“Damn, what terrible luck! We actually got Teacher Fu!”
“Senior year’s been rough… hope Teacher Wang gets well soon and comes back to work. ღ(¯`◕‿◕´¯) ♫ ♪ ♫”
Normally, encountering such a stunning teacher would make many male students secretly thrilled.
But… not this time.
G City No.1 High was Fu Qingqing’s alma mater. She had been a famous top student, scoring near-perfectly on the college entrance exam and entering Tsinghua University. After her master’s degree, she returned to G City No.1 High as a teacher while pursuing her own studies.
Fu Qingqing was cold and aloof—right is right, wrong is wrong. As the fifth daughter of the Fu family, no one dared challenge her. Attending her class felt like serving a sentence: one wrong move and it was torture.
Listening to her classmates complain, Fu Chuan just shook his head.
They didn’t know that this cold, distant woman would selectively overlook issues involving Fu Zichen.
In his previous life, Fu Chuan had participated in a sports meet with Zichen. To win praise from his sisters, he trained day and night and ran to first place.
He had hoped for genuine recognition, only to see all the sisters flocking around Zichen, praising him for performing so well despite his weak health.
They criticized Fu Chuan for being overly calculating—taking first place while overshadowing the sickly Zichen. They accused him of deliberately embarrassing Zichen.
And these words… came from Fu Qingqing herself!
To anyone else, it was a thunderclap on a clear day.
Winning first place, only to be criticized and ignored—what kind of family is this?
It became clear… even the coldest hearts have favorites.
But that favorite wasn’t Fu Chuan, the real younger brother.
It was Fu Zichen, the sickly one.
Being terminally ill was not a free pass to unlimited love.
Fu Chuan didn’t want to steal the family’s attention or affection from Zichen. He merely sought a little recognition as the younger sibling.
But the family wouldn’t give it. They refused.
So, Fu Chuan stopped caring. Let them love who they want.
Fu Qingqing noticed Fu Chuan’s downcast gaze and slightly frowned.
If possible, she wished she could personally guide Zichen through these crucial high school years. Doctors said Zichen wouldn’t live past thirty—Fu Qingqing wanted to give him the brightest, happiest life possible.
Her choice to teach at G City No.1 High was largely for Zichen’s sake.
Unfortunately, she had to fill in for the ill Teacher Wang.
As the fifth daughter of a wealthy family, she had a natural eye for art. Teaching painting was second nature, making her the obvious substitute.
Her strict personality wouldn’t allow her to abandon responsibility for personal desires.
Even so, she had to witness Fu Chuan… being annoying, seeking approval.
Strangely, from the moment she entered the classroom, Fu Chuan’s eyes never once lingered on her.
If he were the Fu Chuan she remembered, he would look at her with joy, shyly trying to impress his fifth sister.
But that would have been overly calculating, irritating…
Compared to Fu Zichen, humble and noncompetitive, Fu Chuan now seemed… easier on the eyes.
Ha!
Thinking of Fu Chuan’s recent actions at home… it was just a game of playing hard to get.
Fu Qingqing assigned today’s lesson: flowers.
The students began their work quietly, careful not to make mistakes or draw her ire.
Fu Chuan, however, didn’t care what she thought. He focused entirely on his painting.
A year… a lifetime, fleeting and liberating.
All that mattered was what he wanted.
The family bonds that had seemed more important than life itself in his past life now felt trivial.
Unreciprocated love was like loose sand—it scattered with the slightest breeze.
As Fu Chuan immersed himself, Fu Qingqing’s gaze settled on him.
It was her first time truly seeing him paint.
Seventeen, handsome, perfectly inheriting the Fu family genes: 1.88 meters tall, tousled bangs, fair straight nose, serious eyes… holding a brush with the poise of a young master.
Elegance like this must be cultivated from childhood, engraved in the bones. Strange, that an orphan like him could possess it—it was in the blood.
Fu Qingqing deliberately shifted her gaze, refusing to stare.
She still harbored deep resentment toward Fu Chuan.
Suddenly, someone quietly called out.
It was G City No.1 High’s school beauty—Shen Shutang.
By the window, holding a bottle of water, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a delicate swan-like neck.
Her gaze subtly lingered on Fu Chuan.
But he was absorbed in painting, paying no attention to Shen Shutang’s glance.
If he no longer cared about even Fu Qingqing… why would he notice anyone else?
Fu Qingqing realized this and stepped out: “Shen, is there something you need?”
Shen Shutang’s reputation preceded her. Top grades, school beauty, talented novelist—any teacher would naturally hold some favoritism. Fu Qingqing softened her tone, trying to appear gentle.
Shen nodded: “Teacher, I’d like…”
Fu Qingqing, surprised: “Are you sure? With your grades, you shouldn’t lack options for manga adaptations…”
Shen lowered her eyes: “I don’t like their reference sketches.”
“… ”
Fu Qingqing thought: even mature professional sketches don’t please her? Could these students meet her standards?
Even as gifted students at G City No.1 High, their work was raw, unpolished—like diamonds needing expert cutting to shine.
Only innate talent, like a sword piercing eternal night, could truly impress.
Seeing Shen linger, Fu Qingqing said, “Just don’t disturb the other students.”
Shen was repeating her senior year, yet her exceptional grades and fame as a novelist earned her special exemptions. She didn’t even need the college entrance exam.
Specialty classes ended.
Students packed up and left.
Fu Qingqing stayed behind, photographing and grading each piece.
“Goodbye, teacher.”
She expected Fu Chuan to greet her warmly. She had even planned to scold him at home for being disrespectful.
What if someone noticed Fu Chuan was overly familiar with her, knowing he was the Fu family’s young master—what would Fu Zichen think?
But Fu Chuan left silently, like an invisible presence.
It was as if he had seen through all her thoughts and chose the best course of action.
Or perhaps…
Fu Qingqing felt an immense distance from his back.
Fu Chuan was deliberately drawing a line.
This…
Impossible!
Fu Qingqing told herself not to overthink—it had to be a playing hard-to-get tactic, designed to earn her sympathy!
She shook her head sharply.
While reviewing the students’ works, Fu Qingqing stopped at Fu Chuan’s painting.
She froze.
Fu Chuan had painted a budding lotus.
A common subject.
Yet under his brush, it pulsed with life, vibrant and full of energy.
It felt almost real.
Even without her trained eye, she could see it was flawless—perfect in every way.
“This… how is this possible? Was Fu Chuan always this skilled? Why… didn’t I ever notice before?”