Chapter 3 — So Fragrant, Finally Held Her

Su Yundai felt embarrassed about her bedraggled appearance. Lowering her head, she said softly,
“It’s fine, I’ll start right away.”

She took out her pen and ID card, casually placed her umbrella, bag, and damp jacket on a desk in the classroom.

Professor Yao handed her the envelope.
“Sorry to trouble you.”

“No, it’s me who’s troubling you.” Su Yundai smiled politely. “I’ll do my best.”

If not for her dragging everyone down, Professor Yao wouldn’t have been misunderstood. It was her fault she hadn’t maintained her ranking, bringing trouble to others.

She sat down at the front row, dead center—
A seat where cheating was impossible.

Only one problem lay inside, split into two parts.

She glanced at the question. She could almost feel the pressure of the problem setter radiating from the page. The knowledge was familiar, but the way it was twisted was strange and tricky. She had no choice but to follow her intuition. Until the very end, she had no certainty.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Director Yao and Professor Shen huddled together. Both clicked their tongues under their breath, worried about the difficulty.

They snapped a photo of the question and began working it out themselves.

Ten minutes later…

Wrong.

Their method was wrong.

With this proof, they could reach no result.

Su Yundai’s heart pounded violently, as if it would leap out of her throat. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her hand trembled as she gripped her pen, the tip accidentally scratching a jagged line across the paper.

If she got it wrong, Director Yao wouldn’t be able to help her with the transfer anymore.

A droplet splashed onto the paper. She couldn’t tell if it was sweat—or tears.

But time hadn’t run out yet. Fifty minutes remained.

She bit her lip hard, changed her line of reasoning, and pressed on.

Her heart thudded like a deer chased by a wild beast. The closer she got to the answer, the more sweat poured down her forehead. Her spine chilled, her stomach began to ache faintly.

But she didn’t stop. She was used to working under this state of collapse.

The thin sheet of paper gave no buffer for her restless pen. Each tap of the nib against the desk echoed like a drumbeat, pushing her already overstrained heart closer to breaking.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. The storm outside ceased. Rainfall quieted. The sound of writing in the classroom suddenly stopped too—replaced by startled shouts.

“Student Su! Student Su! Su Yundai!”

Her vision blurred. Her whole body went weak. Her eyelids refused to open. She only felt herself being lifted into someone’s arms, pressed against the hard planes of bone and muscle, not very comfortable.

She couldn’t see who it was. Only chaos rang in her ears.

“I’ll take her to the hospital.”

“I’ll come too! Together!”

Her test paper…

She had finished, she had proven it—
But did anyone check it?

What if later they accused her of switching papers again?

She tried to reach out, but her fingers had no strength. Not even a word escaped her lips—only muffled noise surrounded her.

“Call her family!”

“Yes—what’s her guardian’s number? She fainted, we must notify them!”

“No answer! The number’s invalid. What’s going on?”

Ah. Wei Lin had changed his number this year. The school records must still have last year’s.

“Use her phone, unlock it with face ID, maybe we’ll find another contact!”

“She doesn’t have face ID—only a password.”

She had no strength to tell them the code.

Then she thought—maybe it was better if they didn’t reach Wei Lin.

She would be fine after a brief faint. No need to trouble him.

The wind roared, yet she barely felt it—just the dull ache of his shoulder bone pressing into her cheek, the jostling making her uncomfortable. She only wanted somewhere to lie down.

Amid hurried breaths, she heard a voice:
“The leather seat’s cold. Professor Shen, put a blanket down first.”

“Alright.”

She was laid upon the warm, soft blanket, a seatbelt secured around her. A suit jacket covered her body.

Her consciousness returned quickly. It had only been a momentary faint. After a short rest, she felt much better. Her lashes fluttered open. Though her vision was unfocused, she blurted out anxiously:

“My… my paper…”

“It’s here, it’s here! I have it!” Professor Shen reassured from the front seat.

Her eyes cleared. The man beside her sat in the shadows, watching her. She couldn’t see his expression clearly.

“Was it… correct?” she asked.

Professor Shen turned and passed the paper over. “Beishen, please look it over.”

The man took it, scanning intently. Several places were blurred by raindrops. Even from afar, she could see her handwriting smudged, many steps unreadable.

Remembering how Professor Shen had failed to understand her earlier proof, panic rose again. She straightened, watching him nervously.

The car rolled slowly through a traffic light. Just that brief span felt unbearably long.

Finally, he spoke.
“Correct. It’s right.”

Relief poured out of her.
“That’s good.”

But still… whether or not Director Yao’s effort could secure her transfer remained uncertain.

Her nervousness earlier had been from fear of losing even that last sliver of hope.

“I owe you an apology.” The man’s gaze deepened, Adam’s apple shifting as he swallowed. “In this world, there are more people with connections than geniuses. More who chase power than who cherish talent. I’m sorry—I let habit cloud my judgment.”

Su Yundai hadn’t expected an apology.

Professor Shen jumped in cheerfully, “It’s fine! True gold fears no fire!”

The man shook his head regretfully.
“But burn gold too often and even it bends. That was my fault.”

Before she could reply, Professor Shen quickly added, “This just proves Beishen’s integrity—your devotion to fairness!”

Su Yundai caught on and nodded. “Mm, I don’t mind.”

Professor Shen then asked, “But, Su Yundai, why did you suddenly faint? You scared us half to death.”

She suddenly realized—the car was heading toward a hospital.

“No need to take me there! I’m fine now. It’s just mild anemia. I got dizzy when I stood up too fast to hand in my paper.”

She couldn’t risk being diagnosed with any psychological issues—then the department head might not dare to accept her.

The man studied her quietly for a long while. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he told the driver to turn back to campus.

“Professor Shen, please tell Director Yao—we’ll sign the contract with your school next Monday. I’ll take Miss Su back.”

Professor Shen happily got off.

Silence fell inside the car.

Shang Beize glanced sideways at her bare arms.
“Should I turn on the heater?”

The AC wasn’t cold, but she was in short sleeves, and her body still weak. She pulled the blanket from under herself and draped it over her.
“No need, the blanket’s enough.”

She had the habit of covering half her face when she used a blanket. Unconsciously, she did so again, burying her nose and mouth under it—leaving only her eyes exposed, dark and luminous, like polished obsidian.

Shang Beize’s gaze darkened instantly.

The driver asked, “Sir, should I take the young lady home first before heading back?”

Su Yundai gave her address.

The driver smiled in surprise. “What a coincidence, the same neighborhood as Sir. Which building, miss?”

“Building 16.”

Shang Beize’s brows knit faintly.

A strange, sharp irritation rose in his chest.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Su Yundai turned her eyes toward him. Instantly, his frown smoothed away.

“Today I misunderstood you. Tell me—how should I make it up to you?”

She laughed lightly, her eyes curving like crescent moons. Pulling the blanket down from her face, she revealed her smile.
“There’s no need. A misunderstanding cleared is enough. I didn’t lose anything.”

He pressed, “Of course you did. You fainted. And your reputation—my baseless assumption could’ve ruined a student’s future. I feel deeply guilty.”

Her smile only widened.
“Really, it’s fine. Just a little misunderstanding.”

He said firmly, “Let’s do this. Add me on WeChat. If you ever think of how I can make it up to you, tell me directly. As long as I can do it, I will.”

She blinked in surprise.

Who would’ve thought such a big capitalist could be this reasonable?

Of course she’d never ask him for compensation. She hadn’t lost anything.

But his gaze remained fixed on her—waiting.

“…Alright.” She quickly showed him her QR code.

With a soft ding, they became friends.

What was it like, adding such a tycoon on WeChat?

First of all, her circle of friends had just gained an average net worth of over ten billion.

She saved his contact as “Beishen.” A message instantly arrived.

Beishen: 【Don’t hold back. Ask freely.】

“I haven’t thought of anything yet,” she replied. “If I do, I’ll tell you.”

He asked, “You don’t like your current major?”

“You’re not thinking of interfering in my transfer, are you? Don’t. Absolutely not. I’ll just wait for the school’s decision. Whatever the outcome, I’ll accept it.”

For him, an outsider, to help out of guilt—it would be completely different from the department head helping out of love for talent.

His eyes narrowed slightly at the corners.
“Just a major. If that’s all, it’s too small a compensation. Think of something more beneficial to you. Take your time.”

“…Too small?”

Su Yundai fell silent.

The whole way home, she kept thinking. The more she thought, the more she felt he was just being polite.

Before long, they reached her place.

She went inside, not knowing that behind her, the Rolls-Royce remained parked at the corner for a long, long time—through rain and stillness, then rain again.

Inside, Shang Beize’s strong hand caressed the blurred, water-stained test paper. His powerful fingers rubbed the fragile sheet over and over, carefully, almost tenderly.

The rasp of paper beneath his touch was like the intimate sound of skin against skin.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice rasped low:
“Found you.”

But why… why did she faint like that?

Has life been hard for her?

No matter. It’s alright now.
I’ve found you.

Earlier, in his panic, he had barely registered—
He had finally held her in his arms.

His fingers brushed the blanket—the same one he had draped over her, which she had pulled up to her nose.

So adorable. She always covered half her face with a blanket.

He lifted the blanket now, leaned back, and mimicked her—covering half his own face.

At his nose lingered a faint, sweet fragrance.

So fragrant.

So, so fragrant.