Chapter 39: IF Line [Extra] Part 1

Chen Jinyang’s book stood spread open on the desk, only to be suddenly snatched away by a pair of delicate white hands.

“Hey, have you guys heard?”

Chen Miaomiao wore her hair in a high ponytail tied with a pretty black bow at the nape of her neck. She sported the standard Jingyang Western-style skirt suit, a blue lace collar tucked into the neckline. She slammed Chen Jinyang’s book down on the desk with a smack.

Chen Miaomiao was Jingyang’s resident know-it-all, a living, breathing gossip tree. The drowsy crowd around her snapped awake at the sound of her voice and turned to her en masse.

“What’s up? Goddess Miaomiao’s got fresh gossip?”

“Spill it. We’ve been bored out of our minds lately.”

Everyone nearby was hooked by her words. Pleased, Chen Miaomiao wasted no time. Propping her chin on her hand, she dropped the bomb:

“The Little Young Master of the Shen Family transferred to our school.”

In all of Shang Capital City, aside from the Zhou, Chi, Zheng, and Yu Families, no one could compare—except the Shen Corporation.

Her words hit like thunder in a pond, shocking everyone awake. The last lingering traces of sleepiness vanished without a trace.

A guy nearby blurted out in shock, “Holy shit? That mysterious Shen Family? Weren’t they always based abroad? Why transfer back in high school sophomore year? Does this mean Shangjing’s about to shake up again?”

“I heard whispers from my uncle about him transferring back, but I didn’t think it was legit.”

The guy who’d kicked off the chatter suddenly remembered something. He winked slyly and gossiped, “Heard the rumors? They say the Shen Family young master is drop-dead gorgeous. Back abroad, girls chasing him could’ve circled our track three times.”

Someone scoffed, frowning. “Bro, that’s gotta be exaggerated.”

A nearby voice chimed in, “Don’t knock it, bro. I heard guys chased him too. Gotta be one hell of a beauty.”

The guy recoiled, waving him off with a disgusted look as he scooted his butt aside. “If it’s dudes, count me out.”

Chi Xianli lounged lazily against his chair back nearby, listening to the group’s excited chatter. The more he heard, the saltier he got. He grumbled, “Why no big fuss when I transferred in?”

Chen Miaomiao eyed him up and down from her propped chin. Chi Xianli arched a brow, straightened up on the spot, spread his arms wide, and huffed, “Well? Handsome young master here?”

Chen Miaomiao pursed her lips, shook her head with a sigh, and turned away—leaving only the cold, merciless black bow on the back of her head facing him.

Silence said it all.

Chen Jinyang: “…”

Chi Xianli felt his teenage heart crack for a split second. He whipped his head toward Zhou Jinsheng, who sat beside him openly scrolling his phone, and fanned the flames. “Hey, Young Master Zhou, looks like your campus king throne’s getting shaky.”

Zhou Jinsheng lifted his eyelids in a blank stare. “Childish much?”

Chi Xianli: “…”

Chen Miaomiao burst out laughing at Chi Xianli getting shut down. Under his death glare, she slowly reined it in. Oops—this idiot; she’d nearly forgotten he was the Chi Family’s second young master.

Her gaze drifted, and she pivoted topics fast. “But Zhou Jinsheng, you two really vibe like two kings who never meet. Don’t sweat it, though. Come top dog vote time, my vote’s locked for you.”

When did this vote even happen?

Zhou Jinsheng slouched in his chair, chin tilted up slightly as he told Chi Xianli, “Hey, tonight’s Ring Mountain Rally showdown with that Yu guy. Haul your camera.”

Chi Xianli blinked sincerely. “Why me?”

Zhou Jinsheng grinned. “You don’t wanna snap Yu Xiao’s defeat the second he eats it? Should be epic. Word is, he brought a newbie this time—gonna be a show.”

Zhou Jinsheng had barely finished when the teacher led a young man inside.

The whole classroom went dead silent.

The newcomer was tall, legs for days. He wore just a white school shirt, the Jingyang White Sail School Badge gleaming under the lights. A black cardigan of unknown make draped over it, paired with black buttoned trousers that made his long legs look endless.

His face glowed ghostly pale, every feature flawless. Dense, long fan-shaped lashes framed deep, stunning eyes and brows. Full lips sat above peach blossom eyes that would’ve been seductive—except his unsmiling chill turned them piercingly cold, ethereal ice.

Shen Yu dangled his backpack from his fingers and stood lazily on the podium. He dropped his gaze, sweeping the room until it locked on the strongest presence. No way he’d tolerate more swag than his own.

Zhou Jinsheng leaned back against the chair, arm draped over his desk. He looked up, meeting the challenge head-on.

The classroom hushed even deeper.

Shen Yu pulled his gaze back and smiled for his intro. “Shen Yu. Looking forward to it.”

The smile barely touched his eyes, but it thawed the room’s tension. Everyone stole glances at Zhou Jinsheng, trading winks. They had to admit Chen Miaomiao nailed it—these two screamed rival kings.

Spotting the mixed reactions, Shen Yu arched a brow, voice laced with icy amusement. “No applause for the welcome?”

No one wanted that label. They clapped on cue, filling the room with warm applause. Amid stunned stares, Shen Yu shouldered his bag, strode past the front rows, and planted himself beside Zhou Jinsheng in the back.

Shen Yu’s gaze flicked over. Zhou Jinsheng solo’d two seats despite one ass.

He thudded his backpack onto the aisle-side desk. The applause cut off sharp.

Zhou Jinsheng’s spot hugged the window. He leaned into the inner chair back, school-pants-clad legs awkwardly jutting under the desk. One arm on his desk, the other slung over the outer chair—two seats claimed perfectly.

He flicked up his eyelids at the noise, eyes landing on the mystery-brand black backpack, then tracing up to the fingers clutching the strap.

Slender fingers, perfect proportions—no chunky or skinny bits. Nails trimmed neat, skin over knuckles silky and lustrous, pale flesh over even bones.

Faint veins bulged subtly on the hand’s back. Inward, jade-white wrist bones vanished into the cardigan sleeve’s black shadow.

“Hey, seat?”

The youth’s drawled tail end floated like willow fluff on his eardrums.

Zhou Jinsheng looked up at the voice’s owner.

Eyes locked.

Sunlight flooded the room, rays dancing through the youth’s thick lashes—each strand sharp, shadows spiking his under-eyes.

Light shimmered golden. Outside, wind rustled endless wintergreen branches into crashing waves.

Tension crackled through the classroom. Pin-drop silence gripped it—fearing stray fire, yet gossip fever burned. Campus king round one, front-row seats—who could resist?

Eyes and ears zeroed in, overt and sly.

Wrong vibe for bets, or wagers would’ve flown on the winner.

Family usually clinched it, but Shen Corporation’s mystery muddied the waters. No clear victor.

They’d braced for beef, but not Shen Yu straight-up challenging Zhou Jinsheng on arrival!

Gazes piled on Zhou Jinsheng. Breath held for Young Master Zhou’s move.

Clack—

Metal legs screeched across the floor.

Zhou Jinsheng gripped the chair back, easing out the desk-hugging seat.

Huh?

Eh??

What the—???

Onlookers gawked, confusion etched on faces.

Chair out, Zhou Jinsheng craned his head back. Dark, misty eyes bored unblinking. Lips parted: “Sit.”

Things veered off-script. Shen Yu puzzled—big bro warned Zhou Family heir was ironclad tough. This? Barely dented.

Must be his killer charm.

Shen Yu quirked a brow, sat easy, eyes on Zhou Jinsheng warming to little-bro levels.

Bell rang. French teacher clacked in on heels, long hair wafting shampoo, red lips curved. She scanned, ordered French books out.

Shen Yu, fresh transfer, no book—too lazy anyway. He leaned over, inky hair draping his face, bossed his new underling: “Hey, book.”

Pure provocation. Hearts leaped—if prior was fake-out, this sparked the brawl!

Zhou Jinsheng’s desk was bare too. At Shen Yu’s words, he dropped his gaze, fished a book from the drawer, and sloooowly opened it between them.

French book split the desks, flipped to a random page—not today’s lesson.

Shen Yu propped his chin, bored fingers drumming the page. He’d geared for war; first class, and done? Lame.

Rushed in today, all-in on Jingyang king plot, forgot phone.

Eyes slid to Zhou Jinsheng’s right-side phone, screen dark.

Phone abstinence? Wild.

His turn.

Shen Yu arm-stretched over Zhou Jinsheng for it.

Zhou Jinsheng looked up.

Shen Yu’s palm dove down—warm center grazed Zhou Jinsheng’s raised hand back, bumping hard knuckles. Thinner skin there, veins ridged bold on textured surface.

Palm skimmed those veins. Itchy.

Wind hushed.

All hushed.

Shen Yu snagged the phone, pulled back.

Zhou Jinsheng’s fingers twitched. He side-eyed.

Catching it, Shen Yu browed up with the phone. “What?”

Zhou Jinsheng arched his. “Password?”

As if. Shen Yu skeptical, tried unlock—password prompt. He plopped it on the middle book, nodded at Zhou Jinsheng.

Zhou Jinsheng reached over, tapped the screen casual—no hiding—password in smooth.

Shen Yu reclaimed it, hunted short vids. Nada. Store for download? Face ID fail—password nag.

Shen Yu: “…”

Phone shoved back, bro-bossing: “Password.”

Zhou Jinsheng’s lips quirked a smile. Took it, punched code, returned.

Triumph—vids rolling at last.

The duo’s tango left everyone blinking. Chi Xianli, aisle over from Shen Yu, prime melon spot—caught every absurd move, every word crystal.

Chi Xianli: “…”

Without childhood ties to Zhou Jinsheng, he’d swear Shen Yu was the real bro. Hell, even he lacked password privs.

Tragic.

Dismissal bell. Shen Yu rose with bag, room scan. Bell done, yet zero exits—heads down “homeworking,” books clutched “reading.”

Illusion? Books upside-down?

Nah. Jingyang, study king haven. Shen Yu dipped.

Night fell, and the city’s clamor faded away, leaving only endless darkness. Surging mists rolled in, enveloping the mountains entirely. The track wound serpentinely, its ground lights on both sides flickering on one by one, like a giant serpent shuttling through the towering peaks and ridges.

At the starting point of the track, a fleet of luxury cars was parked. A path opened up between two rows of luxury cars, colorful flags fluttering. They were clearly divided into two factions—one led by Zhou Jinsheng, the other by Yu Xiao.

When Zhou Jinsheng arrived, the racers on the opposite side were already prepared. Chi Xianli had called him several times earlier but hadn’t gotten through. Seeing him show up now, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Where’s your phone?”

Zhou Jinsheng lazily changed into his racing suit. “With Shen Yu.”

Chi Xianli: “…”