CFHE Chapter 5

One of the drama’s male leads was completely unaware of this.

 

Ms. He Yan had gotten some kind of inspiration today, getting up early to clean, then sending Fu Yuhan a photo afterward.

 

Although going back now might be too late… Fu Yuhan still crossed the playground to reach the empty building.

 

The empty building was an unfinished experimental building shell. The back wall connected to the school’s construction site, with no electric fence—it was the only place in the entire school where one could climb over the wall to get in and out. Fu Yuhan had just jumped down from the wall when he ran into several familiar construction workers: “Skipping class again?”

 

“Going home to get something,” Fu Yuhan lowered his eyes, looking like he didn’t want to say more.

 

“Last time one of your directors came here to scold us,” several workers looked haggard. “Next time, could you pick a time when we’re not here? If this continues, the foreman will dock our pay.”

 

“…I don’t want to either.”

 

But Ms. He’s episodes didn’t pick convenient times.

 

Fu Yuhan pressed his lips together, went around the workers, and ran toward the construction site exit.

 

“Mom!”

 

Five minutes later, Fu Yuhan burst into his home: “Mom?”

 

He Yan wasn’t in the living room. Fu Yuhan first rushed into his own room, lifted up the bed sheet to look, and his face immediately went white. He pushed open the master bedroom to check—no one there—then ran back out: “Mom!”

 

“What what, calling for souls? If you scare your sister, I’ll never forgive you!” He Yan finally appeared after much calling, entering the stairwell and starting to shout from the first floor: “Fu Yuhan, you little brat! Not in school during the day, why are you back again? Is it easy for me to support your education? You’re just wasting tuition like this!”

 

“Mom,” Fu Yuhan ran to the stairwell entrance and stopped, pressing his lips together as he caught his breath. When he spoke, his voice trembled slightly: “Where did you put the box from under my bed?”

 

He seemed angry, or perhaps furious. The tall 1.8-meter figure standing at the stairway entrance, looking down from above, was somewhat frightening.

 

“Sold it, sold it for 50 yuan,” He Yan was stunned. “You specially ran back just for this? You’re going to be the death of me. Those boxes of waste paper hadn’t been touched for years, just gathering dust. Better to sell them for money, and it makes cleaning under the bed easier… Why are you still standing there?”

 

Fu Yuhan clenched his fist, suppressing his voice: “Didn’t I say you don’t need to help me clean?”

 

“Oh, I spent a whole morning working hard to clean for you, and you want to lose your temper with me over selling a few boxes of waste paper? What an attitude.” He Yan snorted coldly. “I haven’t even settled accounts with you for skipping school!”

 

His throat moved once. Fu Yuhan gritted his teeth and asked as calmly as possible: “Where did you sell my boxes?”

 

“To the scrap collector who was shouting downstairs.”

 

Fu Yuhan pushed past He Yan, jumping down the stairs three steps at a time. He Yan called from behind: “He left long ago!”

 

Fu Yuhan turned a deaf ear, stubbornly leaving the apartment building and running through several intersections before finally realizing that those three boxes truly couldn’t be recovered.

 

The howling wind roared in his ears.

 

Disappointed? It didn’t seem like it.

 

From the moment he saw that text message and knew his mom had entered his room to clean, his subconscious seemed to understand what would be lost.

 

Three boxes… of old drawings, indeed not an unacceptable loss.

 

But it still hurt.

 

The sound of a door opening came from upstairs. His mom went into the house, and not long after ran back out, shouting in the stairwell: “Fu Yuhan! You little brat, did you come into the house? Your sister is resting, don’t you know! You woke her up!”

 

I didn’t even go to open my sister’s door.

 

Fu Yuhan looked down, staring at a small stone at the apartment building entrance for half a minute, finally kicked it, didn’t enter the building, and turned to leave.

 

–

 

The commotion caused by the transfer student didn’t last too long.

 

The reason might be that this transfer student was too “well-behaved”—quiet during class, sitting in his seat reading during breaks, not going anywhere.

 

Midway, class monitor Ge Ran came to talk to him, nothing more than “you can come to me if you have difficulties.” Afterward, she pointed to the empty seat next to Wen Yu and asked: “Is he always absent?”

 

Wen Yu put down his pen, glanced at the empty chair, then nodded: “Mm.”

 

His “desk mate” never returned. Most amazingly, whether it was the students in front or the teachers on the podium, no one said anything about this empty seat.

 

Ge Ran clicked her tongue: “Here we go again… I’m still waiting for him to work on the bulletin board.”

 

Wen Yu showed appropriate confusion at the right moment.

 

“It’s fine,” Ge Ran smiled. “I’ll go to the restroom and give him a call.”

 

Even the class monitor had this reaction. Wen Yu suddenly realized that Fu Yuhan probably skipped classes frequently.

 

To still get by well in Third High’s key class despite this was, in a certain sense, quite impressive.

 

But… how to put it…

 

It wasn’t quite what he’d imagined.

 

In the past two years, they had met a total of five times. Because they had always been openly and covertly undermining each other, they hadn’t really had proper conversations.

 

All of Wen Yu’s understanding of Fu Yuhan, aside from his own superficial impressions, came almost entirely from Yang Fan.

 

In Yang Fan’s mouth, his childhood friend was a “civilized, polite, thoughtful, helpful” “little angel.”

 

Then when Wen Yu met him, he found a BKing.

 

The gap had felt huge at the time.

 

But not as huge as now—for instance, he had never imagined that a student in Third High’s key class could skip an entire day of school. Compared to being a BKing, such behavior was almost like a poor student from a vocational school.

 

The kind who never studied properly, spent most of their time smoking, drinking, perming their hair, and chasing girls, living aimlessly with confusion written all over them.

 

Or rather, a street punk.

 

If that were really the case…

 

Wen Yu’s gaze fell on Fu Yuhan’s desk.

 

If that were really the case, transferring schools seemed to have lost much of its fun.

 

Ge Ran’s phone call seemed to have no effect. Right up until near dismissal time, Fu Yuhan’s seat remained empty.

 

Newly distributed test papers were scattered messily on the desk, almost burying the textbooks that had originally been placed there. While packing his bag, Wen Yu glanced at his desk three times and finally couldn’t resist reaching out to help organize it.

 

His somewhat reluctant hand was pressed down by another hand reaching from the front row. Sun Wenrui turned around with a wary expression: “What are you doing?”

 

“Organizing,” Wen Yu looked up at him, a slight smile hanging at the corner of his mouth. “Is that not allowed?”

 

“…” Sun Wenrui dubiously released his hand. “I’m warning you, don’t think you can pull any tricks just because Brother Fu isn’t here.”

 

His face was written all over with “showing kindness without reason means either treachery or theft,” which made Wen Yu laugh.

 

The boy’s thick, long lashes drooped down, trembling like a dragonfly touching water, then his smile spread like ripples on a lake surface: “Just a few test papers—what could I do?”

 

That was the logic of it.

 

Sun Wenrui seemed to want to say something more, mumbling a few times but not speaking.

 

After thinking, he said: “Anyway, don’t touch his stuff.”

 

“Oh, so he asked me to fight, but I can’t bring him his papers on the way?” Wen Yu pulled his bag up and stood, using some force with his fingertips to extract that stack of test papers.

 

The stiff white paper gained several creases as a result.

 

“Even if you disagree, I’m still taking them,” he smiled with narrowed eyes. “This morning Teacher Zhou specifically instructed me to definitely ‘love and care for classmates.'”

 

“…”

 

Wen Yu left the classroom carrying a stack of papers.

 

Sun Wenrui was stunned for a long time before quietly cursing: “Damn, BKing.”

 

Originally Wen Yu hadn’t planned to keep the appointment, but this way, his feet automatically walked toward the playground.

 

The setting sun’s afterglow shone on the plastic track, and that gray concrete building became a dark mass against the backlight.

 

During the morning break’s group exercises, he had observed this building—so shabby it didn’t even have glass windows, just empty holes when you looked over.

 

He really didn’t understand why Fu Yuhan wanted to arrange a fight in such a place that was open to the wind on all sides.

 

Wen Yu had long legs and took big strides, walking with his clothes billowing in the wind. Before long he approached the empty building. His mind was still thinking about the reason when he saw someone sitting on a windowsill on the first floor of the empty building.

 

The youth had one long leg hanging down, the other long leg propped up, leaning against the window frame with an A4-sized notebook in his hands, writing and drawing, occasionally gazing into the distance.

 

The windowsill was quite high, so once he got close, Wen Yu had to look up at him.

 

“I was wondering where you went,” he unconsciously brought a bit of a smile, his attitude familiar. “You’ve been here all day?”

 

Fu Yuhan looked down at him with a glance, his indifferent face still showing no expression, tilting his head toward the inside of the building: “The entrance is in the back, go around.”

 

After speaking, his right hand holding the pen began moving on the notebook again.

 

“Why should I go in? You can just jump down.” Wen Yu said.

 

Fu Yuhan looked up again, seeming somewhat speechless: “Do you know the surveillance can capture where you’re standing?”

 

“There’s none inside?”

 

“No,” Fu Yuhan said. “This building and the area behind it haven’t had time to install any yet.”

 

I see.

 

No wonder Fu Yuhan chose this place.

 

Someone who had skipped school all day still considered whether surveillance could capture them when choosing a meeting spot—it was rather absurd. Wen Yu lowered his head and chuckled quietly, carrying that stack of papers as he leisurely walked toward the back of the empty building.

 

The stiff paper rustled “hua la hua la,” blown messy by the wind.

 

Wen Yu walked through the shadows and unexpectedly encountered a brilliant golden afterglow behind the empty building.

 

He was suddenly stunned.

 

After being dazed for a few seconds, Wen Yu lifted his legs again to climb the steps.

 

Inside the empty building was indeed the same as outside—nothing at all. The walls and floors were all the original gray cement color, with embedded wires showing their ends through large holes in the walls. There were no lights installed, nor switches.

 

But sunlight streamed in through the unobstructed windows, dyeing half the floor orange-yellow. Wen Yu stepped on the light as he walked in, smiling as he said: “The scenery at this place you chose is quite nice.”

 

“Outside the school are all concrete buildings, nothing nice about it.” Fu Yuhan didn’t turn his head.

 

“At least this sunset is nice.” Wen Yu looked down at his shoes bathed in sunlight.

 

“The sunrise is also quite nice. What’s nice is the sun, not this place.” Fu Yuhan said softly. “Wait for me a moment.”

 

Wen Yu was amused by him: “Who arranges a fight and then is still busy with other things?”

 

He walked over, wanting to see what Fu Yuhan was writing.

 

Unexpectedly, he saw the school playground, green belt, perimeter wall, and concrete buildings outside the wall in the other’s notebook.

 

“You can draw?” Wen Yu was a bit surprised.

 

“Are you blind?”

 

Wen Yu lowered his head and smiled.

 

“I’ve wanted to say this before,” Fu Yuhan made the final stroke and signed his name in the bottom right corner, then turned around with an expressionless face like a poker face. “Sometimes when you clearly don’t want to smile, why do you still smile? It’s fake as hell.”

 

Wen Yu restrained his smile and raised an eyebrow: “How do you know whether I want to smile or not?”

 

He put one hand in his pocket, tilted his head to the left, his brows and eyes full of flying arrogance.

 

This appearance was indeed quite different from his gentle and amiable look in the classroom.

 

Fu Yuhan jumped down from the window and placed the sketchbook on the windowsill.

 

“Because of intuition,” he said.

 

**Author’s Note:** [Note] BKing: means “pretentious king”

 

This chapter didn’t flow well when writing, I revised it many times, sorry.

 

I’ll try to make up for yesterday’s update tonight.

 

Although JJ has closed comments, I can still see them in the backend. I hope everyone can leave more messages (humble.jpg)

 

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