“So This Is Your ‘Treasure’?”
The southern corner of the library was favored by the afternoon sun. A few tall windows filtered in golden beams of light, perfectly enveloping the oak long table against the wall.
The air carried the tranquil scent of old paper mingled with dry wood, occasionally punctuated by the faint rustle of turning pages from distant bookshelves, making this nook feel exceptionally serene.
Xi Ting had slept well the night before.
This time, there were no unexpected memories—nothing at all. It was as if he had been drunk, his mind pleasantly hazy, as though nestled in warm, fluffy clouds. Upon waking, a lingering sweetness seemed to remain on the tip of his tongue.
It was a deeply relaxing dream, and he had slept more soundly than ever before, waking up refreshed and clear-headed as never before.
But this refreshed clarity was soon replaced by frustration.
Xi Ting sat bathed in the light, his tablet screen glowing, reflecting the slight furrow between his brows. Aetheren Academy had many clubs—hundreds, big and small. The list of club applications was long, and his fingertips scrolled as name after name flashed by.
Aetheren’s evaluation system was comprehensive. He had only recently learned that club activities were part of the final grade assessment, and the evaluation had to be B-Rank or higher. For someone as introverted and socially reluctant as Xi Ting, this was undoubtedly a challenge.
The fencing club had his older brother, but the high-intensity training was beyond his endurance. Equestrianism was fine as a leisure hobby, but the regular training load of the club would surely be too much for his body, and his brother would never agree to it.
As for more suitable options like the literature club or editorial club, their spots had long been filled due to his avoidance and procrastination at the start of the semester.
Xi Ting sighed softly, resting his chin lightly on the tablet.
How he regretted it now—if only he hadn’t so firmly rejected those enthusiastic recruitment invitations back then, all because he was afraid of the hassle…
Suddenly, the tablet was snatched away from the side.
Xi Ting jumped, looking up abruptly.
Senior Oliver had appeared beside the table at some point, leaning over with his hands on the tabletop, smiling brightly at him.
Those gray-green eyes were exceptionally bright, now openly fixed on Xi Ting’s face.
“Stop looking,” Oliver said, his voice familiar as he waved the captured tablet. “You’re frowning so hard. Let me guess—is someone worrying about clubs?”
Xi Ting blinked, still processing where this person had come from, and nodded instinctively.
Oliver’s smile deepened. “Don’t bother racking your brain over those.”
He swiped a few times on the screen, pulling up a page, then lowered his voice mysteriously. “Our drama club is currently rehearsing a major production for the centennial celebration.”
He paused, his gaze once again tracing Xi Ting’s features, lingering on his eyes, which now looked especially vivid with confusion. “There’s a role in it that reminded me of you the moment I read the script.”
Xi Ting felt uneasy under such blatant, meticulous scrutiny.
He lowered his lashes. “I’m afraid not, Senior Oliver. I’ve never acted before.”
“You can learn! And it just so happens you haven’t joined any club yet.”
Oliver smoothly took a seat in the chair opposite him, leaning forward with his arms resting on the edge of the table, as if prepared for a lengthy discussion if Xi Ting refused.
“The drama club is one of the academy’s four prestigious honor clubs, and the centennial project is its top priority. Here, even a B-Rank evaluation carries far more weight than an A earned through sheer effort in those smaller clubs.”
He leaned in a bit closer, his voice carrying a hint of coaxing as he whispered, "I just really think you're perfect for this role."
"I know you're more introverted, but the drama club is an S-tier club with the privilege to exercise a little special authority. This school festival is very important, and if you perform in our play, it'll count as an outstanding contribution to the school. I can convince the club president to issue you a certificate. That way, even if you don't formally join the drama club, you can still pass the club requirement."
"After all, you're just giving it a try. What does it matter if it doesn't work out?"
Xi Ting hesitated.
Oliver keenly caught that momentary hesitation and immediately seized the opportunity, launching into an exaggerated, theatrical soliloquy, teasingly saying:
"—Oh dear, I wonder if some people still remember? It was a damp, rainy day, the sky was gray, and the rain was pouring…"
Xi Ting couldn't help but laugh.
That day, the rain was indeed pouring, and the sky was gray.
Oliver remembered clearly that he had taken a shortcut to deliver some urgent materials, which led him into a corridor that was seldom used.
And that was when he saw Xi Ting.
The corridor was long and dim, the sound of rain outside muffled by the thick walls. The freshman stood alone in the gloomy light, clutching several heavy ancient books tightly to his chest.
He clearly hadn't brought an umbrella. A few strands of his soft, dark hair were dampened by the rain blown into the corridor, clinging to his smooth forehead. The fabric on his shoulders was also stained with a small patch of dark watermarks.
He must have been lost. He stood quietly, tilting his head up, intently studying the sign on the wall. The grayish-white light from outside filtered in sparingly, just enough to outline the curve of his profile—
The line from his jaw to his neck was clean and elegant, his skin so pale under the faint light that it seemed almost translucent. His lips were slightly pursed in concentration.
But what truly made Oliver stop in his tracks were his eyes.
They were the kind of eyes that made you pause. His honey-colored pupils, seen through the rain, seemed veiled in a layer of damp mist, filled with a unique, quiet melancholy.
Oliver stood there for a few seconds, watching him intently.
He thought to himself: He looks like he needs help.
So, even though he was almost late, he still walked over.
In the end, Oliver still didn't manage to deliver the documents on time.
He helped Xi Ting figure out which classroom he needed to go to, then accompanied the drenched, somewhat flustered freshman there, even mustering the courage to explain the reason for his lateness to the stern Professor White.
Although he was criticized that day for delivering the important documents late, even now, Oliver still thought: Thank goodness I took that path that day.
Now, sitting in the sunlight of the library, Oliver gazed at Xi Ting, who was pursing his lips slightly across from him. The image from that rainy memory overlapped with the person before him.
"Consider it as repaying me for that favor?" Oliver winked at him, his tone light and relaxed. "Just go for one interview, show your face. I promise, if the club president shakes his head and says you're not suitable, I'll shut up immediately, never bring it up again, and even help you look for other clubs. How about that?"
Seeing how earnest the senior who had helped him was, Xi Ting no longer felt comfortable refusing.
He knew the senior meant well.
Just give it a try, he thought to himself.
He nodded gently.
"Alright."
Oliver smiled and grabbed his wrist.
"Let's go now."
The Drama Club's activity center was a genuine small modern theater, standing independently with extensive grounds and clean, sharp lines. The main structure was composed of large cold-gray floor-to-ceiling glass curtain walls, highly designed, reflecting an expensive sheen under the afternoon sun.
Xi Ting was practically half-dragged by Oliver through the heavy automatic sensor doors.
The lobby, with its astonishingly high ceiling, was incredibly spacious, its floor polished to a mirror-like shine. A massive electronic screen covering an entire central wall played high-definition footage—a collection of the Drama Club's works, showcasing some of their finest pieces.
At that moment, a close-up was playing.
Amethyst eyes occupied most of the frame.
The person in the footage tilted their head slightly, gazing directly into the camera:
"After the mask is removed… can you still… return to yourself?"
The voice flowed from hidden top-tier audio systems placed throughout, lingering in the vast, silent lobby.
A few scattered members chatting or moving nearby instinctively paused, their eyes drawn to the screen, revealing undisguised admiration.
That was Xia.
That face was known to everyone in Aetheren.
Xia was a mysterious S-Rank; no one knew his background.
There were more than four S-Ranks in the academy, but Xi Xing had specifically reminded Xi Ting before the semester began about the four names with the most elite backgrounds and the ones most not to be provoked:
Jiang Lian, Dominic Ravenshire Celeste Fairwind, Xie Suizhi, and Xia.
These four were jokingly referred to as the "F4."
Perhaps driven by some desire to toy with people's hearts, Xia had joined the Drama Club. With exceptional talent, he had created many iconic scenes for the club, amassing a sizable fanbase.
The president of the Drama Club was Xie Suizhi. He was another unique S-Rank—despite coming from a top-tier family, he carried no arrogance, always gentle and mild-mannered, never looking down on C-Rank or D-Rank students. Thus, he was the most well-regarded among the S-Ranks.
S-Ranks were already few in number, and the Drama Club had two of them, making it consistently the most popular and well-resourced club. Correspondingly, its interviews were also the strictest, with many clamoring to get in but failing.
Oliver didn't slow his pace, pulling Xi Ting past a strikingly designed curved screen, through several corridors, and into the core area at the back.
The atmosphere here was completely different from the outer lobby—clearly more private and quiet, with lighting adjusted to be more suitable for reading.
The space was expansive. A person sat beside a wide, long table, likely having just concluded a meeting. By the window stood a sleek black grand piano that looked exceedingly valuable.
Xie Suizhi sat at the long table, his eyes lowered as he flipped through a neatly bound stack of documents.
He wore a finely tailored white shirt, sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows, revealing cleanly defined forearms and a wrist adorned with a simple yet exquisitely crafted watch.
Hearing footsteps, he didn't look up, speaking as he continued turning the pages.
"Oliver, you're late." His voice was warm and even, carrying no hint of reproach.
Oliver knew this president's temperament well and understood he wasn't being scolded.
"But it was worth the wait—I brought the 'treasure.'" Oliver smiled, gently nudging Xi Ting forward from behind.
Xi Ting stumbled half a step before steadying himself, instinctively tightening his grip on the books he held in his arms.
Almost simultaneously, he clearly felt a gaze settle upon him.
By the window near the piano, Xia, who had originally been facing away from them and seemed to be casually testing the keys, had turned around at some point. He leaned casually against the polished piano surface.
One of his long legs was slightly bent, a hand resting casually on the piano lid, while a single diamond stud in his left ear reflected a cold glimmer.
The moment his gaze landed on Xi Ting’s face, his posture against the piano remained unchanged, but the carelessness in his expression subtly receded a little, his eyes pausing almost imperceptibly for a moment.
After just a second’s pause, he spoke, his tone carrying its usual playful interest. His voice was closer and more tangible than it had been through the screen, possessing a cello-like quality that somehow felt affectionate: "So this is the ‘treasure’ you’ve been talking about for days?"
He deliberately slowed down the word "treasure," like a lover’s whisper.
"Yes!" Oliver’s tone was excited, unaware of anything unusual, as he nudged Xi Ting forward another half-step. "Look at him—isn’t he exactly the ‘Night Watchman’ we’ve been looking for?"
Listening to their conversation, Xie Suizhi set down the document in his hand with interest, turning slightly toward Xi Ting’s direction, his gaze steady as he looked over.
The moment his eyes met Xi Ting’s face, his hazel-brown pupils shifted almost imperceptibly, a flicker of surprise passing through them, but he showed no trace of it, quickly regaining his usual composure.
Only the index finger that had been resting casually on the edge of the document unconsciously tapped lightly against the smooth paper surface.
Author’s Note:
No more skipping days—I’ll update daily!!! Reading everyone’s comments is like a shot of adrenaline!!