PDGUT - 5

In the end, Yu Tian failed to get Yan Ming’s WeChat.

That evening, Qi Sihao came over to Yu Tian’s place for dinner. While cooking noodles, she shared this unfortunate incident with him, only to receive not a shred of comfort but instead relentless mockery.

Yu Tian, flushed with embarrassment and anger, snapped back: “I helped you deal with Ren Yali!”

She huffed indignantly. “Qi Sihao! You should show some gratitude!”

“I’m already doing that, aren’t I?” Qi Sihao replied dramatically. “As an exchange, I’ve even agreed to sell my body for your cause—what more do you want?”

His tone turned mock-serious. “Yu Tian, you should feel honored! This is my first time doing something like this! Do you know what it means for a man to give up his first time? The mental pressure I have to overcome, the preparation I need to face the camera calmly...”

“...”

Yu Tian felt utterly drained.

All she had asked was for Qi Sihao to appear in one of her upcoming videos. Somehow, in Qi Sihao’s exaggerated retelling, it sounded as though Yu Tian had forced him into prostitution or coerced him into filming adult content.

During her time at medical school, Yu Tian had occasionally filmed short, humorous medical science videos in her spare time, edited them, and uploaded them online. To her surprise, over five years, she had amassed a decent following and become a popular medical science content creator.

Her videos had never featured real people before—just funny illustrations paired with simple, accessible explanations of medical knowledge or debunking common misconceptions. Occasionally, she would re-dub scenes from TV dramas or web series (with permission for secondary creation) to create entertaining educational content.

What started as a hobby unexpectedly gained traction when a few of her videos went viral thanks to platform recommendations. She even broke into broader circles outside her niche and received an exclusive contract offer from the platform—with guaranteed payments and profit-sharing.

At the time, Yu Tian still harbored dreams of becoming a doctor and declined the offer without hesitation.

Now, though circumstances had changed, she didn’t regret her decision. After all, if her casual hobby account “Little Fish Loves Candy” could earn an exclusive contract, surely dedicating herself fully to running a medical science channel couldn’t yield worse results.

Though she could no longer pursue her dream of becoming a doctor, she refused to let her medical knowledge go to waste. Her original aspiration of helping others through medicine remained steadfast.

These days, people consumed knowledge primarily through short videos, and there were plenty of medical science creators on the market. However, due to the lack of oversight, the quality of these videos varied wildly. Many so-called “medical science” videos were riddled with inaccuracies, prioritizing entertainment over education.

For example, she had watched a CPR tutorial featuring a glamorous actress playing a doctor. The actress spoke in an overly cutesy voice, her demonstration of artificial respiration looked more like kissing, and her chest compressions were far from standard.

Another video began as a legitimate discussion about skin allergies but abruptly transitioned into a blatant advertisement for a dubious product claiming to be hormone-free and side-effect-free—a thinly veiled sales pitch disguised as medical advice.

Unfortunately, bad money drives out good. These poorly made videos often outperformed genuine educational content because their production values were higher, featuring attractive actors and slick editing.

When Yu Tian was casually creating videos as a hobby, she hadn’t thought much about these issues. But now, as she planned to dedicate herself fully to her channel, she began considering how to strike a balance between entertainment and professionalism. She also grappled with the challenge of monetizing her content while staying true to her mission—a core dilemma for any self-media entrepreneur.

Thus, this became the catalyst for Yu Tian’s decision to take the first step: inviting Qi Sihao to appear in her videos.

Thinking about this, Yu Tian couldn’t help but ask him: “Are you planning to eat hot pot in the next couple of days?”

Qi Sihao, a die-hard hot pot enthusiast, immediately perked up. “Are you finally feeling guilty and planning to treat me to hot pot?”

“Don’t even dream about it!” Yu Tian knew exactly how he’d react. “You’re banned from eating hot pot for the next two days—no spicy or oily food allowed! And no staying up late either! You must use a face mask every night before bed!”

Yu Tian pursed her lips and said earnestly, “If you break out on camera, it’ll ruin your looks—and that’s a crime!”

Qi Sihao’s interest piqued. “How am I committing a crime? What did I do wrong?”

“As medical students, don’t we have a duty to spread accurate medical knowledge to the public? If your acne causes someone to skip my painstakingly edited video, they might miss out on crucial medical information.”

“Not only will this hinder the dissemination of medical knowledge, but it could also lead to people blindly trusting unverified remedies because they missed our video, resulting in long-term health issues—or even death!”

Yu Tian declared confidently, “Isn’t that a crime? I think you deserve jail time!”

“...”

Qi Sihao looked utterly exasperated. “Then why don’t you ask your ‘Brother Yan Ming’ to film instead? Didn’t you say he’s breathtakingly handsome—way better-looking than me?”

Yu Tian shot Qi Sihao a glance. “When serving meals, what order do we follow?”

“??”

Yu Tian snatched away the bowl of noodles Qi Sihao was eating, expressionless. “Who serves a full-course banquet right off the bat? Don’t we start with appetizers? The main dishes come last.”

Qi Sihao glared at her.

Yu Tian continued confidently, “If the first video featuring a real person on my channel stars Brother Yan Ming, wouldn’t that set the bar impossibly high? Sure, it’d be amazing initially—but once viewers see your appearance later, they’ll feel disappointed. Psychological whiplash, you understand?”

“Do you know what throwing out a brick to attract jade means?”

The mere mention of Yan Ming filled Yu Tian with renewed longing. “Let’s toss you out there first. In the meantime, I’ll improve my video-editing skills and build rapport with Brother Yan Ming. Once we’re closer, I’ll invite him to film a few episodes, and my traffic will skyrocket!”

“...”

Song Chunxiang returned home about an hour after Yu Tian sent Qi Sihao packing.

Her face was radiant, humming songs, and glowing with happiness.

Seeing her mother’s demeanor, Yu Tian eagerly approached her, brimming with curiosity: “Mom, how was Uncle Yan? Am I going to be your flower girl at the wedding?”

“Shoo, shoo!” Song Chunxiang blushed slightly and waved her hands as if trying to drive Yu Tian away.

But she didn’t deny it.

This was promising!

Could she really become Yan Ming’s younger sister?

Yu Tian’s eyes lit up. “Mom!”

Unable to resist her daughter’s pestering, Song Chunxiang gave her a stern glare but softened quickly. “Nothing’s set in stone yet!”

She sighed, looking worried. “At our age, things are different. It’s not just about liking each other—it’s complicated. Both of us have families and baggage.”

“Yan Wenhua is a good man, but during our conversations, two out of every three sentences revolve around his son. Clearly, he treasures his son immensely.”

Song Chunxiang sighed again. “Your father passed away early, but Yan Wenhua divorced his ex-wife—they may not have gotten along, but they still share such an accomplished son. If his son dislikes me or opposes our remarriage—or worse, pushes for reconciliation between Yan Wenhua and his ex-wife—then our chances are slim.”

“And even if we do succeed, what if his son harbors resentment toward me? My life after remarriage wouldn’t be easy.” Song Chunxiang fretted. “From what I gather, their family is wealthy. Compared to them, we’re modest. I worry his son might think we’re overstepping.”

Living to this age, Song Chunxiang was no fool. She concluded gravely, “Rather than living unhappily, it’s better to stay single.”

Yu Tian blinked. “So you’re satisfied with him personally, right?”

Song Chunxiang nodded. “He’s a good man.”

“Then leave the rest to me!” Yu Tian suddenly felt a surge of purpose. “Mom, love boldly and leave the PR work with Yan Ming to me! I’ll bond with him so closely, it’ll be like we’re one person! If you want, I’ll make sure both our names end up on Yan Ming’s household registration book!”

Unfortunately, despite Yu Tian’s bold promises to Song Chunxiang, reality proved much harsher.

She hadn’t even managed to add Yan Ming on WeChat.

Fortunately, Yan Wenhua was currently on a business trip, and Song Chunxiang had been chatting with him online quite frequently. For now, she seemed temporarily distracted from the challenges ahead.

Taking advantage of this lull, Yu Tian began strategizing her self-media operations.

Creating a full-length medical science video required meticulous planning, recording, editing, and post-production—a process that took considerable time. As a content creator, however, maintaining regular activity was crucial to retaining subscribers.

After some research, Yu Tian decided to complement her video-making efforts with live streams.

She chose to focus her streams on wellness, particularly dietary therapy.

Being an excellent cook, Yu Tian tested the waters by hosting a live stream where she prepared diabetic-friendly pastries. The session received rave reviews, attracted new followers, and even earned her a tidy sum in tips.

This unexpected success was both surprising and encouraging.

While her small medical science venture showed promise, Yu Tian remained stumped when it came to Yan Ming.

She knew how precious his ophthalmology appointments were. As a medical student, she couldn’t justify taking up a slot under the pretense of needing an eye check-up just to get close to him.

Thankfully, Yu Tian lived relatively close to the First Affiliated Hospital where Yan Ming worked. During his clinic days, she spent several evenings wandering nearby, hoping for a chance encounter.

Alas, it was futile.

She never ran into him—not once.

At first, Yu Tian felt disappointed after each failed attempt. Eventually, she resigned herself to the idea that bumping into Yan Ming was unlikely.

But by some twist of fate, Yu Tian had inadvertently cultivated the habit of taking evening strolls after dinner.

That night, she had eaten a bit too much and decided to head out for her usual walk to aid digestion.

Through the dense shade of the towering camphor trees, the sky was bathed in the dim glow of twilight—neither fully day nor night. The sun hadn’t yet faded completely, while the moonlight had already begun to rise, casting an ambiguous halo over the treetops and rooftops of the nearby residential buildings. It illuminated the ridges of the aging houses that still lingered in this part of the city.

The entire city seemed to have slipped into a slower pace, shedding the hustle and bustle of the day. Along the streets, small groups of people were out for their post-dinner walks. Elderly men gathered around chessboards, deeply engrossed in their games, while children laughed and ran freely in nearby playgrounds.

Time appeared to slow down, settling into a rhythm of ease and tranquility.

Yu Tian shuffled along, her steps unhurried. Today, Song Chunxiang had urged her to take out the trash before leaving home, and in her haste, she hadn’t even changed clothes. She wore an old, loose-fitting loungewear set, her hair messy and unkempt.

Fortunately, no one around here recognized her. After tossing out the trash, Yu Tian wandered aimlessly, her mind preoccupied with brainstorming topics for her next medical science video.

Before she realized it, she had unconsciously walked to the edge of the small park outside the First Affiliated Hospital—a place she had come to so many times hoping for a chance encounter.

This verdant park, nestled beside the hospital, was perfectly situated.

Most of the time, the atmosphere inside the hospital was heavy with sadness and tension. Having such a green space allowed patients and their families to step outside, clear their minds, and find solace. Additionally, since it wasn’t far from the surrounding residential areas, the open spaces naturally attracted groups of elderly women preparing for their square dancing routines, as well as others warming up and testing speakers.

Yu Tian circled the park once and eventually found herself near the entrance of the First Affiliated Hospital. Just then, she noticed several doctors emerging from within, seemingly finishing their shifts.

Curious, she glanced over.

And there he was—Yan Ming.

He wore a simple yet elegant shirt, nothing extravagant, but on him, it looked anything but ordinary. Even among the crowd, Yan Ming remained the most striking figure.

Despite all her previous attempts to run into him at the hospital, she had never succeeded—not once. Yet now, dressed in such shabby and casual attire, she had bumped into him without warning.

Yu Tian couldn’t help but lament her luck.

She should have seized this rare opportunity to approach him and strike up a conversation.

But she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Her appearance right now was…

All Yu Tian could feel was embarrassment and mortification. Her only thought was to avoid being spotted by Yan Ming at all costs.

However, the more she wished for something not to happen, the more inevitable it seemed to become.

To reach the hospital’s parking lot, one had to pass through the small park. As Yan Ming made his way toward the park, he initially kept his gaze straight ahead—but for some reason, he turned his head slightly and looked in Yu Tian’s direction.

Then, Yu Tian saw him pause momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly, before he began walking purposefully in her direction.

He had seen her.

For a moment, Yu Tian felt as if her ability to think had deserted her.

There was only one thought in her mind:

Absolutely, absolutely do not let Yan Ming see her like this, wandering near the park.

Unfortunately, the area where Yu Tian currently stood was an open clearing in front of the park. Aside from the group of elderly women preparing to dance, there was nowhere for her to hide or slip away unnoticed.

Whether it was a stress response or a stroke of quick thinking, Yu Tian didn’t know. But before she could process what she was doing, she had darted into the square dancing group.

Her sudden intrusion disrupted the formation, earning her a few complaints from the older women.

“So young and already joining us for exercises? Don’t you youngsters usually go to gyms to dance? Our group only accepts members aged forty and above.”

Yu Tian’s face burned with embarrassment.

Thick-skinned, she replied, “I’m old at heart. My psychological age is fifty.”

“…”

No matter how awkward it was, hiding in the square dance group still felt safer than being spotted by Yan Ming in her current state.

After all, blending into the group would be like a drop of water merging into the ocean!

But alas, her relief was short-lived. It seemed fate was determined to play tricks on her.

Just as Yu Tian had mustered the audacity to claim a spot in the square dance group, the lead dancer stepped to the front of the formation and turned on the portable speaker.

Before Yu Tian could react, the elderly women around her burst into energetic synchronized movements, following the beat of the music.

Amidst the deafening and hypnotically catchy square dance tune, Yu Tian had no choice but to grit her teeth and mimic their arm-swinging and leg-kicking motions.

This particular square dance group clearly boasted high standards—their movements were impeccably synchronized, and their choreography was surprisingly wild and fast-paced, almost like a flashy display of skill.

Yu Tian struggled to keep up, clumsily imitating the steps of the woman in front of her, always lagging half a beat behind everyone else.

She hadn’t blended into the group like a drop of water merging into the ocean.

Instead, she stuck out like a glaring drop of oil, floating conspicuously on the surface.

Her poor performance was painfully obvious to anyone watching.

And the scenario she had hoped to avoid unfolded just as feared.

After momentarily losing sight of Yu Tian, Yan Ming didn’t leave. Instead, he scanned the area, locked his gaze onto the square dance group, and then strode directly toward Yu Tian’s position.

Stay calm, Yu Tian coached herself internally.

Dressed like this, with messy hair and hidden among the vibrant square dancers, Yan Ming might not recognize her.

Don’t overthink it.

As long as she stayed composed, he would soon leave.

With that thought, Yu Tian threw herself into the dance with renewed vigor.

If she could match the rhythm of the other women and blend seamlessly into the group, she wouldn’t stand out.

But as she danced, sweat pouring down her face, she suddenly realized that Yan Ming—who she had assumed had already left—was now standing beside her.

“Thinking of you keeps me awake, forgetting you is impossible. Falling for you has driven me crazy—do you even know?

Thinking of you keeps me awake, letting go of you is beyond me. This single word ‘love’ torments me day and night—how can I escape your love’s prison?” 

Under the piercing and brainwashing melody of the square dance tune, Yan Ming stared at Yu Tian with an impassive expression—

“It really is you.”