Chapter 27: Collective Honor

“Xiao Zhu, you’re not telling me the announcement was pushed up, are you…?”

The door cracked open—then froze.

“Yu Tu?”

“What are you doing here?”

She glanced cautiously down the hallway, then yanked the dusty, travel-worn man into her spacious apartment in one swift motion.

“Tomorrow?”

“Is tomorrow a weekend?”

Hmm… not really…

But maybe…

Well, in her life as Wang Zhaojun, weekends were a concept that didn’t exist anyway.

“What’s wrong, Yu Tu? Did something happen?”

The chubby, round-faced Teddy bear was squeezed tightly, then released.

“Jingjing, wanna guess what?”

“Nope. You’ll just laugh at me again.”

As she nudged him toward the bathroom to wash up, she poured him a cup of beauty-boosting floral tea—just brewed.

She set the cup on the coffee table. The petals unfurled perfectly in the hot water. Before she could even rise, a warm body pressed against her back, wrapping her in a firm embrace.

“Jingjing… today, the housing allowance came through…”

“Oh!”

Her eyes lit up like a cash register. She spun around instantly.

“You must’ve gotten the top tier, right?”

“If not… I’d dump you.”

His handsome brow furrowed slightly. He said nothing.

“Oh, I messed up—I meant, if not, then keep trying! Come on, it’s not like that could ever happen. Just slipped out. Why’re you taking it so seriously?”

“Okay, okay… won’t say that again.”

Yu Tu seemed satisfied. One hand slid from behind Teddy’s waist and finally touched the soft warmth of her body.

His voice settled into its usual calm, quiet tone:

“Yeah. Seventy thousand.”

Time hung for a few seconds—maybe longer.

Jingjing couldn’t help it.

“So… what now?”

“So…” His arm loosened slightly, letting her lean more deeply into his left side.

“So… all of it is right here. Miss Qiao Jingjing… would you give me a home?”

Between his fingers glinted a ring—so dazzling it looked like captured starlight.

Jingjing had imagined this moment before—maybe under a sky thick with stars while stargazing.

Or when he swooped in like a knight during a surprise visit to her set.

Or perhaps during some grand awards ceremony, when she was glowing brightest on stage.

But now? She hadn’t even applied her face mask yet. Hadn’t picked out a dress that flattered her figure. Didn’t have the right heels to match their ideal kissing height.

And still—how could she possibly say no?

She already had wanted to for so long. Waited so long.

With Yu Tu, her reactions always lagged half a beat.

Words hovered on her tongue, but before she could speak, he was already on one knee.

“Jingjing… the only thing I can promise you…”

“…is everything I’ve got.”

She bent down, her fluffy coat nearly swallowing him whole.

“Mm… mm… yes, Yu Tu… I’ll be good too…”

The ring fit perfectly—familiar, classic. The diamond held a faint golden shimmer, simple in cut, elegant in style. Not flashy. Timeless.

Just days ago, at the official launch of the Starlight ambassador campaign, she’d worn a flashier version. Back then, she’d told Yu Tu she actually preferred *this* one.

As long as he was there, Jingjing never needed a seat. His arms were better than any chair.

And now, after washing off hundreds of kilometers of road dust, dressed in a plain white bathrobe, he still looked like a boy in a crisp white shirt, sunlit and fresh.

They curled up on the couch, sharing one cup of water, staring over and over at the ring, at the way it caught the light on her finger—close, far, near, distant—relishing every angle.

“So… does that mean your housing allowance… also includes…”

“Yeah. And one dollar left.”

“So I’ve always thought… it wasn’t enough. ‘Everything I’ve got’… that’s what you said.”

He lifted her effortlessly into his arms and carried her deeper into the apartment.

“Jingjing… think the mattress feels a little cold?”

Jingjing couldn’t even smile anymore. Her lover wasn’t the kind of man from old poetry—no “Tán Láng” for her.

Drowsy and dreamy, she woke and fell asleep again beneath his kisses. The sky still hadn’t lightened.

Before pulling out of the hotel parking lot, Yu Tu caught sight of the morning star, peacefully hanging at the end of the road—south of east, about ten degrees.

He snapped a photo and sent it to her.

“Jingjing… remember?”

“We used to draw Venus symbols in our observation logs a hundred times. Wonder if you still know how.”

“You never asked. But now you know: it’s Venus.”

“Also known as Aphrodite.”

Jingjing woke up, listened twice, then shot back with a mix of confusion and sass:

“But you *told us* it was the Morning Star—Old White Beard! Liar!”

The one who always noticed when Yu Tu was acting strange? Always Guan Zai.

Even with his flat expression, there was something different—like spring had suddenly bloomed out of season.

“Old Yu, what’s going on? Something good?”

“Nothing. Got my housing allowance.”

“Oh right—now you gotta treat us. More than I did!”

“Check the CPI before you say that. This is *vanilla* Versailles.”

At noon, a small group in the canteen was buzzing with excitement.

“Come on, Yu Tu—your card’s empty. Go refill. I’ll wait right here!”

Late Zhou Gong, finally showing up.

Just 24 hours earlier, Yu Tu’s fortune had turned into -200+ yuan.

“These people are *still* inviting friends, expanding the scam squad…”

Jingjing started typing a complaint—only to get a quick reply: a red envelope labeled “Soft Rice.”

Dr. Yu, proud and grumbling, muttered, “Next time, don’t name things so casually,” before happily accepting the money.

Then Big Meng chimed in, drifting further off track.

“Yu Tu’s definitely top-tier—he’s got multiple SCI papers. I’m fine being lower. Grabbing a leg? Totally justified.” He took a fierce bite of pork rib.

Later, stuck in the lab waiting two more hours for data, the young crew decided to head to the gym instead.

Two shots in, Yu Tu vanished to the sidelines, phone in hand—calling someone, ruining their team morale.

When little Hu, hastily recruited to fill in, failed spectacularly, Big Meng exploded.

“Thought you could at least be half a person. Turns out, you’re negative!”

Then he yelled across the court:

“Yu Tu! Hurry up! It’s about team pride!”

But just like that—Yu Tu disappeared again.

The one thing Jingjing hated most about Yu Tu’s workplace?

No photos or videos allowed in the work zone.

So she could only hear his voice—beautiful, poetic, like a poem read aloud—yet she couldn’t see him.

Not even once.