Chapter 5

He leaped down from the subway station entrance with his backpack in tow. Two rows of maple trees rapidly receded beside him. Shen Yu nimbly flipped over the railing and arrived at the entrance of Jingyang Public School amid a chorus of surprised exclamations. From afar, he spotted Zhou Jinsheng at the gate.

007:【Congratulations, Host, on achieving the “Didn’t wait for Zhou Jinsheng’s reply but saw him first” accomplishment.】

Shen Yu:【…Thanks, but not invited. I wasn’t really eager for this achievement.】

Shen Yu quickened his pace, planning to call out to him, greet him first, then cozy up.

But then Chen Jinyang suddenly rushed up from behind and slung an arm around Shen Yu’s shoulders like old bros. With a bright smile, he greeted Shen Yu: “Morning, Shen Yu.”

Shen Yu was forced to slow down and replied with a beaming smile: “Morning, Chen Jinyang.”

Chen Jinyang leaned in close with his handsome face, asking curiously: “Shen Yu, did you add Zhou Jinsheng as a friend yet? Yesterday when you messaged me, I was in the middle of a game, but the second I saw your message, I dropped everything to help you ask around. Pretty loyal, right?”

Shen Yu turned his head and smiled at Chen Jinyang: “Yeah, added him. Thanks, bro.”

Chen Jinyang cheerfully bumped Shen Yu’s arm: “Of course. Listen, you absolutely can’t give out Zhou Jinsheng’s personal account to anyone else. Back when he was in a club, someone leaked his contact info somehow, and it blew up pretty big—”

Chen Jinyang’s eyes darted, and he cut himself off, changing the subject: “Oh yeah, did you find that bracelet of yours?”

Shen Yu shook his head: “Nope.”

Chen Jinyang said: “If you lost it yesterday, think back carefully. It has to be somewhere you went—either at school or home. Retrace your steps: where you were, how it happened, last time you remember it.”

Chen Jinyang said solemnly: “I’ve lost stuff before too. Spent half the day searching, then looked down—turns out it was right in my hand the whole time. Hahaha, funny, right?”

Don’t let Chen Jinyang’s tall frame fool you. When he talked, he rambled on endlessly, rivaling the homeroom teacher, words spilling out like beans from a bag.

The low-key pre-class bell echoed overhead in Jingyang.

At the sound of the bell, Shen Yu instinctively chased Zhou Jinsheng’s figure with his eyes. In his view, the tall teenager strode with his backpack, his back always straight. Even in a relaxed posture, he exuded the disciplined propriety of the Zhou family.

Zhou Jinsheng wove through the crowd, getting farther away, and entered the upward elevator on the first floor of Yifu Building.

The elevator faced the garden, where flowerbeds bloomed vibrantly, swaying with vibrant life.

Zhou Jinsheng turned around, as if sensing something. He lifted his eyelids and swept a glance toward Shen Yu from across the entire flowerbed.

He quickly withdrew his gaze.

Chen Jinyang seemed oblivious to the incessant dings overhead, still chattering away: “…If you really can’t find it, no big deal. Hey, is that bracelet important to you? Anything special about it…”

Seeing Zhou Jinsheng getting farther away, Shen Yu knew it was bad. He immediately cut off Chen Jinyang, his tone falling: “It was a gift from a friend a while back.”

Oh, ex-girlfriend, huh.

Chen Jinyang blurted out: “Where’s she at now?”

Bro, I’ve been waiting for that line.

Sorry.

Shen Yu lowered his eyes: “A few years ago… she passed away.”

Chen Jinyang froze instantly. Everything slowed to a crawl: his gaze shifted slowly, his eyes widened slowly, his mouth opened slowly—but no sound came out for a long time.

Perfect, no more talking.

Shen Yu shrugged off Chen Jinyang’s arm, took a few steps forward, and glanced back with a casual smile: “But it’s fine, that’s all in the past. Thanks for caring. I’m off to class—catch you later.”

Without waiting for Chen Jinyang’s reaction, Shen Yu sped up. His figure flashed past rows of holly trees like the wind and reached the elevator.

Damn—

The doors had already closed and were ascending, red numbers ticking up.

Shen Yu switched plans on the spot, darted to the nearby stairwell, and bolted upstairs. He finally caught up to Zhou Jinsheng in the long corridor on the third floor.

“Zhou Jinsheng!”

Everyone but Zhou Jinsheng turned to stare at Shen Yu in shock and confusion. The one called kept walking without looking back, the epitome of aloof swagger.

Shen Yu dashed up and grabbed Zhou Jinsheng’s arm, boldly challenging his germaphobia.

Shen Yu cursed first:【So bold, daring to touch our Young Master’s hand!】

007:【…】

Zhou Jinsheng turned his face slightly. Shen Yu vaguely caught a tiny twitch at the corner of his eye, a flash of icy chill like a knife’s edge.

So fierce.

Shen Yu’s hand nearly shook.

“Sorry about that.”

Shen Yu panted, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Only then did he let go.

Zhou Jinsheng disgustedly brushed off the sleeve where he’d been touched. He removed the Bluetooth earbud from his ear with his fingers and fixed Shen Yu—who had chased him down—with a look that said, “If it’s nothing, you’re dead”: “What is it?”

Shen Yu’s sideburns were damp, a few black strands falling over his thick lashes. Beneath them, a pair of peach-blossom eyes shimmered. He looked up: “Did you see a bracelet? I messaged you on my phone, but you didn’t reply…”

Zhou Jinsheng frowned: “Phone?”

Shen Yu nodded emphatically: “Yeah.”

Zhou Jinsheng impatiently pulled out his phone from his pocket, scanned the messages with furrowed brows, then looked up—straight into Shen Yu’s sparkling peach-blossom eyes.

Hard to describe those eyes precisely.

Shen Yu blinked under his stare: “Well? See anything?”

Zhou Jinsheng thought for two seconds and answered honestly: “Nope.”

Shen Yu visibly wilted, like a frostbitten eggplant.

Just a crappy bracelet. Really?

Pathetic.

Zhou Jinsheng sneered coldly, shoved the earbud back in, and strode off.

Shen Yu trailed behind Zhou Jinsheng’s ass into the classroom through the back door. He watched as Zhou Jinsheng dropped his backpack, repeated yesterday’s routine, and smoothly sprawled over the desk to sleep—still hogging two desks.

Shen Yu knew the principle of boiling a frog in warm water. Over the next few days, he kept “casually” bumping into Zhou Jinsheng at the school gate, jogging up with a smile to greet him and ask after his well-being.

But it had little effect. Most times, Zhou Jinsheng just shot him a furrowed glance. His best response was a slight nod.

Beyond that, they had no further interactions.

Damn, I saved your life, remember?!

Half of Jingyang’s classes were in the classroom. The other non-mandatory ones—like etiquette and equestrian—were in small groups with rotating schedules. Unfortunately, Shen Yu shared not a single one with Zhou Jinsheng.

Shen Yu later realized the small groups weren’t random. Zhou Jinsheng’s were filled with young masters and ladies from Shangjing’s elite families. They were less “classes” and more “social strata.”

In Class 1, Zhou Jinsheng either slept or read. Only when the wind rustled the holly leaves would he occasionally lift his head to glance out the window.

He slept two-thirds of the daytime, leaving zero chance to approach.

After school, he vanished without a trace. Besides routine check-ins, Shen Yu had sent Zhou Jinsheng a few sporadic messages about class notices and such.

Young Master Zhou treated them all equally: ignored.

Shen Yu had once thought the Zhou Corporation was a high wall. Now, he saw Zhou Jinsheng himself as an insurmountable chasm.

Shen Yu pondered how to break the ice. He couldn’t stand this lukewarm attitude anymore—

The opportunity came quickly.

That day, thousands of holly treetops swayed in the wind, layer upon layer sending waves like a tide of green waters.

Zhou Jinsheng woke in this tide, lifted his head, and shaded his eyes from the glaring sun. In this unwanted sunlight, a hazy figure emerged in his blurred vision.

Ahead, Shen Yu had just finished breakfast during break when he heard the rustle of fabric behind his ear, then shuffling sounds, and finally the screech of a chair leg on the floor.

Zhou Jinsheng rose from his seat.

The window slid open, summer breeze kissing the skin.

Shen Yu gradually realized his hearing had sharpened remarkably.

He turned around.

Zhou Jinsheng stood with arms crossed lazily, leaning against the window frame, head tilted as he gazed outside.

Holly trees swayed in the morning mist, light and shadow dancing across Zhou Jinsheng’s sharp-featured face.

That face, that person, seemed all the more profound and mature—like some retro, cold film aesthetic.

Decadent, extravagant, lost in a drunken haze, like a processed dream.

Many years later, amid clinking glasses and swirling lights, beneath a massive crystal chandelier’s dazzling glow, a flawlessly handsome man stood surrounded by admirers on a high staircase. He raised his wine glass and glanced down.

That glance, as if beholding insignificant dust at his feet.

Shen Yu snapped back to reality.

Only three months.

Only three months, only three months.

After silently repeating it thrice, Shen Yu stood up too.

Under his desk mate’s gaze—which shifted from confusion to instant panic—Shen Yu extended his hand toward Zhou Jinsheng.

Palm up, he waved it lightly in front of Zhou Jinsheng to draw attention, utterly unfazed, smiling warmly: “Zhou Jinsheng, had breakfast yet?”

His thoughts drifting upward, Zhou Jinsheng was suddenly yanked back to reality by the hand in his view. He heard the familiar yet distant call, his heart stirring briefly before irritation and displeasure surged from the interruption.

Zhou Jinsheng lifted his eyelids.

Shen Yu tilted his head, noticed the gaze, and smiled again. Radiant brilliance and vibrant life force burst from that smile.

His eyes, like lake water, reflected Zhou Jinsheng’s image.

Zhou Jinsheng stared at himself in those eyes, suppressing an inexplicable agitation, his tone utterly hostile: “None of your business.”

Yet the guy in front of him seemed oblivious to how annoying he was.

Shen Yu sat back down, pulled a box of baked mantou slices from his backpack, and placed it on Zhou Jinsheng’s desk. Tilting his head up: “How’s it not? You’re the fourth person I’ve met at school, my diagonal back-desk neighbor. You don’t look great—if your stomach acts up again?”

Zhou Jinsheng ignored him, his gaze lingering briefly on Shen Yu’s face before dropping to the metal box on the desk.

The box was squarely sturdy, with a matte baked finish. Illustrations of baked pastries adorned its sides, and clear, flowing text on the lid made it vivid and three-dimensional.

Zhou Jinsheng’s stomach churned with nausea. He frowned: “Take it back.”

Pure command tone.

Shen Yu didn’t move.

You think it’s that simple?

Seeming not to register the abrupt refusal, Shen Yu blinked and opened his mouth: “But…”

Shen Yu trailed off, and silence fell.

The awkward, abrupt hush drew the classroom’s attention to the corner. Some noticed with their eyes, some with their ears, some nudged by friends.

Quiet rippled out like a contagion across the classroom lake.

Gradually, breaths, chatter, and laughter faded lower, lower—until total silence reigned.

Like the calm before a storm.

Zhou Jinsheng’s brows pressed down, his aura like a drawn sword. As anger surfaced in near-cruel calm, it erupted into fierce hostility.

“Don’t make me say it twice. Take it back.”