Chapter 6

Shen Yu kept his ears perked and eyes sharp.

Perfect. His deskmate trembled, wishing he could shrink into the wall right away. The onlookers within two to three meters had no spirit or backbone for gossiping and had already silently retreated.

Everyone in the classroom tried to minimize their presence, fearing they would be caught in the storm, but without exception, they all cast pitying, admiring, and complicated gazes toward Shen Yu.

Shen Yu, at the center of the storm—

Naturally, naturally, he wasn’t afraid.

Like hell he wasn’t.

Shen Yu’s heart pounded wildly as two wide streams of tears silently flowed down inside.

Zhou Jinsheng’s face grew darker and darker. He bent his knee and suddenly kicked out, mercilessly slamming the desk in front of him toward Shen Yu.

“Clang clang—”

The box of baked mantou slices flew open, and the golden-brown slices scattered across the floor. The warm wheat aroma wafted inappropriately through the air, making Shen Yu a bit hungry.

But now clearly wasn’t the time to be hungry.

Zhou Jinsheng’s kick was fast and fierce, without any warning—more disastrous than a disaster itself.

Jingyang’s desks and chairs were made of steel and wood, already tough to move during big cleanups. Now, as two desks and chairs collided under force, their corners smashing into each other, steel clanging against steel, it was impossible to tell which part hit first. In a flash of sparks, clang clang, they crashed to the ground like an earthquake.

From the impact, Shen Yu’s innocent desk and chair toppled over. The water cup, books, and pencil case on the surface flew everywhere in an instant.

Dust floated up and down in the light.

After that, the entire classroom fell completely silent, even the sound of breathing vanishing.

No one had expected Zhou Jinsheng to go so hard this time. Shen Yu relied purely on his sense of danger; his body instinctively dodged toward the aisle, avoiding being hit by the two desks and chairs.

In dodging the collision, Shen Yu’s thigh inevitably slammed hard into the edge of a desk on the other side of the aisle.

Intense pain and numbness instantly surged from his thigh, sharp enough to make his scalp tingle.

Shen Yu nearly buckled at the knees right there. He quickly braced his hand against the desk behind him to steady his sliding body.

Fuck, Zhou Jinsheng, you don’t play fair.

Killing without warning!

In his vision, the two desks and chairs lay toppled together, stuck like glue amid the wreckage on the floor. If not for his quick reflexes, Shen Yu would have been part of the wreckage.

Close call, close call.

Luckily, danger was always just a step slower than him.

Shen Yu took a deep breath to calm his emotions, trying not to let his expression look too fierce or scary. He lifted his head, lashes trembling, eyes carrying just the right amount of hurt and confusion as he looked toward Zhou Jinsheng.

In the half-light, Zhou Jinsheng stood with hands in his pockets, as if everything happening in front of him had nothing to do with him.

A moment later, Zhou Jinsheng bent down to pick up his backpack from the floor, lightly patted the dust off with his palm, and walked out of the classroom backpack in hand.

Halfway there, he seemed to remember something. Zhou Jinsheng stopped, his gaze first landing on Shen Yu’s face, then sliding down his arm to his hand.

He seemed about to say something, but that flicker of emotion was like breath in the cold winter air—it vanished in a puff without a trace.

In the end, Zhou Jinsheng said nothing, lips pressed tight as he strode away.

As the footsteps faded, Shen Yu’s shoulders, tense as a straight line, suddenly relaxed.

Only after Zhou Jinsheng left did sounds return.

Cheng Yitan, who had practically merged with the wall, stared blankly at Shen Yu through the messy toppled desks and chairs, his eyes brimming with tears:

“Shen Yu, y-your hand…”

“It’s bleeding—”

East District, Sihua Gardens.

Sihua Gardens was built on Azure Water Bay Little Zhou Mountain. Patrol teams filled the base of Little Zhou Mountain, mercenaries in camouflage uniforms holding guns, strictly checking all incoming and outgoing vehicles. When they saw the Zhou Mansion’s car approaching, they snapped to attention and saluted in unison.

The car wound up the quiet mountain road, climbing the half-slope. Straight rows of verdant pine and cypress flanked both sides, their evergreen branches spilling green through the gaps, extending endlessly.

At the road’s end, the majestic Zhou Mansion stood silently and composed at the center of the view, inspiring awe without fanfare.

Unlike other villas with rows of luxury cars parked out front, no ostentatious vehicles lined the gates. Instead, two rows of sycamores on the right extended an unassuming branch road to a spacious lakeside parking area. The quiet, dignified heritage permeated these subtle details.

The servants outside Zhou Mansion moved in perfect order. The driver opened the car door for Zhou Jinsheng. He got out with his backpack and crossed the expansive lawn in front of the main entrance.

Chi Xianli called, but Zhou Jinsheng hung up.

Chi Xianli messaged: [Back at Sihua Gardens?]

Zhou Jinsheng didn’t reply. Chi Xianli knew better than to pry into Zhou Mansion matters—too many eyes watched every move of Zhou Corporation. Even if he asked, he’d get nothing. Suddenly thinking of something, he probed: [Tested him?]

Zhou Jinsheng: [Drew blood.]

Chi Xianli: [!]

Zhou Jinsheng paused in silence before rarely explaining: […Not my intention.]

Chi Xianli replied as if he understood perfectly: [Got it, accident, accident.]

Zhou Jinsheng closed his phone without responding further. He passed through the winding, deep corridors from the main entrance to the west hall, spotting Zhou Ruhui from afar as she directed servants moving things.

The woman wore a simple yet elegant black fitted long dress, its satin luxurious like sunlight-filled water rippling with light.

Pearl earrings adorned her ears, sharp red lips cold and cutting, black hair piled high to reveal a swan-like slender neck. Her skin was taut, not like a middle-aged woman at all—her entire bearing exuded extraordinary nobility.

Noticing Zhou Jinsheng enter, a sharp glint flashed in Zhou Ruhui’s eyes. She smiled warmly and approached to take his backpack, probing: “Jinsheng, why didn’t you go to class today?”

Zhou Jinsheng stopped, impatience flickering briefly in his eyes. He jabbed back: “Little Aunt’s staying at Zhou Mansion too.”

Zhou Ruhui stiffened, then forced composure as she took Zhou Jinsheng’s backpack and handed it to a servant nearby, ordering: “Take it down for Young Master.”

She turned, suddenly smiling again, her beautiful eyes sparkling: “Little Aunt’s just worried about Grandpa being lonely here alone, so she comes back now and then to check. Did you get tired from studying at school, Jinsheng? You don’t have to study if you don’t want to. If you’re worn out, rest up and go tomorrow.”

At that moment, Old Master Zhou came down from upstairs, supported by Zhou Yaoshu.

Zhou Ruhui had been busy fighting for power in her youth and miscarried her first pregnancy. Learning her lesson, she took good care of herself when pregnant with Zhou Yaoshu.

But perhaps her body hadn’t recovered from the first one—Zhou Yaoshu was nearly stillborn, leaving him with chronic illnesses from childhood on. His face was pale and delicate, somewhat feminine, utterly bloodless.

Old Master Zhou pitied his rough fate and often called him back to Zhou Mansion to recuperate properly.

His bond with his grandson seemed even stronger than with his blood grandson Zhou Jinsheng.

Old Master Zhou was over seventy but still vigorous, looking healthier than Zhou Yaoshu. He wore silk Tang-style attire, his full head of silver hair neatly combed back.

The old man’s demeanor was stern and commanding, his face upright and solemn—he rarely smiled.

Old Master Zhou looked at the two and said to Zhou Jinsheng: “Jinsheng, come walk with Grandpa.”

Zhou Jinsheng took his leave from Zhou Ruhui and stepped forward to take over from Zhou Yaoshu.

A faint smile appeared on Zhou Yaoshu’s pale face as he nodded to Zhou Jinsheng. Zhou Jinsheng gave him a cold glance before supporting Old Master Zhou’s arm and heading out of Zhou Mansion.

Staring at the departing figures of the old and young, Zhou Ruhui’s emotions surged like waves.

Resentment and cruelty flashed in her beautiful eyes, tinged with manic ferocity. Her fingers gripped Zhou Yaoshu’s hand tightly, nails digging into the back of his pale hand. It turned from white to red, blood beads seeping out and staining her neatly manicured nails.

The boy kept his head down, seemingly oblivious to the pain, his face fixed in a doll-like smile, remaining silent.

Zhou Ruhui ground her teeth in hatred.

She took a deep breath, withdrew her gaze, suppressed her surging unwillingness and rage, her expression darkening utterly as she coldly ordered her assistant nearby: “Find out why he skipped class.”

Zhou Jinsheng slowly supported Old Master Zhou along the quiet paths of Sihua Gardens. Along Three Bays Road, late-blooming oleanders grew wildly and vibrantly, their endless profusion blooming in summer.

Branches stretched recklessly from both sides. For some reason, seeing these rampant oleanders, Zhou Jinsheng’s mind involuntarily flashed to another fervent figure—and the boy’s bloodied fingers.

A breeze blew, and an oleander blossom drifted lightly onto Zhou Jinsheng’s shoulder, still in his school uniform.

Zhou Jinsheng frowned, snapping out of his thoughts and brushing the flower off his shoulder.

Though advanced in age, Old Master Zhou still firmly held all power in Zhou Corporation—he was the undisputed authority at Zhou Mansion.

Having led Zhou Corporation for years, he had one son and one daughter under him. His eldest son, Zhou Delin, had come out of the closet in his marriage twelve years ago and was disowned and driven out by Old Master Zhou, with no news since.

Beyond that, in his youth, Old Master Zhou had dominated the scene amid the era’s turbulent waves, followed by countless admirers. One close friend and business partner, devastated by a stock market crash, had jumped to his death.

Though unrelated to Zhou Corporation, if not for Old Master Zhou pulling him into the venture back then, it wouldn’t have happened. Feeling guilty, the old man took in the friend’s orphan, naming him Zhou Mingli.

With no natural son or adopted heir, the position of Zhou Corporation successor hung vacant for years. On the surface, the sole legitimate heir was Zhou Jinsheng.

From Zhou Jinsheng’s birth to adulthood, everyone eyed that successor position covetously—especially Zhou family relatives and outer kin.

After all, the spot had been empty too long, and with Old Master Zhou’s advancing age, people grew sentimental in decline, reminiscing and seeking to make amends for past regrets and guilts.

No one knew what variables affection might bring.

They waited for an opportunity—or more precisely, a mistake, just like with Zhou Delin back then.

Zhou Mansion was a nest of vipers, all eyeing him hungrily.

Yet to their disappointment, Zhou Jinsheng hadn’t turned out a waste like his father.

Three Bays Road in Sihua Gardens hugged the sea, damp hot winds swaying the flowering trees.

Zhou Jinsheng had walked this road no less than a thousand times, but today the scenery felt exceptionally different—far quieter than usual.

Old Master Zhou walked ahead, his words slow and forceful: “Jinsheng, you’re almost an adult, aren’t you?”

Zhou Jinsheng lowered his gaze: “Half a year left.”

Old Master Zhou stopped, and Zhou Jinsheng followed suit.

The old man looked up at Zhou Jinsheng.

Old Master Zhou’s eyes pierced like torches. He tapped his cane, exuding authority without anger:

“I know you have your own ideas, but since you’re back, don’t treat Zhou Mansion like a hotel. Stay in Sihua Gardens these next few days, attend next week’s meeting, and we’ll talk other matters after this storm passes.”

Zhou Jinsheng paused in silence before nodding: “Understood.”

Jingyang, School Infirmary.

The school doctor wasn’t there, but a familiar face was: bare-faced, fresh and gentle, with lively eyes and features resembling Chen Jinyang’s—who else but Chen Miaomiao?

Chen Miaomiao was clearly a regular at the infirmary, more familiar with it than her own home. Seeing Shen Yu enter, she scanned him up and down and eagerly offered to treat his wound. Shen Yu quickly refused.

After some back-and-forth, having enjoyed Shen Yu’s handsome face flushing red as he pushed and shoved, Chen Miaomiao finally relented, satisfied.

She cleared her throat lightly, pushed up her glasses, and consoled him in a professional manner: “Alright, alright, it’s just taking off a shirt—not like I’m carving out a chunk of your flesh.

“I’m not embarrassed, so why are you, Shen Yu? Don’t back away so far… Fine, fine, you win. Go in and bandage it yourself, take the medicine, remember the order. Ask me if you’re unsure—don’t mess it up.”

Shen Yu drew the curtain, let go of his hand. The transparent film on his palm had softened.

His deskmate had escorted him all the way, leaving no chance to dispose of the evidence. The film’s edges held squeezed-out blood blisters, like smooth white pearls embedded around it.

Shen Yu rubbed the sticky film, observed it for a bit, then couldn’t resist his curiosity and tentatively licked his finger with the tip of his tongue.

He frowned.

What a vicious taste.

Shen Yu pulled out a tissue, wiped his mouth clean, balled up the film, and tossed it into the nearby trash bin out of sight, out of mind.

The System’s heart raced up and down, as thrilling as riding a roller coaster. Upon seeing this, it fell silent for two seconds before hesitantly asking: 【Host, what is that?】

Shen Yu undid the buttons on his shirt and took off his shirt. He symbolically sprayed some medicine on his hand, then pretentiously wrapped it in gauze and cut off the excess before saying: 【A blood plasma bag. I swiped it from the dean’s office last time—probably confiscated from a student for pranks.】

【Looks like the effect was pretty good.】

There was a real injury on his waist, though—one Shen Yu couldn’t see. It was probably a massive bruise. He picked up the bruise-relief spray from the tray, reached back by feel, and generously sprayed several bursts onto his lower back.

The watery texture felt cool and soothing, and the swelling eased noticeably.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much pain unless he pressed on it. Shen Yu bit open a bruise patch with his teeth, swiftly applied it to his lower back, and smoothed down the wrinkled corners that had curled up. Only then did he slowly slip back into his school uniform.

From outside the curtain, Chen Miaomiao called out noisily: “Shen Yu, you done yet? I’m coming in—let me check you over real quick.”

“Done.”

Chen Miaomiao excitedly yanked open the curtain but suddenly froze in place.

Dappled sunlight was blown into the infirmary by a hot gust of wind. The snow-white curtains swayed in the interplay of light and shadow, creating a faint, ethereal quiet.

A breeze lifted the hem of Shen Yu’s shirt slightly. He sat quietly on the sickbed, his face a touch pale.

The youth heard the noise. His silky black eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings as he looked up and offered a shy, lip-pursing smile.

“All bandaged up. No need to check.”

Many years later, when the entire city faced lockdown because of the man before her eyes and everyone lived in fear—

Chen Miaomiao would always uncontrollably recall this moment.