Chapter 33: The Class Reunion

Yu Tu stepped back to the railing of the balcony, and Xia Qing followed two steps behind, keeping that same careful distance. Her voice was low, her eyes shadowed deep by the light glowing behind her.

“Yu Tu… even though we broke up, we can still be friends, right? You don’t have to be so… so guarded.”

Yu Tu loosened his grip on the railing slightly, lifting his gaze to her.

“Xia Qing, we haven’t spoken in ages. You don’t need to come here just to say this…”

She nodded, then asked the question she’d really been dying to know: “Did you help Qiao Jingjing get into Tsinghua for her进修?”

Before he could answer, she rushed on: “I saw Chen Wei post a photo of her graduation ceremony on WeChat Moments. The only person who could’ve connected those two dots… is you.”

“So I wanted to hear it from you—straight from your mouth.”

“No,” Yu Tu said, meeting her eyes without flinching. “It was all her own doing.”

“She did an amazing job as ambassador at the planetarium. That’s how she got the recommendation.”

“Oh… I knew it.”

He cut her off. “But honestly, this opportunity helped me too. Jingjing just… said yes to my proposal, not long ago.”

Xia Qing froze. The light in her eyes dimmed. She opened her mouth—“But—”

Two seconds passed. Then Yu Tu turned and walked past her, brushing close enough that she felt the warmth of his coat. He didn’t look back.

“Xia Qing,” he said, clear and calm, “if you’re willing… please, wish us well.”

“Wait.”

She stepped closer, almost pressing against him now. “Are you *sure* about this?”

He didn’t answer. He went inside the private room, poured himself a full, dark pint of beer, raised it high like a teenager on fire with joy and confidence.

“Guys! Guys! Zhai Liang and Chen Wei met last year—this is my girlfriend. She just said yes to my proposal. If you’re real brothers, start saving for the red envelope!”

Silence for two seconds.

Then Zhai Liang shot up first, pouring wine into his glass—

God, he finally came back to life…

The room erupted in noise and laughter. Glasses clinked. A phone passed between hands, playing a video of Jingjing: *“Holy crap, Yu Tu, how’d you land a celebrity?”*

“Chen Wei, Zhai Liang—you two are seriously uncool. You kept this bombshell under wraps for six months?”

Poor Zhai Liang got shoved out onto the balcony by Yu Tu’s glare. Xia Qing leaned on the railing, staring toward the distant silhouette of Tsinghua University.

“Xia Qing… there are great men everywhere. Why fixate on one flower?”

“Yeah… I finally get it. That’s why Yu Tu could talk so passionately about poverty and purpose. He already had his plan. I was such a fool.”

“Not entirely fair, though…”

“Alright. Say goodbye for me. When paths diverge, they don’t walk together.”

The welcome-back theme quickly morphed into a singles’ party. Seven slightly tipsy guys crammed into two cars and headed for Wudaokou.

This was their old stomping ground from student days—grilled skewers, movie theaters, tiny bars, karaoke lounges…

It had changed a bit over the years. Chen Wei led them to a private cinema.

For 200 yuan, you could rent a small room with karaoke. Zhai Liang nearly cried: *“This is heavenly pricing!”*

They hadn’t even made it through the door when Yu Tu’s phone rang. It was Jingjing.

He stepped out into the hall, but the corridor was crowded anyway. So he leaned against the wall by the entrance and answered.

“Yu Tu, I just wrapped filming. Miss me?”

“Yeah. Was the shoot smooth tonight?”

“Mm-hmm… I miss you too.”

“Something wrong?”

“Today, some classmates got together. I mentioned our engagement… I should’ve talked to you first.”

“You must’ve had a reason.”

“Was Xia Qing there?”

“Yes. Didn’t invite her. But Zhai Liang slipped up. She showed up on her own.”

“I couldn’t reach you.”

“Yu Tu… I love how you think of me first. Never yourself.”

“If anything goes sideways, will it hurt you?”

Jingjing understood. He always put her first. No second thoughts. No self-pity.

So let tomorrow bring whatever weather it wants. Let every single day come rushing in. Let me weave them all for you.

Of course, Lingjie has to be consulted first.

“Yu Tu, I wrap in two days. I’ll be in Beijing waiting for you.”

“Where are you now?”

“Wudaokou. The private cinema we were supposed to visit last year… never made it.”

“Then I’ll come soon.”

“Now… want me to say hello to your friends?”

“Sure. They’ll be honored.”

Still in makeup, clearly still working, she greeted each one in turn. Told Chen Wei she’d be in Beijing soon. To Zhai Liang, she just gave a playful little *“Hmph…”*

Then reminded Yu Tu not to stay out too late. And off she went—back to filming.

Jingjing always hit hard. These guys were dazed, drunk, singing half-senselessly before drifting apart.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Lao Biao cautiously posted in the group chat:
“Hey, fellas… did we actually drink together last night?”

A guy named Stone replied: “We saw the big star you’re marrying, didn’t we?”

“Yu Tu~”

That tone usually meant trouble. Yu Tu was halfway out the door when he turned back and sat on the table.

“Jingjing… why are you calling so early today?”

Her voice cracked. Tears in her eyes. “I’ve got shoots today… and tomorrow too. I’m leaving for Beijing tonight.”

“Don’t rush. I’m always here.”

The gentler his voice, the more broken she sounded. “But *Underground Dragon* is set for the Spring Festival lineup. Ten days of promotion…”

“Ten days… that means barely two or three hours of sleep a night…”

Yu Tu stopped calculating how many hours they’d have left together. All he felt was pain—deep, aching pain.

“Jingjing…”

A quick kiss flew through the line—then the call ended.

Yu Tu walked toward the flight control building with heavier steps. He told Xiao Zhu: “Send me Jingjing’s press tour schedule.”

No reply at noon. Xiao Zhu said it was still being adjusted. Jingjing hadn’t taken a break.

By six-thirty that evening, his team had finished two days’ worth of work. Everyone cheered. They were closer than ever to going home for the holidays.

One researcher from CAS slapped Yu Tu on the shoulder: “Yu Tu, you must’ve come from math department. Your stats analysis is unreal. The model you built? Flawless.”

Late into the night, both Lingjie and Xiao Zhu received a message from Yu Tu.

On the end of the itinerary, he’d added new columns: Plan B, Plan C, Emergency & Others—packed tight with notes, scribbled in dense detail.

Lingjie saw it the next morning and sighed, shaking her head: “This isn’t just a schedule. This is a space mission-level timeline.”