Chapter 46: Two-Faced Phoenix Man 5

Zhou Yichun was indeed a fool. Jiang Rang didn’t even need to expend much effort; even the most visibly perfunctory treatment was enough to satisfy him completely.

Jiang Rang had only dangled a vague, ambiguous promise before him, and Zhou Yichun was already drooling, eagerly following along of his own accord.

Sure enough, just a few days into the new semester, Zhou Yichun took his words to heart and obediently returned to the Zhou family to prepare for an eye surgery with exceedingly slim chances of success.

Zhou Yichun was deeply insecure. Jiang Rang had made a habit of lording his eye disability over him, so he could scarcely tolerate even the slightest hint of attention, surprise, or pity from others regarding his impairment.

As a result, when Father Zhou and Mother Zhou announced that they had found a world-renowned international ophthalmologist for their son, Zhou Yichun not only refused to pursue treatment proactively but nearly flew into a rage, convinced that they despised him for being a cripple too.

Now that the man was willing to seek treatment of his own accord, the Zhou parents naturally welcomed it—even viewed it as a delightful surprise.

And when they learned from Zhou Yichun himself that Jiang Rang’s persuasion had made the difference, they didn’t just shower the young man with endless gratitude; they even prepared a hefty red envelope for him.

Thus, Jiang Rang’s recent days had been ones of utter leisure and indulgence.

He drew back the heavy blackout curtains, draping a fair, slender arm over the weathered windowsill. Outside, the potted plants burst with fresh greenery, though a closer look revealed faint traces of withering amid the lush foliage.

Jiang Rang narrowed his eyes, his elegant knuckles tapping the cigarette lightly. Hazy smoke wafted down like ash crumbling from a stone statue, piling and scattering onto the silent greenery.

The vibrant green grew all the duller, all the more desolate.

These plants were Zhou Yichun’s, meticulously tended at the windowsill. The man was extraordinarily careful with them, hauling them indoors during downpours or scorching sun, watering them regularly, weeding, and hunting pests—nurturing them with the utmost devotion.

In truth, Zhou Yichun had a habit of busying himself with pursuits that struck Jiang Rang as utterly pointless.

Like hoarding dusty old knickknacks or fussing over potted plants, even going so far as to give them pretentious names, as if those lifeless things were children the two of them had brought into the world together.

Jiang Rang let out a scornful chuckle and casually flicked his cigarette butt into the wilted foliage. The glowing ember seared tiny wounds into the flowers and leaves.

His brows and eyes held a chilling indifference. He seemed to act on mere whim, yet the utter absence of empathy in his gestures sent a shiver through anyone who noticed.

Jiang Rang’s gaze drifted to the cold reflection of his own cheek in the window glass. He flexed his fingers, then slowly rubbed his pale, gaunt face. After a long moment, a gentle, serene smile curved his soft lips.

In that instant, he appeared truly warm and handsome, his lovely eyes drooping at the corners to cast a shadow of quiet vulnerability that tugged at the heart.

Such an expression was undeniably captivating, and Jiang Rang knew it better than anyone.

After all, it was this very mask that had made him unstoppable in his social dealings.

People always felt an instinctive urge to cherish things that seemed beautiful and docile—like tender lambs or newborn kittens and puppies. They were harmless, easy to dominate, soft and pliant, ripe for bullying.

But Jiang Rang was no such innocent creature. His facade might sometimes come off as clumsy, but that hardly mattered.

What truly counted was the illusion he fostered: the sense that others held all the power, lording over him from on high.

After all, seizing the upper hand in conversation or society didn’t always guarantee tangible gains.

Jiang Rang understood his place perfectly. He was penniless and impoverished, yet he craved luxury and influence above all else. For that, he could endure anything, feign anything, so long as there was profit to be had.

It was still early, but Jiang Rang had no intention of lingering in bed. His long fingers clutched two hefty textbooks as he traded his expensive designer clothes for slightly threadbare, everyday garb. A radiant smile lit his face, and he greeted everyone with disarming warmth—like the innocent, pitiful “little white flower” poor student straight out of a drama.

As he passed the breakfast stall, he bought his usual utterly ordinary meal. But today, after a moment’s consideration, he added a bottle of strawberry milk.

This breakfast wasn’t for him, of course. It was for Lu Xiang.

Today marked the fifth day in a row that Jiang Rang had delivered a “caring morning meal” to Lu Xiang.

Naturally, the first four days’ offerings—meant as apologies for past slights—had been unceremoniously dumped in the trash.

The outcome was entirely predictable. Leaving aside Lu Xiang’s eccentric temper and severe germaphobia, his “noble” status set him worlds apart from the common crowd. It would have been shocking if he’d accepted such a greasy, cheap-looking breakfast from someone like Jiang Rang.

Deep down, though, Jiang Rang knew the truth: he wasn’t truly trying to win favor with breakfast. No, this was a deliberate signal, a subtle declaration of “pursuit.”

Lu Xiang appeared utterly indifferent toward him. Even the cold mockery and sarcasm from his friend at his side left him unmoved. Yet the young man keenly sensed something out of the ordinary.

Normally, if someone truly loathed another person to the extreme, they would want nothing more than to stay eight zhang away—roughly twenty-five meters—or at least keep them out of sight entirely. Lu Xiang certainly had that privilege; skipping class would have been no issue for him at all.

But Jiang Rang had noticed that this spoiled young master hadn’t missed a single class since the semester began. Apart from leaving early on the first day, he had afterward sat steadily in his usual spot without fail.

It was almost… as if he were deliberately waiting for someone.

The slender, handsome young man lowered his gaze slightly. He was a cautious sort, and when it came to a potential ladder to the heavens like this, he grew even more careful and deliberate.

And so, Jiang Rang arrived fashionably late, taking his time.

He timed it perfectly, slipping in just before the bell rang.

The plainly dressed young man hurried in with his face flushed red, one hand dangling a bag of breakfast foods while the other clutched a stack of thick books. The sheer size of the books made his pale knuckles look all the more slender and delicate.

Jiang Rang settled gracefully into the seat right behind the man. He wasn’t exactly quiet about it—rustling and shuffling as he methodically arranged his things one by one, unhurriedly, before finally placing the white plastic bag containing his meal on the desk.

From start to finish, Lu Xiang never once glanced back. He seemed utterly oblivious, as if the young man had never even entered his field of vision.

Little Young Master Chen, on the other hand, couldn’t stay seated. With Ji Mingyu absent from today’s elective class, he grew even more rowdy and unrestrained.

Chen Ming twisted halfway around in his chair, fixating on the young man’s fair, smooth profile. Heaven only knew what was going through his mind as he spoke in a tone laced with schadenfreude and a faint undercurrent of sourness. “Hey, Jiang Rang, you still haven’t given up? Has Brother Lu even acknowledged you these past few days?”

“Stuff like that junk you buy… you can actually eat it?”

But then Little Young Master Chen’s voice suddenly cut off. His eyes flew wide open, his lips parting and closing soundlessly, as if he couldn’t force out a single word.

Jiang Rang merely looked up at him in mild confusion. He chewed his fried dumpling slowly, his pretty, slightly plump lips gleaming with a faint sheen of oil. He tried twisting open the strawberry milk carton, but the grease from the breakfast bag foiled him after two attempts.

He didn’t rush, though, patiently persisting. When the chattering voice abruptly fell silent, he instinctively lifted his gaze.

There was no denying it—Jiang Rang’s eyes were beautiful. His pure black irises slanted gently downward, softly and clearly reflecting a single figure.

Chen Ming had no idea what had come over him. His mind blanked for a split second, and he reached out on pure impulse. “Useless. Here, let me get it.”

The young man didn’t refuse. He simply smiled warmly. “Sure.”

Chen Ming’s eyes flickered. He averted his gaze on reflex, inwardly repeating to himself that this was a gold-digging opportunist. He’d seen these exact tricks firsthand on orientation day, hadn’t he? So why did it feel so utterly different when it was happening to him…?

Chen Ming scrambled to redirect his focus, his tone unnaturally stiff. “Wasn’t this breakfast meant for Brother Lu? How come you’re eating it yourself? You’ve only been at it a few days—quitting halfway like some quitter?”

Jiang Rang pursed his lips lightly, a touch of disappointment shadowing his creamy-pale features.

The young man lowered his eyes demurely, his pale brows faintly betraying a hint of embarrassment as he murmured, “Classmate Lu doesn’t seem to like this stuff… or me, for that matter. So, never mind.”

His voice carried a note of dejection, tempered by a subtle sense of release—like a withered leaf drifting down only to be whisked away by a passing breeze.

After a full week of being ignored, he had finally come to see certain impossibilities for what they were.

Like that fragile new sprout of emotion, abruptly crushed before it could take root. The young man was far too rational, far too clear-eyed. Once he grasped that these hopeless feelings would never be returned, he reined them in with iron self-control, pretending as if nothing had ever happened.

Jiang Rang could even converse with the very friend who had spent days mocking him, speaking in that same warm, gentle tone, as though nothing had changed at all.

In that instant, something stirred in Chen Ming’s chest. He glanced instinctively at his friend beside him, whose expression had soured, and hesitated for a beat.

He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but it felt like Lu Xiang’s mood had just plummeted.

The man’s face was a mask of sullen chill, his slightly curly black hair tousled across his faintly furrowed, pale brows—like dark, twisted fissures cracking through stone.

Lu Xiang was deep into a competitive game on his phone. Whether from a string of botched operations or something else, irritation flickered in his icy peach-blossom eyes. The teardrop mole beneath them lent an increasingly eerie chill to his gaze.

The Crown Prince even vented his anger on him. Lu Xiang stared at Chen Ming with an almost expressionless face and said coldly, “Shut up. You’re so annoying.”

Chen Ming: …

Bro, what the hell did that mean?

Next, Chen Ming watched wide-eyed as his friend—who had never given any suitors the time of day—tilted his face slightly away. He looked somewhat uncomfortable, as if his germaphobia had flared up and left him struggling for breath. His body deliberately pressed close to the edge of the desk, creating some distance from the young man. Yet those sharp peach-blossom eyes of his visibly softened.

In a stiff voice, he said, “I didn’t eat breakfast today.”

It was practically a blatant hint.

But Jiang Rang didn’t rush forward or eagerly offer him breakfast as they had imagined.

The young man lowered his long, curly eyelashes and gently pursed his pale pink lips. “Sorry, I didn’t bring any for you today.”

“Classmate Lu, I disturbed you before. I apologize.”

Jiang Rang’s deep, water-like black eyes gently settled on the man’s sullen face, only to dart away as if instantly scorched. With red-rimmed eyes, the young man hurriedly added, “I know you hate me, Classmate Lu. At first, I just wanted to apologize to you. From now on, I’ll keep my distance from you!”