With the excitement of meeting his idol, Wen Di stripped his wardrobe. Unfortunately, a good cook couldn’t cook without rice. No matter how he arranged and combined them, those few tattered clothes could not be made into something new.
He stood in front of the mirror, examining his plain white shirt and jacket, and after a moment of using his untrained aesthetic sense, he sighed and shook his head: “I’ll have to rely on my face.”
After a long time of fretting over the pile of clothes, he heard the sound of the door page opening and closing, guessing that Yu Jingyi had returned. Her one-on-one sessions usually ended late on weekdays, Yu Jingyi sometimes didn’t get home from work until ten o’clock.
Hearing footsteps in the living room, Wen Di dashed out, swiftly grabbing some apple juice from the fridge and handing it to his roommate: “You must be tired.”
Yu Jingyi unscrewed the cap, took a big gulp, and let out a long breath. She stared at her roommate who had his hair done up so neatly that night and said: “Why are you wearing a jacket at this hour?”
Wen Di briefly explained the USB drive incident, emphasizing his excitement about going from a stranger to an acquaintance, then tugged at his jacket: “Give me some advice.”
Yu Jingyi looked at him seriously for a while, then nodded: “It’s good, very youthful.”
“How does it compare to that light blue pullover?”
Yu Jingyi looked confused: “You have a light blue shirt?”
Wen Di sighed: “Have you ever even looked at me properly?”
Yu Jingyi fell into an awkward silence. Who in their right mind would remember what their roommate wears? She glanced at her own simple sports jacket and black backpack and objectively said” “I don’t have much of an aesthetic sense either. You should find a more reliable consultant.” After a pause, she felt that she needed to comfort her old friend and ease his anxiety, so she added” “Why are you so nervous? You’re the best-looking guy in our Humanities Department.”
Wen Di was not comforted at all: “This sample size is too unconvincing; how many boys are there in Humanities in total?” Then he brought up an old grievance: “When the department made that promotional video, you didn’t pick me.”
“Wasn’t that because You Jun was dating that jerk? They were having a couple’s moment on the department’s dime, why would you want to get involved?”
Wen Di remembered that promotional video he had dragged into the recycle bin himself. Directed and starred by You Jun herself, with her boyfriend as the male lead, it was brimming with youthful exuberance and spirit. After editing the video, the department even put it on the official website and played it in the main building. She probably didn’t expect that a year later, the two would be at each other’s throats, wishing to burn all traces of their love.
Virtual love lasted longer than real love. Five years later, with new people replacing the old, those born in the 2000s became the main force in the promotional videos, and only then did Wen Di fulfill this wish for his old classmate.
As he reminisced about the past, Wen Di examined himself again and shook his head: “No, I still think that one is better.”
Yu Jingyi watched as Wen Di went in and out of his room, changing outfits each time and then asking her again, ‘How does this compare to the last one?’ The whole living room looked like a fitting room in an old romantic drama. She looked at Wen Di with a complex expression, thinking that his brain must have been scrambled by the violin practice next door. After repeating ‘It’s about the same, they all look good’ for the tenth time, she sat down on the sofa and opened her laptop.
Wen Di was just about to ask her if the pants made his legs look shorter, when he noticed that the consultant had been distracted for a long time and got a little exasperated: “What are you doing?”
“Let’s see what kind of god this person is, making you anxious like this,” Yu Jingyi said. Although Wen Di often babbled about ‘the professor of the Department of Mathematics’, she had always been a passive melon eater, treating this matter as a crush that would end without any problems. She didn’t expect that the two would actually meet one day. It was time for her to probe the man, so that her old friend didn’t fall head over heels in the pit again. “I opened the official website of the Department of Mathematics, which one is he…”
The words came to an abrupt end and Wen Di looked at her and took a deep breath.
“Is this his ID photo?” Yu Jingyi stared at the screen. “What does he look like in real life?”
“Would you like to sit in on complex geometry with me?”
Yu Jingyi ignored him and continued to stare at the screen, looking incredulous: “How could there be a handsome guy at T University? I didn’t see a single one in my four years there.”
Wen Di said “Ah?” and Yu Jingyi added solemnly: “Except you.”
Wen Di narrowed his eyes and stared at her, but she continued browsing, expressing her thoughts, “In novels, every top university is filled with guys as handsome as Pan Yue1Pan Yue (247–300 AD), was a famous poet from the Western Jin Dynasty, and he is not only known for his literary talent but also for his extraordinary physical beauty. His looks were so admired that he became a symbol of male beauty in Chinese culture. or Song Yu2Song Yu was a poet from the State of Chu during the Warring States period (c. 340–c. 290 BC). Like Pan Yue, he was also reputed for his striking good looks. Song Yu’s name has similarly been associated with male beauty in Chinese literature and folklore.. I went to the T University library expecting to see some handsome guys in white shirts reading by the window. But all I saw were guys in slippers and old t-shirts, with unwashed hair. It was so disappointing. There are so many boys, how could I not even find the shadow of a handsome guy?” She shook her head, “It seems my luck wasn’t good enough back then to meet one.”
Wen Di sat on the sofa cushion opposite her: “He didn’t do his undergraduate at T University.”
Yu Jingyi scrolled down and saw his work history: “Oh, from the neighboring university. Well, their Department of Mathematics is much better than ours.”
Wen Di was about to say ‘tsk’, but realized it was true—the neighboring university’s foundational disciplines were indeed stronger.
“It’s really scary,” Yu Jingyi said as she continued scrolling. “Started college at 13, PhD at 20, associate professor at 26, doctoral supervisor at 28. He accomplished in a few years what others take a lifetime to achieve.”
“Mathematics itself is prone to producing young professors,” Wen Di said. “He got his PhD at Princeton. I looked it up, and there are even younger ones. Charles Fefferman and John Maclean both became professors before they were 24.”
“He is really not a human being.” Yu Jingyi sighed.
They were surrounded by graduates from prestigious universities. At this stage, many alumni were pursuing doctorates at Harvard, Yale, Cambridge, and Oxford, but becoming an associate professor was still extremely rare.
There are different levels of academic achievers—those who are smart and those who are geniuses. Wen Di was among the smart ones, but after coming to T University, he quickly fell from being a provincial key student to a poor student who self-deprecatingly calling himself ‘trash’ in just one semester. Now, not only was he criticized by his advisor for lacking talent, but his academic achievements were also being outshone by his juniors.
He also wanted to experience what it felt like to have a life with green lights all the way.
“By the way,” Yu Jingyi shifted the topic, “let me know how it goes after you meet him. I’m worried about your judgment of men.”
“What?” Feeling that his aesthetics were being questioned, Wen Di pointed at the screen and asked incredulously: “My taste in choosing people is not high enough?”
Yu Jingyi closed the intimidating resume webpage and said earnestly: “You always fall for perfect people—handsome, intelligent, with a good family background, excelling in every way, except for one thing—they turn out to be a scumbag.”
Wen Di instinctively wanted to argue, but recalling his dismal past experiences, he felt that what she said made sense.
“It won’t happen this time,” he tried to convince himself, “I have a feeling this time will be different.”
Yu Jingyi looked at him as if to say, ‘Why would smart people bother with romance?’ Then she picked up her laptop and retreated to her room. “I can’t believe I wasted valuable study time talking to you about men.”
Yu Jingyi, like many young people living in an era of slow economic growth and challenging job markets, hoped to have a stable job, so she prepared for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs exam while working. During the day, when she had no classes, she studied for the exams, and at night, after work, she would read until late. Wen Di asked, “Do you want a late-night snack?” but there was no response from the person inside the room, indicating she was already in study mode. With his consultant gone, he had to solve his outfit dilemma on his own.
Wen Di looked around, scrutinizing the clothes on the sofa, chair backs, and door hooks. In the end, he chose the same outfit he had picked at the beginning.
The next day, Wen Di got up early, and after confirming again and again that the USB drive was working, he went to Third Building fifteen minutes ahead of time.
He paced nervously at the entrance, and when the bell rang, students flooded out like a tide. He restrained his eagerness, deliberately lowered his head, and leaned against the door, trying to appear calm and composed.
As the crowd thinned and his heart raced to nearly two hundred beats per minute, a familiar voice called out, “classmate.”
Wen Di looked up, and the person he had been thinking about appeared before his eyes.
The other party was visibly stunned the moment he saw him—the man in front of him was wearing a simple light blue Oxford shirt, jeans, and slightly worn white sneakers. His features were subtle yet exquisitely refined. Against the fresh colors, the young face was as clean as a snow-capped mountain under a clear sky.
“Hello, Professor,” he straightened up unconsciously, “I’m Wen Di.”
Bian Cheng stood backlit, his shadow silently enveloping Wen Di.
Wen Di counted a few seconds in his head, and began to wonder: Could it be that his Mandarin was poor, so Professor hadn’t understood his introduction?
Fortunately, Bian Cheng finally spoke, repeating his name, “Wen Di.”
“Di from flute,”3笛子/笛: Flute. Wen Di’s Di is 笛 Wen Di said, “Oh, right…” He fumbled in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out the USB drive and handed it over.
Bian Cheng took the USB drive without any extra expression on his face, as if what was standing in front of him was a mathematical formula.
“Thank you,” he said, then held the USB drive and put his hands in his pockets, as if he was about to turn around and leave.
Wen Di’s heart suddenly tightened. He had been thinking about this opportunity so much, but he didn’t even get to say three words?
Who knew when he would get another chance to meet one-on-one?
“Wait.” He suddenly spoke up.
Bian Cheng stopped and turned his gaze back to him.
“Didn’t you say before that there were important files on this? I returned it, won’t you thank me?”
The tone was a mix of formality and impertinence. Perhaps it was because Bian Cheng was quite young, Wen Di felt as though he was talking to a peer, not a professor.
Bian Cheng didn’t seem to mind. “What do you suggest?”
Gathering his courage and seizing the opportunity, Wen Di gave himself a mental pep talk that this opportunity would never come again. “How about you treat me to a meal?”
Bian Cheng’s silence was intriguing.
Wen Di quickly added: “No need to go to a restaurant or anything, the cafeteria will do. Isn’t the third floor of Qingfen reserved for staff? I heard the meal there is pretty good.”
Even though it was such a place with good quality and low price, yet Old Liu had never taken him there even once. Wen Di mentally stepped on his advisor’s feet again.
Bian Cheng didn’t respond immediately, almost like a malfunctioning AI. This guy had a high IQ, so why was he so slow to reply? He was articulate enough when teaching.
Wen Di started to sweat. “If it’s inconvenient…”
“Alright.”
Wen Di raised an eyebrow. Agreed just like that? So readily?
“I have plans today,” Bian Cheng glanced at his watch, “Are you free the day after tomorrow at noon?”
Wen Di quickly nodded, “Yes, yes, yes.”
Bian Cheng nodded and said, “See you at twelve o’clock the day after tomorrow,” before turning and leaving.
It was really straightforward and clear.
The turn of events was beyond Wen Di’s expectations. He was still in a daze long after Bian Cheng’s silhouette had receded into the distance. It wasn’t until a sudden autumn breeze slapped him in the face that he snapped back to reality. Belated excitement surged through him and the blood in his body was full of joy. He couldn’t help but hum a tune as he hopped down the steps and headed towards the library.
The appointment the day after tomorrow—though he had asked for it himself—felt like a carrot dangling in front of a donkey. With this to look forward to, the drudgery of his academic grind suddenly seemed to have a bit of hope.
As Bian Cheng reached the Department of Mathematics building, a call from a friend came through. Bian Cheng shook his head. He thought that even though his friend was almost thirty years old, his gossiping heart had not diminished. It was really annoying.
The moment he answered the phone, the other side had already begun to ask questions like a barrage: “Did you meet? How was it? Is it the same person?”
Bian Cheng said as he opened the office door: “Yes.”
“Oh my god,” the other person sighed, “What kind of fate is this.”
Bian Cheng closed the door. “However, it seems he doesn’t remember me.”
“What?” the other person exclaimed in surprise, “How could that be possible? How could he forget something like that?”
Bian Cheng walked to the window behind his desk and looked towards the old building not far away. He saw Wen Di parking his bicycle at the entrance, then running inside with his backpack.
“I don’t know,” Bian Cheng said. “But if he’s pretending, his acting skills are really impressive.”
The author has something to say:
Dr. Wen, who has been persecuted by me:
1. No car accidents
2. No falling down stairs (or from anywhere else).
3. No reset years (nope). 4Referring to the setting/world building of one of the author’s books, Reset Year. I haven’t read it yet but based on the description, everything that happened in that year will be resetted.
I mean love. A moan of distress is exchanged for contempt; countless heartbroken sighs finally exchanged for a shy glance; fleeting moments of joy are the price of twenty sleepless nights. Even if it succeeds, it might not be worth it; if it fails, then all the effort is wasted. Love drowns a person’s wisdom, making them foolish. — “The Two Gentlemen of Verona”
Translator’s Note:
The literal translation for the title (恋爱汩没了人的聪明) would be ‘Love drowns a person’s wisdom’. Anyway, there’s another chapter tomorrow!
The English version of this line is (Act 1, Scene 1):
To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans,
Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment’s mirth
With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights;
If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain;
If lost, why then a grievous labor won;
However, but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly vanquishèd.
