During the third and fourth periods, Wen Ying finally got to see the mysterious group known as the “Ming Ying Academy teachers” again.
He was a stiff, formal middle-aged man wearing glasses thicker than beer bottle bottoms, his hair combed severely back, his posture ramrod straight.
The very picture of a social elite a walking stereotype.
“Hello, students.”
Under everyone’s gaze, he pulled a USB drive from his suit pocket and opened a PowerPoint.
Then, in perfectly enunciated tones and with great emotional flourish, he began reading the contents of the slides.
The lecture matched the PPT word for word.
If he was just going to read from the slides, why bother hiring a teacher at all?
Perhaps just to give Gu Xiche’s voice a break.
Wen Ying twirled his pen, bored out of his mind.
Compared to math class, the business class content was instantly more highbrow the slides were filled with terms Wen Ying didn’t understand.
It seemed the author, young as they were, had still done their homework and looked up business-related content.
Halfway through the lecture, the business teacher unhurriedly picked up his enamel mug and took a sip of chrysanthemum tea.
He made a “pfft” sound and spat out the chrysanthemum petals.
“The next part is very important it’ll be on the final.”
He said this, but few students below were actually paying attention.
As the class wound to its end, students slept, played on their phones, and some of the bolder ones had already started whispering about where to eat lunch.
The atmosphere of giving up was thick.
Wen Ying ignored them all and focused on his own studies.
“Class dismissed.”
The melody of “Für Elise” rang out again, and the teacher didn’t linger for even a second, leaving without looking back.
“Lunch time!!”
The students charged out of the classroom like unleashed wild dogs. Wen Ying unhurriedly packed up his notes and waited until most people had left the room before pulling out the sandwich he’d brought for lunch.
The midday sandwich had no onions or radishes, but it did have terrible red peppers.
A truly terrifying food.
[Little Highness, perhaps you could try taking one bite of the red pepper.]
“Gentleman” urged him as always not to be picky, and Wen Ying ignored him as always.
“Next time.”
He brushed it off with practiced insincerity and rose from his seat.
The classroom was too stuffy he didn’t like eating in such a terrible environment.
His siblings always liked to say he was finicky, high-maintenance, and hard to please, and Wen Ying admitted he was a troublesome person.
But his quirks didn’t bother anyone else.
So even if he admitted it, he wouldn’t change.
After studying the school’s floor plan, Wen Ying had found himself an excellent spot.
He was heading there now to eat.
As he passed the back door, the boy’s footsteps paused slightly.
Qu Huo wasn’t in the classroom today.
Maybe he’d gone to work a part-time job during lunch, or maybe he’d found somewhere else to eat.
But that had nothing to do with him.
Ming Ying’s teaching building was tall you had to go up three more floors to reach the rooftop.
Unlike other schools, the top floor of this elite boys’ academy was a sky garden. The rooftop was lush with all kinds of plants, the environment was excellent, and because it was high enough, there were few flies or insects.
Few students visited the rooftop at noon. It was warm in winter and cool in summer the perfect dining spot.
“Nice view.”
The lush greenery blocked the boy’s view as the fastidious little prince took a few steps across the rooftop and offered a light assessment.
It was a bit like his little garden.
He always liked to stay alone in the garden places like that had no annoying rules or etiquette.
Sitting on a rest bench, Wen Ying tore open the sandwich wrapper and began ruthlessly picking out the red peppers while “Gentleman” let out pained protests.
He didn’t really like the custard sauce either, but he gave “Gentleman” a bit of face and didn’t wipe that off too.
A gentle breeze brushed across his cheeks, bringing with it a rustling sound.
Within the wind, there seemed to be footsteps mixed in.
His wind-tossed hair tickled his cheek, and Wen Ying stopped picking at the peppers. He looked up and met a pair of deep, dark eyes.
His gaze crossed the bushes, and he found himself face-to-face with Qu Huo.
Being caught being picky by someone else made Wen Ying lose a bit of face.
But he calmly gathered up the wrapper and greeted him with composure: “Qu Huo?”
He couldn’t figure out why Qu Huo was here.
Could it be that Qu Huo didn’t just deliver packages and brew coffee, but also moonlighted watering the school’s plants?
That was way too hardworking.
The black-haired boy blinked, a hint of noontime light hidden in his dark, deep eyes.
He said softly, “Wen Ying.”
In this mad place, after several days, it was rare to meet someone who would properly call his name. Wen Ying’s tense muscles relaxed a little.
As Qu Huo shifted his body, Wen Ying noticed the old phone tightly clutched in his hand.
It looked like he’d come to the rooftop to make a call.
But Wen Ying had finally found a good place to eat, and he wasn’t about to give it up to Qu Huo.
Wen Ying lowered his head and quietly ate the sandwich with its unpicked peppers, pretending Qu Huo was air.
That was the greatest kindness Wen Ying could offer him.
Qu Huo naturally didn’t force him to leave either, instead walking toward another corner.
Wen Ying frowned at the sweet-spicy sting of the red pepper, and while no one was watching, continued secretly picking them out.
He’d barely picked out a few when the right side, which had just gone quiet, was joined by a strange sound from the left.
Is there no end to this?
Having been interrupted twice while picking a red pepper, Wen Ying’s face darkened as he raised his head once more.
The shrubs on the left were denser, and he couldn’t see anything beyond the leaves.
Wen Ying stood up impatiently, only to be startled into widening his eyes at the sight before him.
For the sake of the view, the rooftop of the teaching building had never been sealed off just lined with potted plants as a barrier.
A figure had stepped over the pots and was standing at the edge of the rooftop, swaying precariously.
He wore Ming Ying’s school uniform, his shoulder-length deep purple hair blown by the wind, giving him an air of fragile vulnerability.
Every hair on Wen Ying’s body stood on end.
Someone was about to jump!
In the blink of an eye, the person on the rooftop took another step forward.
His foot accidentally kicked a potted plant, causing the half-person-tall planter to lose its balance and tip toward the edge, about to fall.
Wen Ying couldn’t take it anymore.
This was the top floor, and there were many students below both the falling person and the flowerpot could kill someone.
If he witnessed a murder scene, he wouldn’t sleep well for years.
“Gentleman, help me.”
[At your command, Young Highness.]
“Gentleman” quickly began to analyze.
[Based on my calculations, if you approach from his right side, you can avoid injury to yourself and safely move him away from the danger zone.]
“Alright.”
The person on the rooftop was still lost in his own world. Wen Ying’s steps were very, very light, perfectly masked by the sound of the wind.
When he was about a meter away from the man, without a single word of preamble, Wen Ying lunged forward and yanked him off the ledge.
The man was about the same height as him. He tumbled onto Wen Ying, who then disdainfully tossed him onto the soft grass.
The throw used half his strength, and the rooftop man’s body landed on the lawn with a dull thud.
“Hiss.”
The man let out a muffled groan, then went still.
With the person dealt with, he still had to deal with the flowerpots.
Wait, when had he gotten here?
Wen Ying stared at Qu Huo, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, momentarily stunned.
The two teetering flowerpots were no longer in their original spots. Qu Huo held a pot of pothos in his left arm and a pot of salvia in his right.
He set the pots down steadily on the ground, the muscles in his arms tensing and then relaxing.
Excellent crisis management skills.
Wen Ying genuinely admired him for it.
But he didn’t say so, only expressionlessly brushing the dust off his hands.
Disgusting.
The man on the rooftop had no idea how long he’d been standing in the wind, his body covered in the dust it carried.
If he’d stayed out any longer, even if he didn’t jump, he’d have turned into dried meat.
The wind-dried man, who had landed head-first, remained motionless for a long time, and Wen Ying began to feel uneasy.
He hadn’t even used that much force, why was there no sound?
Suppressing the urge to kick him, Wen Ying was about to ask politely when the other let out a whimper and slowly scrambled to his feet.
Contrary to his absurd behavior, the wind-dried man had a cold, aloof face.
Single eyelids, phoenix eyes, paired with pale, thin lips and light-colored irises.
Wen Ying felt the face looked somewhat familiar.
[Si Haoxing, the sole designated heir of the Si family conglomerate, the dream lover of millions of students, said to possess a mysterious charmthe melancholy, aloof Prince.]
“Gentleman” dutifully recited the introduction, successfully making Wen Ying awkward once again.
“Nice reading. Don’t do it again.”
He’d actually wanted to ask from the start, why did the conglomerate have to be called the “Si family”?
It was really strange.
He remembered that at the end of the first book, Young Master Si was alive and well. Why was he already up on the rooftop air-drying himself at the very start of the story?
“Pardon me.” A cool, clear voice rang out as Si Haoxing let out a soft sigh.
His voice was like ice dropping into water, lowering the temperature around them.
Then, he looked at Wen Ying with melancholy, a barely perceptible joy in his eyes.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Princess.”
Princess?
Wen Ying slowly turned his head to look directly at him.
[Young Highness, stay calm!!]
Seeing Wen Ying’s fists crack as he clenched them, “Gentleman” quickly scrambled to make amends.
His Highness was precious and noble, how could he dirty his hands hitting someone?
[H-He’s highly likely to have sustained a mild concussion from your throw. Right now, within three meters, he can’t tell man from beast, and his mind isn’t exactly clear.]
“He can’t tell man from beast, and yet he can still call me princess?”
Wen Ying’s temples throbbed, blood rushing to the top of his head.
[Your Highness, that’s not the point.]
“Gentleman” weakly protested.
In times like these, there were always guards standing between His Highness and the offender.
But now, besides His Highness and the one who had offended him, only Qu Huo remained.
Reason returned, and Wen Ying’s fists slowly unclenched.
He really couldn’t just hit peope if he broke them, he’d have to pay compensation.
He couldn’t afford it.
“Young Master Si.” Qu Huo, unable to watch any longer, stepped forward half a pace with quiet dignity and spoke in a low voice.
“Do you need to go to the infirmary?”
As the villain personally designated by the author, his voice carried an inherent authority.
Si Haoxing’s hazy gaze sharpened slightly. Finally grasping the situation, he gave a faint shake of his head.
“My apologies.” The purple-haired youth was as calm as a chrysanthemum, his lips turning pale.
Joy was once again shrouded by melancholy. He lowered his eyes slightly, hiding his entire face in the shadow of the trees.
“It was the wind that told me that today, a beautiful princess would meet me on the rooftop.”
“I want to wait for him in the place closest to the wind.”
Under everyone’s gaze, Si Haoxing tucked a strand of bangs behind his left eye.
With his eye covered, his originally clean-cut features instantly took on a non-mainstream look.
Wen Ying was silent for a moment.
“Gentleman, does that author even know the difference between cold and aloof, and just plain weird?”
This wasn’t a cold and aloof male lead this was a terminal case of chuunibyou.
The “Gentleman’s” tone was strained.
[Reporting to Your Highness, perhaps not?]