A strange, indescribable urge silently coiled around Yu Qing’s heart like a creeping vine.
Ever since those praises he saw on the Forum, something within him had quietly changed, or perhaps, his mind had always been a little abnormal, even before then.
From that day on, Yu Qing was no longer satisfied with that brief and dangerous experience of transformation.
A deeper, more tangible desire began to grow.
He wanted to understand more, to get closer—even, to completely become her, even if it made his twenty-odd years of life seem utterly worthless.
On Tuesday morning, Fu Yi had an elective class in Western Art History.
This wasn’t a secret within the department; the Forum had even dug up Fu Yi’s entire class schedule.
Every course she attended, the Classroom would be packed to the brim.
Yu Qing gripped his phone.
The class schedule he had downloaded was on the screen—a detail he had “accidentally” seen and memorized earlier.
He loitered at the back door of the Classroom for a full five minutes, his heart pounding uneasily in his chest.
Should he go in?
What if he was recognized? What if Fu Yi saw him?
The urge to retreat surfaced again and again, but his legs moved on their own.
By the time Yu Qing regained his senses, he was already stepping through the doors of the Classroom.
Taking a deep breath, Yu Qing slipped like a ghost into the corner of the last row, trying to hide in the shadows, avoiding any chance encounters with acquaintances.
If he had many acquaintances, that is.
The air was tinged with the faint scent of paint and old books.
The Professor was animatedly lecturing at the podium, clearly pleased with his own teaching.
As one of the rare elective teachers in the school whose classes filled the front rows, he was proud to have a delightful student like Fu Yi.
Classical oil paintings flashed across the slides—exquisite and radiant—but Yu Qing’s gaze drifted past the heads in the front, locking onto that familiar figure.
She was staring intently at the painting on the slide.
Fu Yi sat near the front, back straight, occasionally bowing her head to take notes, her profile quiet and focused in the high window’s light.
She smiled at the classmate next to her, who was whispering, but the smile seemed to linger only at the corners of her lips, never truly reaching those clear eyes that always carried a hint of distance.
Yu Qing watched and unconsciously straightened his own back, mimicking that focused posture, though he hadn’t absorbed a single word.
The bell rang, and the crowd began to stir.
Yu Qing’s nerves tightened again. He hurriedly lowered his head, pretending to pack up nonexistent books, hoping to slip out unnoticed.
“Senior?”
A clear voice sounded beside him, tinged with just the right touch of surprise.
So soon?
Yu Qing froze, slowly raising his head.
Fu Yi was standing at the aisle, arms cradling several books, tilting her head with pure curiosity in her eyes.
“What a coincidence, you’re auditing this class too?”
She smiled.
“I hadn’t seen you before.”
“Ah… Uh, yes…”
Yu Qing felt his tongue tie up, the tips of his ears burning.
“Just… got a bit interested suddenly, wanted to listen in.”
He tried to make his voice sound natural, but it came out dry and stilted, as if reciting lines.
“I see,”
Fu Yi nodded, seeming to accept his flimsy excuse.
An Engineering Student suddenly showing up to audit Art History was odd no matter how you looked at it.
“How is it? Professor Wang’s lectures are quite interesting.”
“It’s… it’s alright.”
Yu Qing mumbled vaguely, afraid to say more lest he give himself away.
“Just… a bit profound.”
“It’s always like that at first. It gets better with time.”
Fu Yi replied naturally, not probing further.
“So, Senior, do you have another class after this?”
“No… no.”
“Perfect,”
She smiled, her eyes curving.
“I have some new ideas about the Exhibition Segment for the Project. I was hoping to find time to discuss them. Want to go to the Library together? Or maybe the Cafeteria—we can talk over food?”
The opportunity came so suddenly that Yu Qing felt dizzy.
He almost instinctively nodded.
“Okay… Let’s go to the Library.”
The Cafeteria was too crowded—he needed a quieter, less conspicuous place.
On the way to the Library, Yu Qing instinctively walked half a step behind, his gaze seemingly casual as it swept over Fu Yi, though in reality, he was capturing everything about her.
Her walking stride and rhythm, the slight sway of her hair, the habit of slinging her backpack over her left shoulder—even the delicate texture of her skin in the sunlight.
He realized he was silently recreating these details in his mind.
Disgusting… Yu Qing…
Yu Qing smiled bitterly.
He knew he was treading an irreversible path, but he couldn’t stop himself.
He longed to become another Fu Yi, to enjoy the admiration of others.
At least, I won’t do anything to Mei Xue.
After graduation, I’ll leave this city and use her body openly in a place where no one knows me.
He consoled himself with these thoughts.
In a sun-dappled corner by the window in the Library, the light softened into silence.
The Project materials were spread out, but the discussion was distracted.
Yu Qing’s focus kept drifting.
When Fu Yi wrote, he watched the way she held her pen, then was drawn to her neatly trimmed nails.
When she was thinking, he noticed her fingertip unconsciously tapping the table.
Even the slight tilt of her head as she drank water became etched in his memory without him realizing it.
Perhaps it was his imagination, but Fu Yi’s tone was always light and proper when she spoke.
Yet some invisible barrier seemed to exist—as if her warmth was only surface-deep, her inner self ice-cold.
Yu Qing couldn’t say why he felt this way.
Something told him deep inside that she wasn’t like this.
“Senior, you seem… a bit quiet today?”
Fu Yi suddenly looked up at him.
Yu Qing’s heart jumped. He quickly avoided her gaze, fingers curling unconsciously.
“Do I… Maybe I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Oh,”
Fu Yi didn’t press further, lowering her head to keep jotting notes.
“For this part, I think we can adjust it like this…”
Yu Qing quietly let out a breath, but bitterness crept into his heart.
He was studying her, imitating her, longing to become her.
But in her eyes, perhaps he was still just a somewhat useful, occasionally odd and silent Senior.
When the discussion ended, Fu Yi packed up and left, leaving behind a perfectly polite smile.
Yu Qing sat alone, the faint scent of gardenia she left behind lingering in the air.
He didn’t leave right away. Instead, he pulled out his phone, intending to watch some videos to relax, but his fingers automatically opened his notes and rapidly recorded the details he’d observed:
“Medium stride, steady pace.”
“Right index finger taps lightly when thinking.”
“White water bottle with straw.”
“Pauses about 0.5 seconds before responding.”
“……”
Yu Qing, you really are a beast…
After typing these lines, Yu Qing collapsed completely onto the Library sofa.
He was like a voyeur, stealing fragments that didn’t belong to him.
By evening, the Dormitory was still noisy, but Yu Qing felt distracted.
After showering, wearing a loose old T-shirt and shorts, he stood in front of the sink brushing his teeth.
The mirror reflected the ordinary face he’d seen for twenty years—the face belonging to “Yu Qing.”
But as he stared, his expression began to change.
Yu Qing slowly stopped brushing, standing a little straighter, shoulders back, chin lifting in a slight arc.
He tried to curve his lips, mimicking Fu Yi’s polite yet lively smile.
The boy in the mirror looked awkward, his expression unnatural.
Frustration surged. Yu Qing irritably ruffled his hair, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on his face.
Droplets slid down his cheeks.
He looked up, staring at his reflection—damp, bewildered, with a trace of unwillingness.
Yu Qing felt unfamiliar.
The person in his memory, who went with the flow and faced the wind and rain with apathy, had now become a wicked and greedy creature.
But the temptation lingered in his mind like the Siren’s Song, impossible to dispel.
I just… want to be loved.