[He wants to mess with me]

That single action radiated displeasure so blatantly.

For a moment, no one dared to speak. Silence spread outward from Lu Zhuonian like ripples from a center point.

The atmosphere gradually froze.

At first, Chen Zemian had no clue why Lu Zhuonian was upset.

And honestly, he still didn’t.

But then he noticed several discreet glances landing on him, so he pointed at himself in confusion.

‘Because of me?’

Lu Zhuonian didn’t even look at him.

Chen Zemian reflected for a moment and figured the worst thing he’d done was probably showing up in front of Lu Zhuonian.

Maybe Lu Zhuonian just didn’t like seeing him.

So, Chen Zemian tactfully bid farewell. “Young Master Lu, if there’s nothing else, I’ll head out.”

At that, Lu Zhuonian’s movements paused slightly. He lifted his gaze to Chen Zemian.

Chen Zemian tentatively wrapped up the exchange. “Goodbye?”

“…”

The vibe was off. Even Xiao Kesong, standing by the racetrack, glanced over.

There was Chen Zhe facing Lu Zhuonian, whose deep gaze fixed on him without a word.

A wide empty circle had formed around the trio, everyone silently distancing themselves from Chen Zhe as if to say, ‘Chen Zhe pissed off Young Master Lu—it’s got nothing to do with us.’

What is going on?

Chen Zhe was usually smooth-talking. Just saying hi and leaving early shouldn’t have misfired so badly as to anger Lu Zhuonian.

Xiao Kesong started heading over, still unsure how to smooth things out, when Lu Zhuonian let out a cold scoff and turned to leave.

The crowd naturally followed Lu Zhuonian, leaving Chen Zemian standing there alone.

Xiao Kesong, bewildered, approached Chen Zemian. “What’s up with Zhuonian?”

“Probably means goodbye,” Chen Zemian said. Having achieved his goal of dipping out early, he waved to Xiao Kesong. “I’m heading home to sleep. Bye.”

The crowd, not yet far off: “…”

‘You ticked off Young Master Lu this bad and can still sleep, bro?’

‘This dull sensitivity is amazing.’

—-

Chen Zemian lost track of time once he got into work mode.

He hammered away at his computer for a solid week, finally finishing the game framework.

After wrapping it up, he crashed hard, sleeping like the dead, then went out to forage for food. Once he was full and satisfied, he finally remembered to dig his phone out of the corner and reconnect with the world.

The screen was flooded with notifications—a slew of missed calls from numbers he didn’t recognize.

Unknown callers = no one worth noting.

Xiao Kesong had called him a few times six days ago but hadn’t since—probably mad.

There was also a text from an unknown number: a termination notice.

Likely from Chen Zhe’s old job. They’d called him a bunch too, and when he didn’t pick up, they’d texted to say he was fired for repeated no-shows.

Fine by him.

He didn’t even know where he was supposed to work anyway.

Over this period, Chen Zemian had recalled more of the original owner’s memories, but nothing about a job surfaced.

If there wasn’t any, it probably wasn’t important.

With some downtime, Chen Zemian took the chance to tidy up the room, uncovering plenty of useful stuff—including Chen Zhe’s ID.

Chen Zhe was only 18!

He’d known Chen Zhe was young, but not this young. Barely an adult, yet he’d been hustling in the world for years, even managing to befriend a capital-circle big shot like Xiao Kesong through his own efforts.

Pretty impressive, really.

With that in mind, Chen Zemian decided it was worth trying to patch things up with Young Master Xiao.

After all, this friendship was something Chen Zhe had worked hard to earn. Chen Zemian could coast on it, sure, but if he didn’t cherish it and Chen Zhe somehow came back one day, he’d be furious.

Chen Zemian dialed the number back.

The first two calls went unanswered; the third was hung up.

He really was mad.

Chen Zemian sent a sincere apology text.

[I was wrong.]

No reply from Xiao Kesong.

Chen Zemian kept reflecting.

[I shouldn’t have ignored your calls. Don’t be mad. (emoji) Don’t be angry.JDP]

His phone buzzed with a response.

[Hmph.]

‘You’re humming too now?’

Chen Zemian scratched his head, unsure what these young masters were “hmph-ing” about, so he turned to the internet for answers:  

How to reply to a hmph #Does hmph mean they’re mad #What to send if they’re upset #How to reply to someone who’s mad #Steps for a high-EQ apology

Chen Zemian was nothing if not thorough. He dove into his research, only snapping out of it when his phone started buzzing like crazy. He’d been at it for over half an hour without realizing.

Xiao Kesong’s name flashed on the screen.

‘Huh?’

‘He’s calling me—guess he’s not mad anymore.’

Chen Zemian casually closed the browser and picked up.

Xiao Kesong’s voice was grim. “Chen Zhe, where’d you disappear to this time? Why aren’t you replying to me?!”

“…”

Chen Zemian frantically reopened the browser, pulling up the Steps for a high-EQ apology page from his history.

Xiao Kesong snapped, “Speak!”

Chen Zemian choked on his own spit. “I—cough cough cough—I’m at home, cough cough.”

Hearing the coughing, Xiao Kesong asked, “Why are you coughing so hard? Are you sick?”

Conscience told Chen Zemian not to lie, but if he said he was sick, maybe Xiao Kesong would cut him some slack for missing calls and texts.

He coughed twice more, hedging, “I’m much better now.”

Sure enough, Xiao Kesong dropped it. “No wonder I didn’t see you at Jinlin Restaurant. I went there to eat that day and couldn’t even find parking.”

Chen Zemian vaguely recalled that Chen Zhe had connected with Xiao Kesong by helping him drive. “Parking’s tough there. Next time you go, I’ll drive for you.”

Xiao Kesong was easy to please. Hearing this, he forgave Chen Zemian effortlessly. “Tonight, then. I’m craving their taro duck.”

Chen Zemian couldn’t fathom how taro and duck could become a dish, but he respected Young Master Xiao’s taste and went with it. “Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”

Xiao Kesong perked up. “School. Come over—we can shoot some hoops too.”

Chen Zemian wasn’t sold on basketball but didn’t object. He took a shower, changed into clean clothes, and took a cab to Xiao Kesong’s school.

Lu Zhuonian, Ye Chen, and Xiao Kesong all attended the same university—the top-ranked comprehensive college in the capital, a century-old academic bastion.

The campus was lush with towering ancient trees and thick green canopies.

Chen Zemian strolled along the shaded path, and before reaching the basketball court, he ran into Lu Zhuonian.

It was the break between two long classes. Students leaving buildings mingled with those heading in, a bustling crowd. Yet around Lu Zhuonian, it was as if an invisible barrier kept the noise at bay, carving out a pocket of calm.

At school, Lu Zhuonian dressed casually: a dark denim jacket over a pristine white crew-neck tee. The fabric was high-quality, the cut impeccable, just revealing a slender neck and a hint of collarbone.

His hair wasn’t styled either—strands fell loosely over his forehead, brushing his brows and softening the sharpness of his gaze. With his rosy lips and white teeth, he looked like a fresh willow sprout—pure and innocent beyond belief.

This was a far cry from the full-aura Lu Zhuonian flanked by eight bodyguards, wearing black lambskin gloves and a tailored suit shirt.

Chen Zemian almost wanted to whistle at him.

But he hadn’t forgotten how Lu Zhuonian had dragged him to the hospital, nor that Lu Zhuonian still held his bronchoscopy request form, nor how, at the racing club that night, Lu Zhuonian had seemed displeased the moment he saw him.

Based on those three points, Chen Zemian not only refrained from whistling but also hunched his shoulders, trying to blend into the crowd.

Lu Zhuonian spotted Chen Zhe the moment he stepped out of the lecture hall.

Lu Zhuonian had intended to pretend he hadn’t seen him, but catching Chen Zhe sneaking around to avoid him sparked a flare of irritation.

Where could he possibly hide?

It was almost comical.

With such a striking, eye-catching face, if he didn’t want to be noticed, he shouldn’t keep popping up in front of Lu Zhuonian.

Lu Zhuonian hadn’t even meant to notice him.

But Chen Zhe stood out too much—his cool-toned skin glowed white under the sunlight, like he came with his own lighting board. It wasn’t just Lu Zhuonian; plenty of nearby students were staring too.

And that light golden hair.

Was he about to debut as an idol?

For certain personal reasons, Lu Zhuonian needed to maintain emotional stability. Suppressing negative feelings with strong self-control was a daily habit.

He’d always managed it well.

But Chen Zhe’s inexplicable changes had thrown off the steady rhythm of his life’s symphony.

The night he realized teasing Chen Zhe brought him pleasure, he should’ve known that every seemingly perfect thing came with a price.

His enjoyment stemmed from the fact that Chen Zhe had angered him first that night.

Chen Zhe had knocked out his bodyguards and approached him silently. A Chen Zhe he’d once had under control had suddenly slipped free, signaling not just danger but also a massive misjudgment in Lu Zhuonian’s prior assessment of him.

Lu Zhuonian’s anger stemmed mainly from this—not so much Chen Zhe’s defiance, but his own incompetence and loss of control.

Yet through probing and tug-of-war, he’d regained the upper hand: he’d feigned a move against Chen Zhe, confirming Chen Zhe had no intent to harm him and wouldn’t dare.

When Chen Zhe’s threat no longer applied to Lu Zhuonian, Lu Zhuonian reclaimed his power.

Chen Zhe was back under control.

But the prior incident—[Authority Challenged by Chen Zhe]—had planted doubts about his dominance, leading him to overcompensate with a power play. He’d hauled Chen Zhe to the hospital for tests, threatened him, and forced him to submit until Chen Zhe apologized and begged for mercy.

All those threats of lumbar punctures, colonoscopies, gastroscopies, bronchoscopies—they were his silent way of declaring to Chen Zhe: ‘If I want to, I can control you.’

It was shameless.

In doing so, he wasn’t establishing authority; he was clawing back the confidence he’d lost in front of Chen Zhe.

That mindset was wrong and could be corrected.

Lu Zhuonian had thought that once he sorted out the logic, Chen Zhe would lose his uniqueness.

But he was wrong again.

Seeing Chen Zhe at the racing club reignited that pull on his emotions.

Not guilt—just inexplicable mood swings.

Two bad signs: one, he felt no remorse for his despicable behavior, hinting at a slipping moral baseline; two, he couldn’t identify those odd emotions, meaning Chen Zhe remained unpredictable.

During that race, they’d set a 56-lap course. On laps 18, 31, and 46, passing the stands, Lu Zhuonian had glanced up with his peripheral vision.

Lap 18: Chen Zhe was looking down. Lap 31: Chen Zhe was on his phone. Lap 46: still on his phone.

He’d felt a twinge of displeasure but pushed through to break the record anyway.

The only time Chen Zhe glanced at the big screen showing his score was when the fireworks startled him.

Lu Zhuonian tried hard to ignore Chen Zhe.

But this time, the usually infallible Lu Zhuonian failed. The more he tried to tune Chen Zhe out, the more omnipresent he became; the more he tried to stabilize his emotions, the wilder they swung.

This has to be Chen Zhe’s fault.

Stepping down the stairs, Lu Zhuonian locked eyes on Chen Zhe, only to briefly doubt his own conclusion.

After all, last time he’d blamed Chen Zhe too, only to realize it was his own issue.

This time, it has to be, right?

Even considering it from the angle of probability, it’s impossible that it’s all his problem. Doesn’t Chen Zhe have even a little bit of fault??

Chen Zemian had no idea Lu Zhuonian’s inner drama was this elaborate.

If he did, he’d surely marvel at its brilliance.

But something even more brilliant was about to unfold.

Chen Zemian spotted a beautiful girl with a guqin on her back approaching Lu Zhuonian.

He recognized her instantly—

Shen Qingwan, the novel’s second-most-popular female supporting character, the campus belle.

Shen Qingwan was the head of the guqin society, while Lu Zhuonian was student council president. During their school years, frequent club collaborations brought them together, and she gradually fell for him, harboring a years-long crush.

In the original story, Lu Zhuonian had no shortage of female admirers.

The male lead’s charm was irresistible, drawing a parade of love interests: the gentle campus belle, the aloof senior, the fiery policewoman, the glamorous flight attendant, the pure actress, the sultry CEO—all throwing themselves at him.

But who’d ultimately win the heroine spot remained unclear. True to male-lead-driven novel tropes, the author likely wanted them all but, for harmony’s sake, couldn’t write it that way, leaving the CP undecided.

Even by the story’s end, these love interests stayed in ambiguous limbo with the male lead—no kisses, nothing concrete to suggest who mattered most to Lu Zhuonian.

The question of who Lu Zhuonian liked became an unsolved mystery, with readers arguing for years without resolution.

The author left that suspense dangling in the hearts of millions of readers forever.

Seeing Shen Qingwan appear, Chen Zemian suddenly realized—

He might actually have a chance to find out who Lu Zhuonian’s official love interest was!

Chen Zemian was thrilled, unable to resist inching forward cautiously.

Lu Zhuonian caught Chen Zhe approaching from the corner of his eye. His expression softened slightly, and in a rare moment of mercy, he called out Chen Zhe’s name.

“Chen Zhe.”

Chen Zemian thought he’d been stealthy, so Lu Zhuonian’s sudden call startled him. He froze mid-step, torn between turning and fleeing and approaching openly.

Lu Zhuonian made the choice for him. “Come here.”

In a daze, people tend to follow orders instinctively.

Chen Zemian walked over, stopping two steps behind Shen Qingwan’s right side, keeping a distance that left room to flee if needed.

Then, mimicking the original Chen Zhe’s attitude toward Lu Zhuonian, he flattered, “Young Master Lu, what are your orders?”

Lu Zhuonian: “Speak like a human.”

Chen Zemian: “…”

Shen Qingwan found their exchange amusing and let out a gentle laugh, turning to look at the boy with the clear, bright voice behind her.

When she did, her eyes widened slightly.

The boy’s features were refined, breathtakingly beautiful.

Standing in the sunlight, his paper-thin skin shimmered like fine porcelain, almost translucent, with delicate, pale blue veins faintly visible. A tiny red mole dotted the side of his neck, adding a touch of allure to his striking face, making him even more captivating and impossible to ignore.

Humans are visual creatures, naturally drawn to and appreciative of beautiful things.

Chen Zemian, seeing Shen Qingwan, flashed a warm smile. “Hey, hi.”

Snapping out of it, Shen Qingwan nodded with a smile. “Hello.”

Lu Zhuonian thought, ‘What’s so happy? Are you two close or something?’

His face darkened as he glared at Chen Zhe. “What are you doing here?”

Chen Zemian’s gaze shifted from Shen Qingwan to Lu Zhuonian. “Didn’t you call me over, Young Master Lu?”

Lu Zhuonian countered matter-of-factly, “Have you actually come over?”

Chen Zemian, thrown by Lu Zhuonian’s confident tone, started doubting himself. He glanced at Lu Zhuonian, then at his own position. “I… I’m here… aren’t I?”

Lu Zhuonian’s eyes measured the nearly three-meter gap between them.

Chen Zemian: “?”

Lu Zhuonian had never seen someone so dense. He stated plainly, “Come closer.”

Chen Zemian took half a step forward.

Lu Zhuonian glanced at the spot beside him, signaling Chen Zemian to hurry up and stand here before he got himself in trouble.

Chen Zemian reluctantly complied, walking over to stand next to Lu Zhuonian, facing Shen Qingwan.

Lu Zhuonian was pleased with this positioning and said to Shen Qingwan, “This is Chen Zhe.”

Shen Qingwan’s smile was radiant as she teased, “President, your friend is really good-looking. Do you handsome guys have some secret group chat, only hanging out with other eye-catchers?”

Lu Zhuonian, utterly oblivious to the flirtation, replied flatly, “No group. He wanted to hang out with me, so he got to know me through Xiao Kesong.”

Chen Zemian shot Lu Zhuonian a speechless look, thinking, ‘She’s complimenting your looks through me, bro. Who cares how I met you?’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean, “He wanted to hang out with me”?’

‘That sounds kind of weird.’

Lu Zhuonian missed the subtext in Shen Qingwan’s words but read Chen Zemian’s expression like a book. “What, you didn’t want to hang out with me?”

Chen Zemian choked and coughed. “I did.”

Shen Qingwan laughed. “I like hanging out with good-looking people too. President, we’re having a student council dinner tonight—bring Chen Zhe along.”

Lu Zhuonian replied, “Next time. I’ve got dinner plans tonight.”

Chen Zemian finally figured out why Lu Zhuonian had called him over: to use him as a shield to dodge the dinner invite. He played along with Lu Zhuonian’s lead. “Yeah, yeah, really sorry about that.”

Everyone knew Lu Zhuonian was notoriously hard to pin down for plans. Shen Qingwan wasn’t discouraged, flashing a gracious smile. “No worries, we booked too late. Next time, I’ll reserve you early, President.”

Lu Zhuonian said, “Sounds good.”

Shen Qingwan pulled out her phone, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Then let me add you on WeChat.”

Lu Zhuonian scanned her QR code.

Visibly delighted, Shen Qingwan clutched her phone and waved goodbye to both. “President, I’m off. All the clubs are rehearsing for the arts festival right now—you’ve got to come watch when you have time.”

Lu Zhuonian nodded.

Shen Qingwan, warm and cheerful, waved at Chen Zhe too. “Bye, little handsome.”

Chen Zemian grinned and waved back. “Bye, big beauty.”

Shen Qingwan’s face flushed deeper. She tucked another stray lock behind her ear and hurried off with quick steps.

Chen Zemian glanced in the direction Shen Qingwan left, thinking she was genuinely stunning and had a great personality too.

‘Too bad Lu Zhuonian seems… well, not that interested.’

Though, saying he wasn’t interested, he still added her on WeChat.

‘So was he interested or not?’

‘Ugh, the male lead’s mind is so hard to read. Who even knows who he’ll end up liking?’

Chen Zemian pulled his gaze back, only to lock eyes with Lu Zhuonian.

“…”

Chen Zemian: “?”

‘Why’s he glaring at me again?’