Chapter 83: Exclusive to Jinjiang 3/3

 Song Fuzhi said, “Let’s tidy up your place while we’re at it.”

On the way to Zhang’s house, they passed by a flower shop. Professor Shi went down and bought two pots of flowers, saying he wanted to place them on the balcony.

After the red falcon flew away, the balcony seemed unusually empty, and he wanted to fill it with something.

Song Fuzhi said, “We don’t often come to your house, and we can’t water the plants every day.”

“The varieties I bought don’t need frequent watering,” Professor Shi smiled, “and according to my experience, sometimes ignoring them makes plants grow better.”

In this regard, Professor Shi was an authority.

Carrying their things, they returned to Professor Shi’s house. Song Fuzhi carried his own belongings, and Shi Zhang held the two pots of flowers.

“Where is the best place to put these?” Song Fuzhi looked at the living room, which had turned into a photography studio.

Professor Shi pointed to the room full of cosplay costumes and said, “Armory.”

Song Fuzhi slapped his forehead. “I should have brought the clothes we wore on the show. We could have put them in there.”

“Right,” Professor Shi realized, “next time.”

Saying that, Professor Shi went to the balcony with the flowers. “I’ll arrange the flowers. I’ll be right back.”

Song Fuzhi, holding a cosplay knife and a tripod, had already opened the door to the room. He replied, “Sure.”

Song Fuzhi remembered the shock when he first opened this door. Who would have thought that he was now very familiar with this room?

The area for storing cosplay props was at the back of the room, and the petal specimens were still hanging on the wall. Every time Song Fuzhi passed by, he dared not look at them but couldn’t help but stop.

After putting away the knife and tripod, Song Fuzhi saw a cabinet leaning against the wall with several drawers.

Song Fuzhi shouted, “Shi Zhang, can stationery go in the cabinet?”

No one responded, only the sound of watering outside.

The botany professor was probably engrossed in tending to the plants and hadn’t paid attention.

So Song Fuzhi didn’t shout again, opened a drawer, and saw neatly arranged acrylic boxes containing many accessories.

Opening another drawer revealed wigs, all of various sizes.

It was quite full.

Thinking about it, Song Fuzhi directly opened the bottom drawer.

What is all this—books? Notebooks? Why are they all in transparent, sealed bags?

Song Fuzhi instinctively wanted to close the drawer, but with a casual glance, he saw his name on the top, handwritten.

What???

Song Fuzhi took a step back, blinked, then went back to look.

The pages had turned yellow, and the cover had the neatly written three characters “Song Fuzhi,” with an elegant but youthful touch.

This was his handwriting.

And it was from a long time ago—his own handwriting.

Song Fuzhi was stunned.

He mechanically took out this notebook from the plastic seal, his fingers sweaty.

The pages were very brittle. Song Fuzhi carefully flipped through, seeing gradually messy handwriting and layers of calculations. Flipping further, he even saw the three-dimensional English letters he drew during class when he was bored.

This drawer contained a large pile of notebooks of different sizes, all from his high school days.

Professor Shi was initially puzzled. After a while, rationality returned, and he almost instantly understood what Shi Zhang was avoiding and why he seemed to casually refer to himself as a “pervert.”

A slight but intense tremor climbed up his spine, then suddenly receded, replaced by a torrential, more intense, and hotter emotion that shook Song Fuzhi’s entire heart.

“Fu Zhi, what did you just call me?”

Shi Zhang’s warm voice came from outside the room, and Song Fuzhi’s mind tightened. Without thinking, he tucked the notebook into his coat.

Song Fuzhi closed the drawer and stood up, and Shi Zhang happened to walk into the room.

“Ah, nothing.”

Song Lao Shi exerted 120% of the acting skills he used on stage, saying naturally, “I just wanted to say, I’ve tidied up. Let’s take these stationeries and go home.”

Shi Zhang didn’t notice anything strange, took the stationery, and said, “Do you want to see the flowers on the balcony? They’re super beautiful, really.”

Song Fuzhi smiled and followed Shi Zhang, closing the door to the room.

That night, when he returned home, Shi Zhang found that Professor Song was slightly different from usual.

For example, after dinner, Song Fuzhi quickly went to the bathroom and, surprisingly, didn’t invite Shi Zhang but locked the bathroom door alone.

Shi Zhang asked what was wrong, and Professor Song nonchalantly said, “Nothing,” but the fragmented voice made Shi Zhang feel that this was definitely not “nothing.”

When Professor Song, wrapped in a bath towel, walked out of the bathroom, he exuded a cold fragrance with no expression on his face, giving off a restrained sense of abstinence.

He could really captivate people.

Shi Zhang, suppressing doubts and fire, followed suit and took a bath.

After bathing, he tried to maintain his last bit of gentleness and politeness, restrainedly asking Song Fuzhi, “Professor Song, what day is today… because school is about to start?”

So, is there a final celebration?

Song Fuzhi didn’t look at him and casually said, “Ah.”

Shi Zhang took a deep breath, his voice hoarse again. “Or is it that Teacher Fufu wants to give gifts?”

Since he brought it up voluntarily, Song Fuzhi smiled and said, “Then go get it.”

Shi Zhang stared at him in silence for a few seconds, then turned to rummage through the wardrobe, placing Song Fuzhi’s treasures in the same place in the new house.

When Professor Shi turned around, the heartbeat was so loud that it seemed to ring in his ears. Tonight, Professor Song simply ignored his life and death.

“However, when he took out the heavy bag of things, Shi Zhangxin’s heart flared up, and he suddenly changed his mind.

“How about we skip this?” Shi Zhang lifted Song Fuzhi’s bangs with a flick. “We don’t need these.”

Although it would add a lot of fun, Shi Zhang’s possessiveness still took the upper hand.

Even though he knew this was completely normal, he just wanted to see Professor Song move by him.

However, Song Fuzhi smiled and softly uttered two words: “Not possible.”

Shi Zhang hadn’t figured out why Professor Song suddenly changed so much, and Song Fuzhi fixed him to the headboard with three or two moves.

His hands couldn’t move.

From this moment on, Professor Shi’s life no longer belonged to him.

Shi Zhang watched helplessly as Song Fuzhi, right in front of him, casually picked one from the bag and then kneeled in the middle of the bed.

Although Professor Song still exuded that cold feeling, Shi Zhang felt like he was about to boil.

The moment Song Fuzhi pressed the button, Shi Zhang completely lost it, his arms tightly stretched behind his back, muscles tense, and a thousand ants gnawing at his heart.

“Professor, think again; is there anything else you haven’t said?” Song Fuzhi glanced at him.

“If you can’t remember, just stay tied up like this.”

By now, Song Fuzhi’s neck was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

In the end, he stared at Shi Zhang and added with resentment, “Senior, you’re really something.”