WMSR – QT Chapter 29

 

WMSR – QT Chapter 29

By

siofra

(Chapter 29 from Raw)

Author’s Note: So, has the Bai-Su faction emerged victorious, or is it the Song-Su camp that takes the crown? Also, everyone doesn’t need to worry too much—there are still tens of thousands of words left in this world’s arc, stretching well past the VIP paywall launch!

Chapter 15: Playing Matchmaker

The core of the thread offered a concise summary of the author’s attendance at a high-end corporate gala, where she had accidentally spotted the legendary A-University F3 standing together in close, intimate proximity. Appended to the post were the crisp snapshots she had managed to capture. Armed with a high-definition smartphone lens and the blazing illumination of the banquet hall, the images were crystal clear; not only were all three faces rendered in sharp focus, but a few bonus frames—snapped from hazardously close angles—captured their micro-expressions with startling precision.

The moment this thread dropped, it struck the digital equivalent of a massive boulder hitting a calm lake. That dormant, isolated sub-community forum had originally served as the digital sanctum for a certain clandestine A-University fan society. Ever since that secret group’s inception, its members had continuously uploaded stealthily captured photos, traded micro-details, and obsessively rooted for their ship of choice—whether the Bai-Su faction or the Song-Su loyalists. Though graduation had scattered them across the wind years ago, rendering fresh intel on the F3 practically nonexistent save for the occasional stray rumor, the forum had never truly gone cold. Bound by shared obsessions forged over the years, the alumni frequently congregated there to vent workplace grievances, roast their bosses, dissect the latest dramas, simp over fresh hanks, and nostalgically reminisce about the good old days of the F3, keeping the platform buzzing with lively activity.

Regardless of how times changed, the F3 remained the primordial muse that had gathered them all under one roof—the campus idols they had silently stalked for years. Consequently, the moment this post went live, it instantly detonated everyone’s enthusiasm. Factor in the breathtaking, high-def fan service photos attached by the original poster, and the comment section descended into absolute, unadulterated howling once readers plowed through the thread.

—It’s true! It’s real! The F3 are actually still hanging out together!

—I knew they were soulmates. No wonder none of them dated a single girl across all four years of college—five years post-graduation, and they’re still glued at the hip!

—Ahhhh! My A-University gods are still the finest men alive. They look even hotter now than they did back on campus. Those mainstream idol boys don’t even register on the same scale. Licks screen endlessly.*

—Senior sister, where was this?! That gala looks astronomically high-tier. Ah, the rich-person lifestyle.

—Is anyone else stressing over whether the Bai-Su or Song-Su camp won? Who wound up with whom?!

—OP above, your observation skills are tragic. Bai-Su? Song-Su? Please. This is clearly the Trio-Harmony Supreme Path.

—Ahhhh! Did you guys catch the frame where the handsome Bai is talking to the ethereal beauty Su? Look at the tips of Su-Su’s ears—they’re bright red!

—Woah! For real! Though, wait, the look the handsome Song is throwing at Su-Su in this other shot is loaded with heavy-duty devotion, too…

—As expected, the All-Inclusive Trio-Harmony faction is the one true orthodox religion, and everything else is a damn cult!

While the comment section waged an apocalyptic turf war, the glamorous young woman who authored the post kicked back with her phone, scrolling through the replies with absolute, deep-soul satisfaction. From time to time, she even indulged the baying masses by dropping newly smuggled photographic receipts, keeping up the charade until her CEO finally materialized from the networking trenches, forcing her to reluctantly shelve her camera.

Of course, marching alongside her executive through the venue’s social circuit carried distinct professional perks. By the end of the evening, she had successfully pieced together why the F3 happened to converge in this specific room: the handsome Bai and handsome Song were, respectively, the crown princes and reigning helmsmen of the Bai and Song conglomerates, so their presence at a premier A-City business mixer was a given. Meanwhile, the ethereal beauty Su—despite hailing from a slightly more ordinary family background—had bootstrapped his own startup straight out of graduation, scaling his venture into a surging commercial juggernaut and earning a formal, prestigious invitation to this high-tier gala as a rising-star entrepreneur.

As the glamorous young woman listened to the breakdown, her eyes practically sparkled. Every single one of these men is a diamond-tier eligible bachelor! The sole tragedy was that these prime catches had apparently already been internally digested among themselves.

When she returned to her desk the next day and dutifully injected this juicy intelligence update back into the forum, it triggered a secondary wave of unhinged howling. Several users immediately retracted their previous stances, declaring they were officially abandoning the trio-harmony ship in favor of violently partitioning the three men and dividing them up among the populace—a revolutionary suggestion unanimously endorsed by the entire digital peanut gallery.

Ever since that fateful banquet, Bai Yichen frequently found himself fielding video-call requests from his two loyal friends right around the eight o’clock evening mark. On a few occasions when the timing crossed paths and both men attempted to dial in simultaneously, Bai Yichen simply bypassed the headache by launching a multi-party group video chat. After all, tackling business hurdles collaboratively meant a broader pool of strategic insights and lightning-fast turnaround times.

As for corporate confidentiality concerns? Bai Yichen operated under the firm conviction that these two were practically destined to end up as a married couple sooner or later. If a matter was transparent enough to share with him, there was zero risk in letting the other party in on it. Besides, they shared a nearly two-decade-long history stretching back to childhood; their mutual read on each other’s moral character was bedrock solid.

Yet, despite the undeniable logic of Bai Yichen’s matchmaking blueprint, whether due to some strange cosmic glitch or his own overactive imagination, he couldn’t shake a lingering sense of weirdness. Ever since that accidental multi-party group call, their video sessions never once crossed paths again. Like clockwork, precisely one person would check in every single night—either Song Junchi or Su Yuanhang, alternating with such seamless, airtight precision that it made Bai Yichen seriously wonder if they were quietly coordinating shifts on a master schedule.

Those nightly video check-ins, combined with the fact that Su Yuanhang had officially broken into Bai Yichen’s social stratum and now routinely accompanied them to elite galas, locked the trio into a level of hyper-intimacy they had never experienced before.

Back during the prior half-decade, bogged down by relentless work hours and Su Yuanhang’s early-stage startup grind—which kept him locked out of the exclusive social circles inhabited by Bai Yichen and Song Junchi—instances of all three men occupying the same physical space had been relatively sparse. But now, with Su Yuanhang fully integrated into the fold, Bai Yichen spent his days watching the two of them orbit around him in tight synchronization. Naturally, his brain began chewing on a lingering puzzle that he hadn’t previously possessed the mental bandwidth to interrogate: Why on earth haven’t these two clarified their relationship by now?

According to the original script’s trajectory, shouldn’t they have been coupled up ages ago? Could it be because Xiao Hang chose to launch his own startup this time around, depriving them of the forced, cheek-to-cheek proximity required to spark a romance?

With zero alternative explanations on the table, that was the sole conclusion Bai Yichen could lean on. Yet watching their painfully stagnant romantic timeline unfold filled him with a quiet, burning urgency—especially given his countdown timer. Possessing a total lifespan of just a little over twenty years in this realm, nineteen of those years had already slipped through his fingers. The remaining runway was dangerously thin. He had already laid down extensive safety nets and provisions for his family in this lifetime; the only loose threads left unspotted were these two steadfast companions who had anchored his entire journey since the day he transmigrated into this world.

Before his final curtain call, his deepest wish was to witness these two secure the happiness scripted for them by fate.