Just a second before the teacher arrived, the classroom was still in chaos—much like Liu Sizhen’s thoughts.

He could hardly believe what he had just heard.

It all felt like some baseless rumor made up by bored individuals.

But then, he glanced at Lin Bosheng, who showed no hint of surprise. With a calm expression, Lin stood up and walked out, even taking the half-full trash bag hanging between their desks on his way out.

He must have been planning to throw it away while heading out.

“…………”

One class later, Lin Bosheng returned from the office with the same neutral expression, as though nothing had happened. He handed Liu Sizhen a bottle of his favorite drink, something he often bought.

It looked like…

Lin had taken a detour to the school shop on his way back to get it for him.

“You…”

Still writing his self-reflection, Lin Bosheng glanced sideways. “What’s wrong?”

As soon as Liu Sizhen met Lin’s gaze, he lost his words. Everything he was about to say evaporated upon seeing that look in his eyes.

That expression was entirely different from Lin Bosheng’s usual demeanor. There was an inexplicable dissonance to it, as though it didn’t belong to him—but on closer inspection, it felt like this was Lin Bosheng’s true self all along.

He had simply never looked closely, never truly tried to understand the real Lin Bosheng.

“… You… even got into a fight?”

“Even got into…” Lin Bosheng latched onto the phrasing, chuckling softly, his tone carrying unmistakable helplessness.

“So what exactly do you think of me?”

What did Liu Sizhen think of Lin Bosheng?

Of course, just a pitiful, lonely kid with no one to rely on.

Though Liu Sizhen didn’t say it aloud, Lin Bosheng could see it in his expression. He took a moment to steady his breath, adjusted his expression slightly, and lowered his lashes.

“Actually… it wasn’t really my fault…”

Adding his own spin, Lin embellished and twisted the story. He painted a picture where he was entirely uninvolved and unaware, even though it was him who had sought out the confrontation.

As for why the junior ended up so injured—what did that have to do with him? It was entirely the junior’s fault for not watching his step and falling. Trying to pin it on him? Ridiculous. There wasn’t a shred of evidence to back it up.

Of course, there couldn’t be any evidence. There were no security cameras in that area. Although Changning had been advocating for the installation of cameras in public places in recent years, Lin Bosheng knew for certain that that particular location was camera-free—remote and deserted.

At that time, Lin Bosheng had been utterly calm as he pressed his foot onto the other boy’s wrist, pinning him in place. Now, his expression was just as innocent as he lowered his eyes.

“Honestly… I was wrong too.”

There were places to strike that wouldn’t leave visible scars but would still cause excruciating pain. If Liu Sizhen had been there at the time, he would never have recognized Lin Bosheng.

Gone was the clean-cut school uniform; the boy wore a black tank top and a black baseball cap. Without the deliberate gentleness he showed around Liu Sizhen, Lin’s sharp edges were on full display—there was no trace of a student in him.

Behind the scenes, Lin Bosheng rarely smiled, his eyes dark and deep.

“Was it this hand?”

His voice, icy and devoid of emotion, carried no fluctuation.

Now, however, he wore the mask of innocence again in front of Liu Sizhen. Seeing that Liu was beginning to believe him, Lin deliberately played the victim further.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have fought back…”

Liu Sizhen, never having dealt with someone like this, wasn’t a match for Lin Bosheng’s cunning. The more he listened, the more confused he became—and the more convinced he was that Lin wasn’t at fault.

“Ahem…” Liu Sizhen coughed awkwardly, hesitating before speaking. “Then… then I guess… you’re not really to blame. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

Lin Bosheng shook his head slightly. For him, such things were practically routine—an everyday occurrence. Of course, that wasn’t something he could admit to Liu Sizhen…

He wasn’t the pitiful kid Liu Sizhen thought he was.

That much should be obvious, shouldn’t it?

With a family like his, growing up in an environment like that, where the narrow lanes of Shuichang Alley seemed to claim lives year after year… Poverty inevitably bred all kinds of misfortune and disputes. Almost every day, someone was arguing or fighting, and the air itself reeked of ignorance.

Lin Bosheng wanted to leave that place, which is why he studied so seriously.

If he were nothing but a bookworm who could only study, wouldn’t that actually be a real problem?

While most of his peers were still fretting over their daily homework, or worrying about trivial things like what to eat for dinner or where to hang out, Lin Bosheng had long been exposed to the filth and grime of life.

Learning to hide and disguise oneself had become an essential skill. Compared to that, Liu Sizhen’s attempts at pretending were laughably clumsy, easily seen through at a glance.

Lin Bosheng’s gaze lingered on Liu Sizhen’s face. Once again, there was that faint red mark, likely from leaning against something, yet Liu didn’t seem to notice at all. Did he never look in the mirror?

His words were harsh, yet his expression didn’t match.

Was he genuinely worried about him?

He really was… so easy to fool.

Lin Bosheng had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud.

—Sizhen, you’re honestly so naive.

Though he thought that to himself, he didn’t show it outwardly.

Even Lin Bosheng didn’t realize how much softer his tone had become. If he didn’t want others to know it was his doing, he had ways to ensure they never found out.

As for why he’d let himself get caught this time—it was simply because he wanted to be caught. In truth, his moral boundaries were much lower than Liu Sizhen imagined.

Lin Bosheng’s gaze drifted to Liu Sizhen’s lips as he repeated,

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Who’s worried about you?! Don’t flatter yourself!”

“Yes, yes…”

The outcome of the incident was that Lin Bosheng had to deliver a formal apology in class and again during the school-wide break period. Given his previously impeccable reputation, the teachers trusted his explanation, believing he wasn’t the type to cause trouble.

The incident happened on a Thursday, and the apology was made on Friday.

On Saturday and Sunday, Liu Sizhen sometimes went out to play, other times stayed home, reading in his room or doing nothing and spacing out.

Although there were no classes on Saturday, his internal clock woke him up at around six in the morning. Out of curiosity, he turned on the monitoring system to check what the male lead was doing.

When he saw Lin Bosheng already hard at work, meticulously organizing items on the shelves while casually reviewing the formulas for the following week’s lessons, Liu Sizhen glanced at himself—still lying in bed, debating whether to sleep a little more or a little more.

A deep sense of guilt washed over him.

Carrying that guilt, he went downstairs, only to notice that the atmosphere in the house felt… odd. Normally, when Wang Ayi saw him awake, she would greet him enthusiastically, asking if he was hungry or what he wanted to eat.

But today, there was none of that. It was unusually quiet.

Wang Ayi motioned to him with her eyes, and Liu Sizhen followed her gaze to the living room, where a familiar woman sat on the sofa. Even just from her back, Liu felt she looked particularly familiar.

[What’s going on here?!]

The woman sitting on the sofa looked exactly like Liu Sizhen’s mother from the real world, though her demeanor was slightly different.

Liu Sizhen’s real-world mother was a career-driven woman. After his father cheated, she didn’t cry or wallow in self-pity. Instead, she decisively filed for divorce and fought for custody of her son.

Because of her busy work schedule, Liu Sizhen’s seat for parents’ meetings and sports events was always empty. He ate alone, studied alone, and did everything alone.

Due to his mother’s assertive nature, Liu Sizhen had a somewhat unlikable personality as a child—timid and weak. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have endured bullying without telling his teachers or parents, choosing instead to hide and cry alone.

He found this humiliating, which is why he had always admired the male lead’s mental fortitude.

While he once harbored some resentment toward his mother, comparing himself to Lin Bosheng made him realize how much better his life was. At least under his mother’s protection, he had no worries about food or clothing and didn’t have to struggle for survival daily.

And now, standing before him was a living, breathing woman who looked identical to his mother—the mother he barely saw a few times a year before her accident, the mother he now saw every day but could no longer hear.

Uncontrollably, Liu Sizhen found himself walking down the stairs, step by step. The woman, who had been chatting with Aunt Wang by the sofa, turned her head at the sound of his footsteps.

“Why is Zhenzhen crying?”

Cheng Ying’s dislike for Liu Sizhen stemmed primarily from his father. He was a child born from a man she never truly loved, so it was only natural she felt little connection to him. Her memories of Liu Sizhen were stuck on his mischievous childhood self.

She hadn’t expected him to have grown so much in what felt like the blink of an eye. Especially when she saw him crying the moment he laid eyes on her, his reddened eyes made her feel a twinge of guilt.

After all, he was her flesh and blood.

She began to reflect on her past neglect as a mother.

The rich scent of her perfume instantly overwhelmed Liu Sizhen’s senses. It wasn’t overpowering but rather pleasant. Still, he wasn’t familiar enough with perfumes to identify the floral notes.

He raised a hand to wipe his tears. “I’m not crying.”

Aunt Wang quickly stepped in to smooth things over.

She went out of her way to praise Liu Sizhen, telling Cheng Ying how obedient he’d been at home lately, how he attended all his classes without skipping, and how he often spoke about missing her.

She concluded with her usual refrain:

“Zhenzhen is such a good boy.”

In truth, Liu Sizhen had never once said he missed his mother, and he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed hearing all this.

The woman who looked just like his mother was eating it up, though. She expressed her affection in a very straightforward way, handing Liu Sizhen a card—her secondary card—and saying he should tell her if it wasn’t enough.

This gesture was exactly the same as his real-world mother’s.

“Zhenzhen, think carefully. Is there anything else you want?”

Liu Sizhen originally wanted to shake his head, but suddenly remembered that there was something he really needed her help with.