Chu Tao’s grip tightened around Jiang She’s arm, holding him in a death grip.

“Don’t you dare.”

They were both alphas, so the difference in strength wasn’t vast. Jiang She couldn’t free his arm from Chu Tao’s hold with only one hand.

“Relax, with this old equipment, no one would even make out my voice.”

Jiang She looked a bit regretful, thinking it would have been a bold, all-or-nothing move—who knows, maybe then Chu Tao would be willing to choose him over his “dream love,” studying.

Chu Tao clutched Jiang She’s wrist tightly and managed to wrestle the microphone away from him. He shot Jiang She a glare. “I’d rather not end up as front-page news at school.”

“Tsk, stingy,” Jiang She muttered, though his fingers were not so well-behaved, pressing gently on Chu Tao’s back.

Just as Chu Tao was starting to feel that this posture was a bit too intimate, Jiang She raised his left wrist in front of him and waved it slightly. “Look, you left a red mark on me.”

Chu Tao had indeed grabbed the microphone forcefully, fearing Jiang She would actually pull off something that reckless.

Now looking at Jiang She’s wrist, there was indeed a faint red ring.

Jiang She’s hand lay open, blue veins slightly visible under his skin, stretching from his slender wrist up into his school uniform sleeve.

As the pampered young master he was, Jiang She clearly hadn’t done any hard labor; his palms were soft, with distinct lines.

Chu Tao took a breath, looked down, and reached out to rub the spot he’d squeezed. Rubbing it twice didn’t actually help, and he knew Jiang She wasn’t really hurt anyway.

Yet Jiang She clearly enjoyed Chu Tao’s gentle massage.

Chu Tao’s fingertips were soft, pressing against his skin, warm and dry, with such a light touch that it almost tickled.

After a moment, Jiang She said unexpectedly, “Have you heard? If two people’s palm lines match up, it means they’re meant to be.”

It was a little game, kids liked to play—two people would press their right hands together, then slowly open them. If the lines happened to align, they were considered a destined pair; if not, it meant they had no fate.

Chu Tao, being as level-headed as he was, wasn’t likely to believe in such things—after all, even if he tried it with his parents, it probably wouldn’t match, but they were still married.

“Hey, the flag-raising ceremony is about to start,” Chu Tao said helplessly.

“Let’s just try it, and then I’ll go,” Jiang She insisted, holding Chu Tao’s hand firmly, his palm pressed tightly against Chu Tao’s.

Chu Tao’s body trembled slightly.

Jiang She might be genuinely interested in trying this little game, but Chu Tao was not.

He’d never held Jiang She’s hand like this before—if this could even be considered holding hands.

Jiang She’s hand was slightly larger than his, and seemed warmer, the heat radiating into Chu Tao’s palm, giving him an unexpected sense of satisfaction.

Jiang She seemed to feel the same pull, pausing in a momentary daze.

As they opened their palms, they saw that the deepest line on each of their hands lined up perfectly.

Chu Tao raised an eyebrow, feeling incredulous.

Could it be? Even fate was helping Jiang She create a coincidence?

Chu Tao was so focused on their hands that he didn’t notice his tailbone had pressed against the microphone hidden behind him.

The mic’s switch, facing him, was pressed just so, and the microphone clicked on.

Jiang She smirked with satisfaction. “I love you—heaven knows it.”

Chu Tao looked at him, exasperated. “You…”

But before he could finish, the loudspeakers outside the school building echoed, “I love you—heaven knows it.”

Chu Tao: “…”

Jiang She: “…”

Mo Xi, standing frozen outside the door, not daring to make a sound: “???”

The microphone’s quality was indeed poor, the sound garbled, but the words were still understandable.

On this bright morning, just before the flag-raising ceremony, such a commotion from the broadcasting room was enough to make the head of the moral education office wish he could jump off the fifth floor.

Tao Song, having rushed out of the bathroom in a hurry, burst into the broadcasting room, shouting, “What’s going on, what’s going on?!”

Seeing Jiang She standing there, he was equally stunned.

He asked Chu Tao, “What’s he doing here?”

Chu Tao remained silent.

At the doorway, Mo Xi, pale-faced, stared blankly at Jiang She and Chu Tao, feeling as if his entire worldview had just been upended.

Before the first class of the day, in the moral education office…

Director Lou lit a cigarette and glanced at the three students involved.

Two of them ranked in the top fifty of their grade, and the other was, well, untouchable.

That young master stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at him confidently and without a trace of guilt.

The head of the moral education office, Director Lou, was at his wits’ end, so he kept a stern face, took a deep breath, and smoked heavily.

The room was hazy with smoke, filling the air with the choking scent of dry tobacco.

Chu Tao frowned. Jiang She smoked too, but his cigarettes had a pleasant fruity aroma.

After finishing one cigarette, Director Lou stubbed it out in the ashtray.

“Who was the one who shouted that?”

Jiang She admitted frankly, “I did.”

Chu Tao nervously pressed his lips together, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stole a glance at Jiang She from the corner of his eye.

Director Lou’s mouth twitched, and after a moment of silence, he said, “Be mindful next time. The broadcasting room isn’t a place for fooling around. Now the whole school heard it—think about the impact. Alright, you can go back.”

He couldn’t reprimand Jiang She directly; as long as the school depended on sponsorship from Jiang She’s father, and as long as Jiang She was enrolled, they had to turn a blind eye.

It wasn’t like they could drag him up on stage and scold him.

How would his Father Jiang Qifeng react?

Jiang She raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Chu Tao. “What about them?”

Director Lou didn’t want to show obvious favoritism, so if Jiang She was let off, then they certainly couldn’t be hard on the two well-behaved students either.

But a little guidance and criticism were still necessary, so he frowned and waved his hand. “You head out first. I’ll just have a quick word with the other two; it’s no big deal.”

Jiang She knew when to take a hint and not push his luck. Seeing Lou’s attitude, he understood they wouldn’t pursue it further.

He nodded, turned to leave, and even closed the door for them on the way out.

Mo Xi kept his head down the whole time, his small frame swaying slightly. He had never been in the moral education office before; a good kid like him was usually the one deducting points from others, not in trouble himself.

In fact, none of this was Mo Xi’s fault—the trouble was all Jiang She’s doing.

But Mo Xi couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that Jiang She was actually interested in his senior.

It was terrifying.

Mo Xi couldn’t imagine what life was like for Chu Tao in the same class as Jiang She. How could he even dare to refuse someone so imposing?

Chu Tao was an alpha—a remarkable one at that. How could he possibly be content with such a subordinate position?

Mo Xi’s mind ran wild with all sorts of scenarios, even wondering if Chu Tao was being forced by Jiang She into things he didn’t want to do.

Scenes of school bullying and abuse of power kept flashing through his head.

The more he thought about it, the sadder he felt.

He lacked the courage to openly love Chu Tao and didn’t dare to go against Jiang She.

Director Lou, oblivious to Mo Xi’s thoughts, instead spoke to him earnestly. “You’re a freshman, right? Doing well in school? You should know what’s most important to you right now. Don’t think just because you’re in your first year, you’ve got all the time in the world. High school doesn’t allow room for slacking.”

Mo Xi didn’t fully absorb the lecture; he just nodded repeatedly, saying, “Yes.”

Director Lou continued, “I understand that at your age, alphas and omegas are naturally attracted to each other and can make mistakes. But you should be aware that while Jiang She might not study and still have a path ahead of him, can you say you’re the same?”

Mo Xi looked up in confusion, eyes wide.

Lou, thinking he’d struck a chord, said, “See? I figured you’d never thought about it. Love that you pursue impulsively when you’re young will only bring you regret. I’ll bet you, even if he professed his love over the broadcast today and you found it romantic, he’s not going to be with you after graduation.”

Mo Xi: “…” No need to bet; he’s not with me now.

Chu Tao couldn’t hold back and spoke up, “Teacher—”

Director Lou replied, “I’m not planning on punishing you, nor calling your parents. You’re both top fifty students, after all. This isn’t a big deal, though Jiang She has always been a bit more unruly. But I’m just here to give you a heads-up.”

He then turned to Chu Tao. “You’re the station manager, right, Chu Tao? In the future, treat your workspace professionally. The broadcast room isn’t some love nest for couples! If you create opportunities for them, you’re an accomplice!”

Chu Tao: “…”

Director Lou added, “Alright, get back to class.”

Mo Xi was timid, and Lou didn’t want to risk intimidating him further, so he simply let them go.

Outside, Chu Tao looked at Mo Xi apologetically and said, “Sorry for dragging you into this.”

Mo Xi sniffled, his eyes red as he looked tearfully at Chu Tao. “Senior, I only just realized the humiliation you’ve suffered, and I can’t do anything to help…”

Chu Tao looked puzzled. “Humiliation? Just getting lectured a bit by the teacher counts as humiliation?”

He’d been to the police station twice already—he wasn’t that fragile.

Mo Xi, visibly saddened, suddenly gripped Chu Tao’s hand and bit his lip. “Senior, I probably can’t bring myself to like you anymore. I still want to focus on my studies and school life. I don’t dare to defy Jiang She, so call me a coward if you want.”

Chu Tao was torn between laughing and sighing. He wanted to wipe Mo Xi’s tears but thought it might be inappropriate, so he said awkwardly, “There’s no shame in focusing on your studies. There are plenty of people better than me out there—I’m not worth your trouble. I’m actually quitting the broadcast station, anyway. This was supposed to be my last shift. You probably won’t see me at the station anymore.”

Having been around Chu Xingning, he hadn’t really been pursued by anyone before, so he didn’t have much experience turning people down.

He didn’t want to hurt Mo Xi’s feelings, but he also wanted to make his intentions clear, so his words came out a bit clumsy, almost like giving him a polite brush-off.

After saying goodbye to Mo Xi, Chu Tao returned to class. The moment he opened the door, Fang Sheng was excitedly patting Jiang She on the arm. “Whoa! Someone actually confessed on the school broadcast! That’s insane! ‘I love you—the heaven knows it,’ wow!”

Jiang She shook off his hand and glanced at Chu Tao, his voice low and steady. “Shut up.”

Fang Sheng didn’t pick up on Jiang She’s cue at all and enthusiastically turned to Chu Tao. “Hey, class rep, you work at the broadcast station, right? Any chance you could lend it to me sometime?”

Dai Wenjian joined in the teasing. “Yeah, lend it to me too. I want to confess to Chu Xingning. It doesn’t matter if he says yes or not, but the whole world needs to know how I feel.”

Chu Tao pressed his lips together, meeting Jiang She’s gaze, and his eyes narrowed slightly. The message was clear—if Jiang She dared to speak about this, it would be the end of them.

Jiang She cleared his throat and nodded quietly in understanding.

Fang Sheng suddenly seemed to remember something. “Ah, She, where did you disappear to before the flag-raising?”