Fu Yuhan had long legs and quickly walked away.
Wen Yu stood there watching for a while, realizing that neither of them was following the other—they really did have a stretch of road in common.
All the scattered classmates had left. People from other classes didn’t really know him and wouldn’t greet him. For a moment, Wen Yu’s face was so blank it showed no expression.
He was always like this when alone.
On this stretch of road, the streetlights were particularly bright with few trees. Fu Yuhan’s white school uniform almost melted into the light.
Fortunately, Wen Yu had good eyesight.
He could easily find that person’s body curves within the loose school uniform outline, as if he had observed countless times and memorized it all in his mind.
Then quickly, Fu Yuhan turned a corner at the end of the road and disappeared.
Wen Yu lowered his head and rubbed his temples, frowning.
Lately, he seemed to be too obsessed with teasing Fu Yuhan.
Admittedly, that person’s various reactions when unhappy were interesting, but how to put it… just like sweets couldn’t be eaten as meals, Wen Yu felt his recent state wasn’t very healthy.
Relying on eating sweets to regulate his mood was like drinking poison to quench thirst.
Unnecessary, really unnecessary.
There were clearly many other ways to relieve stress… even doing practice problems would work.
He turned the corner ahead and silently entered his residential complex, going into the apartment building.
It was late at night, no one was home. He put down his bag and thought for a moment, not reaching for homework but grabbing his keys and walking to the door that was always locked.
The key went into the lock, turned halfway, and Wen Yu’s movement paused. He closed his eyes, leaned his forehead against the door, and sighed.
Then he opened his eyes, finally opened the door, pushed it open, and shut himself inside.
The next day at dawn, Wen Yu emerged from the room rubbing his somewhat disheveled hair, locked it as usual, and entered the bathroom looking haggard.
Only after showering himself back to a refreshed state did he leave the bathroom, put on a clean school uniform as usual, and head to school with his backpack.
Early morning, when busy people were still sleeping, only breakfast shop owners who had set up their stalls were busy on the roads outside the complex.
Wen Yu ordered a bowl of wontons, sat by the street and ate slowly before walking to school.
After transferring to Third High for over half a month, this was his first time going to school so early. When he reached the school gate, the main gate wasn’t even open yet—even the small side gate for people to enter and exit was only slightly ajar.
In the guard room, the security guard who had worked the night shift was drowsy, waiting for his day-shift colleague to take over. The campus was so quiet only birdsong remained.
When he reached the second floor, Wen Yu suddenly remembered something wrong—he had come so early, was the classroom door even open?
He was usually very “standard” in his punctuality, generally arriving right on time for school, neither early nor late. Although he had heard that Fu Yuhan was responsible for opening and locking doors, he had never actually seen it.
However, Wen Yu soon discovered his worry was unnecessary.
The Class 6 classroom door opened with a turn. A thin boy was sleeping in the corner, his slender arm extending outside the desk, his naturally hanging hand making his distinct wrist bones look particularly prominent.
Fu Yuhan was sleeping deeply. Even when Wen Yu deliberately made some noise while taking his seat, he didn’t open his eyes. He had probably been there for a long time.
The morning light fell on his face. Wen Yu seemed to be able to see a layer of extremely fine down on the exposed skin—clean and harmless, completely different from his “stay away” aura when awake.
Wen Yu sat without moving, watching for quite a while.
It wasn’t until Fu Yuhan frowned and changed direction to continue sleeping, making an ambiguous muffled sound in his throat, that Wen Yu seemed to come back to his senses.
He was stunned for two seconds, then smiled, though it wasn’t clear what he was smiling about.
He unloaded his backpack and, in the quiet morning light, took out the homework he hadn’t finished last night and began working on test papers.
The biggest difference between academic achievers and underachievers might be in the efficiency of doing test papers. Even though Wen Yu hadn’t opened his backpack after getting home last night, he still finished his homework before morning self-study began.
Perfect.
Facts proved that occasional indulgence wouldn’t affect his life trajectory. Wen Yu was very satisfied with the homework he had completed right on schedule.
Looking up, he saw people in the classroom eating breakfast, some chatting about TV dramas, some about video games, and others discussing the sports meet.
Third High’s school atmosphere was indeed wilder than First High’s.
However, Wen Yu didn’t think there was anything wrong with it, even though it made his “following the rules” approach look somewhat abrupt.
Today’s morning self-study was requisitioned by the homeroom teacher. As soon as Zhou Wenkang entered the classroom, he first announced that the parent-teacher conference was scheduled for after school this Friday.
This was a fixed program for seniors, so no one was surprised. But Fu Yuhan had just woken up then, and Wen Yu clearly saw him blink three times in a daze, looking particularly vacant.
Perhaps his gaze was too direct. Before long, Fu Yuhan shot him a glare, carrying three parts embarrassed anger and two parts morning grumpiness: “What are you looking at?”
Wen Yu unconsciously curved the corner of his lips: “Watching the complete record of a monthly exam failure’s mental world collapse.”
“…Tch,” Fu Yuhan snorted coldly. “You don’t know shit.”
Wen Yu hadn’t originally intended to deeply analyze Fu Yuhan’s thoughts, but hearing him say this actually sparked his interest.
Morning self-study connected to the first period. Fu Yuhan anxiously spun his pen for over an hour, then immediately went to the office after the first period ended.
Wen Yu thought for a moment, put down his book, and followed.
The senior year office was on the same floor, in another teaching building connected to Classes 4, 5, and 6, with doors at both front and back. The interconnected desks were in the middle of the office, with a row of cabinets on the left and guest sofas on the right.
Because students often came to ask questions during breaks, both front and back doors were usually left open.
Fu Yuhan went in without looking back. Wen Yu walked to the doorway, hesitated, didn’t go further in, but leaned against the wall, pretending he was waiting for someone.
He lowered his head, trying hard to distinguish voices from the noisy environment.
“…Can I not participate? You know…”
“You’re a senior now, Fu Yuhan. I think such an important matter still requires your parents to come.”
“But…”
He was making excuses.
Because other students kept entering the office to ask questions, the noise from various sources made it impossible for Wen Yu to hear the key points clearly.
Bit by bit, vague irritation gradually accumulated.
When the twelfth person brushed past him into the office, the sound of that person’s shoe hitting the office floor finally became unbearable for Wen Yu.
He straightened his collar, turned around, and knocked three times on the office door, naturally entering: “Teacher Zhou.”
“This parent-teacher conference we mainly want to…”
Zhou Wenkang was interrupted mid-sentence by him, but didn’t get angry. He turned his head and asked gently, “Wen Yu, what can I do for you?”
“I wanted to ask.” Wen Yu’s gaze naturally swept across Fu Yuhan’s face before landing on the homeroom teacher’s face, then naturally curved into a smile. “My parents might not be available for Friday’s parent-teacher conference. Would it be okay if I ask my aunt or uncle to come?”
Fu Yuhan glanced at him.
Zhou Wenkang looked somewhat troubled: “It would be best if direct relatives came. I was just telling Fu Yuhan that the main purpose of senior year parent-teacher conferences is to communicate with parents about students’ academic status and prepare for the college entrance exam—if your parents don’t have time Friday, would the weekend work?”
“I’m afraid that won’t work either.” Wen Yu said, “Director Yan should have communicated this with you.”
Wen Yu’s transfer had been handled by Academic Affairs Director Yan. Before coming, he had watched his father and that middle-aged, balding director play tai chi for half the morning, finally saying he was busy with work and hoping the director would take care of things.
“I know your father is busy,” Zhou Wenkang said, “but what about your mother? The director told me before that we could contact your mother if needed.”
“That was my father’s excuse.” Wen Yu smiled, then frowned, pretending to look troubled. “That’s my stepmother.”
Zhou Wenkang hadn’t expected this twist and was stunned. Fu Yuhan looked at Wen Yu again.
In his peripheral vision, Fu Yuhan didn’t seem to have any particular expression. Wen Yu couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.
But he wasn’t here to analyze himself.
“Actually, I usually take care of myself. If the parent-teacher conference didn’t require parents to attend, I could come myself.” Wen Yu said, “My aunt takes care of my daily life more, so I think it would be fine for her to come. What do you think?”
“This…” Zhou Wenkang hesitated somewhat.
Admittedly, Wen Yu’s grades were very good.
Such students weren’t really the focus of parent-teacher conference discussions, because their self-management abilities were generally strong and they had their own plans.
Before he could decide, Wen Yu had already made the decision for him: “How about this, Teacher Zhou, I’ll go back and ask my parents, try to get them to come. If they really can’t arrange the time, I might have to have my aunt come.”
“…That’s fine, try to get your parents to come personally.”
“Okay, thank you, teacher.” After Wen Yu finished, he very naturally asked Fu Yuhan, “Are you going back to the classroom? Want to go back together?”
Fu Yuhan was baffled by his question.
Zhou Wenkang stopped him: “No, he hasn’t finished discussing his situation yet. You can go back first if you want—Fu Yuhan, your situation is different from Wen Yu’s. I hope your parents will come no matter what.”
Wen Yu wanted to hear this, so he stayed put.
With students constantly entering the office, his staying there didn’t seem strange.
Fu Yuhan frowned, somewhat reluctant: “If they could come, why would I be telling you this? It’s because they can’t come.”
“Your mother isn’t that busy, right? I even talked with her last year.”
“Work isn’t busy,” Fu Yuhan looked at his shoe tips, “she’s busy taking care of her daughter.”
“What about your father?”
“He…” Fu Yuhan bit his lip and didn’t speak.
“As parents, they work hard all year for their children, but when it comes to parent-teacher conferences, these parents are all too busy.” Seeing his silence, Zhou Wenkang shook his head. “You should also try like Wen Yu, okay? Fu Yuhan, the teacher doesn’t want to give up on you. There are some things I must communicate with your parents. I know your situation is special. At worst, the teacher will spend more time. See when you can arrange for them to be free—the teacher will wait here. Even a phone conversation would work, okay?”
“…Oh.” Fu Yuhan paused. “But don’t get your hopes up too high.”
Zhou Wenkang let out a heavy sigh.
He turned and left. Seeing this, Wen Yu greeted the homeroom teacher and also came out of the office.
Fu Yuhan didn’t need to turn around to recognize his footsteps. All his pent-up irritation surged up and could no longer be suppressed: “Are you a tail-following bug?”
“You’re allowed to go to the office,” Wen Yu asked back, “but I’m not?”
“…” Fu Yuhan pursed his lips. “Then don’t follow me.”
As he spoke, he turned his steps and was about to walk in another direction.
The aerial corridor connection hub was a fancy crossroads, and the direction he was walking wasn’t toward Class 6’s classroom.
In that instant, Wen Yu felt an impulse from somewhere and suddenly grabbed his arm.
Fu Yuhan looked back with cold eyes.
People were coming and going everywhere. The rumor about Class 6’s two big shots “fighting for love” had just passed not long ago.
Fu Yuhan’s iconic face was recognized by at least everyone in the second and third years.
For a moment, the rate of people turning to look was off the charts.
Wen Yu’s usually gentle face showed no trace of a smile: “Skipping class again?”
“Is it any of your business?”
“No.” Wen Yu lowered his eyes, and when he lifted his eyelids again, he forced himself to smile. “But I’m a bit curious.”
Fu Yuhan raised an eyebrow.
“What exactly is your family situation?”
Fu Yuhan let out a light snort and pulled his arm back: “Would you tell me about your family situation?”
Wen Yu didn’t respond for a moment.
“So insincere, yet you want to hear other people’s stories.” Fu Yuhan asked, “Hey, don’t you think you’re a bit strange? You don’t listen to Yang Fan’s stories, so why do you keep prying into mine?”
Regarding this point, Wen Yu himself hadn’t thought it through clearly either.
But aside from studying, he did everything else based on preference, so he didn’t delve deeper. He just said casually: “Yang Fan? His family is harmonious, what stories could there be to hear?”
“Really? Then it seems I have a better relationship with him after all.” Fu Yuhan said, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning forward, bringing his face closer to Wen Yu’s, looking at him and saying word by word: “But I won’t tell you.”
At such close distance, Wen Yu could almost smell the scent of body wash on him.
Borneol mint, cool and refreshing, threading into his nostrils.
The bright daylight diluted the presence of the other’s overly pale skin. In the end, Wen Yu only remembered those eyes staring at him, dark and heavy, as if hiding countless indescribable things.
“Then I’ll go ask myself.” Wen Yu lowered his gaze, looking down from above. His sentence had no subject, and it wasn’t clear who he was talking about. “There are no secrets that can’t be uncovered. If once doesn’t work, I’ll ask twice, three times… I’ll figure it out eventually.”
“I don’t have many talents, but my curiosity is the strongest.”
**Author’s Note:** Curiosity is the first step to falling 🙂
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