When Chen Huanyi woke up, his lower body felt all clammy and sticky. As he remembered what happened in his dream, he silently covered his face. He was utterly beyond saving, it seemed.
Ah, Chen Huanyi, Chen Huanyi, he thought to himself, you’re not just an M—you’re gay too. You’d better admit it—you don’t just like it when he whips you, when he tells you to kneel and kiss his feet. You’d also like it if he fucked you, even more so if he kissed you. You’re doomed, Chen Huanyi, admit it—you’ve got to win him back. Not just as your master—you need to win him back, as though you’re pursuing the one you love, so that he can be your boyfriend.
Psh—not “as though” pursuing the one you love. Chen Huanyi, you’d better admit it. He is the one you love.
Chen Huanyi never did anything without a plan. Whenever he started a project, he always wrote a report, along with a feasibility analysis and resource allocation plan. Thus, he started writing this document titled “How to Pursue a Like-Minded Degenerate” every bit as diligently as countless other assignments.
Firstly, this task was a pursuit at its core, thus requiring a two-pronged approach. One aspect was catering to Lin Kai’s tastes, to let the other man see the benefits of being with him. In addition, he needed to level up his knowledge, making his strengths stand out to attract Lin Kai’s attention.
Secondly, there was the matter of like-mindedness—in other words, sharing ambitions and walking the same path in life. He and Lin Kai had many common topics of conversation. Not only did they work in the same field, but they also shared many interests as individuals.
Of course, it was imperative that he address their historical problems before they could start a new chapter of their lives.
Chen Huanyi balled his hands into fists. You got this, Chen Huanyi!
Their historical problems, in essence, stemmed from the fact that at the wrong time and in the wrong place, Chen Huanyi had mistakenly rejected the right person. For this, Chen Huanyi needed to apologize to Lin Kai. Of course, he also needed to respect the other man’s basic principle of “never taking back an M who’s already left.” In other words, Chen Huanyi couldn’t ask him to take him back as an M—his only option was to ask him to be his boyfriend. Then in their sex life together, he could make a legitimate request of his legitimate boyfriend and ask him to fulfill his legitimate duties.
After dashing out a few thousand words of this plan, Chen Huanyi was satisfied, turning next to the timeline. He estimated that this project should be finished within half a year. Thus, starting now, he needed to launch his attack from many different angles.
Just as he was really getting into the zone, Chen Huanyi’s phone vibrated. He glanced over to see that it was a WeChat message. He had no intention of opening it at first, but then he saw the notification’s contents—“Lin Kai: We’ll meet every Wednesday at 2 pm to discuss your graduation theses.” Shaken, Chen Huanyi hurriedly unlocked his phone. He hadn’t added Lin Kai on WeChat—who dared to change their own nickname to “Lin Kai”?! He discovered that the girl from Lin Kai’s office that day had added him to a group chat called “Graduation Thesis Discussion.” It contained only four people, including him.
Below Lin Kai’s message about meeting at two on Wednesdays were the other students’ replies. The girl responded cutely—“Zhao Wanying: Alrighty Lin-laoshi~~”—while the boy replied very properly—“Okay, Lin-laoshi.” Chen Huanyi’s fingers twitched as he read their messages—he wanted to reply too, but he wasn’t sure what tone to use. As he pondered, he saw that Lin Kai tagged him in the group chat: “@Bachelor Y, please reply if you’ve read my message.”
Chen Huanyi put his face in his hands, cursing silently… Oh my god, can’t you give me a heads up before adding me to the group chat so I can change my WeChat display name? Doctor K, I really didn’t copy you on purpose! Ahh please don’t think I’m the sort of terrible student who goes around plagiarizing people!
But the truly brave never shied away from life’s awkwardness. Chen Huanyi charmingly composed a message: “Saw it, Lin-laoshi—I’ll be there right on time! [blushing] [blushing]” Shielding his eyes, he hit send.
Ugh, truly mortifying…
Zhao Wanying sent two emojis in reply. “[covering eyes] [covering eyes]”
After a while, another message came in. “Lin Kai: Mm.”
Clutching his phone to his chest, Chen Huanyi spun around in two circles. He immediately felt like a shoujo manga protagonist—this giddy, gleeful mood was just too unbearably girly. He glanced around to make sure no one was around before calmly sitting down again. Holding his phone, he began to weigh the pros and cons of whether he should—and when and how he should—add Lin Kai on WeChat.
Eh, truth be told, it’s normal to have your advisor’s WeChat. Mmhm, that’s right, Chen Huanyi—this is entirely reasonable and doesn’t require any justification. You just have a sincere desire to discuss academics with your advisor, that’s all.
Chen Huanyi swiftly sent a friend request with the following message: “This is Chen Huanyi. To make it easier for us to discuss my thesis, I’d like to add you on WeChat.”
An hour later, Chen Huanyi received a rejection message: “There’s a group chat.”
Disheartened, Chen Huanyi poked Lin Kai’s name on his screen. So what if there’s a group chat… He immediately sent a second friend request. “This is Chen Huanyi. I’m interested in discussing some scholarly questions with you one-on-one, so I’d like to add you on WeChat.”
Ten minutes later, Chen Huanyi received another rejection. “Send me an email.”
At a loss for words, Chen Huanyi sighed. This project of his was turning out to be extremely challenging. He opened the document again and changed the timeline from six months to one year.
“Long and distant was the road, far and wide I sought and searched.” [1] This sentiment most likely applied to learning and Lin-laoshi alike.
Whether or not the soul of learning was silently watching over him, he didn’t know. But Lin-laoshi definitely was.
Chen Huanyi spent an afternoon revising his proposal, and then another half a day summarizing the main points into slides for the defense. Finally, after checking everything over, he emailed them to Lin Kai.
After a day, Lin Kai sent back the documents with edits.
His feedback was very thoughtful—he left comprehensive comments on everything from the content to writing style to formatting. He even pointed out subtle inaccuracies in word choice and sources Chen Huanyi had forgotten to cite in his figures. He included a set of clear written guidelines for the revision. He also recommended that Chen Huanyi translate the proposal into English and write his thesis in both Chinese and English. In addition, he attached a few more reference papers, as well as a list of specialized jargon in both languages.
Chen Huanyi had never received such painstaking guidance before.
Most professors would only give students general suggestions. For many projects, they wouldn’t ever discuss the details with you, much less edit a manuscript or slides. Big-name professors liked to talk about the bigger picture, the overall direction, the grand scheme of things. They liked to point out problems and say that something might be relevant in some context—you, go look into it. Advisors in engineering liked to say that they needed to realize this or that functionality—you, go make it happen. Some of them would even talk loftily of “best practices in scientific research” without ever bothering to explain what any word in any paper actually meant. Looking back after graduation, you’d find that all your knowledge and skills were either from your shixiong or from Google Scholar on the other side of the Great Firewall. Thinking back on all those kindly conversations with your advisor, you’d realize they only covered their philosophy on life.
For an established faculty member, Professor Shen was already very patient—he discussed the details of their projects with his students. But although Professor Shen asked Chen Huanyi to send his reports and slides to him, he never followed up. Chen Huanyi’s shixiongs and shijies helped him in lab and with research, and he edited his papers by himself according to the organization of other manuscripts.
In contrast, Lin Kai had given Chen Huanyi a set of guidelines—from content to word choice to sentence construction to formatting, he had provided very specific revisions. With these in hand, Chen Huanyi would be able to make much faster progress than if he only read those master’s and PhD theses of questionable quality from the national database of journals.
For some reason, Chen Huanyi’s heart twinged. He realized that he liked this man even more.
He couldn’t stop himself from sending a third WeChat friend request to Lin Kai. “This is Chen Huanyi. Please add me as your friend.”
It was like throwing a stone into the ocean.
He didn’t even receive a rejection.
Before long, their last Wednesday meeting before the thesis defenses had arrived.
Lin Kai turned on the projector in his office and said to the three students, “Each of you will give your presentations as if this were your proposal defense. Keep an eye on the time—you have six to eight minutes.”
When he opened his Powerpoint, Chen Huanyi felt very apprehensive. He knew that Lin Kai had already combed through his slides and approved of the contents no matter what. Although Chen Huanyi had defended countless projects before, he’d never presented to this man and received his scrutiny. Even now, as he closed his eyes, his mind suddenly compared this situation to kneeling on the ground and feeling Lin Kai’s gaze sweeping over him.
Lin Kai leaned back slightly against the sofa, folding his hands on his knee. “You can begin. Don’t be nervous,” he reassured Chen Huanyi, his voice low and gentle.
Chen Huanyi nodded. He pressed F5 to start the presentation.
As soon as he started talking about the subject matter he had mastered, his body language changed completely. His gaze was direct and animated, and his smile exuded confidence and determination.
After all three students finished presenting, Lin Kai gave them each his feedback. He offered neither praise nor criticism, instead only noting specific areas that needed to be changed.
“Give it your best next Monday. I’m going on a business trip tonight and returning on Monday. I’ll come straight to the defenses from the airport, but I might not make it in time. In the meantime, you can send me an email if you have any questions—I’ll reply within a day. If it’s urgent, give me a call.” After he finished speaking, Lin Kai indicated they should leave and close the door behind them.
Chen Huanyi wanted to stay behind and talk some more. However, upon seeing Lin Kai sit back down in front of his computer without intending to pay attention to him, he followed the other two students out, feeling somewhat disheartened.
After they left the biology building, Chen Huanyi’s steps gradually slowed. The others turned to look at him. “Uh, there’s something I wanted to ask Lin-laoshi,” Chen Huanyi said sheepishly, “but I forgot about it until now. Don’t wait for me—I’ll go back.”
However, once he was standing outside the office door again, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even have an excuse for knocking. He stared blankly at the words “Lin Kai, Associate Professor” on the door, tracing them over and over with his eyes. Finally, a lightbulb went off in his head—he ran over to the campus supermarket and bought a can of coffee.
Under Lin Kai’s watchful gaze, Chen Huanyi walked up to his desk with his hands behind his back. With a loud plop, he put the can of coffee down by Lin Kai’s hand. Then he immediately shoved his hands behind himself again with an innocent expression, as if he hadn’t done anything at all.
Lin Kai glanced at him lightly. “Do you have more questions about your report?”
Behind his back, Chen Huanyi squeezed his left hand with his right. “…No.”
Lin Kai watched him, waiting for him to say more.
This time, Chen Huanyi squeezed his right hand with his left. “…Can I stay here for a little while?”
Lin Kai’s gaze lingered on him. “Take any book you want from the shelves. I’m going to the airport at seven. You should leave before then.”
Chen Huanyi’s eyes curved into crescents. He grabbed the can of coffee in a flash, pulling open the tab for Lin Kai before putting it back down.
As he watched Lin Kai steadily, Chen Huanyi seemed to sense the gentle smile in the depths of the other man’s eyes. He didn’t think he would be mistaken. “Could Lin-laoshi recommend a book to me?”
“Everything on these shelves comes with my recommendation,” said Lin Kai.
The afternoon sun spilled through the window into the room, filling it with warmth. The office was very quiet; the only sounds were those of Chen Huanyi flipping pages on the couch and Lin Kai using his computer. How wonderful it would be if time could stop in moments like these.
At first, Chen Huanyi couldn’t stop looking at Lin Kai. Before he made it through an entire page, he had to take several glances at the other man. Each time, Lin Kai looked like he was fully absorbed in his own work, unaffected by the presence of another person in his office. This aura of tranquility was infectious—gradually, Chen Huanyi calmed down as the contents of the book slowly drew him in.
The patch of sunlight from the window shifted bit by bit, and the office gradually grew darker. Chen Huanyi wanted more light to read. Just as he thought about getting up to flip the switch, he looked up and caught Lin Kai’s eye.
Lin Kai’s gaze was utterly undisguised, full of tenderness and deep affection.
Chen Huanyi wanted to step closer, to seek out his gaze, but Lin Kai didn’t look at him again. Instead, he started packing up the items on his desk. “I’ll be leaving for the airport soon.”
Chen Huanyi walked over to the shelf and quietly replaced his book.
“You can take it with you,” Lin Kai said.
Chen Huanyi shook his head. “I’ll keep reading next time.”
Lin Kai hummed in agreement and continued putting away his things.
Chen Huanyi walked over to him. Lin Kai paused.
Chen Huanyi brushed Lin Kai’s hand with his own before he swiftly drew his hand back. “Lin-laoshi,” he murmured.
“You should go,” Lin Kai said in a low voice.
“Okay,” Chen Huanyi replied softly.
Chen Huanyi stood near the campus gates, silently watching Lin Kai walk through them and get into a taxi. The taxi then also disappeared from view.
“Lin-laoshi…” Chen Huanyi quietly recited his name.
When Lin Kai got off of the plane on Monday, a string of missed calls appeared on his phone.
Under normal circumstances, nothing too far out of the ordinary could happen at undergraduate thesis defenses. To professors who were accustomed to advising master’s and doctoral students, most undergraduate theses weren’t very creative or challenging—they were boring and safe by default. As a result, Lin Kai hadn’t foreseen any issues if he didn’t make it back for the defenses because of his trip—after all, these students were fourth-years who were about to graduate, not babies who couldn’t feed themselves. They all had experience with presentations, and not only had he edited their reports and slides ahead of time, but he had even held mock defenses. Lin Kai thought he had been as attentive as a live-in nanny, and he couldn’t think of any mishaps that might have occurred. Even though each advisor had to score every student as part of their overall grade, Lin Kai could more or less assign their grades just by looking at the reports and slides they’d handed in.
But much to Lin Kai’s surprise, he saw a dozen missed calls on his phone as soon as he turned it back on after landing. One of the red names was Zhang Chaoran's; the rest were Zhao Wanying’s. Lin Kai knew right away that something must have happened at the defenses, but he had no idea what. He hailed a taxi and told the driver to go straight to campus. Then he called Zhao Wanying back. She picked up after a single ring.
“Hello? Lin-laoshi, Lin-laoshi…” The girl on the other end sounded frantic, as though she were about to burst into tears.
“Relax—tell me what happened when you’re ready,” said Lin Kai.
His low voice had a calming effect on Zhao Wanying. She took a deep breath, gathered herself, and then said, “The defenses are already over. Chen Huanyi was accused of plagiarizing Liu Bo… uh, Liu Bo-something—oh yes, Liu Bowei’s thesis proposal. He’s been accepted for grad school here but he’s from a different university, I don’t know him. The professors said that although the topics were different, large sections of the literature overview were repeated, meaning that he must have plagiarized.”
“How do they know who copied who?” Lin Kai asked.
“Professor Shen is advising Liu Bowei, and he was there,” replied Zhao Wanying. “He said that they established the project at the beginning of the term, so there’s no way his student copied anyone.”
“Where’s Chen Huanyi?”
“In the academic affairs office. I think he’s about to be disciplined.” Zhao Wanying was distraught. “Where are you now—can you come quickly? Chen Huanyi went to the office as soon as the defenses ended, and he still hasn’t come out. He wouldn’t be able to contact you. Did you hear from any of the professors there?”
Lin Kai swore inwardly. “I’m in a car. I should be there in fifteen minutes.”
After hanging up, Lin Kai said to the driver, “Could you please drive a bit faster?”
He called Zhang Chaoran. After a few rings, Zhang Chaoran picked up and was about to say something. Lin Kai immediately cut him off. “Go to the academic affairs office and delay the disciplinary action.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Zhang Chaoran replied. “I just stepped out to take your call. But if there’s no evidence to show that he didn’t plagiarize, even I won’t be able to delay it until tomorrow.”
“Just delay it until I get back. I’m almost there,” Lin Kai said.
As soon as he got out of the taxi, Lin Kai pulled off his tie and started running toward the academic affairs office—not walking, but running. Lin Kai was someone who always made things look effortless. He seldom spoke harshly or urgently, nor was he ever in a rush. But this time, he was very anxious.
Having come from a prestigious university himself, he was familiar with their rules. Punishments were usually meted out without delay to prevent students from trying to pull strings. These institutions were extremely strict regarding matters such as plagiarizing a thesis or cheating on an exam. As soon as such incidents were uncovered, the student was either encouraged to withdraw, or their bachelor’s degree was revoked—at the end of their studies, they would receive a certificate of graduation without a degree diploma. Disciplinary action usually consisted of four aspects: posting a public notice, entering a record of the incident into the school’s archives as well as the student’s own files, and directly notifying the student’s family. Once the verdict was handed down, it was pretty much set in stone with no possibility of turning back.
Since Chen Huanyi was such an outstanding student, Lin Kai was certain that he held scientific integrity in the highest regard. Otherwise, Chen Huanyi wouldn’t have gotten to this point by working harder than anyone; he also wouldn’t have rejected him because they were student and teacher. If Chen Huanyi were to be disciplined today, his graduate school admission would undoubtedly be rescinded as well. After studying so hard for sixteen years, it was highly possible that he wouldn’t even receive a bachelor’s degree in the end.
If a person valued a certain accomplishment above all else, they would sacrifice a great deal to achieve it. All would be well and good if they succeeded, but if they failed, all those years of suffering and toil would be for naught. They might easily feel as though their life had become meaningless, because their goal had been the entire purpose of their life.
After losing their previous relationship, Chen Huanyi had sobbed on his knees for so long. If he were to now lose the future in science that he had pursued for so many years, Lin Kai couldn’t even imagine how he might respond.
By the time he reached the academic affairs office, Lin Kai was in a state of disarray. He allowed himself a dozen seconds to catch his breath before he flung open the door and strode into the room.
Upon entering, Lin Kai immediately saw Chen Huanyi sitting on a chair in the corner with his head hung low. Zhang Chaoran walked over as soon as he caught sight of Lin Kai. “Your student insisted on waiting for you,” he said in a low voice. “I couldn’t get anything out of him.”
“You can go. No need to scare him,” said Lin Kai.
Speechless with indignation, Zhang Chaoran left.
Lin Kai didn’t approach Chen Huanyi right away. Instead, he walked over to the desk of the teacher overseeing the office. Glancing at their nameplate, he said, “Gao-laoshi, Chen Huanyi absolutely did not plagiarize his thesis proposal. We can prove it, but we’ll need some time.”
The teacher nodded. “Since this is a major accusation and Chen Huanyi’s academic standing has always been excellent, we would not act rashly in the absence of concrete evidence.
“However, Chen Huanyi’s attitude has been very uncooperative. We cannot continue if he carries on like this.” The teacher held out a paper packet to Lin Kai. “These are the relevant procedures and rules. Please take a look—if there are no extenuating circumstances, you must provide a report of the evidence within a week. Then the academic affairs office will come to a decision. If necessary, we will hold a hearing to go over the evidence.”
Lin Kai accepted the papers. “I’ll be taking him away.”
He walked over to Chen Huanyi. Glancing at the boy on the chair hugging his backpack to his chest, he lowered his head. “Come with me.”
[1] Quote from the poem “Encountering Sorrow” (离骚) by Qu Yuan (屈原).