Chapter 3: 002 The Objectified Rose

Yu Xing had no answer for the moment, so he sat silently in the lab, lost in thought.

When Zhong Zhiling returned from the cafeteria after dinner, he flipped on the light and was startled by his senior sitting quietly—unable to help but complain: “Senior, what are you doing? Why didn’t you turn on the light?”

“Thinking,” Yu Xing replied seriously.

Zhong Zhiling asked: “Thinking about what? Did Professor Liu give you a new task?”

“I’m thinking about tomorrow’s me, today’s me, and the me of the past—which one is the real me,” Yu Xing mused. “I thought of Theseus’s ship. I thought of Zhuangzi dreaming of a butterfly.”

One was a question from the first century AD: if the wooden planks of Theseus’s ship are gradually replaced until none remain from the original, is it still the same ship?

The other came from Zhuangzi’s “On the Equality of Things”: “Am I Zhuangzi dreaming I am a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming I am Zhuangzi?”

Yu Xing found it impossible not to ponder dreams, or to ignore his own shifting mindset—if the version of him still in his first year of graduate school had known about the financial collapse in advance, he would have panicked.

But Zhong Zhiling had zero interest in discussing philosophy; he slumped into his chair, his mood utterly different from before dinner, muttering: “Who cares about me, or ships, or butterflies? If it solves my problem with my girlfriend, that’s the right ship and the right butterfly.”

Yu Xing glanced at the poor guy beside him, and suddenly felt his spirits lift—who cared about me, or ships, or butterflies? My dad is my dad, I’m my dad’s son, my mom is my mom, I’m my mom’s kid…

He exhaled, looked at Zhong Zhiling, still clueless about bigger issues, and asked: “What’s wrong with your girlfriend?”

“Sigh,” Zhong Zhiling groaned. “I’m going to grad school, she didn’t get in. We agreed she’d take the exam again, but now her family wants her to go back home to find a job—we clearly had a deal!” He sighed heavily. “We just had another huge fight over dinner. She could’ve taken the exam again—what’s this return home nonsense? How are we supposed to make a long-distance relationship work? If she listens to her family now, will she be forced into arranged dates later? What am I to her?”

The poor guy rambled on, never expecting to suddenly face the heartbreak of breakup season.

Yu Xing listened half-heartedly while thinking about his own problems, but his mind drifted again to Zhuangzi dreaming of a butterfly—“Am I Zhuangzi dreaming I am a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming I am Zhuangzi? Zhuangzi and the butterfly must surely be distinct. This is called object transformation.”

But this time it wasn’t philosophy—it was a consideration layered atop the sorrow beside him: object transformation.

There was no hope from the U.S. side; the hole in front of him still needed filling. He didn’t want to see the old disaster repeat itself, even if enduring a few more years would eventually turn things around.

He’d endured five years, worked like a beast for ten, suffered through fifteen years of grinding hardship…

A spark flared in Yu Xing’s heart, instantly becoming a roaring fire—he simply didn’t want to endure anymore.

He interrupted the poor guy and ventured: “She just wants a show of commitment.”

Zhong Zhiling looked confused: “What kind of commitment? We agreed to strive together!”

“You got into graduate school—you’ll stay on campus. What if she takes the exam again and still fails? There are so many opportunities on campus—will you change your mind?” Yu Xing sighed. “You keep saying you love her—but how do you prove it?”

“I, I…” Zhong Zhiling struggled to answer.

Yu Xing pressed on: “You say you love her, you say you’ll see this through—but whether she goes home or not, whether you’re long-distance or not, I believe you two won’t end up together.”

“Impossible!” Zhong Zhiling, a first-love believer who’d been dating three years, was fiercely certain of the future. “I said I’d marry her—I will!”

Yu Xing shook his head: “I don’t believe it. Very few college couples end up marrying.”

Zhong Zhiling declared firmly: “We’re different!”

Yu Xing still shook his head, calmly: “I don’t believe it.”

Zhong Zhiling nearly jumped up, ignoring his senior, glaring angrily: “Who the hell are you to decide whether I believe it?!”

“I’ve seen too many like you,” Yu Xing said with disdain. “How many college couples break up after graduation? How many can’t make it past two years? How many real-world problems do they face after graduation? You don’t know!”

He spoke faster, giving the poor guy no time to think, laying out his idea: “Dare you bet with me? Not about anything else—just whether you two will be married in three years.”

“Bet what?!” Zhong Zhiling, fueled by first-love conviction, nearly shouted.

“Simple,” Yu Xing fixed his gaze on the junior. “You pay me five hundred yuan now. If you break up within three years, the money’s mine.”

Zhong Zhiling agreed without hesitation: “Fine! If we don’t break up, you double it and give it as a wedding gift!”

“If you two get married in three years, I’ll give you nine hundred and ninety-nine roses,” Yu Xing said, pulling out three A4 sheets from his drawer and quickly drafting a contract.

In just five minutes, Zhong Zhiling received three copies signed by Yu Xing, was instructed to sign as “Party A,” and was then vaguely asked to pay up.

He held two contracts, watching his senior tuck away the third, utterly bewildered.

What just happened?

How did his relationship turn into a bet with his senior?

Zhong Zhiling felt something was off, but couldn’t say what. After thinking a moment, he found a question: “If we get married, what if you back out and don’t give the roses?”

If one rose costs five yuan, nine hundred and ninety-nine roses equal nearly five thousand yuan—yet he’d only paid five hundred, exactly one-tenth.

“Three copies, my handwritten signature, we’re fellow students—I won’t even honor this small bet? Then ruin my reputation at Nanjing Medical University,” Yu Xing promised. “Besides, it’s just a few thousand yuan—if my junior really marries, wouldn’t I be happy to pay a few thousand?”

Zhong Zhiling thought this sounded reasonable.

Seeing his hesitation, Yu Xing added: “If I lie to you about this, may I fail my graduate studies and never become a doctor! I swear by the light!”

Zhong Zhiling finally nodded.

Yu Xing, seeing the crucial step still incomplete, held out his hand: “Pay up.”

Zhong Zhiling pulled out his wallet, took half his living allowance, and handed it over, still feeling something was off.

“Junior, it seems you truly believe in your love, truly confident in your future,” Yu Xing took the money, praising him. “I can’t wait to send you two those roses.”

Hearing this, Zhong Zhiling’s mood calmed slightly. He looked at the contract, thought a moment, then said: “I’ll go show her my commitment—let her see how certain I am about our future!”

“Hmm,” Yu Xing watched his junior rush out of the lab, reached out to stop him, then stopped himself—ah, love must endure storms.

His junior was a small test subject for inspiration.

It was graduation season, breakup season—many student couples faced harsh realities. Perhaps he could build something from this.

Five hundred yuan per couple; find a hundred couples willing to pay, and that’s fifty thousand.

Nanjing Medical University alone might not yield enough targets—but if he expanded to all of Jin Ling, a thousand couples? Ten thousand couples?

What if he expanded further—to all of Huadong? Or nationwide?

What if he extended beyond campus to the general public?

Yu Xing’s mind whirred. Maybe he could take just a small bite—after all, young people always suffer through love; why not use that suffering to ease his own real-world troubles?

The family’s total investment in the failed financial scheme was about five million yuan—meaning he needed ten thousand target couples.

It seemed impossible—and it truly was…

Not that easy, was it?

He still had to account for operational costs, corporate taxes, and other issues—the actual customer target would need to be even higher.

Yu Xing had faced one financial collapse after another, focused only on working hard to earn money—he’d never started a business. But since waking from his afternoon dream, he’d found no quick way to make money.

What if… he tried?

“Think about how Accountant Jia would do it.”

Yu Xing muttered to himself, summoning the real presence of the man who excelled at drawing grand ecological pies—he imagined that former boss could talk endlessly, organize ten thousand couples for a special event, and paint flawless, unblinking circles of promise.

He recalled the senior’s mocking words on the phone—he still had to practice.

Yu Xing sat quietly in the lab, thinking: anything not forbidden by law is permitted. If framed as a commercial service or gift package, perhaps it could rely on standard commercial contract law or related regulations—at least ensuring compliance for a period of operation.

If it could run, he didn’t need to find all those customers within three months. With a financial storm collapsing, even having some cash on hand would relieve the pressure—not leave him helpless, as before.

With fifty thousand yuan, it would be like drought-ending rain.

With one hundred thousand yuan, it would be like drought-ending rain and a wedding night.

With one hundred and fifty thousand yuan, it would be like drought-ending rain, and wedding night, and wedding night, and wedding night.

Yu Xing didn’t expect to solve everything at once—just easing this phase, giving his relatives hope, would let him hold on a few more years, until he could finally resolve it all at once.

But he’d never started a business. Even with experience managing people in a company, this was a fundamentally different path.

Yu Xing pulled out his notebook, picked up his pen, and began drafting ideas for the startup project, pondering what potential resources might help—running a business for money couldn’t be done alone…

The lab was quiet; the pen glided across paper, leaving lines of thought.

But the silence was shattered when Zhong Zhiling returned.

He burst into the lab waving two contracts, shouting: “Yu Xing! Yu Xing! We broke up! We broke up!”

Yu Xing, interrupted, put down his pen and studied his junior—no, his potential human resource—concerned: “What happened? Didn’t you show her your commitment?”

“She said,” Zhong Zhiling exclaimed, “she said I was handing out some ridiculous contract as a guarantee, that I was crazy! She said I’m unreliable—and broke up with me!”

Yu Xing frowned: “Why unreliable? It’s all in black and white, three copies, everyone signed.”

Zhong Zhiling glared at his senior: “No—it’s not that! It’s that this thing can’t prove anything, can’t prove…”

He couldn’t find the right words.

Yu Xing helped him phrase it: “This contract doesn’t prove you two will move forward smoothly? And it doesn’t solve the reality of whether she returns home?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Zhong Zhiling affirmed.

Yu Xing nodded. Indeed, that made sense.

Zhong Zhiling looked at his senior, helplessly seeking guidance: “What do I do, Senior? How do I fix this?”

“You don’t need to fix it,” Yu Xing mused. “You two broke up. The problem no longer exists.”

Zhong Zhiling: “...”

Tears welled in his eyes.

He’d rushed over to show his girlfriend his confidence and commitment—but instead sparked a bigger fight, which spiraled into the long-distance issue, and ended in breakup.

It didn’t have to be this way… they could’ve calmed down, talked it through…

He cried out: “I don’t want to break up!!”

“I think she was just angry,” Yu Xing comforted. “Tomorrow, meet again and talk. But the real problem isn’t this contract, or this argument—it’s your jobs, your schooling, the distance. Those are the real issues.”

Zhong Zhiling thought of his first love’s fight, the breakup, the future—and tears finally fell.

He sat in his chair, silently weeping, filled with sorrow, pain, and grief.

“Ah,” Yu Xing sighed. “Junior, this situation…”

Zhong Zhiling lifted his head, hopeful: “Senior, do you have any advice? Any solution?”

“This problem…” Yu Xing, having been through it last year, shook his head. “Love is a two-person thing. I can’t give you a good solution.”

Zhong Zhiling wiped his tears again, then stood after a long while: “Senior, let’s go drink.”

“Wait,” Yu Xing considered. “You’re this upset—I have an idea.”

Zhong Zhiling’s eyes lit up with hope—please, senior, guide me. The sudden breakup had thrown him into total chaos, and his heart was churning.

Yu Xing looked at the younger brother before him, confirmed he was ready to listen, and declared softly: “The money you invested in Yu Xuhui is gone.”

Zhong Zhiling: ?

He stared at his senior in confusion, momentarily stunned, then instantly understood—his fading bewilderment merged with sudden terror, his expression utterly vivid.

The sorrow from romance receded like a tide, but was replaced by a far more terrifying panic.

Zhong Zhiling leapt to his feet, cried out: “What? Senior, what money is gone? Wait—how do you know I invested? Yu Xing, explain clearly!”

Yu Xing gestured for his junior to sit; seeing he refused, he didn’t press, opened his phone, and played the recording of his conversation with the senior student.

The conversation was crystal clear; the intent on both sides was unmistakable.

Zhong Zhiling couldn’t believe it the first time—he snatched the phone and listened again, then a third time, a fourth time…

Restless and agitated!

Sweating profusely!

Utterly terrified, soul nearly departed!

Zhong Zhiling didn’t bother asking his senior—he listened to the recording several times before using his own phone to call Yu Xuhui in the U.S., but every call—first, second, third—was disconnected.

He sat frozen for a long while, then turned to his senior, face pale, lips trembling: “S-Senior… is this… really true?”

Yu Xing sighed and asked: “How much did you invest?”

“Four hundred and thirty thousand!!” Zhong Zhiling’s voice shook with his words.

“That’s not bad,” Yu Xing nodded. “I invested five million.”

The faint hope sparked by the first half of the sentence vanished completely; Zhong Zhiling let out a hollow, despairing laugh: “What do you mean ‘not bad’… my money—my money…”

It was his parents’ life savings.

He’d planned to wait until after graduation and a hospital job before thinking about buying a house.

Now it was all gone—nowhere to explain, nowhere to turn.

No need to worry about long-distance anymore—there was no safety net left…

Now he wasn’t sad about love anymore—now it was…

Zhong Zhiling felt life held no meaning whatsoever.