Just as Yu Sui had said, Yan Xiu smoothly met Yu Zhen.
The maids were sleeping during the day, and most of the family members were out, leaving the Yu mansion feeling somewhat desolate and empty.
The young man who entered was now a perfect messenger. Unlike children who could chat casually with the shopkeeper while buying groceries for their parents, he didn’t utter a word beyond a greeting upon entering.
Yu Zhen took out a red seal, stamped, and signed the document before resealing it and handing it to Yan Xiu. As she watched him take the document, she suddenly asked, “Was it you who answered the phone in the office the other day?”
Yu Zhen’s question had been businesslike, and without any warning, she shifted the topic to the office, giving him no room to react.
Yan Xiu responded quickly, giving a faint “hmm,” without offering any explanation for the phone call.
That incident happened a long time ago. Back then, the head of the Moral Education Department was relentlessly pursuing Yu Sui, insisting on speaking with Yu Sui’s parents about this conduct. Just then, someone from the Yu family checked the phone records and called back that number.
But nothing was found out. The person who answered the phone was very tight-lipped, as if they worked at the insurance bureau in their past life.
“… I knew it,” Yu Zhen said.
From the moment Yan Xiu entered until he left with the contract, roughly twenty minutes passed. Yu Sui didn’t make a sound1It meant literally, since Yan Xiu was in a call with Yu Sui for directions., treating his classmate and deskmate’s visit with indifference.
After returning home and handing the contract to Lao Yan, Yan Xiu spent two hours in the studio before coming out to have dinner with Lao Yan and Tang Ying. After dinner, he went back to his room to finish the rest of his winter break homework.
Even after completing all this, it was still early—not even time for the nightlife of teenagers to begin, though it was nearing Yan Xiu’s usual bedtime.
When Yan Xiu wasn’t in school, his schedule followed that of his parents—Lao Yan and Tang Ying. Their family followed a strict, traditional schedule: eating on time and going to bed early, and waking up early.
After dinner, they occasionally went out for a walk to aid digestion, but this activity had decreased significantly since Yan Xiu started high school. The next day, Yan Xiu would wake up early. Back when their family still had a dog, he would take it for a walk as soon as he got up, listening to the morning birdsong alongside the elderly gentleman in the neighborhood.
Since the weather turned cold, both activities were basically put on hold. No one wanted to challenge the cold weather of Yandu at this time. So, the free time seemed to stretch out the gaps in life a little longer.
As the day came to an end, Yan Xiu felt a reluctance to end it so hastily.
He had nothing else to do, because he had already finished what he was supposed to do on his schedule.
Perhaps it was because he’d been experiencing occasional insomnia lately. He usually needed to close his eyes for twenty or thirty minutes, before he knew whether he would have trouble sleeping that night or drift off until morning.
Yan Xiu disliked this restless feeling of tossing and turning.
He had a habit of reviewing his day in his mind after lying down. This habit was suitable for improving efficiency when goals were clearly defined, but not for navigating interpersonal relationships.
Yan Xiu cleared the notifications from his phone, lingered among several apps for a moment, and hesitantly clicked into the game section.
He played games too, but found them too time-consuming, so he logged in infrequently. It was only in the past six months that he had suddenly become more familiar with this realm.
However, the mentor who’d dragged him in wasn’t online at the moment. His game friends list showed a grayed-out avatar, indicating his last login was two days ago.
Yang Feiwen and Yi Tian were online, but their skill levels were worlds apart, with Yi Tian being higher than Yang Feiwen—so they never played together. Seeing Yan Xiu log on, both Yang Feiwen and Yi Tian extended friend requests.
The old cadre taking the initiative to descend to the mortal realm and play games surprised the students of Class 3. Within two minutes, their game friends list lit up.
The young master, however, seemed busy with something else and showed no sign of logging in.
Yan Xiu declined each request, but the Class 3 relentlessly sent out more invitations. Eventually, there were just too many, and Yan Xiu’s avatar lit up for a final second before mercilessly going offline.
At this very moment, all the classmates who had caught wind of the situation returned to the class group chat.
[Did the Minister just come online just now?]
[Yes, I even took a screenshot @RenMu]
[@RenMu]
[@RenMu]
[@RenMu]
[@RenMu]
They spammed the chat, before realizing that the Minister had no intention of showing up, so they all changed their strategy.
[@Fish Can]
[@Fish Can]
[@Fish Can]
Even Fish Can, who was usually easy to summon, ignored them.
Feeling utterly abandoned, a small group, led by Yi Tian, directly moved to the forum.
That CP thread had grown quite tall now, making it a hassle to scroll through each time. So, they had to create Thread #1, Thread #2, a main thread, and a side thread.
The side thread was mostly used for casual chatter, letting their imaginations run wild. The post titles even have a blatant “Please, sir, look elsewhere if you’re the subject of discussion” message in glaring brackets.
Floor #2674: [I took a screenshot! The Minister just logged in!]
Floor #2675: [Then, he logged off. I saw it. I really envy the people in Class 3 for having a reason to invite the Minister to team up. I wouldn’t dare—]
Floor #2676: [Here’s the important part: why did the Minister log in, not play, and then log out again so quickly?]
Floor #2677: [Looking at the history, remember when Sui’er and the Minister played games late at night? Sui’er isn’t online today. I reasonably assume the Minister is waiting for Sui’er!]
Floor #2678: [Then, isn’t it obvious? When has the Minister ever needed to hint around to play games with Sui’er? Please, when has the Minister ever been this humble?]
Floor #2679: [Jumping in with a different perspective. I’m currently in the Discipline Inspection Department. I think the comment above makes sense. Rationally, it should be like this: the Minister suddenly became interested in the color scheme and graphics of this game, so he went online to study it. As for why he logged off without playing, it’s because it’s the Minister’s bedtime—who hasn’t heard of our Minister’s extremely strict schedule?]
Floor #2680: [The comment above makes sense. Next!]]
Posts like these, labeled with “Look elsewhere if you’re the subject of discussion,” were 98% likely to be viewed by the person in discussion.
Everyone has a rebellious streak—they want to touch what they’re told not to touch, and they want to see what they’re told not to see.
Yu Sui once thought that posts with these markings meant “The person in question, come and see!” He utterly despised this tactic of feigning indifference. And every time he came across one, he would give it a disdainful look before obediently clicking through.
He stopped scrolling at this point, switching from the forum to WeChat.
Yang Feiwen had just sent him a screenshot of this thread, accompanied by a cheeky grinning emoji with eyes slightly narrowed to one side.
Gossip Fei: [I just invited Yan-ge three times, and he refused each time. I was thinking of asking you to try.]
Fish Can: [And then?]
Gossip Fei: [Then he logged off, of course!]
Gossip Fei: [Hey, if you log in now, and then Yan-ge suddenly comes back online, that would be really exciting!]
Fish Can: […]
Fish Can: [Yeah, and then the chat would be filled with ‘Yu Sui heard Yan Xiu is online and couldn’t wait to log in,’ quite a spectacle!]
Gossip Fei: [Oh, right]
Yu Sui sent an emoji.
After sending it, he switched to his chat list, tapped into Yan Xiu’s chat, and then exited. His chat history with Yan Xiu was still at the point where he had given Yan Xiu directions, followed by Yan Xiu’s reply.
After that, he hadn’t even asked Yan Xiu a single question, “Did you meet Yu Zhen? Has the contract been signed?” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk with Yan Xiu—it was just that Yu Sui had never liked getting involved in Yu Jingyuan’s work-related matters.
Now it seemed like he was missing a line. Even asking if Yan Xiu got home safely would have been better than this2this = why Yan Xiu logged in / forum thread.; it made it seem like he was isolating Yan Xiu.
But asking now was too late. Someone had just posted a screenshot of Yan Xiu online in the game on the forum. He went offline at 11 PM; Yan Xiu was probably asleep.
“If he’s asleep, then he’s asleep,” Yu Sui thought to himself. He and Yang Feiwen had also gone through periods of sudden distance before. There were moments of excessive politeness, but they could quickly move on because of something else, occasionally bringing it up later as a joke.
Thinking this, Yu Sui instinctively reached for his hair, but his hand met empty air and ended up resting on his head instead.
Only a dim yellow bedside lamp was lit in the room, casting a triangular shadow on the side of Yu Sui’s nose.
On the desk sat a round mirror with white frame, reflecting the lazy teen leaning against the small bed. His hair was soft and smooth, with the bangs trimmed short, revealing the sharp, handsome arch of his eyebrows beneath.
Next to him, curled up in the puffy blanket, was a little kid with curly hair, the brown locks barely brushing his ears.
When Yu Sui had taken the kid to the barbershop, the little brat had stubbornly refused to let anyone touch his hair. Yu Sui had once scared him with stories about poodle shedding, and Susu was terrified that sitting in that chair would turn him into the next bald creature.
Yu Sui flipped through a few magazines to give him examples before finally convincing Susu to get a trim. Otherwise, if it continued to grow so frizzy, Susu would soon become the next curly-haired dog.
Half a year ago, Young Master Yu definitely wouldn’t have understood Susu’s mindset either, but this time, while getting a haircut, he felt unexpectedly heavy-hearted, humbly empathizing with Susu’s feelings.
The barber, seeing his expression, had even brought out a box to collect the trimmed strands of Yu Sui’s hair, offering it to him.
Of course, the young master wouldn’t accept something so sentimental.
Yu Sui flipped the mirror face-down on the desk, then turned off the light.
The next day, many students frantically catching up on homework before the start of school saw a picture of a handsome young man.
Fish Can: [New year, new look]
Not only had someone gotten a haircut, but they also completely changed their profile picture and username. Just like everyone else, they seemed to reflect on themselves at the end of year, then spouting a thick dose of motivational platitudes, vowing to study and work hard in the new year.
When Yan Xiu woke up that day, he saw this post on WeChat Moments and was slightly taken aback.
School regulations were usually stricter, and most popular hairstyles weren’t allowed. Yu Sui’s natural hair length might be fine on the street, but in the eyes of school teachers and the disciplinary committee, it was a walking violation alarm.
For the past six months, countless reminders had failed to rouse the lazy young master’s precious limbs to walk a few extra steps, take a car, or a taxi to a place a bit further away to get his hair cut within the acceptable length.
Later, he seemed to get used to sweeping it back—barely tying it into a small bun, it was a style he maintained for a long time, almost inspiring a wave of students to follow suit.
Unfortunately, not everyone had the young master’s face; even a casually tied bun looks like it could be a magazine cover.
Fish is not idle.
New year, new look.
Come on.
Who would believe that?
That’s what Yan Xiu thought, but he accidentally tapped on the notification from the forum in the notification bar, only to find countless believers.
The new trending topic undoubtedly came from the young master’s new WeChat Moments, with that screenshot pinned at the top.
Floor #2931: [Damn, I’m gonna miss that little bun!]
Floor #2932: [Come on, he said he’s gonna study hard. Fish is never idle, see that!]
Floor #2933: [Sui’er is so well-behaved, already outstanding but still reflecting on himself. Meanwhile, what am I?]
Floor #2934: [Don’t be so hard on yourself. Let’s learn from Sui’er—]
Floor #2935: [Alright! I’m gonna get a haircut tomorrow too. There are still two days before school starts. Is there enough time?]
Floor #2936: [Learn the spirit, not the hairstyle]
Floor 2937: [I’ll study hard this new semester, following in the footsteps of Yu’er, wuwu]
Yan Xiu: “……”
It was always noisy before the start of semester, even though this holiday wasn’t that long. Yang Feiwen’s haunted house plan has been postponed again and again. This time, it was because the class monitor was dragged back to her rural hometown for the holidays. Later, Fucun Village was involved in a demolition dispute, and people unfamiliar with the area didn’t dare to go in. It was delayed again and again—now, the New Year was over, and No. 26 High School was about to start school.
Among the army of students catching up on homework, Yu Sui was one of the more composed ones. He didn’t want to spend more time on the same tasks, always aimed to do things right the first time.
When Yan Xiu’s message came, he was wearing headphones, listening to music while working on a test paper. The volume in his headphones, adjusted to music, became a bit jarring when the message notification sounded. With his right hand pressed down on the paper, his pen moving swiftly, he used his left hand to pinch the earpiece, slightly frowning as he pulled it away.
After a moment, he casually put a period at the end before reaching for his phone.
Yan Xiu.
Seeing the name, he paused briefly.
There were two scanned images of practice papers and a screenshot of the homework assignment list.
The papers had been assigned later, with the explanation that they’d be the first topic covered after school started. The teacher who had participated in a workshop during the holiday said these questions were particularly important and that they had to master and apply them proficiently.
Yu Sui remembered that Yan Xiu had reminded him one more time, but he had always forgotten to ask Yan Xiu for it.
He glanced at his watch, opened the two scanned images to look through, and then replied to Yan Xiu.
Fish Not Idle: [You keep it. I’ll print another copy.]
Ren Mu: [We won’t go over the test papers on the first day of school]
Ren Mu: [You can make it up on the first day]
Fish Not Idle: […]
Fish Not Idle: [That works too.]
School was about to start.
Yu Sui blinked slightly.
Once the school started, Minister Yan would be his deskmate again.
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152