Qiao Chu finally caught her breath. Seeing the young master splattered head to toe with strawberry juice, looking at her with nothing but concern in his eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a rare flicker of tenderness.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to. Ran into some bad luck—makes even drinking juice feel like getting food stuck in your teeth.”
Bai Lang’s heart started racing. He flashed a grin that revealed two sharp little tiger teeth. “It’s fine. I’m meeting friends to play basketball this afternoon anyway. I’d be changing clothes regardless.”
System: 【Tsk tsk tsk, ‘changing clothes anyway~’ Why doesn’t he just say he deliberately caught the strawberry juice with his shirt?】
Qiao Chu: 【System, you’ve really been speeding down the road of passive-aggressive snark lately. You know that?】
System (sniffling): 【Any man who lays eyes on my host is plotting something, and I’m not even allowed to say it? You’re heartless, dazzled by new faces, abandoning the old—waaaah!】
Qiao Chu accepted Bai Lang’s goodwill without the slightest guilt. She’d just helped him curse someone out, after all.
Bai Lang was talking about the dirty clothes—but also not just about the clothes.
His basketball games were practically standing-room only. There were guys there to study his technique, but even more people came just to hand him water and try to get close to him.
Yet Miss Qiao… she never seemed to appear in the stands.
Was she not interested in basketball?
Or not interested in the fact that the academy now had someone like him?
“Miss Qiao, how come you’re not with Shang Shi’an today?” Bai Lang asked.
He’d only transferred to Dilun Academy two weeks ago. Aside from class time, he barely interacted with his deskmate.
But Miss Qiao was a constant topic of gossip—impossible not to hear about her.
Most of it mocked her for being blind: ignoring her handsome, wealthy official fiancé to obsess over a bastard son instead, wasting her studies, indulging in extravagance.
Bai Lang liked to have fun too, so he didn’t really judge. Everyone liked hanging out with interesting people. Who could stand someone like Shang Shixu, that walking textbook?
Originally, who Miss Qiao spent time with had nothing to do with him.
But now… he found himself caring.
If it was just about having fun and chasing excitement, why go so far? They shared interests—being friends wouldn’t be bad at all.
Qiao Chu rolled her eyes. “Because someone insisted on treating me to lunch.”
Bai Lang’s handsome face instantly heated up. Wasn’t it because he had something to ask of her that she didn’t go with Shang Shi’an?
He’d really panicked and scrambled his brain into mush.
After eating quietly for a bit, the heat finally faded from his face. He hesitated, then said, “Then… how about I treat you again this weekend? As thanks for your help.”
As he spoke, Bai Lang carefully handed over the jade Guanyin he treasured.
Qiao Chu: “…Fine.”
She’d eat anything, but she wouldn’t swallow a loss.
At this point, refusing would only hurt feelings. Someone was offering good food and drinks—why turn that down?
Especially since Bai Lang had brought up Shang Shi’an. This kid seemed socially savvy enough, and more importantly, unlike Shang Shi’an, he wouldn’t screw her over. A perfect partner for casual fun.
Qiao Chu decided to cool things off with Shang Shi’an for a while and see what other dirty tricks he and Wang Qiuxia still had up their sleeves.
Shang Shi’an, meanwhile, knew none of this. Last night, when Shang Shixu took Qiao Chu away, he assumed she’d gone unwillingly.
After all, she’d always disliked Shang Shixu and had repeatedly threatened to break off the engagement—though for some reason, it always ended with nothing happening.
So at noon, Shang Shi’an went as usual to wait for Qiao Chu.
Partly to get closer to the young miss, partly to freeload meals.
As a bastard son in a wealthy family, Shang Shi’an looked glamorous on the surface, but at Dilun Academy—where everyone was a rich second-generation—he belonged to the most despised category.
At school, any young man with even a bit of ability followed Shang Shixu’s lead.
At home, his mother was useless and unloved by his father. Though he bore the Shang surname, he had to fight a whole group of half-siblings for the inheritance.
In fact, his mother had it even worse than Wang Qiuxia—constantly suppressed by the main wife, tripped up by other concubines.
Growing up with a weak, helpless mother meant Shang Shi’an had endured nothing but cold stares.
Qiao Chu was his chance to escape all of that. No matter what, he had to seize her.
As long as he married her, everything in the Qiao family would be his—a fortune no less massive than the Shang family’s.
He knew Qiao Chu’s late mother had been formidable, a legendary iron-fisted businesswoman.
So the only way was to spoil Qiao Chu rotten—only then could he firmly control the money and power.
The strategy worked. Girls starved for love were easiest to corrupt.
He taught her to skip class, to smoke and drink, to chew betel nut, to indulge in nightlife. She accepted everything without hesitation—and favored him all the more.
Shang Shi’an touched the burn scar on his face. Qiao Chu had caused it last night. He knew it was ugly, but compared to making the young miss happy, it was nothing.
Yet students streamed out of the classroom in small groups, and Qiao Chu was nowhere to be seen.
Someone who knew him joked, “Back to kneeling and licking Miss Qiao’s boots again? Save it—she’s got a date with Campus Heartthrob Bai.”
Others chimed in, “A bastard born of a slut really thinks he can climb the ranks? I say he’s just as shameless as that new scholarship kid!”
Shang Shi’an’s eyes turned bloodshot as he silently clenched his fists.
What had he and Yixuan done wrong? Could they choose who gave birth to them?
Just because others were born lucky—what right did they have to look down on him?
Once he got his hands on the Qiao family fortune and became truly superior, he’d make those foul-mouthed beasts pay.
Who Qiao Chu ate with didn’t matter. As long as it wasn’t Shang Shixu, it wasn’t a threat.
Shang Shi’an pulled out his phone to call her—only to discover, to his shock, that Qiao Chu had blocked him.
Not just her number. WeChat, every app—nothing but glaring red exclamation marks.
His heart sank. A sense of panic crept in as things slipped beyond his control.
Why?
Hadn’t she been perfectly satisfied with him last night?
Had she found out?
Found out he’d arranged Yixuan’s release from detention? Or that he’d used Yun Guanlan’s name to back her and avoid punishment?
Impossible. He’d been extremely careful—never showed his face. How could that brainless waste of space have figured it out?
He racked his brains and still couldn’t pinpoint where he’d crossed the young miss—how he’d been banished overnight.
Until that afternoon, in the gym, he saw Qiao Chu delivering water to Bai Lang.
She hadn’t planned to. She hadn’t even brought water. But two girls close to her—die-hard Bai Lang fans—pushed her forward to get his contact info.
Qiao Chu said flatly, “I’m really not close to him.”
Fan girls: “Liar! You’re deskmates! You ate lunch together—everyone saw!”
The stands were packed with cheering girls. Qiao Chu’s eyes flicked sideways, and a money-making idea sparked.
At the end of the first half, she surged ahead of the crowd, using pure skill to become the first to reach Bai Lang.
She shoved a bottle of mineral water—one she’d already taken a sip from—into his arms, then held out her palm. “Hey, lend me your phone. Mine’s dead.”
Bai Lang’s heart soared and crashed in an instant. Seeing her rush toward him had felt even better than sinking a three-pointer.
Then came that sentence—like a bucket of cold water.
He’d thought she was impressed by his skills.
Turns out she hadn’t watched at all. Sitting in the best seats, she’d just been playing on her phone.
Despite the disappointment, Bai Lang walked to the sidelines, pulled his phone from his backpack, and handed it to her.
“Password’s 8811. Go ahead.”
Qiao Chu beamed and ran off with the phone—faster than she’d come to give him water.
Bai Lang chuckled helplessly. He twisted open the bottle she’d given him. At the mouth of the bottle was a faint red mark, carrying a unique scent—vanilla and cream.
Lipstick.
Qiao Chu’s shade.
Bai Lang froze slightly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tilted his head back, lips closing around the lipstick mark, and drank more than half the bottle in one go.
Help, I wrote this with a huge grin on my face—Bai Puppy is such a hopeless simp, hahaha.