Chen Xunfeng’s cold roar caused everyone following him to stop in their tracks. They could all tell he was genuinely angry, yet none of them understood why.
Chen Xunfeng was known for his short temper and lack of patience, but he was also someone who lacked for nothing. He cared about very few things, often existing in a state of cold indifference. Because of this, he rarely showed genuine rage. They looked at one another, completely unable to fathom the reason behind his outburst.
Meanwhile, Jiang Chuan in the crowd was genuinely worried that Chen Xunfeng might beat Zhou Ai. Zhou Ai was different from Jiang Wenyi; he was the top student in the grade and one of the future hopes of the Sixth High. Many teachers and school leaders kept a close watch on him, and for Chen Xunfeng to be at odds with Zhou Ai under such circumstances…
However, Jiang Chuan couldn’t shake the feeling that Zhou Ai’s face looked familiar. He felt he had seen Zhou Ai before, though not as the widely known top student of the grade—he seemed to have encountered him elsewhere.
But the situation unfolded in a direction no one had expected.
Yellow leaves fluttered and swayed on the tall sycamore tree in front of them. Against the wall on the inner side of the trees, their arrogant, invincible Chen Xunfeng had rapidly reined in his cold, stern demeanor.
He leaned forward slightly, bracing his arms against the wall. His exposed profile looked focused. It was a posture of forceful dominance, yet he spoke in a soft, low voice to the cold-faced mute before him: “Zhou Ai, I’ve been waiting for over half a year, hanging around in front of you every day. Is it… is it true that you really don’t remember me?”
This was an expression they had never seen on Chen Xunfeng’s face. His sharp, angular profile seemed to soften, filled with tentativeness and hesitation. They were astonished by Chen Xunfeng’s emotions and the content of his words, but when they turned their gaze toward Zhou Ai, they saw no flicker of emotion on the mute’s face.
Zhou Ai’s appearance was consistent with how he always appeared before others. His face was exceptionally delicate; the lines of his nose, lips, and eyes seemed as though they had been meticulously measured before daring to grow into place.
But there was no emotion in his beautiful brows and eyes. He appeared pale and lifeless, like moss growing in a dark corner—lush, yet cold and dreary. His silence was absolute, a void of sound. In the eyes of everyone else, he was simply a gloomy mute that no one wanted to approach.
The area became unprecedentedly quiet; the sound of falling leaves hitting the ground was clear and distinct. Perhaps that was why, when the mute stood in silence for a long moment and then suddenly raised his hand and slapped Chen Xunfeng, everyone present heard and saw it clearly. Their hearts rose in unison at that moment.
Barely two months had passed since the start of school in September. Chen Xunfeng’s daily conduct was never high-profile, yet he had quickly left a deep impression on every student and teacher at the Sixth High. Beyond his own merits, it was because he feared nothing.
He had no fears or anxieties, and he seemed to act without ever considering the consequences. He had the status and the means, and he was undoubtedly ruthless.
No one dared to provoke him Zhou Ai was the first. Furthermore, that slap was not just for show; Zhou Ai’s strength might not have been great, but his movement was clean and swift, and the slap landed squarely on Chen Xunfeng’s face.
Jiang Chuan frowned tightly, growing increasingly confused by the unfolding events. He shared an exam room with Chen Xunfeng. Tomorrow would be the weekend, and they had originally planned to invite Chen Xunfeng to a new hot spring hotel a friend had opened outside the city. But after the teacher collected the papers, Chen Xunfeng had stood there for a moment with his phone and then suddenly bolted from the classroom.
Chen Xunfeng had left in such a hurry he hadn’t even taken his school bag. His departure had seemed aimless, as if he were searching for someone. Jiang Chuan had trailed him from a distance, watching him cross the playground and pass through the two freshman teaching buildings. After circling almost the entire campus, Chen Xunfeng had suddenly started walking toward the back gate.
Seeing Zhou Ai leaning against the wall, the boys who had followed Chen Xunfeng began to egg him on, teasing him about “blocking” someone. Jiang Chuan had hesitated, neither explicitly denying it nor confirming it. He was worried Chen Xunfeng would actually beat up the top student of the grade, yet he also felt that Chen Xunfeng wouldn’t.
After Zhou Ai slapped him, his hand dropped back down, the cuff of his school uniform loosely encircling his wrist. Jiang Chuan’s brow twitched. He finally remembered why he had such a specific impression of Zhou Ai: a few weeks ago, the person he had bumped into in the restroom of the building across the way was Zhou Ai.
Chen Xunfeng had been incredibly strange at that time he had been standing in detention when, without a word, he crossed the skywalk to head to the restroom in the opposite building. Zhou Ai was in that restroom, and after he had bumped into Zhou Ai, Chen Xunfeng hadn’t just checked his hand for injuries, he had proactively offered to take him to the infirmary.
Chen Xunfeng couldn’t possibly be a helpful person, let alone a meddler.
The group behind them seemed to finally shake off the shock of the scene. Jiang Chuan heard their gasps and exclamations of surprise. He looked up, and indeed, Chen Xunfeng had been slapped to the face, yet showed no sign of anger. He remained with his head bowed, the strange, focused expression on his face unchanged. He seemed about to say something, but was interrupted by Zhou Ai’s movement to turn and leave.
Chen Xunfeng did not release his hand from the wall. He looked at Zhou Ai’s face, which was inches away. The light of the setting sun shone upon Zhou Ai, making him seem as though he were melting into the light. Zhou Ai’s eyes fluttered from the glare, and Chen Xunfeng instinctively moved his hand to shield him.
Then, Zhou Ai suddenly let go of the school bag he had been holding in his left hand and turned back to face Chen Xunfeng. He glanced at Chen Xunfeng’s face and suddenly raised his hand to sign a brief sentence. His movements were neither hurried nor slow, but smooth and decisive. After six years, the first thing Zhou Ai communicated to Chen Xunfeng was filled with anger. He asked Chen Xunfeng: Have you finally finished pretending?
Anyone at the Sixth High who knew or heard of Zhou Ai knew he was a mute a shut-off, silent mute. Zhou Ai rarely communicated with anyone, so they had almost forgotten that even if Zhou Ai couldn’t speak, he still had many, many ways to communicate with the outside world.
The group surrounding them was stunned by Zhou Ai’s movements, but the two in the center of the crowd remained extremely calm. They couldn’t understand what Zhou Ai was signing, but Chen Xunfeng surely did. Not only did he understand, but as he picked up Zhou Ai’s bag from the ground, he slowly replied.
Several large trucks roared past, creating a deafening noise. Chen Xunfeng’s voice was low, lost in the clamor of the vehicles; only Zhou Ai, who was closest to him, could hear his words.
Chen Xunfeng said to Zhou Ai: “I didn’t dare.”
He stooped down to brush the dust off the school bag. He kept his eyes lowered while he spoke, not looking at Zhou Ai this time. “I am the one who broke my promise. I said I would return, but I didn’t. I was late for so long. And at that time… you were too small, you were still just a child. I didn’t want you to forget me, but I had no qualification, no way to interfere, and certainly no right to make demands.”
Chen Xunfeng finally raised his eyes to look at the Zhou Ai before him. Perhaps because of the smoking, at this close distance, he caught a whiff of cool peppermint from Zhou Ai. Breathing softly, he continued: “I didn’t dare to act relaxed the first time I saw you again, to rush up and greet you, to say ‘I’m Chen Xunfeng, do you remember me?’ If you had denied it, I wouldn’t have known how to get along with you afterward. If you had admitted it—”
Chen Xunfeng paused, shaking his head at himself. “How could you have nodded and admitted it in that situation? You couldn’t have forgiven my broken promise so easily, so I never even considered that possibility.”
The trucks rumbled past one after another, the deafening noise unrelenting. Chen Xunfeng shifted his feet, blocking the dust kicked up by the vehicles behind them. Zhou Ai looked at him, watching him in silence. Chen Xunfeng continued under his gaze: “So I…”
But Zhou Ai suddenly lowered his head. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, reached out, and took his school bag from Chen Xunfeng. He didn’t have much time; he needed to go home.
Chen Xunfeng saw his intention to leave and didn’t let go of the bag when he handed it to him. He asked: “Why didn’t you come to school these past two weeks?”
Zhou Ai tilted his head, not wanting to answer. Chen Xunfeng quickly changed the question. He called Zhou Ai’s name and said: “Then how can I get in touch with you? Are you going home today?”
Zhou Ai’s profile was serene, as if he were deep in thought. Finally, he moved. He took paper and a pen out of his bag, quickly scribbled down a phone number, tore it off, and handed it to Chen Xunfeng. Then, without lingering any further, he took his bag and slowly walked off in the direction of the setting sun.
Chen Xunfeng stood where he was, holding the scrap of paper, watching Zhou Ai’s silhouette grow smaller until he finally climbed into a black sedan. The car drove off, disappearing from his sight entirely.
Jiang Chuan and the others avoided the large trucks. Once the convoy had passed, the two people who had been in such an eerily atmospheric standoff had already parted ways. Chen Xunfeng stood silently on the spot, while Zhou Ai was gone.
They couldn’t guess what the two had communicated, but the situation was clear: they hadn’t gotten into any argument.
As Jiang Chuan and the others walked over, Chen Xunfeng finally snapped out of his trance upon hearing their footsteps. Seeing it was them, he put away the paper and asked with slight impatience: “Why did you follow me?”
Before Jiang Chuan could speak, someone in the crowd, lacking any social awareness, asked directly: “Damn! So you and that mute aren’t enemies, Brother Xun? Everyone said you couldn’t stand him, so I thought…”
Jiang Chuan couldn’t help but let out a silent “What the hell.” The expressions of the others shifted, but before the man could finish his sentence, Chen Xunfeng, who had been standing peacefully just seconds before, had shoved the boy against the wall. The boy didn’t even know how he had offended Chen Xunfeng, whose expression had suddenly darkened, and he rubbed his shoulder, saying sluggishly, “What’s wrong…”
Chen Xunfeng, a head taller, stood before him with a cold face and asked in a harsh tone: “You were the one who said you wanted to beat Zhou Ai for me? And who told you I couldn’t stand him?”
The man hesitantly realized something was wrong, shrunk his head, and stood in the corner, not daring to answer.
The trace of softness that had appeared when he faced Zhou Ai had completely vanished. His brows were etched with cold severity. Chen Xunfeng patted the man’s shoulder heavily the boy nearly lost his footing under Chen Xunfeng’s strength and Chen Xunfeng said to him: “Call him a mute one more time, and I’ll make you a mute, too.”
The surroundings were dead silent. No one spoke, yet no one thought Chen Xunfeng was joking or threatening them idly. They all knew: Chen Xunfeng was serious.