Saturday morning arrived with the kind of perfect autumn weather that made staying indoors feel like a crime against nature. Xiaoran had planned to spend the day working on his Art History essay—the one he and Yuze were collaborating on—but his phone had other ideas.
It started buzzing at 9:47 AM, vibrating insistently against his desk until he finally grabbed it with a groan. His mother's face filled the screen on the video call, her expression already cycling through concern, curiosity, and that particular brand of maternal determination that Xiaoran had learned to fear.
"Xiaoran! Finally! I've been trying to reach you for two days!" His mother's voice came through at maximum volume, causing Wei Chen to look up from his music production work with mild alarm.
"Mom, I texted you yesterday," Xiaoran protested, sitting up properly and trying to look like a responsible adult who definitely hadn't eaten instant noodles for dinner three nights running. "I said I was fine and busy with schoolwork."
"A text is not the same as seeing your face. You look thin. Are you eating properly? Are they feeding you at that university?" His mother leaned closer to the camera, as if proximity to the phone would allow her to physically assess his nutritional status through sheer force of will.
"I'm eating fine. The canteen has good food, and I—"
"Canteen food is not home cooking. I should send you a care package. Your father, write down what we need to send!"
Xiaoran heard his father's voice in the background, distant and resigned: "Already writing, already writing."
Before Xiaoran could protest that he really didn't need a care package, three more faces crowded into the frame. His sisters had apparently been lying in wait, ready to ambush the family video call with their collective nosiness.
"Baby brother!" His eldest sister, Wen Jing, pushed their mother slightly out of frame to get better camera access. "We have questions. Many questions. Urgent questions."
"Why do I feel like I'm about to be interrogated?" Xiaoran asked, already regretting answering the call.
"Because you are," his second sister, Wen Yu, confirmed cheerfully. She was wearing a face mask and had her hair in rollers, which somehow made her appearance more intimidating rather than less. "We've heard rumors. Disturbing rumors. Exciting rumors."
"What rumors?" Xiaoran tried for innocence, but his face had never been good at deception—one of the first things Professor Qin had pointed out about his acting.
"Everything's transparent. Your reactions are written across your face like subtitles."
"Auntie Zhang's son is at Beijing Normal University," his third sister, Wen Li, explained.
She was the youngest of his three sisters, only four years older than him, and generally the most sympathetic. "He says his friend's cousin saw you being helped across campus by a very tall, very handsome Alpha about two weeks ago when you were sick."
Xiaoran's mind raced back to the second heat incident—Yuze helping him to his dorm, maintaining control despite obvious difficulty, the protective positioning that had probably looked more significant to external observers than it had felt in the moment.
"That was just a classmate helping me when I wasn't feeling well," Xiaoran said carefully.
"Nothing dramatic. I had a stomach bug and felt dizzy. He helped me get back to my dorm. End of story."
"'He' has a name?" Wen Yu pounced on the pronoun like a cat on a particularly interesting mouse. "Tell us about this 'he.'"
"There's nothing to tell. He's my partner for an Art History project. We're working together on a presentation about Tang and Song dynasty connections between music and visual arts. It's purely academic."
"Purely academic partners don't usually help each other across campus when sick," Wen Jing observed. "Purely academic partners say 'feel better' and email notes. Physical assistance suggests deeper connection."
"Or it suggests basic human decency," Xiaoran countered. "Some people are just helpful."
His mother had reclaimed her position in front of the camera. "Is this young man an Alpha? What's his family background? What's he studying? Has he expressed intentions?"
"Mom, we're not dating. We're barely even friends. We're just two students working on a project together." Xiaoran could feel his face heating up, which his sisters immediately noticed with gleeful interest.
"He's blushing!" Wen Li announced unnecessarily. "That's definitely suspicious."
"I'm not blushing. My dorm room is just warm."
"It's autumn. Your room isn't warm." Wei Chen's helpful contribution from across the room was met with a glare from Xiaoran.
"What? I'm just stating facts."
"Who's that?" All three sisters demanded simultaneously.
"My roommate, Wei Chen. He's a music technology major and completely uninvolved in this conversation."
"Hello, Wei Chen!" His mother waved enthusiastically at the phone. "Is my son eating properly? Is he sleeping enough? Is he making friends?"
Wei Chen, to his credit, didn't miss a beat.
"He eats reasonably well, sleeps adequate hours for a university student, and has good friends. He seems happy here."
"See?" Xiaoran gestured at Wei Chen.
"External verification. I'm fine. Everything's fine. Can we please end this inquisition?"
"Not until you tell us about the Alpha," Wen Yu insisted. "What's his name at minimum. We need something to work with here."
Xiaoran sighed, recognizing defeat when it stared him in the face through a phone screen at high resolution. "His name is Lin Yuze. He's a composition major from the music department. He's incredibly smart, very disciplined, and has the social skills of a particularly unfriendly cactus. We work well together academically. That's all there is to tell."
The silence that followed was deeply ominous. His mother and sisters were exchanging glances that communicated entire conversations without words—a skill Xiaoran had never mastered but had learned to fear.
"Lin Yuze," his father's voice came from the background, suddenly interested. "Lin family from Beijing? Classical musicians? Multiple generations of distinguished performers?"
"I think so? He mentioned his family has musical background."
"That's an excellent family," his father said approvingly. "Very respected. Good connections. Strong artistic tradition."
"We're not dating!" Xiaoran repeated, louder this time. "Why does everyone keep assuming we're dating?"
"Because you talk about him with particular energy," Wen Jing observed. "You lit up when describing him, even while claiming he has bad social skills. That's telling."
"I did not light up."
"You absolutely did," Wei Chen confirmed from across the room. Xiaoran made a mental note to hide all of Wei Chen's favorite snacks as revenge.
His mother leaned even closer to the camera.
"Have you been taking your suppressants regularly? You're managing your cycles properly?"
"Mom!" Xiaoran felt his face burn even hotter.
"Yes. I'm managing everything properly. Can we please not discuss this on a family video call?"
"I'm your mother. I'm required to ask about your health management."
"Health management, yes. Detailed discussions about heat cycles, absolutely not."
"When can we meet this Lin Yuze?" Wen Yu asked, smoothly redirecting the conversation. "If he's your project partner and you're spending significant time together, we should meet him. Traditional courtesy requires it."
"We've known each other for two months. Meeting the family would be incredibly premature and send completely wrong signals."
"It's never too early to assess an Alpha's character," his father said seriously. His face finally appeared on screen, having apparently decided this conversation warranted direct involvement. "Especially an Alpha spending time with my son. I should evaluate his intentions."
"He doesn't have intentions! We're working on a presentation about philosophical aesthetics in classical Chinese art!" Xiaoran heard the desperation in his own voice. "This is a school project, not a courtship!"
At that exact moment—with cosmically terrible timing—there was a knock on Xiaoran's door. Wei Chen, who was closer, opened it without thinking. Lin Yuze stood in the doorway, holding a folder of what looked like research materials, his expression characteristically neutral.
"I have additional sources for the presentation," Yuze said, not yet noticing that Xiaoran was on a video call. "And I wanted to confirm our meeting schedule for next week. I've prepared a revised—"
He stopped mid-sentence, finally noticing the phone in Xiaoran's hand and the obvious video call in progress. His ears turned slightly pink, which Xiaoran had learned was Yuze's primary tell for embarrassment.
"I apologize for interrupting. I should have texted first." Yuze started to back out of the room.
"Wait!" Xiaoran's mother's voice carried clearly through the phone. "Are you Lin Yuze?"
Yuze froze, his expression cycling through surprise, confusion, and then resignation.
"I... yes. I'm Lin Yuze. I apologize for disturbing your family call."
"Don't apologize! Come closer! Let me see you properly!" His mother's enthusiasm was reaching dangerous levels.
Yuze looked at Xiaoran with something approaching panic. Xiaoran could only shrug helplessly—there was no escape now. Yuze approached the bed where Xiaoran sat with his phone, maintaining careful distance but coming into camera view.
"Hello," Yuze said formally, bowing slightly to the phone camera. "I'm Lin Yuze, composition student and Wen Xiaoran's project partner for our Art History course. It's an honor to meet Xiaoran's family, even under unexpected circumstances."
The phone screen exploded with reactions.
All three sisters were talking simultaneously, his mother was asking rapid-fire questions, and his father was attempting to look stern and evaluative while clearly being impressed by Yuze's formal courtesy.
"You're very handsome," Wen Yu said bluntly.
"Good bone structure. Excellent posture. What are your family's prospects?"
"I—that's—I don't know how to answer that question," Yuze stammered, his usual controlled composure completely shattered.
"Are you courting our brother?" Wen Jing asked directly.
"We're academic collaborators," Yuze said, recovering some of his equilibrium. "We have a presentation due in three weeks analyzing the relationship between musical theory and visual composition in classical Chinese art. Our partnership is purely professional."
"That's what they all say," Wen Li said knowingly. "And then six months later we're attending bonding ceremonies."
"There will be no bonding ceremony," Xiaoran said firmly, his face burning with embarrassment. "There's no relationship. There's no courtship. There's just two students working on a project. Why is this so difficult for everyone to understand?"
His father finally spoke up, his voice carrying the particular authority that came from years of being the only male in a house full of strong-willed women. "Lin Yuze. What are your intentions regarding my son?"
Yuze's expression went carefully blank—his default when dealing with uncomfortable situations. "I intend to collaborate effectively on our academic project, ensure we both receive excellent grades, and potentially maintain friendship afterward if Xiaoran is amenable. I have no intentions that require parental evaluation at this time."
It was the perfect answer—respectful, clear, neither promising too much nor dismissing too easily. Xiaoran felt a rush of appreciation for Yuze's ability to navigate difficult social situations despite his usual awkwardness.
His father studied Yuze through the phone camera for a long moment, then nodded.
"Acceptable answer. Respectful but honest. I appreciate directness."
"What do you study?" his mother asked, her earlier interrogation mode shifting to genuine curiosity.
"Musical composition, focusing on contemporary applications of traditional Chinese musical theory. I'm particularly interested in the relationship between silence and sound as compositional elements." Yuze relaxed slightly, clearly more comfortable discussing academic topics. "Xiaoran's theater background provides valuable perspective for our collaboration. His understanding of physical space and movement enhances my approach to musical structure."
"Oh, he's praising you," Wen Yu whispered loudly to the phone, clearly intending for everyone to hear. "That's sweet."
"I'm stating factual observations about our productive collaboration," Yuze corrected, but his ears were pink again.
Xiaoran's mother was smiling in a way that Xiaoran recognized as dangerous. "You should come to dinner when we visit Beijing. We're planning to come see Xiaoran's next performance. You should join us."
"Mom—" Xiaoran started to protest.
"That's very kind of you," Yuze said before Xiaoran could finish. "I would be honored, schedule permitting."
"Excellent! It's settled then." His mother looked deeply satisfied, like she'd just accomplished something significant.
"I should go," Yuze said, apparently recognizing that he'd stumbled into quicksand and needed to extract himself before sinking completely. "I have practice scheduled. It was an honor meeting all of you."
He set the folder of research materials on
Xiaoran's desk and practically fled, his exit just barely maintaining dignity while clearly being an escape.
After the door closed, Xiaoran's family erupted into simultaneous commentary:
"He's perfect!" from his mother.
"Very respectful," from his father.
"Excellent family background," from Wen Jing.
"Awkward but in a charming way," from Wen Yu.
"I like him," from Wen Li. "He seems genuine."
"We are NOT dating!" Xiaoran practically shouted at the phone. "That was a coincidence! He was bringing research materials! This is exactly what project partners do!"
"Project partners don't look at each other like that," Wen Jing observed. "The way he looked at you when you were embarrassed—that was soft. Tender, even."
"His ears turned red when we teased him about you," Wen Yu added. "That's definitely interest."
"You're all reading too much into normal human interaction," Xiaoran insisted. "Not everything is romantic. Sometimes people are just kind and helpful and respectful without it meaning anything deeper."
His father made a considering noise.
"Perhaps. But Lin Yuze seems like a good young man. If something were to develop between you two, we would not object."
"Nothing is developing!"
"Yet," all three sisters said in unison, which was somehow more ominous than if they'd said it individually.
"I have homework," Xiaoran said desperately.
"Important homework. Due soon. I need to go."
"We'll call you next week," his mother promised. "And remember to eat properly! And take your suppressants! And if that nice Lin Yuze asks you to dinner, you should say yes!"
"He won't ask me to dinner because we're just project partners and—" Xiaoran gave up mid-sentence. "I love you all. Goodbye."
He ended the call and immediately collapsed backward onto his bed, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically.
"That was entertaining," Wei Chen observed mildly. "Your family is intense."
"They're going to plan my bonding ceremony based on one thirty-second interaction with my project partner. This is a nightmare."
"Could be worse. They could hate him."
"That would actually be simpler. At least then they wouldn't be planning elaborate future scenarios involving grandchildren and family dinners."
Wei Chen laughed. "For what it's worth, you did kind of light up when he walked in. Before the family chaos started. Just for a second."
Xiaoran groaned. "Not you too."
"Just observing. I'm not saying you're in love with him. I'm saying there's something there. Interest, maybe. Attraction. The potential for something."
"The potential for academic collaboration and maybe friendship. That's all."
"Whatever you say." Wei Chen returned to his music production, leaving Xiaoran to stare at the ceiling and contemplate the disaster that had just occurred.
His phone buzzed with messages flooding in:
Group chat with his sisters, already analyzing every detail of the interaction with Yuze.
His mother sending heart emojis and messages about "what a nice young man."
His father's single text: He seems honorable. Good manners. I approve of this friendship.
And then, unexpectedly, a message from Yuze: I apologize for that encounter. I should have texted before coming over. I didn't intend to create awkwardness with your family. I hope I didn't say anything inappropriate.
Xiaoran typed back: You were perfect. Seriously. My family is just extremely nosy and reads too much into everything. Don't worry about it.
They seem caring. Overwhelming, but caring. That's valuable.
They're planning our bonding ceremony based on thirty seconds of interaction. It's mortifying.
There was a pause, then: For what it's worth, if hypothetically we were in a relationship that progressed to bonding consideration, your family's enthusiasm would be better than opposition. But since we're not, it's just premature enthusiasm. Understandable given parents' tendency to project hopes onto their children's social connections.
Even in text, Yuze managed to be simultaneously reassuring and completely awkward. Xiaoran smiled despite his embarrassment.
Thank you for handling that with grace. Most people would have run screaming.
I briefly considered it. But that would have been rude to your family. And to you.
They really want to take you to dinner when they visit.
I meant what I said—I would be honored, if that doesn't make you uncomfortable. I understand meeting family can imply relationship escalation we haven't discussed or agreed to. I don't want to presume.
Xiaoran stared at the message. Yuze was giving him an out, making it clear there was no pressure, no assumption. But he'd also said he'd be honored. Wanted to meet Xiaoran's family properly, despite the chaos. That meant something, even if neither of them was ready to articulate what.
It's fine. You can come to dinner. They're going to keep asking about you anyway—might as well give them accurate information to work with instead of letting them spin elaborate fantasies.
Pragmatic reasoning. I appreciate that. Thank you.
No problem. See you for our next project meeting?
Tuesday at 3, library study room 4B. I'll send calendar reminder.
Of course he would. Xiaoran set his phone aside and finally looked at the folder of research materials Yuze had brought. Inside were printouts of several academic articles, each one relevant to their project, with key passages highlighted and notes in Yuze's precise handwriting.
He'd spent time on this. Had found additional sources, read through them, identified relevant information, and brought them over personally rather than just emailing PDFs. That was care, whether Yuze would admit it or not.
Wei Chen was right. There was something there. Interest, attraction, the potential for more than just academic collaboration.
Xiaoran felt it every time they worked together, every time Yuze showed unexpected consideration, every time his careful control slipped just slightly to reveal the person underneath.
But acknowledging that potential was terrifying. After Jintao, after trauma, after spending months building walls around his own vulnerability—letting someone close felt impossible. Even someone as respectful and careful as Lin Yuze.
His phone buzzed again. The group chat with Zhou Mei, Chen Lili, and Fang Ling:
Zhou Mei: I heard through the gossip network that your family ambushed you on video call and your project partner walked in at the worst possible moment. Please confirm this rumor so I can laugh at you properly.
Rumor confirmed. It was mortifying. They basically interrogated him about his intentions.
Chen Lili: What did he say???
That we're academic collaborators with no relationship beyond professional cooperation. Which is true.
Fang Ling: Boring. Tell him to say something more interesting next time.
Zhou Mei: Did your family like him?
Too much. They're already planning future scenarios involving dinner invitations and meeting the extended family. My mother sent heart emojis. My father approved of his "honorable character" based on a thirty-second interaction. My sisters are planning my bonding ceremony.
Chen Lili: That's actually really sweet. They care about you and want you to be happy.
They want me to be coupled and settled. Those aren't the same as happy.
Zhou Mei: True. But also, would it be terrible if something did develop with Lin Yuze? He's respectful, smart, clearly cares about you, and handles your family chaos with grace. Those are all green flags.
After Jintao, I don't trust my judgment about Alphas. What if I'm reading kindness as something more because I want connection? What if I'm just grateful for basic respect and confusing that with attraction?
The chat went quiet for a moment. Then
Zhou Mei responded: Those are valid questions. Therapy will help sort that out. But Xiaoran—not every Alpha is Jintao. Some people actually are just kind and respectful and interested. You're allowed to believe that.
I'll work on it.
Fang Ling: In the meantime, just enjoy having a hot, smart project partner who brings you research materials and handles family interrogations without fleeing. You don't have to define it right now.
That was reasonable advice. Xiaoran didn't have to figure out his feelings immediately. He could just let things develop naturally, see where they led without forcing definition or commitment.
The rest of Saturday passed in relative peace. Xiaoran worked on his essay, incorporating the new sources Yuze had provided. Wei Chen made music, occasionally asking Xiaoran to listen to mixes and provide feedback. It was comfortable, easy, the kind of weekend day that felt restorative.
But Xiaoran's mind kept drifting back to Yuze standing in his doorway, ears pink with embarrassment, handling his family's enthusiasm with awkward grace. To the folder of carefully selected research materials. To the text messages that were formal but revealing care underneath the formality.
Maybe Zhou Mei was right. Maybe Xiaoran was allowed to believe that not everyone was Jintao, that some people's kindness was genuine, that trust was possible even after violation.
Maybe Lin Yuze, with all his awkward consideration and careful respect, was exactly the kind of person worth taking that risk for.
Eventually.
When Xiaoran was ready.
Which wasn't now, but might be someday.
And for the first time in months, someday felt possible rather than terrifying.
That was progress. Small, uncertain progress, but progress nonetheless.
Xiaoran fell asleep that night with his phone next to his pillow, Yuze's last message still on the screen, and the careful hope that healing was possible if he was brave enough to try.
One day at a time. One small risk at a time. One step toward trusting again.
Starting with dinner with his family, whenever they visited.
And maybe, eventually, other steps beyond that.
The future was uncertain. But for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel entirely dark.
And that was enough to sleep peacefully, dreaming of piano music and research materials and the particular shade of pink that Yuze's ears turned when embarrassed.
Small things. Beautiful things. Hopeful things.
Enough.