During noon self-study that day, Qiao Muyu planned to do math problems for half an hour before taking a short nap to recharge for the afternoon classes, as per his usual routine.
He pulled out a new set of mathematics practice papers he had bought a couple of days ago from the bookstore at the school gate and continued from where he had left off last night.
He flipped the page and landed right on a derivative proof problem.
After reading the prompt, Qiao Muyu felt the question type looked familiar. After a moment’s thought, a general problem-solving strategy formed in his mind.
With full confidence, he picked up his pen and began finding the derivative. However, as he wrote, the numbers started going off track. Square roots began appearing one after another, none of them cancelling out. The entire equation grew increasingly convoluted, drifting further and further away from the final answer.
Experience told Qiao Muyu that he must have made a calculation error somewhere.
He decisively scrapped his work and started over.
Unexpectedly, the second attempt yielded the same messy result.
Qiao Muyu checked his work several times, confirming the calculations were correct. This only meant one thing: his initial problem-solving approach was wrong.
He took a deep breath, deciding that even if he had to skip his nap, he would conquer this problem. He reorganized his thoughts and tried several other methods…
However, by the time the bell rang for the end of noon self-study, he still hadn’t solved it.
Staring at the three sheets of scratch paper covered in dense, useless scribbles, Qiao Muyu felt an immense blockage in his chest, as uncomfortable as if he had swallowed a fly.
His nap time had been eaten up, and now he felt physically and mentally exhausted.
The more Qiao Muyu thought about it, the more indignant he became. Finally, he took the problem to the office to consult the math teacher, Ma Ping, begging for a release from his misery.
…
During the break before evening self-study, Ma Ping called Qiao Muyu to the office and told him she had the result.
Ma Ping pointed at the test paper and got straight to the point: “There’s a mistake in this question.”
Qiao Muyu froze: “A mistake? What do you mean?”
“Literally,” Ma Ping said. “The prompt itself has a problem, so it’s impossible to solve. It would only be logical if this known value were changed to $e^2$.”
Qiao Muyu felt like he’d been struck by lightning. He felt like a total clown.
His entire noon break had been wasted on this broken problem, and now he was being told the question was simply wrong?
Damn it, I really want to call the police and have this question-setter thrown into a pond!
Don’t they know that every second of a senior’s time is precious? How can you play with people like this!
Ma Ping didn’t forget to offer a kind reminder at the end: “Do fewer of these low-quality, unofficial papers in the future. For someone like you, doing them is a waste of time.”
Qiao Muyu forced a twitch of a smile: “…Alright. Thank you, Teacher.”
Clutching the test paper, Qiao Muyu stomped out of the office and flipped angrily to the publisher’s page.
What was this setter’s name?
Found it: Zhou XX!
This person had a malicious heart and questionable professional ethics. They were officially blacklisted, and he would warn all high schoolers to stay away!
He was about to toss the paper into the trash can when he accidentally bumped into someone’s back in the hallway. He looked up—it was Lu Zhen.
Seeing his terrible expression, Lu Zhen asked with concern: “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Qiao Muyu snapped, but then he looked at Lu Zhen’s clear, innocent face and had a sudden “brilliant” idea.
Hiss… I can’t be the only one suffering such a huge loss…
An evil thought rose in Qiao Muyu’s mind. He looked up at Lu Zhen with wide, pitiful eyes, his tone incredibly soft:
“It’s just that there’s a math problem I can’t solve. The steps in the reference answer skip too much, and I can’t understand it. I’m a bit frustrated. Maybe I’m just too stupid… but if it were you, you’d definitely get it. Why don’t you help me see how to solve this?”
As he spoke, he gently tugged on Lu Zhen’s sleeve and acted spoiled in a low voice: “Will you, Brother Lu?”
Lu Zhen’s throat bobbed. He softly answered with one word: “Okay.”
Qiao Muyu hurriedly handed him the paper: “Thanks! I knew you were the best!”
Lu Zhen, clearly enjoying the praise, took the paper back to class to study it. Qiao Muyu watched his retreating back with a successful smirk.
Heh heh. If I can’t waste two hours of your time this time, I’ll consider it my loss.
…
During evening self-study, Qiao Muyu quietly observed Lu Zhen sitting behind him.
Sure enough, Lu Zhen was intensely focused on that unsolvable derivative problem, looking like he hadn’t noticed anything wrong at all.
Thinking about how “spectacular” Lu Zhen’s face would be when he finally learned the truth, Qiao Muyu couldn’t help but cover his mouth and snicker while doing his own work.
After seeing Qiao Muyu’s shoulders shake with sudden laughter three times in a row, his deskmate Li Tianquan found it rather creepy and stealthily passed him a note.
Qiao Muyu opened it, confused. It read: Class Monitor, can you stop laughing? I’m scared.
Qiao Muyu: “…”
He sheepishly wrote a reply: Sorry, I just thought of something happy.
…
Two and a half hours of evening self-study flew by.
Accompanied by the dismissal bell, students chatted and laughed as they slung on their backpacks.
Qiao Muyu suppressed a smile and turned to Lu Zhen, asking knowingly: “Did you solve that problem?”
Lu Zhen shook his head: “Not yet. I’ll look at it some more and tell you the result tomorrow.”
“I see.”
Qiao Muyu sighed with feigned disappointment, but continued to encourage him tenderly.
“Keep it up, Brother Lu. I believe you can do it.”
Inside, his inner self was pumping a fist in celebration: Heck yeah! I can waste another half-day of your time!
However, for the next two days, Lu Zhen didn’t mention the derivative problem again.
Qiao Muyu figured he definitely couldn’t solve it and had given up, so he didn’t bring it up either.
But to Qiao Muyu’s surprise, the next day he found that Lu Zhen had actually bought the entire set of practice papers containing that erroneous problem.
Qiao Muyu already considered those papers academic trash and had thrown them away halfway through because the quality was so poor—doing them felt like an insult to his IQ.
Yet here was Lu Zhen, specifically buying them. During breaks, he didn’t play games like usual; he sat at his desk and grinded through the problems with extreme seriousness.
Qiao Muyu couldn’t help but wonder: Could it be that he found some high-quality problems in there that I missed?
…
In the blink of an eye, it was Saturday again.
The sky was gloomy from early morning. A piercing cold wind swept through, carrying withered leaves and turning the noses and ears of pedestrians bright red.
Halfway through the morning reading session, tiny snowflakes began to flutter outside the window, catching the excited eyes of many students.
By the end of the first break, it had turned into a heavy snowfall. The whole world was dyed pure white, and the snow didn’t stop even when school was dismissed at noon.
According to their routine, Qiao Muyu was supposed to go on a half-day date with Lu Zhen after school.
But traveling in the snow was inconvenient and cold; he just wanted to go home and stay indoors.
As Qiao Muyu packed his bag, he tried to think of an excuse to cancel the date.
But as soon as he turned and met Lu Zhen’s gaze, Lu Zhen spoke first: “Can I go to your house to do homework today?”
Qiao Muyu was stunned: “Huh?”
Lu Zhen: “Is it inconvenient?”
Images of the last night Lu Zhen came to his house flashed through Qiao Muyu’s mind, and the tips of his ears began to burn.
He swallowed and said with forced composure: “Oh, it’s convenient. My dad… isn’t home today.”
Lu Zhen picked up his bag: “Then let’s go.”
Qiao Muyu tucked half his face into his scarf and followed: “Mm, let’s go.”
…
The two of them grabbed a couple of steaming bowls of beef noodles at a shop downstairs from Qiao Muyu’s apartment complex and went upstairs.
As they say, the first time you’re strangers, the second time you’re acquaintances.
This time, Qiao Muyu wasn’t as nervous as the first time. He took on the role of a host and brewed a cup of hot tea for Lu Zhen.
Lu Zhen looked at the cup, which was half-filled with tea leaves, and said expressionlessly: “I’m not an old man. I don’t like drinking this.”
Qiao Muyu paused mid-action and clicked his tongue: “You’re a guest and you’re being picky?”
Lu Zhen corrected him: “I’m your boyfriend, not a guest.”
Qiao Muyu choked. He set the cup down on the table and gave up on serving him: “Fine, get it yourself then. My house only has plain water.”
So Lu Zhen stood up and obediently went to pour himself some water.
Qiao Muyu reversed the roles and naturally ordered him around: “Boyfriend, pour a glass for me too.”
Lu Zhen was confused: “Don’t you have a cup of tea right there?”
Qiao Muyu said righteously: “I’m even younger than you. I don’t like drinking it either.”
Lu Zhen: “…”
By the time the two glasses of water were brought over, Qiao Muyu had cleared the dining table.
His home didn’t have a study, and his bedroom desk was too small for two. If they wanted to do homework together, they had to make do with the dining table.
Lu Zhen really meant it when he said he came to do homework. As soon as he sat down, he started working on problems without another word.
Seeing Lu Zhen’s single-minded focus, Qiao Muyu’s competitive spirit was instantly ignited. He opened his bag, took out his homework, and started “grinding” alongside him.
This week, the English teacher had handed out several self-made specialized training papers on relative clauses. Several introductory words with similar usages were mixed together, making one feel like they were going bald from the stress.
After finally filling in all the multiple-choice answers, Qiao Muyu put down his pen and stretched.
He took a sip of water and casually checked his phone. His face immediately dropped upon seeing an unread message. He pressed the voice button and scolded: “Are you sick? Stop sending me this stuff. If you send one more, I’m blocking you!”
After sending that, he tossed his phone aside, too annoyed to care.
Seeing his speechless expression, Lu Zhen asked: “Whose message?”
“It’s Du Jingfei.”
Qiao Muyu couldn’t help but complain to him.
“For the past two days, he keeps sending me these ‘science’ short videos and articles about how ‘online dating is risky’ and ‘be careful making friends.’ He even insists I write a ‘reflection’ after watching them. It’s totally bizarre. Do you think he took the wrong medicine?”
Lu Zhen listened and found it hard to understand as well. He speculated: “Maybe he got scammed in an online relationship himself, so he’s trying to warn you out of kindness?”
Qiao Muyu blinked. That seemed plausible. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of sympathy for his brother.
“Possibly. If so, he’s actually quite pitiful. Fine, I won’t block him.”
Lu Zhen didn’t say anything. He capped his pen and took a sip of water.
Qiao Muyu glanced at the test paper in front of Lu Zhen and saw the familiar logo in the top right corner—it was that “trash” paper he had blacklisted for life. He was speechless: “Why are you still doing this set of papers?”
“I’ve finished them.”
As Lu Zhen spoke, he flipped through the pile of papers in front of him and pointed to the problem Qiao Muyu knew so well.
“That problem you gave me last time… the prompt actually had an error, which is why it couldn’t be solved.”
“Cough!”
Qiao Muyu didn’t expect him to still remember this. He was so surprised he choked on his water.
“How did you know it was wrong?”
Lu Zhen: “I tried it. It only has a solution if you change the known value to $e^2$.”
Qiao Muyu was completely floored. This was exactly what the math teacher had said.
Lu Zhen organized the papers in front of him and concluded: “I don’t suggest you do this set. The quality isn’t high; writing them is a waste of time.”
Qiao Muyu bit the rim of his glass, feeling extremely guilty: “You even know that?”
“Because I bought a set and did them all once to evaluate them for you.”
After saying that, Lu Zhen took out several other sets of completed practice papers from his bag and handed them to Qiao Muyu.
Qiao Muyu took them, confused: “What are these?”
“The quality of these papers is relatively high. I’ve circled the valuable problems for you. If you’re interested, you can practice with them.”
“…”
Qiao Muyu felt a lump in his throat, deeply shocked by this gesture.
Staring at the papers filled with red pen marks, his nose involuntarily felt a bit sour.
In that moment, his heart was filled with guilt, apology, and self-reproach.
Lu Zhen is such a good person, yet I was actually designing a trap to screw him over… Qiao Muyu, you’re really terrible…
Seeing that his expression wasn’t quite right, Lu Zhen asked: “What’s wrong?”
Qiao Muyu shook his head, suppressing the complex emotions in his eyes. He looked at Lu Zhen and smiled: “Nothing. I just think… My boyfriend is really the best.”
The corners of Lu Zhen’s eyes lifted slightly: “Then, is there a reward?”
Qiao Muyu asked: “What reward do you want?”
Lu Zhen leaned in close, his gaze falling on Qiao’s lips. He lowered his eyes and whispered: “What do you think?”
With just one look, Qiao Muyu’s heart began to race.
He said nothing, only quietly closed his eyes and let Lu Zhen’s soft, warm lips press against his.
The hair at the back of his neck was gently stroked by Lu Zhen’s slightly cool fingers. A tingling sensation traveled down his spine, making him shiver uncontrollably.
In the midst of the tangled kiss, Qiao Muyu finally learned the meaning of “tasting the marrow and knowing the flavor.”
Clearly, his original goal was to make Lu Zhen “blinded by love,” but now it seemed the one becoming obsessed was himself.
He tremblingly opened his eyes a sliver, looking at Lu Zhen’s handsome brow and long eyelashes so close at hand, his heart turning soft and aching.
He’s kissing so intently… he must really like me too, right?