3 Requesting the Handsome Man's Contact Information (3)

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Across from you are still those familiar heads. On either side, the familiar faces look at you in surprise as you suddenly stand up. Your mission target is still standing with his back to you, holding onto the railing. You lower your head, holding a baked bun in your hand, the familiar pair of crescent-shaped marks side by side on it. You lay the bun flat in your palm. The bun is noticeably hotter than before, and the crescent marks opposite no longer have the missing bite that someone had taken last time. Now you’re completely certain—the game has reset.

You fix your gaze on the target’s back, and the thousand words in your heart finally boil down to one sentence: Last time, you shouldn’t have pinched your own thigh—you should have pinched his!

Forget it. Last round, you acted too hastily. You took for granted the usual way of thinking from escape rooms, seeing every little thing as a clue. The English words “Be Brave” on the white T-shirt, the baked bun brought into the game—these were all your wishful thinking. What you really need is not “Be Brave,” but “Be Smart.”

This round, you cannot be reckless; you must win with wisdom. Since your intellectual strengths have never been applied to interactions with the opposite sex, you decide to seek advice. You open your phone, carefully selecting someone to ask, while nibbling the bun that confused you last time, one bite at a time.

You open your contacts—there are quite a few names, but unfamiliar names are just meaningless symbols to you. Then you open WeChat. At the top are family groups, dorm groups, and class groups—typical for university students. Below are people you’ve labeled as “Dad,” “Mom,” “Bestie 1,” “Bestie 2,” “Bestie 3,” and “Childhood Friend.” Such a considerate game, even setting labels for you.

You dismiss “Dad” and “Mom” first—you can’t imagine discussing this topic with your parents. In reality, if you encountered such a situation, you’d most likely ask your close friends for advice. But here you have three “besties,” who you guess have different personalities. From your experience, if you asked your friends on WeChat how to get a guy’s contact info, their first reaction wouldn’t be to tell you how to do it; instead, they’d bombard you with calls, interrogating you thoroughly. After answering three calls in a row, you can already see the glittering “Game Over” sign.

You reasonably suspect that “Bestie 1,” “Bestie 2,” and “Bestie 3” are obstacles the game set to slow you down, making you hesitate over whom to consult while being held back by their curiosity. You don’t have a “Childhood Friend” in reality, so you pass on that too.

Since neither your contacts nor WeChat works, you quickly turn to another social media app pre-installed on this phone: Little Red Book. You often use it in real life too, though you never post, just treat it as a handy search engine and gossip platform. You remember browsing many posts asking about ways to start conversations with strangers.

So you decide to imitate them.

You raise your phone and casually snap a photo of the target’s back. Yes, the you who usually takes photos for your roommates, sometimes lying on the floor to find the perfect angle, is doing this deliberately. You won’t retouch his photo either—you still remember how he took a bite of your bun and ran.

You open Little Red Book, choose to post, upload the photo in a second, recall the phrasing from those posts seeking to strike up a conversation, quickly edit your text, and hit publish. You fix your eyes on the message bar, waiting for the little red notification.

With the game’s boost, comments soon start appearing. You open them, full of confidence, expecting brilliant advice from the online crowd—but instead, you see: “Damn, what a handsome guy!”

You: “???” Puzzled, you open your post and zoom in on the photo. You clearly didn’t pick any flattering angle for him... You reluctantly admit a fact that your average looks have never taught you: good-looking people don’t need to find an angle when taking photos. They don’t even need to show their faces.

You raise the bun, biting into it fiercely. Staring at the photo of his back, you chew the bun as if it were him. After finishing, you exit the emo photo and scroll through the new comments. Within moments, dozens more trickle in—most pure adoration, some asking if you got his contact info and if you could share it.

You recall a popular internet saying: “Everyone’s just here to take a dump; nobody’s handing out toilet paper.”

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You keep scrolling. Finally, you spot someone offering real advice. Oh no, someone giving an idea.

The first helpful sister’s username is quite distinctive.

“Sexy Cockroach Queen”: ‘This bright mint green can only be pulled off by pale skin. I guess he’s a handsome guy. Sister will teach you a trick: go up and compliment how stylish his shirt is, say you want to buy the same one for your little brother (make sure to emphasize “little brother,” wink), and ask if he can share the shopping link.’

You reply, “But I need his contact info?”

Sexy Cockroach Queen instantly responds: “You’re obviously an innocent little sister. Don’t you know sharing a shopping link means you gotta add him on WeChat?”

Right! You quickly reply with a string of hearts and add her advice to your shortlist.

You scroll further and soon another comment catches your eye.

“Momo”: ‘Just show him this Little Red Book post directly; he’ll understand you want his contact info.’

This is actually perfect for the shy you in real life. You don’t even need to say a word—just shove your phone screen right under his nose. But judging by his performance last round, your success rate is slim. Still, you give Momo a thumbs up.

Soon you find another intriguing suggestion:

“Don Quixote Blowing Cold Wind in Beihai”: ‘Pretend you lost your phone, ask to borrow his to make a call. P.S.: Remember to mute your own phone first!!!’

Those three exclamation marks make you suspect there’s a story behind this.

This one sounds promising. But you glance up—the train car’s glass is so clear it reflects your phone-holding figure perfectly. Last round and now, you never saw him take out his phone; he seems focused straight ahead. Though you’re just one among several playing on their phones reflected in the glass, you can’t risk it.

You scroll for a few more minutes but find no better plan. So you decide to try “Sexy Cockroach Queen’s” friendly suggestion.

You tweak her lines slightly in your mind, double-check twice, then stand and walk forward. This time, you don’t call him “classmate.” Instead, you wave at his reflection in the glass.

As expected, he notices your wave and looks down at you. Unlike last time, when he scanned the same level of air before finding you, this time he spots you immediately. No more height embarrassment.

He looks down at you in confusion. You smile, carrying a small innocent pleasure he’s unaware of.

You point to the seat behind where you stood earlier: “I noticed you sitting there…”

Watching his expression, you guess he’s a bit curious about what you’ll say next.

“I really like green, but rarely see subtle green clothes. The mint color on your shirt seems to have a touch of yellow, bright yet not glaring—just right.” You focus on his shoulder, chatting naturally, surprisingly calm given the sincerity of your words. “Could you share the shopping link for this shirt?”

At the end, you look up at him, flashing a sincere, polite smile, sneakily adding, “Thank you,” placing him on a pedestal of a “good guy.”

He hesitates: “This shirt is men’s wear.”

You anticipated this and nod with a smile: “I know, but I like boyfriend-style outfits.”

He nods knowingly. Your smile grows more genuine.

Meanwhile, your hands behind your back unlock your phone. The lit screen shows the WeChat page.

He was just tilting his head to look at you, but now he turns fully.

You watch his hands, waiting for him to take out his phone. Unexpectedly, he raises a finger, pointing to the chest area of his shirt.

You look there, clueless about what he wants to show.

He says, “I bought this shirt in a physical store. It’s VERSACE. Sorry, I can’t share a shopping link.”

You’re stunned.

He seems to think you didn’t understand, so thoughtfully says the brand’s Chinese name: “It’s a new style from Versace this season. You should find it at their boutique.”

You: “...”

Throughout university, you always bought clothes on Taobao, automatically dismissing the possibility that his clothes might be from a physical store.

Originally, buying clothes in a store wouldn’t be a big deal. You could ask him where the store is, pretend not to understand when he tries to explain verbally, then use WeChat to get him to share the location.

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But unfortunately, his shirt is from a major international brand. You can easily look up where their boutiques are in the city.

You silently lower your head and turn back to your original seat.

You failed again—in a way you hadn’t expected.

His back remains straight as ever.

As you watch, a bright idea strikes: if he won’t give you his contact info, you can ask others. A rare handsome guy like him must be known by many people. You could try to “fish” for him across all of Little Red Book.

You’ve seen dozens, if not hundreds, of posts fishing for handsome guys. As long as a person is good-looking enough, there’s often good news in the end.

If you can’t get phone numbers or WeChat IDs, social media accounts on Weibo, Douyin, Kuaishou, or Little Red Book would work too. After all, the game’s rule is to get the “mission target’s contact info.” Any private way to contact counts.

You use the photo you casually took again, but change the post content. Now you’re not asking how to get the guy’s contact info—you’re asking if anyone knows this handsome guy and begging for his contact info.

After posting, replies come quickly. You browse them one by one. Though you changed the post, some netizens still discuss his looks—imagining what he looks like from his back.

Some users question how they can be sure it’s someone they know without seeing his face. But you don’t need to reply; a helpful netizen already answers for you:

“Do you not have a clue if there’s someone with such a handsome back around you?”

This netizen is your internet champion; you wouldn’t dare be this blunt normally.

But their skepticism makes sense. You only posted a photo of his back partly because you felt sharing someone’s face online would invade their privacy. But thinking carefully, this is just a game—he’s just a paper character.

You approach him again. This time, you don’t call him in any way. You raise your phone, open the camera, adjust your bangs and the little bun sticking up on your head, and practice your expression in the glass reflection. Your roommates always do this before taking photos; you imitate them well.

After a few shots facing the glass, you quietly turn the lens slightly to the right and quickly snap a photo. Then, pretending you’ve had enough photos, you put down your phone and return to your seat opposite.

Before checking the photos, you sneak a glance at him. He’s still standing straight with his back to you.

You open your gallery and find the last photo. In it, the glass faintly reflects his flawless profile.

You quickly upload the photo as a supplement to your earlier post. With a face shot, the enthusiasm in the comments visibly surges.

As you monitor new comments and the ongoing discussions below, you finally spot a comment saying “looks like xxx.” You immediately private message the user to confirm.

Suddenly, the quiet train car is filled with a familiar station announcement: “The train is approaching Haicheng East Road Station. Passengers preparing to disembark, please get ready…”

You lift your head dazedly from your phone screen, and your only thought is: It’s over!

You look at the doors; above them the green light for “Haicheng East Road Station” flashes continuously.

You lower your head; the photo the other person sent you looks nothing like your target.

Your last hope is shattered.

Helpless, you fix your gaze on the mission target’s back. You want to see if, without the incident of him taking your bun last time, he will still deliberately move to the next car to get off.

The subway stops at the station. Familiar passengers rise from their seats in order and walk to the doors, orderly disembarking.

Your mission target indeed does not walk to the next car. But why does he still stand there?