Chapter 3

A hot breeze blew, sending holly leaves like bits of green jade drifting lonely onto the windowsill. Another gust carried them along the beam of light into the room, where they fluttered onto Zhou Jinsheng’s desk.

Zhou Jinsheng had a pair of narrow, sharp phoenix eyes. When he stared at someone, it was like a blade piercing straight through the heart. Even those with a clear conscience would feel uneasy under the prolonged gaze of those intensely oppressive eyes.

Shen Yu’s face flushed slightly. He lowered his thin eyelids, staring at the holly leaf, a hint of embarrassment flashing across his face as if a secret had been exposed.

The holly leaf lay on the page like a piece of verdant jade, perfectly integrated like something from an illustration, its veins clearly visible.

One, two… eight.

The left side of the leaf had eight extremely fine veins. Shen Yu calmly counted them before lifting his head to meet Zhou Jinsheng’s gaze.

Zhou Jinsheng watched him leisurely.

Shen Yu’s tone was sincere as he explained in a low voice, “Sorry, I did know about you before. I’d often heard my parents mention you and caught wind of you from friends, but—”

Zhou Jinsheng raised an eyebrow. “But?”

After confessing, he felt much lighter. Shen Yu let out a heavy breath and smiled. “But I didn’t want you to misunderstand. I wanted to become friends naturally, like everyone else.”

Friends?

A strange feeling flashed through Zhou Jinsheng’s mind. He stared at Shen Yu for several seconds before speaking slowly, “Misunderstand?”

This psychological pressure was played masterfully.

Shen Yu nodded, lost in memories. “…For example, being misunderstood again as approaching with some ulterior motive.”

Zhou Jinsheng sneered inwardly, thinking this guy had some self-awareness. He keenly spotted the loophole in Shen Yu’s words.

He raised an eyebrow, showing no trace of the recent stomach pain’s fragility. His eyes flowed like dark flames. “Again? What do you mean?”

Shen Yu fell silent and lowered his head again, starting to count the veins on the right side of the holly leaf.

One, two, three… When he reached the fifth vein, Zhou Jinsheng asked once more, as expected. “Who misunderstood you before?”

Knowing he couldn’t dodge it, Shen Yu sighed and answered honestly in a low voice, “Classmates from my old school.”

Zhou Jinsheng handled this line of questioning with ease. A sharp glint burst from his eyes, as if all pretenses were laid bare before him.

Propping his chin on his hand, he stared at Shen Yu and continued, “How did they misunderstand?”

Interrupted at the fifth vein on the right, Shen Yu had to start counting over from the beginning.

This time, he counted more slowly, but the result was the same. The right side matched the left—eight veins, plus the main one, totaling seventeen.

The veins were symmetrical, just as he’d expected.

People weren’t so different from leaves.

Shen Yu lowered his eyes, cheeks flushing, and finally spoke. “Two years ago at Derman Academy, I met one of my cousin’s friends through his introduction. I’d heard so much about him from my cousin that in our later interactions, I couldn’t help but act a bit too familiar.”

His voice grew quieter, his head dipping lower, words stumbling. “Then… then some unnecessary misunderstanding happened.”

Zhou Jinsheng, accustomed to controlling the conversation, pressed relentlessly without mercy. “What misunderstanding?”

Shen Yu took a deep breath, psyching himself up.

He closed his eyes, voice barely audible. “He misunderstood that I…”

Zhou Jinsheng didn’t catch it. “You what?”

For a straight guy, this was mortifying. Shen Yu said euphemistically, “…He thought I had feelings for him.”

Zhou Jinsheng didn’t get it. “What?”

Pushed again, Shen Yu snapped in frustration and shouted, “Fuck, he thought I liked him!”

The shout rang out with epic resonance, lingering in the air. Zhou Jinsheng was visibly stunned.

Both fell silent.

Shen Yu recovered first. Seeing Zhou Jinsheng’s incredulous expression, he pressed on, brainwashing him further. “I know lots of people approach you with all sorts of motives, but I don’t want you to misunderstand—cough—whether it’s something like that or other misunderstandings. I truly believe every encounter is fate, an experience, a story.”

He continued earnestly, “If someone approaches another with a specific purpose, no matter what it is, they’ve already put on a mask invisibly. Masks are hard to take off, no different from hypocrites or social climbers.”

“I don’t like those kinds of people.”

Sorry, self.

Shen Yu silently lit a candle for himself in his mind and stubbornly stuck to his guns.

Even if the world was wrong, he wouldn’t be.

That was it.

Zhou Jinsheng remained silent, his deep black eyes fixed on Shen Yu for a long time.

Shen Yu paused, feeling the topic was a bit overwrought.

He shifted his gaze uncomfortably, cheeks pink, showing a hint of shyness. “But relationships are complicated. We all bring biases from past experiences into new ones.”

But you’re special, different from anyone I’ve met.

No, not that.

You give off this distant vibe, a real loneliness. I’ve heard lots of people claim they’re lonely, but yours feels truly lonely.

No, not that either.

Shen Yu was silent for two seconds before continuing.

“…Like how I misunderstood you at first because of my biases. I worried you’d think I was approaching on purpose, so I hid it and ended up making it worse.”

“I need to reflect on myself. Sorry, you’re different. From the start, I shouldn’t have overthought it. This isn’t something hard to talk about.”

“Maybe then we wouldn’t have this unnecessary misunderstanding now.”

“Sorry.”

Shen Yu lowered his eyes, tone utterly sincere, as if ready to bow with hands clasped.

Light fell on Zhou Jinsheng’s face, his jawline sharp and defined, lines crisp, still as coldly sharp as ever.

Zhou Jinsheng said nothing. Neither did Shen Yu.

People like Zhou Jinsheng—gifted prodigies—were rare. Arrogant, conceited, and aloof like others, but also introspective and idea-rich. Yet all that introspection served to reinforce their superiority.

Always the conversation dominator, the crowd leader.

In short, a busybody.

They couldn’t resist passionate, resilient, pure personalities. The original protagonist bottom was the epitome.

Shen Yu’s original self was hypocritical and profit-driven, not this type at all.

But since he’d arrived eight years early, and the original didn’t detail the body’s past, as long as Shen Yu filled in a consistent backstory that fit the personality eight years later, no one would notice anything off.

Shen Yu had already been as direct as possible within his character leeway, short of yelling in Zhou Jinsheng’s face.

A humid summer breeze blew through with a whoosh—not the holly leaves rustling, but the thin, light-permeable papers on the desk flipping.

The black symbols—arcane text most found inscrutable—flowed like enchanted runes in the woven golden light.

The glossy pages were pressed one by one into deep shadow.

Zhou Jinsheng lowered his lashes, expression calm, thoughts unreadable.

Shen Yu waited patiently, figuring the guy was wrestling with it internally.

In the world of the rich and powerful like Zhou Jinsheng, suspicion, conjecture, and scheming abounded far more than for ordinary folk. A single action could be interpreted a hundred ways.

Without laying traps for them to dig out the “truth” themselves, even if it was real and not seen with their own eyes, they wouldn’t believe it a bit.

But such tricks only fooled the still-naive, cute villain he was now.

Even if it worked, the effect would be minimal—like a dragonfly skimming the lake, rippling the surface briefly in the light.

How many ripples or how long they lasted didn’t matter.

Ripples faded, leaving no trace on the water.

Unfortunately, Shen Yu’s words hadn’t enraged Zhou Jinsheng.

They’d subtly pointed out Zhou Jinsheng’s own biases.

A bit risky.

Zhou Jinsheng’s calm reaction showed he’d already formed a rock-solid mental core and self at this age—hard nut either eight years ago or later. Maxing affection was a long haul.

But this bone was too damn hard!

Sure enough, Zhou Jinsheng showed no reaction.

Any normal person would’ve cleared the air by now, shared a bro moment, shaken hands, reintroduced, and turned the page.

Forgot—Zhou Jinsheng wasn’t normal.

The chair scraped back with a screech.

Zhou Jinsheng leaned forward and slowly stood from his seat, straightening up.

Tall with long legs and broad shoulders, his posture remained poised and relaxed. His build was clearly maturing into an adult’s—or better than most adults’.

The understated school uniform white shirt on the tall teen gleamed with the silver White Sail School Badge, less like heading to PE and more like a gala for elites.

In a word, expensive-looking.

Both the impeccable uniform and Zhou Jinsheng himself had been utterly unattainable to the old Shen Yu.

Zhou Jinsheng’s height brought heavy pressure as he stood. His ink-black eyes hid under long, thick lashes, emotions indistinct.

Shen Yu looked up puzzled, his peach-blossom eyes shimmering with allure.

A very persuasive face.

Zhou Jinsheng remarked idly.

Shen Yu blinked, tilting his head with a smile. “What?”

A flicker of oddity passed through Zhou Jinsheng’s eyes, gone in a flash.

He arched one eyebrow. “Class. You not going?”

So matter-of-fact.

Zhou Jinsheng pocketed one hand, glanced faintly at Shen Yu, and turned toward the door.

So it wasn’t waking naturally or Teacher Vivian’s heels—it was time to switch classrooms.

Shen Yu dutifully fulfilled little-bro duties, swiftly closing Young Master Zhou Da’s book on the desk and hurrying after him.

Shen Yu grabbed Zhou Jinsheng’s arm. “Wait—”

On the long third-floor corridor of Jingyang Public School, Zhou Jinsheng paused.

He turned back, his piercing gaze nearly drilling through Shen Yu’s hand on him.

Shen Yu instantly sensed icy killing intent.

As if the next second, his blood would be sliced by blades, exposing stark white bone beneath.

Facing it, Shen Yu showed disapproval. “You’re in this state and still going to class? Rest in the classroom now. I’ll go tell the teacher later.”

Die-hard germaphobe.

“I don’t like others touching me.”

Zhou Jinsheng’s gaze fell on Shen Yu’s hand on his arm.

“So, let go.”

Since you asked so sincerely, Shen Yu—who wasn’t some unreasonable jerk—naturally agreed.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t know.”

Shen Yu quickly released him, fingers sheepishly rubbing his nose tip.

Zhou Jinsheng watched him.

Shen Yu pressed on. “But you can’t go to class like this. I’ll ask the teacher for leave on your behalf. You have to rest here.”

His final tone carried rare firmness.

Shen Yu looked at Zhou Jinsheng, pupils filtering light like rippling mercury, reflecting Zhou Jinsheng’s face with apparent genuine concern.

Shen Yu said, “Okay?”

The concern’s authenticity was unknown.

Zhou Jinsheng turned slightly. Hot wind blew from the corridor outside, the distant sky endless. A faint scent wafted—likely the teen’s usual body wash.

Shouts from students on the playground drifted up, someone calling their names below, but neither paid mind, just as no one knew their current thoughts.

All mysteries yet unveiled.

Zhou Jinsheng looked at Shen Yu.

The wind rustled their uniforms.

Moments later, Shen Yu heard Zhou Jinsheng’s reply.

“Fine.”