The corridors of the Beijing University Life Sciences Department had always been synonymous with rigor and detachment. But this Wednesday, the air seemed to float with tiny, microscopic particles named "restlessness."
The ultimate source of it all was to be credited to Lin's mouth.
To say Lin was tight-lipped wouldn't be wrong—he could guard core secrets regarding experimental data without leaking a single drop. But to say he was a sieve was equally true—the "collar button incident" he had stumbled upon in the lab that morning had felt like an unquiet cat stuffed into his chest, scratching at him until he practically wanted to proclaim it to the world.
Consequently, in less than three days, the news that "Professor Shen and Hunter Huo are together" spread swiftly to every corner of the department like a precisely targeted experiment.
However, starkly different from those previous "compatibility scandals" fraught with malicious speculation, the rumors this time had their sharp edges smoothed out by a soft, retrospective lens, radiating a bizarre, heartwarming color.
In the postgraduate lounge that afternoon, a few students huddled together with lowered voices, their tones flooded with unmaskable excitement.
"Hey, have you guys heard? Hunter Huo has been bringing Professor Shen breakfast every single morning lately, without fail. Apparently, it's those internet-famous crab roe soup dumplings from the south gate where the line takes at least two hours. To get them fresh, he's been queuing up since five in the morning."
"That's nothing! Last time Professor Shen had a sudden bout of stomach pain in the meeting room, his face went frighteningly pale. The look in Hunter Huo's eyes when he pushed the door open... tsk tsk. He just swept Professor Shen up into a bridal carry right in front of everyone and rushed all the way to the infirmary. You know what the absolute craziest part was? Professor Shen—who is usually the most particular about rules and hates physical contact the most—actually curled up in his arms and didn't utter a single harsh word!"
"And another thing! I went to Professor Shen's office once to deliver a spreadsheet, and I noticed a bright little puppy ceramic mug sitting on his otherwise sterile, minimalist desk. I specifically looked it up—it's a matching couple's set with the one Hunter Huo carries around every day!"
These statements, bursting with pink bubbles, drifted around like gentle gusts of wind. They snuck through the crevices of the laboratory door and ultimately drifted straight into Silas Shen's ears, word for word.
At this moment, Silas was sitting upright behind his office desk. Today he wore a pale gray cashmere sweater beneath a lab coat that remained as flat and pristine as new, the rimless lenses on his nose bridge reflecting the fluorescence of his computer screen. He was reviewing the thesis proposals of the second-year graduate students, his fingers long and his expression so focused it looked as though all the clamor of the outside world had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Yet, the atmosphere inside the laboratory was quiet to the point of being eerie.
Although the several graduate students held test tubes and stared at the centrifuges, the corners of their eyes darted toward Silas from time to time. Their ears were pricked up so sharp they practically wanted to transform into recording devices on the spot.
"Pro... Professor Shen..."
A second-year master's student finally couldn't suppress the waves in her heart anymore. Clutching a folder, she shuffled over to Silas's side, her face completely flushed. It took her a long time to gather her courage, her voice as faint as a mosquito yet extraordinarily clear: "Lately in the department... everyone has been spreading rumors, saying that you and Senior Brother Huo... are they true?"
She swallowed hard, simply throwing caution to the wind to voice the burning question of the entire department: "Are you really dating Senior Brother Huo?"
The moment this sentence fell, even the faintly humming centrifuges in the lab seemed to go mute.
A busy senior stopped his hand that was swirling a graduated cylinder; the student taking notes stopped the scratching sound of their pen tip across the paper. Within the tens of square meters of the laboratory, only the light rustle of Silas turning a page of the report sounded exceptionally dramatic.
Silas's finger paused for a fraction of a second on the edge of the paper.
He didn't look up immediately. Instead, he unhurriedly drew a red circle beneath a line of erroneous data, and only then did he deliberately set his pen down, pushing up the frames on the bridge of his nose.
He lifted his head, his cool gaze sweeping across the circle of students who were pretending to be busy but had each craned their necks long.
Amid countless bated breaths and concentrated stares, Silas's expression remained as calm as if he were announcing a routine experimental phenomenon, his tone completely unperturbed:
"We are not dating."
A faint, disappointed gasp rippled through the laboratory, and the young master's student's shoulders slumped slightly.
However, Silas was not finished speaking.
He lowered his eyelids marginally, his gaze landing on the mug printed with the silly Corgi puppy at the corner of his desk. Thinking of the youth who woke up early every day to stand in line, who helped him fasten his buttons, and who shamelessly "nested" all over his territory, Silas's eyes inadvertently softened, as if soaked in warm water, rippling with an exceptionally faint, light, yet profoundly tender warmth.
"He is my family."
Silas paused, completing the second half of his statement.
The words "my family," spilling from lips that usually only uttered rigorous academic terminology, carried a heavy, unshakeable weight.
Dead silence.
The entire laboratory plunged into a five-second, near-vacuum state of absolute silence.
The master's student's mouth parted slightly, looking as if she hadn't understood the meaning of those syllables; Lin, over in the corner, was so thrilled he nearly smashed the beaker in his hand.
Then, as if activated instantly by a command, a thunderous cheer nearly lifted the roof off the laboratory!
"Whoa—!" "Family! He said family!" "Professor Shen is too cool! Is this a straight ball? This is an absolute mic drop!"
The guys began to whistle while the girls covered their faces and squealed. In this world where compatibility reigned supreme, their professor had personally torn apart flimsy titles like "experimental subject" or "romantic relationship," granting that youth the most rightful, most unforgettable belonging.
Amidst the boiling clamor, Silas picked up his pen once more, lowering his head to continue reviewing the proposals.
The sunlight filtered through the blinds and spilled across the collar of his white coat, where the button Hunter had personally fastened was now glistening brilliantly. He didn't stop the students' cheers, merely allowing the corner of his mouth to tilt upward into an almost undetectable arc amidst the noise.