Chapter 84: Thesis (2)
84 – Thesis (2)
The sudden move drew a short gasp from him, his shoulders and back pressed heavily against the sofa backrest. In the cramped space between the backrest and the armrest, he was pinned tightly.
Like a sudden summer downpour, Dong Jun kissed him—a fierce, relentless kind of plunder. It felt like encountering a wolf with glowing green eyes on a midnight prairie, its sharp claws and teeth capable of effortlessly tearing through his neck.
Perhaps he should have felt some fear, but amidst the plunder, he sensed a persistent demand from Dong Jun’s right hand gripping his shoulder tightly.
Could even a male god have such a moment of losing composure?
He reached out and embraced Dong Jun in return, smoothing his hair as if petting Zhi Zhen, then responded gently within the kiss.
At the same time, he noticed something—not just about himself. When they finally parted, he turned his head away slightly unnaturally.
Dong Jun forced him to look back.
“Did we know each other before?” he suddenly asked, gazing into Dong Jun’s eyes.
Outside the window, dusk approached, and the room dimmed. The fading sunlight cast faint shadows beneath Dong Jun’s eyelashes, making his pupils shimmer with faint golden flecks, like scattered stars at twilight.
Dong Jun’s voice was soft, slightly hoarse: “Why do you ask?”
Lin Xun’s fingers threaded through Dong Jun’s hair, gently smoothing it before resting on his cheek. A sense of déjà vu surfaced in his heart—a calm, tender feeling, as though this wasn’t their thirteenth day of knowing each other, but thirteen years.
He whispered, “I don’t know either… So, did we know each other?”
“No.” Dong Jun’s palm covered the back of his hand, fingers intertwining with his, a faint lift in his eyes. “But I really like you.”
Lin Xun smiled, burying his face in Dong Jun’s shoulder as Dong Jun held him close.
Being so near, almost without any gap, he caught the clear, cool scent on Dong Jun.
He thought to himself, since love at first sight exists in the world, it wasn’t so strange that he and his male god had gotten together after meeting many times.
If he had to trace it to its roots, it could only be because he was good-looking and could write algorithms.
They held each other quietly for a while until Zhi Zhen began meowing nearby. Based on the texture and frequency of the cries, it was hungry.
Lin Xun got up to pour cat food, open a can, and refill the water.
As Zhi Zhen ate, Lin Xun ruffled its head and glanced at the sofa, finding Dong Jun watching him with a faint smile.
Dong Jun was so handsome that when he smiled like this, it was like a spring pond in March.
Looking at his profile, Lin Xun thought that if time were rewound over a decade, this person must have been an androgynous beauty as a child. Even now, over a decade later, the details of his features remained so exquisite, his gaze so gentle—when not angry, he was practically a great archangel with pure white feathers.
He walked over and asked Dong Jun a question with great seriousness—he was always someone who identified problems and solved them.
Lin Xun: “Do you have a bit of schizophrenia?”
Dong Jun’s eyelashes curved, his smile suddenly intensifying, nearly overwhelming Lin Xun.
After laughing for about five seconds, Dong Jun finally reined in his smile, his expression returning to its usual calm.
“No, but sometimes my temperament can be a bit off,” Dong Jun said. “I have a therapist, and most of the time I manage to control it. If you ever feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me.”
Lin Xun was taken aback.
Was this Dong Jun really capable of turning dark?
But in his view, this wasn’t much of a problem.
“No discomfort,” he looked at Dong Jun. “Are you referring to what happened in the car today… like that? And yesterday when I was on the phone with someone.”
Dong Jun didn’t say anything, just stared at Lin Xun like a cat that had done something wrong but refused to admit it.
His expression made Lin Xun laugh.
Lin Xun: “I don’t think it’s a big deal. In fact, I find you quite genuine. Usually, you’re too much of a perfect idol, like an advanced AI.”
“Mhm,” Dong Jun replied with an ambiguous hum, then asked, “Didn’t you like the perfect idol type?”
Lin Xun: “My preferences have shifted a bit now.”
Dong Jun insisted on asking, “Shifted to what?”
This perfect idol was quite mischievous.
Lin Xun said expressionlessly, “Now I’m looking for a boyfriend, not an idol.”
Dong Jun laughed.
Dinner proceeded normally.
But halfway through, Lin Xun checked his phone.
His senior sister’s Weibo post and Dong Jun’s like had once again caused an uproar on the internet. It seemed someone had revealed his real name.
Lin Xun remained calm inside.
It really wasn’t a big deal.
His real-life resume was simply that of someone who ranked first in every comparison, regardless of age or category.
He didn’t look into it further, mainly because he didn’t want to revisit the countless awards and papers he had accumulated over the past decade or so—or rather, that wasn’t quite right, the wording was off; there were no small achievements. On another note, Qi Yun was sending him messages, furiously cursing Chang Ji.
According to Qi Yun’s account, the incident also happened during dinner.
Qi Yun wanted to eat skewers and asked Chang Ji to buy them for him.
Chang Ji, who abstained from meat, refused.
Qi Yun insisted he had to buy them.
Chang Ji said he could eat something else.
Qi Yun declared he wouldn’t eat vegetarian food, even if Chang Ji beat him to death.
—So Chang Ji force-fed him a fasting pill and said that was it, no need to eat anymore.
Now, Qi Yun wouldn’t need to eat for an entire month. He had lost the joy of eating and chewing for a full thirty days and was absolutely furious.
Immediately after, he began to denounce Chang Ji—based on Lin Xun’s understanding of Qi Yun, his words probably weren’t very pleasant.
Thus, after being deprived of the pleasure of eating, Qi Yun was hit with a silencing curse, losing the joy of speaking. He could only frantically tap on his phone keyboard to express his dissatisfaction with the monk to Lin Xun.
Lin Xun remained composed.
A Happy Zhi Zhen: I’ll screenshot this for senior brother.
Jiyan Sect – Feihong: ??
Lin Xun couldn’t help but laugh.
After laughing, he felt the temperature around him drop a bit. Looking up, he saw Dong Jun watching him, and Zhi Zhen was also watching him.
He obediently returned to his meal.
After dinner, it was time to work. The water ghost incident had disrupted their afternoon plans, so they had to move everything to the evening.
Dong Jun also had matters to attend to, so the two of them sat facing each other, each typing on their own laptops.
At ten o’clock, after finishing his tasks, Lin Xun washed up, draped himself in his pajamas, and returned to bed.
In Dong Jun’s room, the set of shower gel in the bathroom was different from the one in the guest room. Lin Xun tried to make out the words—the first one was “Lemon,” followed by what looked like the name of a plant.
Thus, he carried a faint, cool scent of lemon on him, and he felt there was deeper meaning to it.
However, Dong Jun had it too.
When Lin Xun slipped under the covers, Dong Jun was sitting by the bedside, wearing glasses, with a notebook as thin as a cicada’s wing resting on his lap, still replying to someone’s messages.
His idol was truly busy, especially these past two days, likely because Eagle kept stirring up trouble.
But Lin Xun wasn’t worried. This wave of holographic trends was spearheaded by Galaxy, and Eagle clearly hadn’t caught up in time—they were probably on a downward spiral, which might be why they were acting so desperately.
He hugged Dong Jun from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder.
Dong Jun’s tasks were also nearing their end. He closed his laptop, set it aside, took off his glasses, and turned around to kiss Lin Xun.
The lighting was ambiguous, and they weren’t wearing much—just bathrobes, a thin layer.
Earlier that day on the sofa, things had almost escalated, and Lin Xun had mentally prepared himself.
But he wasn’t entirely sure what Dong Jun intended, only knowing that his kissing skills urgently needed improvement so he wouldn’t be pinned down and kissed into a daze again.
Dong Jun released his lips and moved to the side of his neck.
Lin Xun tried to steady his breathing, keeping it from becoming too rapid, but once he succeeded, the silence felt almost too heavy.
He knew he should be more responsive, not lie there like a lifeless corpse without a word.
He said, “I think I haven’t read my papers yet.”
Then he heard Dong Jun chuckle softly by his ear, his gentle breath brushing against his earlobe.
Dong Jun withdrew the hand that had been resting on his shoulder, then adjusted his slightly disheveled collar. His eyes seemed clear and composed, his movements carrying a hint of deliberate elegance.
He said, “I haven’t read mine either.”
In the end, Lin Xun didn’t know how things had come to this.
The industry evolved quickly, so he had a habit of reading papers every two weeks, always steadfastly scheduled for Friday nights. If he missed it due to being too busy, he felt uneasy.
Today was Friday.
He glanced at Dong Jun beside him, who was intently reading and annotating papers, and thought perhaps his idol had the same compulsion. Perhaps.
And so, the night flowed by as smoothly as drifting clouds and flowing water.
In the morning, Lin Xun received a message from Jia Gou.
Zhao Jiagou: Clap clap clap
Zhao Jiagou: Congratulations to our algorithm for losing his virginity.
Lin Suanfa: ?
Lin Suanfa: What’s your basis for that?
Zhao Jiagou: I guessed, because this is the second night you haven’t come home.
Lin Suanfa: To be honest, last night my idol and I spent three hours reading papers together.
Lin Suanfa: We resonated on a soul level.
Zhao Jiagou: ??
Zhao Jiagou: Is it you who’s lacking or him?
Lin Xun sent Zhao Jiagou his two favorite papers from the night before and demanded he read them.
Lin Suanfa: It’s you who’s lacking.
He tossed his phone aside, ignoring Jia Gou any further, and happily got out of bed.
Zhao Jiagou, so shallow.
But his idol wasn’t.
Although it was Saturday, in an industry where 996 was the standard, Saturday was a confirmed workday, especially for programmers. And while Dong Jun didn’t have to immerse himself in tedious tasks, he still had meetings to attend, documents to sign, and people to meet.
Thus, he had to wear formal attire.
A man’s accessories, in truth, were no fewer than a woman’s.
A tie clip with a silver chain, cufflinks, a watch. The perfectly tailored suit accentuated his impeccable physique—strict, yet mysterious. When the accessories he had fastened for him peeked out subtly with his movements, it was like discovering a rose in the night. This charm was lethal, and Lin Xun actually found joy in the process of dressing Dong Jun.
But this time, Lin Xun didn’t follow him to the Galaxy, staying home instead. On one hand, at this critical juncture of public opinion, he didn’t want to stir up more trouble. “Born of the same root, why rush to torment each other?” He was an empathetic person, and if he could help ease the pressure on his fellow social media platform programmers, he was more than willing. On the other hand, he had other plans.
He drank a glass of ice water to clear his mind, then spent the morning completing a full day’s workload, ticking off several items on his schedule.
After checking them off, he checked his emails and messages.
In the “Loving Family” group chat:
Qingcheng-Xiaoyaozi: [Location Shared]
Qingcheng-Xiaoyaozi: Gather here at 2 p.m. Subdue the great demon, find the rift—it all depends on this.
The location was near Qi Yun’s talent agency. Using Qi Yun’s experience as a lead, the seniors had spent the night investigating and had already pinpointed the area with the densest demonic energy. The cultivation world had demons to slay; after being on the defensive for so long, they were finally taking the initiative.
This was good news, but Lin Xun felt a hint of unease.
This was the first collective activity in the cultivation world. Would his inexplicable cultivation method of attacking with a keyboard inevitably be discovered and questioned by the elders?
—But life had to go on, he thought. Perhaps if he didn’t explain, the elders would come up with their own theories to make sense of it, just like those classmates who muddled through their thesis defenses.
Lin Xun copied the others and replied with “Received,” then glanced at the time and counted down silently.
Three, two, one.
“System repair completed. Activating.”
“Activation complete. Loading, please wait.”
Immediately after, a series of chimes sounded.
“System repair inconvenienced you. Compensation has been issued: Great Restoration Pill x1, Double Spiritual Power Opportunity x1.”
“Congratulations on completing the main quest.”
“Rewards obtained: Double Spiritual Power Count -1, Spiritual Power 100, Sect Territory Level 1, issued. Current territory level: 3, maximum level: 9.”
“Congratulations on completing the side quest: ‘Invisible Friend.'”
“Rewards obtained: Spiritual Power 15, Magical Artifact Level 1. Current artifact level: 3, maximum level: Unknown.”
“Main quest activated.”
“Quest objective: Reach the Nascent Soul stage.”
“Quest rewards: Sect Funds 1000, Spiritual Power 100.”
“Quest progress: 0.”
Lin Xun closed his eyes and entered the long-unvisited System Space.
His programming platform was still sufficient for now, and his need for Spiritual Power wasn’t urgent, so he didn’t check the skill tree first. Instead, he headed straight to where the physical rewards were issued.
Magical Artifact Level 1—what would it be? It was already a floating keyboard; could it evolve into a keyboard that typed programs on its own?
He approached the taskbar.
A small sword in a gray-black metallic hue hovered quietly.
He paused for a moment, then reached out to touch it.
A cool sensation brushed against his fingertips as the small sword dissolved into streams of binary code, flowing into his keyboard.
The keyboard’s frame took on a more elegant sheen, and the logo at the top edge quietly transformed into a crimson sword-shaped emblem.
Lin Xun silently gazed at the tiny symbol.
Pretend I’m a sword?