YMW CH 17

Secretly

Cen Wu waited for Xie Guilan to finish eating before walking with him. Since it was already so late, he decided to escort Xie Guilan home. After all, the apartment Xie rented was on the way back to Cen’s place.

At first, Cen Wu walked beside Xie Guilan, but as Xie’s expression grew colder, Cen quietly moved behind him, trailing in the shadow he cast.

Finally, Xie Guilan stopped and turned, clearly frustrated. “Young master, why are you following me?”

Ah, there it was again—”young master.”

Once mocked as a doormat, now elevated to the title of “young master.” Cen Wu hurried to catch up, stumbling over his words. “I… I just want to walk you home. Once you’re there, I’ll leave. My driver’s waiting at the corner.”

Xie Guilan simply stared at him, the shadows of his deep-set eyes showing irritation. In the past, Cen Wu’s persistence, paired with tonight’s behavior, might have been enough for someone like Cen to order his demise.

But now, Xie couldn’t even get rid of him.

With his long legs, Xie walked briskly. Cen struggled to keep up and, without thinking, reached out to grab Xie’s wrist.

Xie stopped in his tracks, his face unreadable.

Not only could he not shake Cen off, but now the younger man was also getting handsy.

Cen blinked at him, as if the chilly night had made the man before him the only thing illuminated. They stood locked in silence, Xie’s thin lips pressed into an even tighter line.

Cen held onto him until they reached the entrance of a filthy alley, where he finally let go of Xie’s wrist.

Near Huai Jing High School, rental prices were high due to the school district, so Xie Guilan had been forced to settle for an old, run-down area across the street.

Most of the buildings were decrepit storefronts, their walls covered with peeling advertisements and crude graffiti. The air reeked of smoke, and the narrow alleys were chaotic at night, filled with heavily made-up men and women soliciting business.

It was a dirty, messy place.

Cen Wu wanted to accompany Xie home, but he wasn’t supposed to know where Xie lived. Xie, of course, didn’t want to be followed either.

Not even Song Lingwei knew Xie had rented a place.

Xie’s father, however, did. As Xie’s parent, he refused to relinquish control. He granted Song Lingwei access to medical treatment and allowed Xie to attend school, expecting absolute obedience and gratitude in return.

But Xie defied him, ungrateful and ambitious—a mirror image of his father’s younger self.

Xie’s father despised such resemblance, yet begrudgingly admired it, his feelings toward Xie a complex tangle of disdain and respect.

“I’ll… I’ll head out now,” Cen Wu mumbled, clutching his backpack straps. He waved awkwardly at Xie Guilan.

Xie’s gaze remained cold, his silence as sharp as ever. He turned and disappeared into the unlit alley.

Cen Wu sighed. He’s mad again.

He pulled out his phone.

The alley was pitch dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon. Shadows stretched long and heavy over the uneven path.

A minute later, Xie Guilan’s phone lit up in the depths of the alley, momentarily illuminating his pale, expressionless face.

Lowering his gaze, he saw the message from a familiar contact, adorned with a playful cat emoji.

　【Transfer received.】
　【Don’t forget to write your reflection tonight. If it’s bad, you’re doomed. Punch-cat.gif】

Cen had sent him a cartoonish sticker of a cat punching with exaggerated motion blur.

Xie Guilan’s lip twitched. He turned off his phone and kept walking.

Back home, Cen Wu lay in bed, biting his lip with worry. Surely Xie would actually write it, right? He trusted him but still spent the night tossing and turning.

Thankfully, the next morning, Cen arrived at school to find the written reflection—3,000 words—neatly placed on his desk.

But Xie Guilan wasn’t there. Cen glanced up, his eyes falling on Xie’s desk.

And froze.

!!!

The papers from the previous week’s quiz, distributed after class yesterday, lay crumpled and torn on Xie’s desk. Xie had left early, so he hadn’t taken them home. Cen had tucked them into Xie’s desk, yet now they were shredded into a mess.

Xie Guilan studied diligently. Between school and part-time work, he barely slept, using every ounce of energy to break free from his family and reclaim a shred of dignity.

Cen’s face darkened. He gathered the torn papers, tucking them into his own desk. For now, he’d deliver his reflection as required.

The teacher didn’t scold him, but, as expected, insisted he read it aloud. Cen nodded and returned to the classroom, now armed with a roll of tape.

He intended to repair Xie’s ruined papers before he arrived, but the shredded mess took hours to piece back together. Fortunately, Xie’s first two classes of the day were free.

Finally lifting his head, Cen rubbed his sore neck.

This wasn’t over. He’d find whoever had done this and make them pay. With a determined expression, he sent a message to his brother, Cen Xiao:

　【Bro, can you do me a favor?】

---

Before long, it was time for the morning assembly. Meng Liangping, the class monitor, shouted for everyone to hurry downstairs for the announcements.

“Don’t dawdle!”

Lu Wang, clinging to Cen Wu’s arm, whispered nervously, “What do I do? I really need to pee!”

Public reflection was already mortifying enough. Worse still, the assembly included an awards ceremony. From last semester’s national competition, Xie Guilan had earned a prestigious first-place prize.

Another girl had secured third place, and, along with several other accolades, their school had dominated the provincial rankings.

The certificates and trophies had just arrived, and the principal decided to hold a school-wide award ceremony, asking Xie Guilan and her group to go on stage to accept their awards.

Compared to them, they were like glaring anomalies.

By the time Xie Guilan arrived at the classroom, Cen Wu and the others had already gone to the playground. She set down her backpack, planning to head to the stage to accept her award, but as she reached into the desk hole, she felt something.

At first, Xie Guilan thought it was just trash someone had carelessly thrown in, but when she pulled it out, she realized it was several neatly pieced-together exam papers.

The torn pieces had been painstakingly reconstructed, with each letter aligned perfectly. Some sections were missing, so the person had ripped a piece from their own exam to patch it up, carefully marking the corrected score with a red pen.

“…”

Xie Guilan tucked the papers away and went downstairs.

The principal was getting anxious, craning his neck, as Xie Guilan was supposed to be the first on stage to receive the top award. But she wasn’t showing up, so he started giving out the third-place awards instead.

By the time he finally saw Xie Guilan, he looked relieved, rushing to push her toward the stage.

Cen Wu and his group, along with students caught skipping class, were all waiting for Xie Guilan to finish her awards before they would go up and read their apologies.

Xie Guilan walked past Cen Wu, who held out the apology letter, gesturing for her to take it.

It was still overcast, but no rain had started. Under the dull gray sky, Cen Wu’s fair skin almost glowed, smooth like porcelain, with thin, lightly red lips that carried an inherent cold elegance. His long, dense lashes reminded Xie Guilan of some kind of bird—maybe a long-tailed tit, white and fluffy, with black-tipped wings.

“Xie,” the principal whispered, his bald head shining as he and a few girls who had quietly cheered for Xie Guilan covered their mouths, urging her on. “Hurry up! What are you waiting for?”

Xie Guilan took a deep breath and walked onto the stage to receive her award.

After the awards, it was finally time for the apology session. The students who had skipped class were called up first. About ten or so went, reading their apologies in a disjointed fashion. Then it was the turn of those who had gone to the internet café the night before.

With so many students, the principal didn’t make them read the full 3,000-word apologies, just enough to show remorse.

Zhang Yuanzhou went up three times. He had taken a third-place award in the competition and had also skipped class. By the time he went up for his third apology, the principal’s face was turning green, and the crowd below was laughing. Zhang Yuanzhou raised his hand to silence them, “I know you’re all eager to hear my speech, but Strong is still up there. Give him some respect.”

Cen Wu: “…”

This was a different kind of social anxiety.

He was more composed standing on a film festival stage than here, but now he felt dizzy and weak. Zhang Yuanzhou had already finished, but Cen Wu’s back was soaked in cold sweat. His legs were stiff, making it difficult to move.

He tried to shift, but the pain made his heart spasm, pounding hard, causing his eardrums to throb.

Finally, Cen Wu managed to finish his apology, bowing deeply, then making his way off the stage, the crowd cheering and jeering below.

Cen Wu didn’t even remember how he managed to walk up there. His lashes were damp, and he wiped them several times, gripping the microphone. His hands trembled uncontrollably.

He opened his mouth, his voice trembling, but nothing came out.

For a full minute, Cen Wu couldn’t say a word, and the audience started murmuring. He was supposed to be the last to give his apology, and everyone was waiting for him to finish so they could head back to class.

Huai Jing High School was built on over 400,000 square meters, with the largest playground in Huai Jing. Cen Wu looked out at the sea of heads, too numerous to count. His lips turned pale, his stomach roiling with nausea, and his breathing grew labored. His voice came out strained, “I… I’m from class two-three…”

He wasn’t always stammering like this, and he had interacted with people familiar with the original owner of his body. Despite any suspicions, no one dared say a word about his sudden awkwardness due to the original’s notorious reputation.

Still, hearing him stammer made some students laugh.

“What’s his deal? Can’t even speak properly. Isn’t he some second heir from the Cen family?”

“Don’t mention him! What if he stammers more?”

“Haha, I’m dying laughing.”

Cen Wu’s face drained of color, his lashes trembling, his breath hitching. He couldn’t lift his head, afraid of meeting the faces that mocked him. His eyes gradually reddened, and his throat felt painfully swollen.

The principal urged him, “Come on, don’t delay the exercises.”

“I…” Cen Wu swayed and struggled to speak, but when he did, there was still no sound from the microphone. He realized belatedly that it wasn’t working.

The microphone was connected through a wire from below the stage, but it had been obstructed when Xie Guilan and the others were taking photos.

The principal frowned and went to check the microphone, but there was no issue—it shouldn’t have been malfunctioning. The students below began growing more impatient, so he reluctantly told Cen Wu, “Forget it. Go down.”

Cen Wu almost collapsed, his body giving out. The pressure that had been holding him upright released, and his legs felt like jelly. He passed the microphone to the principal and walked back to the classroom with his head down.

“Alright,” the teacher taking photos finally signaled. “That’s a wrap. Good job, everyone.”

Xie Guilan and the others dispersed and started their exercises. The teacher instructed them to return to class.

The principal remained puzzled over the microphone issue. Suddenly, Xie Guilan walked up to him and held out her hand. The principal blinked, then handed her the microphone.

Xie Guilan took two batteries from her pocket, inserted them with steady hands, and then tested the microphone.

The principal: “…”

“You have strong hands,” he said, scratching his head.

Xie Guilan didn’t respond, her eyes dark and indifferent. The principal felt like she was saying, “Believe it or not.”

Shaking his head, he wiped the sweat off his forehead. The school had a complicated relationship with Xie Guilan. Her grades were exceptional, making her a strong contender for the next provincial top scorer. The school, however, struggled to manage her—she was busy, indifferent to their attention, and didn’t seem to care about their praise.

They couldn’t help Cheng Jing at all. They could only try to be careful with their words, not wanting to disturb his mood.

He didn’t know why Cheng Jing was acting this way, whether there was some hidden purpose or not. If it were another student, he might have asked directly. But with Cheng Jing, he always felt cautious, never daring to ask outright.

“Forget it,” the headteacher sighed helplessly, waving his hand. “You can go now.”

“Thank you, teacher.” Cheng Jing lowered his eyes, politely nodding before turning and leaving.

As he passed the socket, the headteacher watched Cheng Jing calmly plug the other microphone’s unplugged cable back in.

Headteacher: “…”

Damn it.

When Cheng Jing arrived at the classroom, Cen Wu was already slouched over his desk. Hearing his footsteps, Cen Wu reached into his desk compartment, pulling out a box of cookies and a carton of milk.

Cen Wu didn’t stand up, didn’t turn around. He simply extended his hand behind him, placing the cookies on Cheng Jing’s desk without a word. It wasn’t like before, where he would lean on his chair and wait for Cheng Jing to eat.

Cen Wu didn’t lift his head all day. During lessons, he’d prop himself up to listen, and once the bell rang, he’d sink back into his chair. When Lu Wang waved at him, Cen Wu didn’t respond.

At lunchtime, Lu Wang asked if he wanted food from the cafeteria, but Cen Wu shook his head with a small movement.

Lu Wang lay on Cen Wu’s back, his expression uncertain, glancing at Cheng Jing. Cheng Jing pressed his lips together, keeping his head down, still giving off the same distant, cold demeanor.

He didn’t know if Cen Wu was acting out of genuine affection or some hidden agenda, but it didn’t matter. Whatever the reason, Cheng Jing didn’t need it, and he didn’t want to accept it.

The class break was his way of returning what Cen Wu had given. He didn’t want to owe anyone anything, not even Song Lingwei.

Let alone Cen Wu.

The scars from the whip still lingered on his body, and the bruises on his neck hadn’t faded. How could he care about Cen Wu’s life or death?

Cheng Jing furrowed his brows, his gaze restless. He worked through another set of problems, trying to drown out the distractions.

Cen Wu noticed Cheng Jing’s constant movements. He was lying down, not asleep, just resting, but he heard Cheng Jing get up to get water—something he never did before.

Not eating or drinking, yet somehow still growing taller.

Cheng Jing even walked to the front of their row to hand in homework to the group leader. The group leader almost jumped out of his skin.

After Cheng Jing left, the group leader looked dazed, asking the person next to him, “Was that Cheng Jing just now?”

The person beside him rolled his eyes in annoyance.

Cheng Jing didn’t want to interact with his classmates. Always sitting at the back of the class, solo, coming and going through the back door. His homework would either be collected or ignored, as if nothing mattered.

Cen Wu lay there, resting his forehead against his sleeve. His small, bird-like eyes were red and swollen. From beneath his arm, he stole glances at Cheng Jing moving about beside him.

But he never dared to look up.