Whether college students are all incredibly laid-back, Wen Ying couldn’t say.
But by the time he stepped into the office, his thoughts had already tightened back up.
Wen Ying had no idea what kind of person his homeroom teacher was he didn’t even know his name.
Because the homeroom teacher’s presence in the book was practically zero, not managing anything at all, only mentioned once every few hundred thousand characters.
It was almost like the author had forgotten the homeroom teacher existed entirely, and only when he occasionally remembered would he slap his forehead and add a bit of screen time for him.
“You’re Wen Ying?”
A saving grace the homeroom teacher was a kindly, ordinary little old man.
He wore high-magnification reading glasses and held a ceramic-patterned thermos in his hand.
He fit everyone’s stereotype of an elder.
“My surname’s Jiang just call me Old Jiang.”
Under the teacher’s overly benevolent gaze, Wen Ying stiffly took the school uniform and forced a smile.
“Thank you, Teacher Jiang.”
Accustomed to keeping his distance from people, he wasn’t used to such close-range warmth and kindness.
If nothing unexpected happened, this would be his first time seeing the homeroom teacher, and also his last time this semester.
From here on out, the class would be ruled by the school bully.
The old man surnamed Jiang nodded, then, holding his teacup, leisurely settled back into his seat and picked up his bodhi bead bracelet to start fiddling with it.
Like an NPC with a fixed spawn point, returning to idle mode after handing out a quest reward.
Wen Ying once again felt a wave of discomfort at this bizarre world.
Not long after he returned to the classroom, Huo Jueyue appeared, panting, bag in hand.
“Whew, made it!”
He leaned against the classroom door, flipping his hair, and shouted for no apparent reason.
Wen Ying picked up his cup and took a sip of warm water.
If he weren’t the male lead, he’d definitely be mistaken for an escapee from a mental hospital.
But he really was the male lead even his panting looked more composed than the two followers behind him, whose eyes were bulging and faces flushed red.
A bead of sweat rolled down his jawline, and as Huo Jueyue strode into the classroom, a loud gasp rippled through the room.
“Oh my god, that’s this year’s haute couture new release, right? Only the Huo family could pull that off.”
“OMG, the school bully Huo got even hotter!”
There’s a gay guy here.
Wen Ying choked on his water, then numbly continued wiping the dust that had gotten on his backpack during the walk to school.
The bag was dirty.
Why did people use “school bully” as a title for Huo Jueyue? It wasn’t exactly something to be proud of.
But Huo Jueyue, at the center of everyone’s attention, wasn’t looking at anyone else he was staring straight at Wen Ying.
The boy’s complexion was fair with a hint of pink, though his pupils were unfocused, looking a bit distracted.
Could he be thinking about him?
At that thought, Huo Jueyue’s mood inexplicably improved.
[Little Prince, Huo Jueyue’s affection toward you has increased.]
“Gentleman” diligently monitored all the data.
[However, his affection fluctuates wildly and could drop at any moment.]
Huh?
Wen Ying looked up, utterly bewildered.
He hadn’t done anything.
Meeting Huo Jueyue’s confident yet ambiguous gaze, Wen Ying suppressed the urge to punch him and looked away.
“Don’t tell me about his affection rising or falling from now on.”
Wen Ying said coldly to “Gentleman”: “I don’t want to hear it.”
[As you command, Little Prince.]
Only after getting “Gentleman’s” response did Wen Ying slowly resume organizing his backpack.
He liked cleanliness, but he’d had people managing his daily life since childhood, so his self-care skills weren’t great. For now, he could only fumble through it himself.
As he lowered his head, he revealed the loose low ponytail tied at the back of his head.
His hair was simply tied up with a black elastic band, looking like it would fall out at the slightest touch. The trembling strands made Huo Jueyue’s heart itch.
If he messed up the little shrimp’s hair, what would he look like when he got angry?
Driven by some inexplicable impulse, as he passed Wen Ying, he maliciously reached out toward the hair tie.
But Wen Ying’s nerves were constantly on edge, and his reaction was faster.
The thief’s heart never dies.
He sidestepped Huo Jueyue’s restless hand and grabbed his wrist, twisting it back.
Wen Ying was already in a bad mood, so he put a bit more force into it.
The veins on the back of his hand were clearly visible, his fingers pressing hard enough to make Huo Jueyue’s wrist crack audibly.
Cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead, and Huo Jueyue nearly screamed out loud on the spot.
“Hiss!”
His body uncontrollably tilted to the side, his knee slamming painfully into the rosewood desk.
But Wen Ying had already let go, quietly continuing to wipe his bag.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Before Huo Jueyue could react, his follower was the first to lose it.
A generic-faced blond slammed his hand on the table and shouted: “How dare you push our Young Master Huo!”
At the same time, another follower with an even more generic face a redhead seemed to trigger a quest, scrambling over to check Huo Jueyue’s injuries.
“Young Master Huo, are you okay?” he made a big fuss.
Huo Jueyue hadn’t been in much pain before, but when the guy pressed on the wound, his handsome face flushed to a liver-colored purple, his mouth puckering into something resembling a pufferfish.
“I’m fine.”
He stared hard at Wen Ying, forcing a smile.
Seeing that Huo Jueyue wasn’t seriously hurt, the redhead turned to Wen Ying with a look of disappointment.
Do you know who our young master is?
Wen Ying met his gaze openly, silently mocking him in his mind.
Sure enough, the next second, the red-haired guy’s brows twisted into a knot as he spoke indignantly.
“Do you know who our young master is?”
He knew it.
Wen Ying, who had nearly memorized the plot of the previous chapters, sighed inwardly and looked away with little interest.
These two lackeys really had no new lines, what they were saying now was exactly the same as what they’d said in the book after Wen Yingying offended Huo Jueyue.
“I didn’t push him.”
Wen Ying’s voice was neither loud nor soft, exceptionally calm.
He could go along with the original plot, but bowing his head to Huo Jueyue? Not a chance.
He didn’t like lowering his head, especially when it wasn’t even his fault.
He looked at Huo Jueyue, whose complexion was gradually recovering: “Right, Young Master Huo?”
He’d dared to mess with Huo Jueyue because he’d calculated his strength carefully no one was actually hurt, and he truly hadn’t pushed anyone.
And Huo Jueyue, obsessed with saving face, probably didn’t want to blow things out of proportion either.
Sure enough, Huo Jueyue coughed twice, jabbed the red-haired guy hard with his elbow, and shot the yellow-haired guy a venomous glare.
“Let’s go.”
There was no way he’d admit to losing to some frail-looking little shrimp!
This not-so-small incident ended hastily, but the atmosphere in the classroom turned subtle.
Among the glances cast at Wen Ying, some held surprise, others held hostility.
But when Wen Ying looked back, the gossiping students quickly averted their eyes, not daring to meet his gaze.
He couldn’t tell who’d given him the hostile look, but he did notice a black-haired boy sleeping in another corner.
The boy was like a statue, not changing his posture from start to finish, completely indifferent to the chaos around him.
He felt oddly familiar.
With most of the class present, Wen Ying scanned the room but didn’t spot the delivery guy with the sanpaku eyes from yesterday.
The book said Qu Huo was in his class, so the one who’d never lifted his head in that corner was probably Qu Huo.
Lifeless and dull didn’t seem easy to get along with.
Finally satisfied with his bag, Wen Ying picked up his phone, which had been vibrating nonstop.
It was too noisy, so he decided to just mute it.
But before he could find the settings, the phone slipped slightly in his grip and uncontrollably popped up the Tieba splash screen.
And the loading screen wouldn’t close every attempt to exit just jumped to an ad.
He’d delete this rogue app later!
Wen Ying waited patiently for Tieba to load, and just as he was about to exit, he spotted a glaring red “hot” post on the homepage.
{Ming Ying Rebel Paradise water thread | Shocking, the cold-faced new transfer student in Class 2-1 actually did that to School Bully Huo.}
Felt like it had something to do with him.
Wen Ying hesitated for a moment, then coldly tapped into it.
{0L: I’m from Class 2, just passed by Class 1 and saw the school bully looking super pissed. Heard he got disrespected by someone!}
{1L: What? OP, spill the tea! OTZ}
{2L: I think I heard about this too. OMG, does the new boy have a death wish?!}
{4L: I know too, I’m from Class 1. Side note the one who clashed with Young Master Huo is a really cute guy..}
Wen Ying skimmed through it quickly, only registering a bunch of baffling slang.
“What does this mean?”
He didn’t understand, and he was deeply shocked.
[These are some older internet slang terms a product of their era.]
The Gentleman explained.
The screen full of kaomoji and filler words gave Wen Ying a headache. He rubbed his temples: “You translate.”
[As you wish.]
“The Gentleman” paused for three seconds, tried to keep it concise, but failed.
[They think the young prince bullied Young Master Huo and gave him attitude, and that Young Master Huo is feeling wronged, so they’re indignant on his behalf. Of course, I believe this is all nonsense our young prince.]
“Stop.”
Wen Ying’s head hurt even more.
So it wasn’t just humans even AI, once it hit middle age, loved to ramble.
It was Huo Jueyue who’d pulled his hair, and he hadn’t even broken any of Huo Jueyue’s bones.
No one had ever dared to yank his braid before. Sure enough, getting tangled up with any school bully or heartthrob was asking for trouble.
The Four Young Masters had strong influence at school, and Huo Jueyue was the most famous of them. Embarrassing him meant his followers wouldn’t sit idle.
But he’d do it again next time.
“Hello, classmate.”
Wen Ying was about to keep browsing Tieba when a voice as pleasant as a babbling brook sounded by his ear.
It was a boy with refined features and a fair, clean face.
The boy wore gold-rimmed glasses, his clothes neatly pressed, and aside from his strikingly eye-catching silver hair and golden eyes, he looked like the picture-perfect top student with impeccable upbringing.
He smiled gently, his voice half as loud as Huo Jueyue’s, speaking slowly and deliberately.
“My name is Gu Xiche. I’m the class monitor of Class 1. Pleased to meet you.”
[This is the second male lead the academic of the Four Young Masters of Mingying. A genius with an IQ of 280. His father is a professor at Qingbei, and his mother is a life scientist.]
The “Gentleman,” who had just been forcibly muted by Wen Ying, couldn’t hold back and started rambling again.
[And his popularity once surpassed even the male lead’s.]
“I’ve read the book you’re telling me something everyone knows.”
Wen Ying smiled and nodded in greeting to him, then said to the “Gentleman”: “Though he does seem more normal than the male lead. It’s no surprise he’s more popular.”
“No, he’s not popular because he’s normal.”
“Rather, it’s because he has white hair.”
“White hair.”
Wen Ying was curious: “What’s so special about that?”
“According to reliable data, more than half of the young ladies who enjoy reading prefer white hair. This phenomenon has a unique term to describe it.”
The “gentleman” lowered his voice mysteriously.
“It’s called a white-haired fetish.”
Wen Ying:
“Alright then.”