zhuowei was momentarily speechless, unsure if Li Heng was joking, explaining his family’s finances, or just analyzing Xue Ce’s perception.

In the end, the slightly dense Wei Zhuowei let his curiosity slide. After all, he befriended people for their hearts and their love of gaming, not their wealth. His buddy Heng was still the same guy who could guide him and even demonstrate in person.

Even though Li Heng was actually younger than him, it didn’t matter.

If necessary, he could shamelessly call him “Dad,” or even “Grandpa” or “Ancestor,” if it meant getting a no-damage victory in a game.

“Maybe he needs to check his brain, then go pray at a temple for good fortune.”

Ultimately, he summarized, “He’s probably made it this far thanks to a bit of luck.”

Remembering Wei’s expression at that time, Li Heng couldn’t help but chuckle.

“So, when are you going back, Saturday?” Xue Ce asked again.

“Once I finish packing, probably around eight.”

Hearing this, Xue Ce gave a disappointed “Oh” — he knew some students from small towns nearby who also claimed to be locals, though these towns had no high-speed trains or subways, only scheduled buses that stopped running at 7 PM. If Li Heng left on Saturday, that would confirm his suspicion that Li Heng didn’t even live in the suburbs of S City.

In any case, whether he lived in the suburbs or farther out, it was clear Li Heng couldn’t offer any useful connections. So, maintaining their current relationship was sufficient; no need to become close friends.

Li Heng didn’t think too deeply about it and just chalked it up to curiosity on Xue Ce’s part. 

After sending him off, Li Heng closed the dorm door, swept the floor with a broom, and sat down to finish writing his reflections on the military training. After saving the file, he finally began packing. 

Honestly, he couldn’t think of anything essential to take home, so he packed a few textbooks for Monday’s classes and prepared to leave.

Wei Zhuowei and Lin Mo hadn’t returned yet—they were probably still waiting in line.

When he finished his meal earlier, he’d seen them at the end of the queue for roast duck rice.

But they could also have started eating by now.

Leaving a sticky note for Lin Mo and locking up his locker, he finally shouldered his bag and closed the dorm door behind him.

Instead of calling his family’s driver, he simply booked a cab on an app.

The driver, a friendly uncle, told him that his daughter had also just started university this year, though out of town. Learning that Li Heng lived deep inside a gated community, the driver offered to drive him all the way in to save him a 10-minute walk.

Unfortunately, they were stopped by the security at Linfeng Bay’s gate.

The security was strict, only allowing vehicles registered with resident license plates inside.l

Li Heng said goodbye to the driver, who expressed regret that he couldn’t take him all the way, then pulled out his keys, found the electronic key card for Linfeng Bay, and entered the community.

He was there to see Xie Duzhi, planning to go home together the next day.

It wasn’t a habit, just something he felt like doing.

After all, both he and Xie Duzhi would go home for the weekend, so why not go together?

And returning together was bound to be more lively than going alone.

He hadn’t texted him in advance; the idea struck him when he was nearly at the villa.

Standing at the door, he hesitated between using his fingerprint to open the door or ringing the bell and eventually chose the latter.

The lights were on upstairs, indicating that Xie Duzhi had come home earlier than expected.

He’d just come out of the kitchen when he heard the doorbell. 

He had cooked himself a bowl of noodles, planning to read in his study while finishing up some work from the office.

The sound of the doorbell came as an unexpected disruption to his plans.

He couldn’t imagine who might visit him at this hour—the neighbors were out of the question since he wasn’t close enough to the celebrity next door to drop by unannounced after work. After transferring a thank-you fee to the actor’s studio, they’d had no further contact.

Besides, if he recalled correctly, Ji Qi was filming a period drama he hadn’t invested in.

His assistant? Also unlikely. He never left important files at the office, and in case of emergencies, a call would be faster than a personal visit.

As he mentally ran through a list of possible visitors, he finally landed on the possibility that it might be his younger brother.

After all, he’d recently been making moves to investigate Xie Sizhi, and it wouldn’t be surprising if Xie Sizhi sought him out.

“I won’t…” 

He opened the door, the greeting he’d prepared caught in his throat as his mind blanked for a moment.

“Why didn’t you just come in?” He glanced at the disheveled head in front of him and stepped aside to let him in.

When trying to guess who might be at the door, he had considered even their mother—she sometimes stopped by with new sweets for him to taste. 

But it hadn’t crossed his mind, or he had subconsciously avoided the thought, that it could be Li Heng.

“Not home tonight?” Li Heng, having already changed his shoes, smiled. “My military training ended, so I figured we could go home together tomorrow.”

He could have gone home tonight, though, Xie Duzhi thought. 

Since Li Heng had already been accepted into university, he no longer had to make every trip as efficient as possible, traveling together out of necessity. 

He refrained from asking why he’d come over or probing what had prompted him to want to travel together. 

He felt a lack of courage on that front, and no preparation to bring it up.

The suddenness of the visit threw him completely off-guard.

“…Have you eaten?” he asked, uncharacteristically hesitant.

“I had dinner before coming over,” Li Heng said, running to turn on the TV and connecting the gaming console, ready to relax for a while. “Have you eaten, Xie Duzhi? Want to play together later?”

The last time they’d played Mario together was in Europe, and summer break had ended nearly two weeks ago.

Xie Duzhi told him he’d already eaten and sat down next to him, picking up a second controller and zoning out for a moment.

The living room and kitchen looked just as they had when Li Heng lived here. Familiar with the layout, he went into the kitchen and made two smoothies with the blender, leaving the unsweetened one on Xie Duzhi’s side.

Having missed seeing him during his last trip home, Li Heng realized he had a lot he wanted to share—from dorm life to amusing stories from military training.

Sitting together on the couch opened a floodgate of conversation, with endless topics to talk about.

“Xie Duzhi,” he called, snapping him out of his reverie. 

After a few seconds organizing his thoughts, he decided to start with family.

“Remember when Second Brother took me to register at university? He acted a bit strange, and I think I know why now.” His tone was excited. “He didn’t tell me, but I saw a friend’s post on social media, and he was in one of the photos.”

The “friend” referred to someone from Xie Sizhi’s social circle.

“What?” Xie Duzhi couldn’t help but be intrigued.

“I think he’s interested in someone.”

Li Heng sounded certain, pulling up a saved screenshot from social media to show him.

It was a photo taken through a display case of an emerald-green jewelry piece. Through the reflection on the glass, Xie Sizhi could be seen in the background, appearing to be buying the jewelry.

“At first, I thought he might be trying to win over Mom, maybe because she found out he took me to a bar last time…”

Li Heng shared his reasoning process with Xie Duzhi, saying, “But when I subtly asked Mom over the phone if Second Brother had given her any gifts, she didn’t react at all and even said he’d never reflect on himself.”

The store only sold women’s jewelry, so it was safe to rule out that he was buying a necklace or ring for himself. And since they could eliminate his mother as well, that only left a female friend.

However, whether in reality or in his dreams, Li Heng couldn’t recall his Second Brother ever having any close female friends to whom he’d give jewelry.

That left just one possibility.

“I think there’s a good chance it’s an online romance,” he concluded, “because he spent the whole summer with us, and we know all the same people.”

But online, a person can freely choose friends without anyone else knowing about them.

Despite it being just a theory, his reasoning was thorough, backed by various small clues, and his conclusion sounded convincing.

That is, if Xie Duzhi hadn’t investigated things himself after hearing about his suspicions toward Xie Sizhi that day.

“He doesn’t have someone he likes,” he said, shaking his head, but then reconsidered his words.

“He hasn’t fallen for someone new.”

“…What?” Li Heng paused, then understood what he meant. “He still likes that senior?”

“How do you know?” Tempted by gossip, Li Heng couldn’t resist getting closer to Xie Duzhi. “I thought they hadn’t been in touch for a long time.”

Indeed, it had been a while since they’d contacted each other. Remembering what he’d uncovered, Xie Duzhi gave a faint smile. “Just happened to find out.”

He knew Xie Sizhi still couldn’t get over his first love.

After years apart, they’d met again—and in a school setting, no less. Based on what Xie Duzhi knew about his brother, he’d likely be silently wistful for a long time, holding onto it.

Li Heng’s eyes widened, part of him wanting to ask how Xie Duzhi knew even this, and another part feeling it wasn’t all that surprising—aside from gaming, Xie Duzhi always gave him the sense that he was capable of anything.

If he suddenly told him his company had developed the holographic tech you only see in novels or animation, Li Heng figured he wouldn’t be especially shocked.

“He started zoning out right after picking up his campus card,” Xie Duzhi said, setting his controller aside.

On the screen, his character stopped moving.

Li Heng’s character jumped down, stomped a mushroom flat, and stood up. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to grab my laptop,” Xie Duzhi replied, heading upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh.” Li Heng sat back down.

In the time it took Xie Duzhi to go upstairs, Li Heng cleared all the monsters in the game ahead, leaving only the treasure chest and coins so they could collect them together when he got back.

“Check this out,” Xie Duzhi said, opening a previously downloaded file. His mouse hovered over a section he’d marked, and he angled the screen toward Li Heng.

Li Heng saw an announcement from their school. Ignoring the formal language, it was essentially about a graduate who had passed the necessary assessments and been officially hired.

The name Xie Duzhi had highlighted with a highlighter was “Chen Xue.”

“…Chen Xue?” Li Heng blinked, a guess forming in his mind.

There couldn’t possibly be such a coincidence, could there?

—But then, with things like having a college roommate who happened to be his fan, maybe it wasn’t impossible that someone his brother had once had a crush on would just happen to take a job at his university and cross paths with him again.

“I sent you a screenshot before,” Xie Duzhi said.

The night she’d arrived, he had sent Li Heng the news with nothing but the image, hoping it would prompt him to ask why, so they’d have more to talk about.

But he’d waited a long time, and the reply never came.

Their conversation had been quiet for more than a week.

“What screenshot?” Li Heng opened the pinned chat, scrolling through for a while but finding nothing. “You just sent it?”

He showed his screen to Xie Duzhi. “Maybe it didn’t go through?”

Xie Duzhi noticed their chat histories didn’t match; he couldn’t see the image he’d sent.

After a moment of silence, the weight on his heart that had been troubling him for days seemed to lift instantly.

“Must be,” he replied.

“It’s probably the chat app’s filter system,” Li Heng consoled. “Certain words on images tend to disappear mysteriously.”

“But maybe you didn’t send it after all; sometimes the failed images don’t show that little red exclamation mark.” He took Xie Duzhi’s phone, intending to show him on the spot. “You’ve got to click on the image and see if it’s still buffering, showing ‘cache failure’…”

Seeing the time the image had been sent, he felt a mix of helplessness and something he couldn’t quite describe.

“Brother— I haven’t replied in so long, and you didn’t ask me about it?”

He returned the phone to Xie Duzhi, feeling slightly exasperated. “You could’ve at least asked why I didn’t reply, or why you sent it all of a sudden. Weren’t you curious?”

Their counselor’s name wasn’t Chen Xue, so of course, he’d have been curious.