Shen Ju shook his head again, then turned it slightly, tilting his chin up to look at Pei Yan.
So innocent.
It made Pei Yan’s heart soften.
He really wanted to pinch those cheeks, let his fingers sink right in.
But in the end, he took a deep breath and reluctantly let go.
As he turned his head, he caught Jian Yi staring at him with a tight frown.
Pei Yan nodded at Jian Yi and even hooked the corner of his mouth into a smile.
He withdrew his gaze and tapped Shen Ju’s slightly flushed cheek. “Making this felt portrait must’ve taken a lot of time, right?”
Shen Ju furrowed his brows, still a bit sulky.
“Pei-ge, how can you say that about yourself?”
Pei Yan glanced at the stall belonging to Shen Ju and Jian Yi. It looked like they’d just taken an order—Jian Yi was hunched over the little table poking at a felt piece. One order was manageable, but more than that, and they wouldn’t finish on-site. So there was a signup sheet nearby for phone numbers and addresses, probably for mailing the finished products later. They were well-prepared.
“I suggest you just sell off the batch you made in advance. After all, December’s almost here—you guys are gonna be swamped soon.”
“…Pei-ge, are you changing the subject?”
“December’s exam week at Qichen. Or did you think that’s why they put Anti-Stress Day right before it?”
“…Pei-ge!”
“Oh right, I remember there’s a parent-teacher meeting at the end of the month too…”
“Pei Yan!”
Shen Ju boldly called out Pei Yan’s full name for once, practically fuming.
“You don’t have to—”
His voice cracked the next second because Pei Yan had pinched his nose.
Why is he suddenly bullying me like this?!
“Didn’t I tell you?”
Pei Yan looked at Shen Ju, leaning down slightly to get closer, his voice low and soft. “I’m not a good person.”
“You’re not.”
Shen Ju mumbled his rebuttal.
He doesn’t believe it at all.
Pei Yan nearly sighed.
He released his hand and lightly tapped Shen Ju’s forehead. “Anyway, remember what I said. Don’t waste your time on this.”
“…Oh.”
On the other side, Jian Yi couldn’t help but frown.
He glanced down at the felt portrait he was working on, then over at Shen Ju.
Right now, besides the little trinkets they’d made beforehand and the one portrait Shen Ju had specially prepared for Pei Yan, he’d only taken one order. If they followed Pei Yan’s advice not to waste time, they’d probably stop after Shen Ju took one more—making a felt portrait took a while, and it was fiddly work. One each, done on-site, would be fine.
But from what Pei Yan meant…
It sounded like they should stop right there?
If Jian Yi hadn’t miscounted, Shen Ju hadn’t taken any orders yet. He could easily handle one, just like Jian Yi.
Jian Yi felt like he’d caught on to something.
But…
Whatever. Let Shen Chirp do a little less.
Winter days were short, and the Ant Market wrapped up at three in the afternoon.
Qichen’s tradition had carried on to this day, and the “market” was no longer limited to selling old stuff. Services of every kind bloomed wildly—desserts for sale, screen protectors applied, felt portraits made, frantic snack vendors, buskers playing instruments or singing, street dancers, live calligraphy, on-site skincare… even ear cleaning and pimple popping.
If you could think of it, the students had probably tried it—unless they straight-up couldn’t pull it off.
It was lively, for sure.
But it was the last indulgence before December’s exam week.
A little tension, a little release—that’s the rhythm.
Still, after the Ant Market ended, there was an awards ceremony.
Surprisingly, the winner was Pei Haochuan.
He’d donated the most to charity.
But Pei Haochuan wasn’t happy about it at all.
Why?
Because his hands were wrecked from applying all those screen protectors!!
Never mind the money from selling old stuff—whoever spread the word that the Pei family young master was doing protectors personally, well, everyone showed up. Phones, tablets, even laptops hauled in—who didn’t have three or four gadgets? Even when Pei Haochuan jacked up the prices in a rage later, it couldn’t stop the swarm.
By the end, his hands were cramping.
How could he be thrilled?
His face was sour as he collected the certificate onstage.
Down below, Han Chengfeng winked slyly at Shen Ju, grinning like mad.
But Han Chengfeng’s grin didn’t last.
Qichen’s December exam week had arrived.
The pre-winter-break exam week was all about testing students’ grit and mentality.
With “winter break” dangling ahead and the Anti-Stress Day Ant Market fresh for relaxation, now it was time to buckle up hard.
Quizzes nonstop, big exams piling on.
The final big exam at month’s end, followed by a parent-teacher meeting where the last scores and rankings would be announced.
Real pressure.
Forget Shen Ju—even Jian Yi, the straight-A student, felt his head spinning. Qichen isn’t just built on money for talent and skills; they really know how to mess with your head.
Then rumors spread—mainly in the Elite Class and Experimental Class—that top students from past years were tutoring Pei Haochuan and crew.
Qichen had plenty of academic gods, but Pei Yan was the most legendary.
Not everyone’s study notes auctioned for 100k, and crucially, the buyer actually got into a top university—a true dark horse turnaround!
According to him, he’d always been hopeless at studying—not for lack of effort, but nothing clicked, like his brain was missing key wires. After Pei Yan’s notes? Epiphany! It all connected! He figured out how to learn! In half a semester, he rocketed from the bottom to the top!
They said he wanted to bow deeply to Pei Yan every time they met.
Pei Yan’s legend still echoed at Qichen…
Other gods might top the charts once or twice, three times tops, with slip-ups now and then.
But Pei Yan? Stats showed: unless he skipped the test, first place never budged.
No wonder people still wanted to buy those notes from the guy at higher prices.
Too bad he wouldn’t sell or share—infuriating! Every year, he’d get secret curses. 10k spent fair and square, good eye—what can you do? His call. So folks just vented privately for the satisfaction.
But now!
Pei Yan was personally tutoring?!
Pei Haochuan was family, close in age—nephew stuff, fine.
Guan Mulin was already a good student, whatever.
But Guan Shen Ju?
Nothing special about him, just pretty and cute or whatever! Why the special treatment?
Suddenly, everyone who knew was sour.
Jealousy, envy, hate—plenty.
Personal tutoring beat notes any day, right?
Some straight-up asked Shen Ju, fishing politely: how’d he hook up with God Pei? They wanted in too…
Shen Ju thought it over and answered honestly. “Probably ’cause Pei-ge lives close by. Convenient.”
Pei Yan had said as much.
Though there were more reasons, but too complicated to explain.
He wasn’t answering everyone who asked anyway.
Others pestered Pei Haochuan and got shut down: “Want address and number? Got ’em. Balls to ask him yourself?”
No one that clueless; they slunk away.
Guan Mulin got asked too.
But he wasn’t being tutored—he was just tagging along. He shrugged: “I’m just the third wheel. Ask me? Useless. Same old self-study, different spot.”
Usually, one or two questions got brushed off, and they’d drop it—no one wanted to look too opportunistic, gotta save face.
But some circled to Jian Yi.
He seemed tight with Shen Ju, hung in their group often, but compared to the others, easier to handle.
Or so they thought.
Jian Yi opened his mouth, and yeah—looks could deceive.
Still, some idiots tried…
Jian Yi patted Shen Ju’s head. As Shen Ju clutched his head with both hands, Jian Yi circled behind him, grabbed his water cup, and headed to the tea station for hot water.
Transferring to Qichen meant way higher expenses than Yude.
Great teachers, but pricey as hell.
Jian Yi filled his cup, mentally tallying recent spending.
Not pressured, really.
The money from the Guan Family could cover senior year easy, even college.
But he couldn’t blow it blindly.
Until he was set… With his condition, no matter how hard or talented, his disability meant a tougher road.
So Jian Yi played it step by step.
Think broader, deeper.
Lost in thought, footsteps approached.
Hot water nearly full, Jian Yi grabbed the cup to step aside.
Then his shoulder got bumped—water splashed from the thermos, scalding his hand.
Jian Yi’s hand jerked, brows knitting instantly.
But he held steady.
“See, one hand’s inconvenient, huh.”
Wei Tianxi stepped in front, glancing at Jian Yi’s other dangling arm. “With your setup, Qichen’s gotta be rougher than Yude, right? Wasn’t Shen Ju crashing at your place before? You two act all close—why not get him to help you out?”
“Help me out?”
Jian Yi eyed Wei Tianxi, then single-handedly capped the thermos with a pop, voice flat like he didn’t get it. “Help with what?”
Wei Tianxi glanced around, leaning closer, voice low. “Right now, your grades are the only thing you’ve got over Shen Ju, yeah?”
“But that won’t last—Shen Ju’ll beat you soon.”
“Not worried?”
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