As time passed, the terrifying rumors at school were gradually replaced by other gossip. The campus lost a flamboyant and domineeringly beautiful young man, only to gain a boy who never appeared without a mask.
He wrapped himself up from head to toe, as if terrified of letting even an inch of his skin be seen—his modesty was almost pathological.
On freshman registration day, a girl dragging her luggage caught sight of a boy with an impeccable figure but an obscured face. She hurried over and said, "Excuse me, classmate, could you tell me—"
The boy glanced at her dismissively. "I have a girlfriend."
The girl froze. "Huh?"
Dressed in a black hoodie, black pants, with a black hood pulled over his head and a black mask covering his face, the boy looked like a man trapped in a shell. Only up close could one see the intense disdain swirling in his dark eyes.
He despised every single person in the world equally.
The girl grew nervous. "I just wanted to ask for directions to the girls' dormitory."
"Don’t know."
His reply was curt. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he strode forward without a shred of helpfulness.
Angry, the girl rushed ahead and blocked his path. "Do you have any manners? Even arrogance has its limits! We’re classmates—do you have to be so cruel?"
The boy stopped and finally looked at her properly.
Her heart suddenly raced under his gaze, her face burning, ears turning red. She’d read plenty of romance novels and was at that age where love stories fascinated her—she couldn’t help wondering if this was the start of fate.
The boy suddenly laughed.
"Chatty slug, you’re interested in me."
It wasn’t a question but a statement.
No desire could hide from him.
Flustered, the girl snapped, "Don’t flatter yourself! I’m not interested in you at all!"
"You want to see what I look like, don’t you?"
She wanted to deny it, but under the spell of his mesmerizing eyes, she couldn’t.
He was too mysterious—how could she not be curious?
His laughter deepened, his crescent eyes narrowing into dark slits that seemed to erode reason.
"Fine. Since you’re so curious, I’ll show you."
His fingers touched the edge of his mask. The girl’s pulse skyrocketed.
Then, a voice called out, "Fu Lan!"
The boy froze, his malicious amusement vanishing instantly. His face lit up like a lovestruck fool as he eagerly bounded forward.
"Girlfriend!"
Xia Miao was nearly smothered as he threw himself at her in a crushing hug. She barely managed to lift her head for air before kicking him. "What were you doing just now?"
"Nothing!" Fu Lan blinked innocently, twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers before giggling.
Xia Miao glanced at the still-frozen girl, then grabbed his hand and dragged him away.
Only after Fu Lan disappeared did the girl snap out of her daze. She rubbed her head, baffled by the strange thoughts that had overtaken her.
"Girlfriend, look! Wildflowers are blooming here!"
"Girlfriend, check this out—this lump of mud looks like a heart!"
"Girlfriend, see that cloud? It’s shaped like a pig!"
"Just like you!"
Xia Miao, still sulking, glared up at him.
He shrank back and added, "As cute as you."
Her expression softened slightly. "We agreed—no talking to strangers."
Fu Lan pouted. "I didn’t want to deal with that insect. I even told her I had a girlfriend, but she kept bothering me."
Xia Miao wanted to scold him further, but seeing him bundled up like that, she held back.
This was Fu Lan’s nature—always provoking desire in others, then cruelly tearing them down, reveling in their humiliation.
But it was also the start of his self-destruction.
Now, he covered himself completely, hiding his devastating beauty—a direct contradiction to his instincts. In other words, he was suppressing his "desires."
All for Xia Miao, who had warned him this was the only way their relationship would last.
Fu Lan wanted to be with Xia Miao forever. When she hugged him, he thrilled. When she kissed him, he soared. And when they were together, it felt so, so good.
So he absolutely refused to break up with her.
But he was no saint. Occasionally, his true nature slipped out, and he couldn’t resist playing his twisted little games.
Still, he was trying his hardest to restrain himself—so Xia Miao couldn’t bring herself to be harsh.
Fine. She’d just have to keep a closer eye on him.
Holding his hand, she looked up. "I’ve decided—after graduation, I’ll become a marine life observer. Dad bought me an uninhabited island. We’ll live there!"
Fu Lan tilted his head. "Live there?"
"Yeah. Just the two of us. The most beautiful sights, just for us. Isn’t that perfect?"
The words "just the two of us" sent his heart into a frenzy.
He stared at Xia Miao silently before breaking into a delighted laugh.
"Yes! The island!" He bent down, nuzzling her cheek. "Girlfriend and I will live on the island together!"
In some ways, he had the simplicity of a child. As long as he was with the one he loved, nothing else mattered.
Xia Miao pushed his face away, annoyed. "But first, we need to make sure you pass your thesis. You haven’t written a single word!"
Fu Lan muttered, "No big deal. I’ll just have a private chat with the professor—"
"Don’t you dare meet anyone alone behind my back!"
She yanked his ear, making him shrink. He whined apologies, but his dark eyes gleamed with smugness as they darted around.
In every shadowed corner lurked pairs of pitch-black eyes, brimming with fury.
They were equally venomous, equally insane—and equally consumed by jealousy.
Just how many "Fu Lans" were there?
No one could count.
As long as human desires persist, "they" will continue to advance in the process of "reproduction."
Yet now, they cower like cowards, afraid to appear before their girlfriend at the same time.
They despise the versions of themselves split from their own bodies, viewing those with identical appearances and shared memories as vile imposters—yet, at this moment, they act in eerie unison.
If they were to appear before her simultaneously, she would surely lose her sanity, driven to madness by a sight that defies human comprehension.
Behind the tree, the young man's fingers dig into the rough bark, his knuckles white with tension. His eyes, dark and brooding, fixate on the "imposter" in the distance—and the countless others lurking in the shadows.
It's fine.
He tells himself—or perhaps they all tell themselves—
There will come a time when, after burning all those imposters to ashes, their girlfriend will belong to him alone.
