As soon as the door opened, everyone inside turned their heads. Chu Lei saw Fu Yuhan’s outfit and almost choked on his water. “Cough, cough cough… damn, Brother Fu, what’s with you today? It’s one thing for Yang Fan to dress up for his birthday, but you’re also dressed so nicely. Are you giving us poor losers who just came from tutoring any chance to live?”
Fu Yuhan’s steps paused.
Chu Lei and the others weren’t wearing school uniforms, but they looked disheveled, clearly having just been tormented by practice problems.
“You bought new clothes just to eat dinner!” He pointed at the shopping bag with the brand logo in Fu Yuhan’s hand accusingly. “And you styled your hair wet!”
Although he’d always known Chu Lei was a comedian, Fu Yuhan was once again certain of this conclusion at this moment.
His mood, which had been gloomy just minutes ago, suddenly became both amusing and exasperating because of Chu Lei’s comic relief.
He speechlessly tugged at the bangs drooping on his forehead: “This is styled wet hair? This is wet hair, okay?”
Yang Fan stared at him: “You got caught in the rain?”
“Ah, yeah.” Fu Yuhan lowered his gaze, licked his lips, then glanced over. “The rain was too heavy… an accident.”
Next to Yang Fan sat a slender girl with a full forehead, pointed chin, simple ponytail, and a strand of bangs falling on her cheek, giving her a somewhat delicate appearance.
Not the kind of very aggressive looks, but very pretty.
Two other young women sat beside her. Usually when their group gathered they wouldn’t invite girls—mainly because they didn’t have any close female friends to invite—these two were probably “sister-in-law’s” best friends.
Yang Fan stared at him, seemingly thinking about something. Fu Yuhan didn’t dare look too much and averted his gaze.
Fortunately, there was still the completely clueless Chu Lei to help him out—
“Getting wet and directly buying a new outfit—young master is still the same young master.” Chu Lei marveled. “But these clothes really look good on you… see that, Brother Fu? Once you dress up, the girls all start looking at you and completely ignore us.”
The two girls laughed embarrassedly and said quietly: “Chu Lei, what are you saying?”
Before Fu Yuhan could speak, Wen Yu came up from behind him and flicked Chu Lei on the forehead: “Your Brother Fu doesn’t need to dress up to have a higher head-turning rate than you. Don’t you really know why you’re still single this year?”
“…” Chu Lei’s smile instantly turned into devastation. “…Good lord, what happened during this time? After not seeing each other for over a month, I actually see Brother Yu defending Brother Fu. Am I dreaming?”
Everyone else was equally stunned: “You’re not the only one who hasn’t woken up.”
Chu Lei: “Bros, we have a traitor among us.”
Wen Yu pulled out two empty chairs, sat down in one of them, and looked at Chu Lei: “Still don’t get it? I’m a Third High person now.”
A group of First High students all condemned his heartless behavior.
Fu Yuhan sat down in the other chair Wen Yu had pulled out and hung the shopping bag on the back of his chair.
His fingers were shaking a bit. He inconspicuously pinched himself, took a deep breath, turned around, tried to curve his lips up as much as possible, and handed over the wrapped gift: “Here, happy birthday.”
“Mwah.” Yang Fan threw him an air kiss as disgustingly as usual, excitedly unwrapping the gift box. “Only you remember to prepare a gift for me every year. These beasts only give me red envelopes after I nag them.”
Pi Qiu: “What’s wrong with giving you red envelopes!”
Ma Gan: “Exactly, if you’re not satisfied, return the money!”
“Return my ass!” Yang Fan said.
The meticulously wrapped paper was quickly torn off, revealing the exquisite box inside. Yang Fan opened the lid—
Wen Yu turned his head and saw a handmade resin phone case among a pile of decorative plastic ribbons.
The resin contained a hand-drawn colored portrait of Yang Fan resting his chin on one hand, propped up on his desk dozing off. The phone case was also decorated with some rhinestone-style small sequins—not many, but they made the entire case look sparkly.
Wen Yu recognized this drawing. It looked very similar to the large illustration on the bulletin board at the back of the classroom.
So that little sleeping figure was also drawn with Yang Fan in mind.
“Wow,” Yang Fan exclaimed, “this is so beautiful!”
He immediately took out his phone and replaced his old case with the new one.
Fu Yuhan licked his lips, looked down, and tried to make a joke: “If you’d told us earlier that you found us a sister-in-law, I should have made you a matching couple’s case.”
“Can I pre-order a pair of couple’s phone cases for delivery next year?”
“Sure.” Fu Yuhan nodded and took out the paper and pen he’d just bought. “For now, I can give you a drawing first.”
“Don’t rush!” Yang Fan said. “Let me introduce everyone first.”
“You do your introductions.” Fu Yuhan kept his eyes down. “It won’t interfere with my drawing.”
This was what they’d agreed on the phone earlier—he’d draw for him. He started drawing as if nothing had happened.
Having not seen each other for a long time, everyone at the table was very happy. At the birthday boy’s coming-of-age ceremony, announcing his first girlfriend in life, he received double the teasing from his group of friends.
Fu Yuhan had a slight smile on his lips, seemingly listening to Yang Fan’s introductions while drawing.
But midway, Wen Yu glanced at him and found that Fu Yuhan wasn’t very focused.
That barely visible smile hardly changed at all, hanging on his face like a mask.
Wen Yu was used to fake smiling and had rich experience in this area. Fu Yuhan could fool others, but not him.
His drawing wasn’t in his usual style either—art students’ sketches emphasized speed and capturing essence, with facial features leaning toward realism, which didn’t fit general aesthetic preferences. So rather than saying Fu Yuhan was sketching now, it was more like he was drawing manga.
He drew Yang Fan and his girlfriend Zhao Tong snuggling together as beautifully as possible, then handed the drawing over: “Here, wishing you… a hundred years of happiness.”
“What hundred years of happiness?” Zhao Tong blushed and said coquettishly, her voice soft and weak.
“Haha, okay, okay,” Yang Fan laughed as he took the drawing. “I’m going to frame this when I get home tonight!”
“It’s really well drawn.” Zhao Tong glanced at the drawing and smiled at Fu Yuhan. “Thank you.”
Yang Fan: “Why are you being so polite? I already told you, Xiao Han is my best friend. We don’t need these formalities… ah ah ah, don’t pinch me, it hurts!”
“You should still thank friends!” Zhao Tong glared at him and scolded quietly.
Fu Yuhan’s left hand under the table suddenly clenched into a tight fist.
Wen Yu turned to look at him, his gaze dropping.
“What?” Fu Yuhan noticed his look.
“Your shoelace is loose.” Wen Yu said.
“…Oh.” Fu Yuhan pushed back his chair and bent down under the table.
He should thank Wen Yu for his perceptiveness, because there was nothing wrong with his shoelaces.
It’s just that if he didn’t find a chance to adjust his expression, he was afraid his eyes would start turning red.
Fu Yuhan retied his shoelaces twice under the table before raising his head again.
He spoke very little today, mainly listening throughout. The two girls Zhao Tong brought—one named Song Ting and one named Li Sisi—were her two best friends. They weren’t First High students, and from their conversation, Fu Yuhan gathered that she had specifically brought them to introduce to Yang Fan’s good brothers.
Young people, you know—introduce them, go out together a couple times, maybe they’d hit it off.
This group usually just hung out among themselves and had no opportunities for intimate contact with girls. Although they always talked about wanting girlfriends, there was no substantial progress.
Yang Fan and Zhao Tong also wanted to help.
At this kind of gathering, except for Yang Fan who already had a girlfriend, those two particularly handsome young masters inevitably received lots of envious and jealous teasing from their male compatriots.
The only thing Fu Yuhan was grateful for was that he usually spoke very little, so people wouldn’t notice anything unusual.
Moreover, Wen Yu beside him, whether intentionally or not, took over most of the conversation.
The always smooth-talking—or rather “social butterfly”—”honor student” Wen Yu displayed his specialty, making the two girls he was meeting for the first time laugh charmingly. Laughter never stopped in the private room, and he helped Chu Lei and the others, who weren’t good at interacting with girls, find their conversational rhythm.
After dinner, they went to KTV to sing as usual. For Yang Fan’s coming-of-age ceremony, they ordered some alcohol.
Although it was the same drinking and singing, playing with this group was much more comfortable than that impromptu gathering organized by Yong Rong that day. Unfortunately, Fu Yuhan wasn’t in a good mood.
He tried to sit in a corner as usual, quietly watching Pi Qiu and Ma Gan compete for the microphone on stage.
It was noisy around him, yet empty and quiet at the same time.
It wasn’t until Yang Fan settled Zhao Tong and walked over to plop down beside him that sound re-entered Fu Yuhan’s ears. He glanced at Yang Fan and asked softly: “Why aren’t you keeping your girlfriend company? What are you doing sitting here?”
“Having a girlfriend doesn’t mean I don’t want my bros anymore.” Yang Fan looked him over. “Are you in a bad mood?”
“No.” Fu Yuhan shook his head. To make this statement sound more credible, he casually found a reason: “I’m a bit tired from art class all afternoon.”
“Is drawing very tiring? I’ve seen you draw quite a bit before?”
“Class is different… it’s all exam-oriented stuff. You like tinkering with computers but don’t like computer certification exams either, right?”
“Oh, you’re right.” Yang Fan didn’t suspect anything and nodded, his gaze falling on him.
Wen Yu had bought him a sports outfit directly based on what the model at the store entrance was wearing—red, white, and black color scheme, extremely eye-catching.
Fu Yuhan felt a bit uncomfortable under Yang Fan’s direct gaze and unconsciously shifted to the other side: “…What?”
“Did you go back to your dad’s place?”
“No.” Fu Yuhan understood and chuckled lightly. “Don’t be like that, my mom does buy me clothes.”
“But she wouldn’t buy you such expensive ones.” Yang Fan said. “How’s Xiao Lu lately?”
“Same as always, ups and downs.”
“Still fighting with your mom?”
Fu Yuhan shook his head: “We had a big fight last time, so she’s been ignoring me lately.”
He hesitated for a moment but still didn’t mention his part-time work.
He also didn’t explain where the clothes came from. Fortunately, although Wen Yu was sitting beside him, he didn’t seem to have any intention of claiming ownership of this outfit.
This made Fu Yuhan secretly relieved—after all, between classmates, giving someone a 1,300-yuan sports outfit for no special occasion would be strange to explain no matter what.
Speaking of which, Wen Yu had been quite strange lately.
This thought flashed through Fu Yuhan’s mind and was quickly brought back by Yang Fan.
After confirming that Fu Yuhan wasn’t affected by family troubles, Yang Fan quickly returned to sit beside Zhao Tong. Chu Lei selected over ten songs for them, almost going through all the famous duet love songs in Chinese pop music, egging the couple on to perform.
Fu Yuhan watched all this, poured himself a drink, and downed it in one gulp.
“I’ve discovered that you and Yang Fan really have a good relationship.” Wen Yu, who had been silent beside him for a while, suddenly said.
“I’ve always said so,” Fu Yuhan didn’t turn back, poured himself another drink, and sipped it slowly. “How are you just noticing now?”
“I mean, he seems to know quite a bit about your family situation.” Wen Yu looked at him. “I’ve asked you several times but you won’t say, and Sun Wenrui and the others don’t seem to know either.”
“No one in class knows.” Fu Yuhan said. “It’s not something glorious, I wouldn’t go around advertising it.”
“But Yang Fan knows.”
“Yang Fan, that’s because—” He got stuck.
“Because what?”
Wen Yu asked but didn’t get a response for a while.
Using the faint fluorescent light from the MV playing on the large LCD TV screen ahead, he looked at Fu Yuhan’s face. Those dark pupils were looking at the ground, unfocused, as if recalling something from long ago.
“Because what?” Wen Yu asked again.
Fu Yuhan didn’t look at him, just shook his head.
–
“I love you, you are my Juliet…”
“I love you, let me hear your weariness and fear…”
“Having you by my side is fate, fate written on the Three Lives Stone…”
Love songs played one after another.
Yang Fan had decent vocal conditions—at least he sang in tune, and among amateur singers he could pass as a “singer.” Zhao Tong and her girl group weren’t bad either. After dueting with Yang Fan, they selected several female vocal songs to happily belt out together.
Everyone was having fun, except Fu Yuhan kept drinking glass after glass.
He didn’t drink fast, but he never stopped. His eyes grew brighter the more he drank.
“Brother Fu, come play dice!” Ma Gan waved at him from another table.
“Coming.” Fu Yuhan stood up. “Playing ‘Liar’s Dice’? I had some ‘special training’ recently.”
The “special training” he mentioned was probably his experience being tricked by Yong Rong. Wen Yu was speechless.
“Damn, that advanced?” Chu Lei looked up at him. “Forget it, the girls don’t know how to play such complicated games. Let’s just compare card values—simple and straightforward.”
“Losers drink a cup?” Pi Qiu came over.
“We can’t drink that much!” The girl named Song Ting called out.
“Boys drink a full cup, girls drink half, okay?” Chu Lei said, patting the round leather stool beside him. “Brother Fu, sit here.”
“Not including Wen Yu?” Fu Yuhan looked back.
Wen Yu smiled. He was sitting far away, so he simply picked up the microphone to speak: “They won’t play games with me.”
“Once we were secretly playing Three Kingdoms Kill in the classroom, Brother Yu came to play for ten minutes and wiped us all out. Later we found a chance to secretly play cards, and Brother Yu spent fifteen minutes wiping us out again.” Chu Lei pulled Fu Yuhan over and said, “We discussed it among ourselves—we can’t include Wen Yu in any tabletop games. We’re not worthy.”
Ma Gan added: “Besides, Brother Yu doesn’t drink, so it’s no fun playing with him.”
“…” Fu Yuhan blinked and glanced toward Wen Yu.
Doesn’t drink?
Wen Yu?
He was putting on quite an act.
The rules for comparing card values were very simple—anyone could play along. The downside was that alcohol was consumed too quickly. They were all students after all—their alcohol tolerance wasn’t great, and they hadn’t bought much alcohol. Playing like this would empty their supply soon, so midway they changed the game to betting on high or low.
With elements of guessing, reading expressions, and luck added in, the game immediately became much more interesting. Yang Fan and Zhao Tong, who had been singing, also came over and put on a playlist of songs as background music.
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
![[Rebirth Rise] The Male God is Explosively Handsome](https://www.freenovels.net/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/1751665213563.jpg "[Rebirth Rise] The Male God is Explosively Handsome")