Outside the Principal’s Office.
Fu Siheng had never imagined he would be visiting this place so frequently in such a short time.
He leaned against the wall, waiting. Yan Xun stood beside him, a half-meter apart.
Every student passing by in the hallway shot them a surprised glance. Fu Siheng remained completely unfazed, while Yan Xun casually leaned his hand on the railing behind him, occasionally waving to acquaintances.
The two of them looked nothing like students about to be reprimanded; they seemed more like visitors who had come to chat with the Principal over tea.
After a beaming smile and a wave to a junior female student, Yan Xun turned his head to glance at Fu Siheng for the seventh time.
Fu Siheng finally snapped, “What are you looking at?”
Yan Xun kept his left hand in his pocket and clenched his right fist against his mouth, hiding the smile on his lips. “Oh, nothing. I feel that Instructor Fu still cares deeply about his students. To come and rescue me in such a dangerous situation… I’m truly touched.”
Touched my ass. You might as well just say you’re smug, Fu Siheng thought bitterly.
“Why did you come?” Yan Xun asked, refusing to give up when he didn’t get a response.
Fu Siheng replied, “Because I care about my students.”
“Is that so?” Yan Xun’s lips curled into a smirk. “I don’t believe you.”
Just then, the office door swung open. Qu Mengda, his face a mask of fury, gestured for them to enter. “Get in here.”
Yan Xun strolled in, looking delighted. Fu Siheng followed, staring at Yan Xun’s back as if he were a freak, his expression one of utter exasperation.
Inside the office, Qi Kun sat behind his desk, his anger still simmering. Beside him stood Zhao Zhifan, looking thoroughly chastened after a harsh scolding.
As they entered, Zhao Zhifan looked up and met Fu Siheng’s gaze, glaring at him with a heavy, resentful look.
Yan Xun immediately stepped forward, grabbing Zhao Zhifan by the collar. “You fucking dare to glare at him? Believe it or not, I can make you leave this room on a stretcher.”
Zhao Zhifan froze, clearly not expecting Yan Xun to dare such a thing in the Principal’s Office.
Although Qu Mengda had just spent ages berating him, this was still the Principal’s presence. The sight was utterly disgraceful. He immediately snapped, “Stop this nonsense! Do you even know where you are?”
Zhao Zhifan, like a newborn calf unafraid of the tiger, had thought Fu Siheng was an easy target. But he knew better than to provoke a little tyrant like Yan Xun.
Qi Kun rose from his seat, his face a mask of stern authority. “Let him go. Do you think I called you in here to praise you? If Xiao Fu hadn’t intervened in time, do you have any idea what the consequences would have been?”
Hearing the words “Xiao Fu,” Yan Xun couldn’t hold it in and almost burst out laughing.
Qi Kun was truly furious. The son of the Minister of National Defense was someone he had to tread carefully around; even a single hair out of place could cause him a world of trouble. Yet today, the young man had taken such a dangerous risk and nearly gotten injured.
If this ever reached the Minister’s ears, Qi Kun’s days as principal would be over.
“You reckless fool,” Qi Kun said, pointing a finger at him from across the room. “I taught you about discipline back in college, but you still haven’t learned a thing! With so many people there, did you really need to charge in yourself? Couldn’t you have used your communicator to call the Guard Team?”
Zhao Zhifan had expected the principal to scold Yan Xun, but hearing the second half of the sentence, he looked up in disbelief.
By the time the Guard Team arrived, I would have been crushed to a pulp by that airbag, alright?
Yan Xun stood at attention, taking the scolding, but his gaze wandered. His dark eyes betrayed a hint of the arrogance and impatience typical of a young man.
Standing beside them, Qu Mengda spoke up. “You can’t blame Yan Xun entirely. My student was also at fault. As the instructor, he should have stopped him immediately.”
Zhao Zhifan: “?”
After speaking, Qu Mengda shot Fu Siheng a look, signaling him to take the blame and defuse the tension.
Yan Xun couldn’t hold back any longer. He cleared his throat and said, “Um, Principal, let me explain what happened today. First, regarding safety, Assistant Xiao, Instructor Fu, and I had repeatedly emphasized it to the students. It’s just that this stupid donkey didn’t listen. Second, regarding the delay in waiting for the Guard Team, that was to protect the Interstellar Man-eating Flower! A life that is both innocent and courting death! In summary, I believe this is not entirely our fault. It’s just that the situation was urgent, so we had to cause a tiny bit of damage to the mecha.”
Qu Mengda and Zhao Zhifan both turned to look at him.
Qi Kun exploded again upon hearing the word “mecha.” His eyebrows shot up, and his eyes glared furiously. “A tiny bit of damage? How dare you even say that! What did I tell you when I had the mecha transported here? This is the most expensive, no, the most precious mecha in the interstellar region! Do you have any idea how much time and effort Dean Nan spent building it? This is something that simply cannot be measured in money!”
The two onlookers turned to look at Qi Kun in unison.
Seeing this, Yan Xun’s face showed a look of regret. He said with heartfelt grief, “Yes, yes, Dean Nan’s hard work must never be insulted with money! So, does that mean we don’t have to pay for the damages?”
Fu Siheng: “…” You’re a fucking logic genius, he thought.
Qu Mengda and Zhao Zhifan were both stunned. They turned to look at him, then at Qi Kun, their movements perfectly synchronized like marionettes on a string.
“What do you mean, what, don’t we have to pay?” Qi Kun nearly had a heart attack from the sheer audacity. Clutching his chest, he sputtered, “Ten million! You just decided to demolish it, and now you’re acting like this? Do you think your dad’s money grows on trees?”
At the mention of “dad,” Yan Xun subconsciously glanced at Fu Siheng. Seeing that Fu Siheng remained unfazed, Yan Xun turned back to Qi Kun with a smugly provocative tone. “Didn’t you just say it couldn’t be measured in money? I thought you meant that. After all, everyone knows our esteemed Principal is incredibly generous.”
Qi Kun gasped for air, his blood pressure skyrocketing again.
The two beside him stared, mouths agape. They had expected Qi Kun to lecture Yan Xun, but instead, the Principal himself was the one about to collapse.
Fu Siheng, unable to watch any longer, finally spoke up. “Just deduct it from my card. Leave him out of this.”
Hearing this, Yan Xun immediately bristled. “Damn it, what do you mean ‘leave me out of this’? You looking down on me? Here, take it and swipe it!” He whipped a black card from his pocket and slammed it onto the table with a loud thwack.
Qi Kun: “…”
In the end, it was Qu Mengda who managed to salvage the situation. “Although they jointly destroyed the mecha, everyone shares some responsibility. The three of you will split the cost. Zhao Zhifan has already received a disciplinary mark; he will write a self-criticism report and lose twenty points from his semester evaluation.”
He glanced at Fu Siheng, who immediately understood his meaning. Zhao Zhifan’s family couldn’t afford the compensation, and even expelling him wouldn’t solve the problem. Yan Xun wanted Fu Siheng to bear a larger share of the cost.
Yan Xun spoke up first. “How about he does community service to pay it back? Like helping out in the cafeteria or organizing books in the library. He can pay it off slowly. If he’s still in debt after graduation, he can stay behind to clean or do patrol duty. He’ll eventually pay it all back.”
Qu Mengda replied, “…You should probably say less.”
In the end, Fu Siheng did help pay a portion of the cost, honorably ascending from Zhao Zhifan’s teacher to his creditor.
Qi Kun, having resolved the most troublesome issue, finally caught his breath and said to Zhao Zhifan, “Stay here. I’ll send a message to your parents to come over. Then, you’ll go to the solitary confinement room tomorrow.”
The “solitary confinement” he mentioned was a military punishment for serious violations. It meant being locked in a small, dark room with a toilet and food, but no access to sunlight. The minimum sentence was three days, with a maximum of ten.
Hearing this, Yan Xun suddenly turned to look at Fu Siheng, a memory from before flashing through his mind. Back during the training exercise, the school had threatened to put him in solitary confinement. He regretted it now; he shouldn’t have taken the fall alone. He should have dragged Fu Siheng down with him; that way, they could have spent three days and three nights together.
Perhaps his expression was too gleeful, because Qu Mengda, who happened to catch his gaze, looked at him as if he were a lunatic.
Ten minutes later, the two of them walked out of the Principal’s Office. Qu Mengda and Zhao Zhifan remained inside, still discussing Yan Xun’s punishment.
After standing for a while, Yan Xun stretched his neck and said, “Principal Qi is a total miser. He’s as stingy as a rooster when it comes to money. Don’t let him take advantage of you too easily.”
Fu Siheng didn’t respond. Instead, he looked down, his gaze falling on Yan Xun’s left hand, which was shoved into his pants pocket.
Seeing his gaze, Yan Xun whistled. “What’s up? Starting to lust after my good looks? Finally realizing how handsome your ex-boyfriend is?”
“Your hand. Let me see it,” Fu Siheng said, ignoring him.
Yan Xun coughed. “It’s nothing. Just a few scrapes.”
As soon as Yan Xun finished speaking, Fu Siheng withdrew his gaze and started walking away.
Yan Xun froze. “Are you kidding me? I was just being polite. How can you be so ruthless?”
“If you don’t want your wound to get infected, follow me,” Fu Siheng said without looking back.
Yan Xun’s eyes lit up, and he took a few long strides to catch up.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting a dappled pattern of shadows on the ground. Their figures stretched long in the shade, drawing close and then pulling apart.
Before long, they arrived at the teacher’s apartment.
Before entering the room, Yan Xun still hesitated, feigning reluctance. “Am I just going in like this? Isn’t that a bit… inappropriate?”
Fu Siheng said flatly, “Or maybe you should change your personality before you come in?”
Yan Xun: “……Well, that’s probably not necessary.”
Fu Siheng had him sit on the sofa, then took the first-aid kit from the cabinet.
Yan Xun sat on the sofa, looking around. His sharp eyes noticed that the tissues on the nightstand were almost gone, so he spoke up: “You go through tissues on your nightstand pretty fast, Instructor Fu. Frequent DIY sessions?”
“Shut up.” Fu Siheng had rhinitis, which was why he always kept tissues by his bed, not for the reason Yan Xun was implying.
Yan Xun knew, of course, that Fu Siheng didn’t “do it” often; he was just deliberately playing the fool to get his attention.
But when Fu Siheng took out the saline solution, iodine, and cotton swabs one by one and held out his hand to him, Yan Xun found himself speechless.
Fu Siheng gazed at him silently, his gray-blue eyes as calm as a waveless sea, yet Yan Xun knew the depth of emotion they held. As if spellbound, Yan Xun placed his right hand in the other man’s.
Only then did Fu Siheng’s brow furrow.
The back of Yan Xun’s hand, with its well-defined knuckles, was covered in tiny cuts; hardly a patch of unscarred skin remained. They were all gashes from mecha debris, and large bruises marred his joints.
When Fu Siheng’s fingertips touched Yan Xun’s palm, he caught his breath sharply.
Fu Siheng turned Yan Xun’s hand over, revealing a patch of scalded red skin in the center of his palm.
His brow furrowed deeply as he took out the burn cream. “If you’re this reckless again,” he said, “you deserve to have your hand ruined.”
Lowering his gaze, he carefully applied the cream. To avoid smearing it, he held Yan Xun’s fingers with his own as he turned the hand.
Four fingers curled slightly around the pads of his fingertips, while his thumb pressed against the back of Yan Xun’s hand.
The pale fingertips occasionally brushed against the light calluses on Yan Xun’s hand, making him shiver slightly as his gaze darkened. The sensation was like encountering a patch of mimosa in spring; at the slightest touch, they would blush one after another.
Fu Siheng was focused on inspecting the wound on his hand, his long eyelashes like two small fans casting a circle of shadow over his eyelids.
Beneath his silver-white hair, a sliver of fair neck was exposed, and the faint mole there faced Yan Xun directly, like a silent invitation.
Yan Xun’s breath hitched, and his hand, held by Fu Siheng, tightened involuntarily. His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.
Fu Siheng looked up in confusion, only to catch a faint, familiar scent of musk and orchid in the air.
He blinked, finally voicing the question that had been lingering in his mind: “Do you smell something?”