YMW CH 33

Downpour

“How is that even possible?!” Meng Liangping’s face darkened instantly, his reaction even stronger than Xie Guilan’s. “Lao Hou, this is no joke!”

The Qingyue Cup Provincial Chemistry Competition was a big deal. The exam halls were strictly monitored, with three surveillance cameras running simultaneously and proctors overseeing everything. The chances of cheating were nearly zero.

Besides, would Xie Guilan even need to cheat? The person he supposedly copied from probably didn’t even score higher than him.

Hou Zhong raised a hand to calm him. “Mr. Meng, take a deep breath. Let me talk to him alone.” Then he turned to Xie Guilan. “Come with me to the office.”

Xie Guilan’s face remained cold, his eyes devoid of emotion as he followed him into an empty office.

Hou Zhong didn’t bother with small talk. “Your final analysis and design question—your answer was identical to someone else’s. The competition officials are investigating.”

The Qingyue Cup used a 100-point scoring system, with the last analysis question alone worth 30 points.

It wasn’t a standard question; instead, the exam provided a few chemistry principles and experiments, and students had to design their own complex problem, solve it, and provide the full process and answer.

Designing a problem was much harder than solving one. Every year, this was the biggest scoring differentiator in the competition.

“I wrote it myself.” Xie Guilan said.

Hou Zhong sighed. “I believe you, but that’s not enough. The judges have to believe it too.”

Xie Guilan’s dark, piercing eyes locked onto him. After a brief silence, he suddenly interrupted, “Only you saw my answer.”

The competition’s questions were notoriously tricky every year. While the analysis question was tough, high school students had only so many chemistry principles and experiments to work with. At least there was a predictable range.

That’s why this section was the key focus of competition training—every participant would come up with at least ten original problems, show them to their teacher in advance, and hope one would be useful during the exam.

Hou Zhong’s face stiffened for a second. He had just lifted his tea mug when his hand jerked—hot tea splashed onto his leg. He quickly wiped it off and frowned. “Are you accusing me of leaking your question?! Listen, I understand you’re upset, but you better have proof before you throw around accusations!”

Xie Guilan kept his eyes fixed on him, his tone indifferent. “So, do you have any actual proof that I cheated?”

“Why can’t you just get it?” Hou Zhong felt a chill creep up his spine as he met those cold, sharp black eyes. Xie Guilan was too smart—there was no point in arguing with him.

Hou Zhong furrowed his brows and decided to be blunt. “Does it really matter what happened with this question? The important thing is that the more they investigate, the worse it’ll be for you. If you just admit it now and show some remorse, I might be able to help plead your case with the school. Maybe they won’t put it on your record. Worst case, you just won’t be able to compete in this contest again.”

He made it sound easy, but the Qingyue Cup wasn’t just about chemistry—there were also math and physics competitions. If Xie Guilan got labeled a cheater, he’d be banned from all of them.

Last year, he had taken first place in the math competition too. Based on his track record, from now until the college entrance exams, he’d be losing at least 100,000 yuan in prize money. The Qingyue Cup was prestigious, and the school valued it highly. On top of the competition’s prize money, the school itself gave out additional rewards.

Without that 100,000 yuan, Xie Mingcheng wouldn’t pay for the medical bills anymore. Song Lingwei would be left to die.

Xie Guilan stayed silent. The tension between them stretched on for minutes, and Hou Zhong felt a cold sweat creeping down his back.

Feeling cornered, Hou Zhong checked the office and even Xie Guilan himself for any recording devices. Finding nothing, he continued, “Do you even know who the other contestant is?”

The competition organizers hadn’t finished their investigation yet, and the student who had submitted the same answers as Xie Guilan currently had a score of zero as well.

Xie Guilan’s sharp, icy gaze lifted slightly.

“You’ve heard of Fengrong Jewelry, right?” Hou Zhong wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Since your last name is Xie, you should’ve at least met their chairman, Liao Shengrong. His son is Liao Bin. Do you really think he’ll let his kid carry the stain of a cheating scandal? Think carefully. It doesn’t matter what you wrote. What matters is that his last name is Liao, and he has all the connections he needs.”

Hou Zhong hadn’t wanted things to come to this. Cheating in a competition was a serious matter—he wouldn’t dare frame Xie Guilan. What good would it do him? He was an award-winning teacher and the head of the junior class. If he played his cards right, he might even become vice principal in a few years.

Liao Bin was a student from Affiliated High, a top school in Huaijing. His grades were decent, but he wasn’t particularly strong in competitions. That’s why the Liao family had asked Hou Zhong to tutor him.

Hou Zhong had taken some of Xie Guilan’s practice problems, noted them down, and used them as a reference to design what he thought were better versions. Then, he had Liao Bin work on them as well, comparing all three sets side by side to help him build problem-solving strategies.

But then, somehow, Xie Guilan had predicted the exact competition question.

Hou Zhong had assumed Liao Bin would use his (the teacher’s) answer since, after all, a teacher’s solution held more weight. But instead, Liao Bin had copied Xie Guilan’s answer verbatim.

Last night, Hou Zhong had received a call from the Liao family and nearly had a heart attack. Liao Shengrong had even ordered him to persuade Xie Guilan.

Liao Bin had played it ruthless. His reasoning was simple—if he had used Hou Zhong’s answer, he might have secured first place, or maybe not. But by submitting the same answer as Xie Guilan, Xie Guilan would definitely be disqualified, increasing Liao Bin’s chances of winning.

It wasn’t like Liao Bin lacked ability—he had placed second in last year’s chemistry competition. In his first year, he had also ranked second in another competition, always just two or three points behind Xie Guilan.

What could Hou Zhong do? The Liao family had the power to end his teaching career for good. Forget becoming vice principal—he wouldn’t even be a teacher anymore.

He had no choice but to lay everything out for Xie Guilan, hoping he’d understand his “good intentions.”

In reality, their answers weren’t identical. Xie Guilan had made some adjustments during the test, so the similarity was around 70-80%. But in the end, his version was the better one.

Not that it mattered.

The Xie family wouldn’t stand up for him. And no matter how tough Xie Guilan was, what good would it do to go up against Liao Bin?

“…” Xie Guilan stayed quiet for half a minute. Outside, the sky was still dark from last night’s heavy rain. His eyes, deep and emotionless, seemed to sink into that murky light. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold. “Do whatever you want. Investigate all you like.”

Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

Hou Zhong had thought about stopping him but, in the end, just let out a sigh and didn’t move.

---

Cen Wu hadn’t heard what the director had said to Xie Guilan. But when Xie Guilan returned to class half an hour later, his expression was completely unreadable, so Cen Wu finally relaxed.

The first period was English, but their teacher, Luo Wenying, was sick and had taken three days off.

So, they had to work on practice papers on their own.

Cen Wu picked up his paper and shifted slightly closer to Xie Guilan’s desk—only to feel an ice-cold hand clamp onto the back of his neck. The sudden chill made him shudder.

Then, he heard a low chuckle from Xie Guilan.

Xie Guilan was tall, and his hands were larger than most guys’. His palm easily wrapped around Cen Wu’s neck, gripping the soft skin at the nape. And he didn’t let go.

The neck and throat were sensitive, vulnerable areas. When held, the body instinctively wanted to pull away.

Cen Wu flinched and tried to move, but as soon as he did, Xie Guilan’s cold, slender fingers grazed his skin, sending a strange, sinking feeling through him.

Cen Wu: “…”

What now, bro?

With no other choice, he leaned back into Xie Guilan’s palm. Xie Guilan didn’t touch his own practice paper, just rested his head on his desk, absentmindedly kneading the back of Cen Wu’s neck. He only let go after a few minutes, then finally sat up and started working on his paper.

The school kept the competition scandal tightly under wraps—no rumors had spread. And since Xie Guilan said nothing, Cen Wu had no clue.

All he noticed was that Xie Guilan had stopped going to his part-time jobs. He hardly even showed up at Blue Night, and it seemed like he had quit his other gigs too. He was almost like a normal high school student now, spending all his time at school.

Cen Wu asked Ji Changyu about it, but he just shook his head. “Maybe he got his prize money already and doesn’t need the extra cash.”

Still, something felt off.

By Wednesday, the entire class was restless—they had to go to the auditorium in the afternoon for rehearsal.

Each grade had its own performance, and while there were plenty of places to rehearse, there was only one auditorium. The school arranged for each class to take turns using it, familiarizing themselves with the space and practicing their entrance and exit.

During the rehearsal, Cen Wu didn’t notice anything unusual about Xie Guilan, but when it was over and the bell was about to ring for class, he realized Xie Guilan was nowhere to be seen.

He went back to the auditorium to look for him. The place was empty, but the lights were still on. Xie Guilan was still there, sitting by the piano bench, playing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

Cen Wu walked over and pulled up a chair beside him, watching expectantly.

Xie Guilan was playing with one hand, his fingers hesitating over the keys, hitting wrong notes, pausing at odd moments. It was clumsy, unsure. But his hands were striking—pale, long-fingered, with distinct knuckles and prominent veins. Just watching him at the piano gave the illusion that the music should sound beautiful.

When they were younger, Xie Shangjing had taken piano lessons, and Xie Guilan had often tagged along—not to learn, but to carry Xie Shangjing’s things.

Xie Shangjing loved to mess around and often dragged out his practice sessions, which meant he had to stay even longer. Over time, Xie Guilan had picked up a little just from watching.

Now, after only a few notes, he stopped and turned to Cen Wu. “What’s up, young master? Looking for me?”

“I just… just wanted to find you,” Cen Wu said, tapping a few piano keys. “You always leave without me.”

Xie Guilan’s dark, sharp eyes curved slightly in amusement. This time, he stood up and walked out with him.

Cen Wu wanted to stop by the campus convenience store. Normally, it was a struggle to go there—too many people, too chaotic. But with Xie Guilan, it was a little better.

As Cen Wu scanned the shelves for snacks, Xie Guilan leaned down and asked, “What do you want? I’ll buy it for you.”

Cen Wu was momentarily stunned.

Xie Guilan was always short on money—he even skipped meals to save up. The last time he had brought Cen Wu candy, it was from Blue Night, taken from the complimentary stash at the bar. Since Blue Night was a high-end place, even the free candy was expensive, made with real ingredients instead of artificial flavoring. Otherwise, Xie Guilan wouldn’t have bothered bringing any.

But honestly, even if it was just the cheapest kind, the kind wrapped in crinkly glassine paper, Cen Wu would have still liked it.

He remembered when he was younger, his parents were always busy filming on set. Since he was little at the time, they worked at a studio close to home, where they could drive back in about an hour and a half.

They always brought him little snacks from the set or fancy treats from industry events.

Humans often find love—or at least something like it—through small gestures like that.

Of course, Cen Wu wasn’t self-absorbed enough to think Xie Guilan liked him. Friends could bring each other snacks too.

Since Xie Guilan offered, Cen Wu didn’t hold back. But he only grabbed a bag of preserved plum candies, picking the cheapest brand. Xie Guilan, however, added a few bags of chips to the pile.

As Cen Wu tugged Xie Guilan’s wrist, a sudden wave of separation anxiety hit him.

The night his parents died, they had just secured a new deal. Once their current film was completed, they would have been able to pay off most of their debts.

His mom had messaged him after leaving a banquet that night, asking if he missed them.

At that point, they hadn’t been home in almost three months.

Cen Wu had wanted to say yes—had wanted to beg them not to drive back so late—but he was stubborn and typed, No, not really.

Of course, they knew he was lying. That was why they had decided to drive home early.

And on the way, they got into the accident.

That night, Cen Wu had tossed and turned, unable to sleep. When he finally passed out from exhaustion, it was Lu Lian who shook him awake. Even years later, he could still picture the tears in Lu Lian’s eyes.

Xie Guilan hadn’t told him anything, but on Thursday, he suddenly stopped coming to school. Even Lu Wang noticed how restless Cen Wu was and asked worriedly, “Are you okay? You look really pale.”

Cen Wu shook his head and sent a message to Xie Guilan.

Outside, a typhoon had made landfall, bringing relentless rain and thick, gray clouds that stretched across the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a deep, unsettling sound that only made the atmosphere in the classroom feel heavier.

Hou Zhong had only come to inform Xie Guilan—whether he admitted to cheating or not, it didn’t matter. On Thursday night, the competition results were publicly announced: his scores had been wiped to zero.

The school hadn’t officially taken action against Xie Guilan yet, but since other students had participated in the competition, word spread fast.

Meng Liangping couldn’t believe it. He knew a director from the competition committee, an old university classmate, so as soon as he got to his office, he made a call, forcing a polite smile.

“Director, it’s been a long time… About the competition—”

But the moment he mentioned Xie Guilan’s results, the other person brushed him off with a few vague words about heading into a meeting and quickly hung up.

Meng Liangping sat there, his forced smile frozen in place. Slowly, he lowered himself into his chair and took a silent sip of tea.

“He’s been disqualified… This has blown up so much… What was he thinking?”

“I heard the school might put a mark on his record or even officially penalize him. It sounds serious.”

“You know… what if he’s been cheating on all his past exams too?”

By the time Cen Wu and Lu Wang returned from dinner at the cafeteria, the entire school felt off. Something was wrong, even in their own class.

He didn’t understand what people were whispering about at first. He shook the rain off his umbrella near the door, and that’s when he caught someone saying—

“Are they crazy? You think he’s been cheating every single time? Xie Guilan was already the top student back in middle school! You really think he’s been getting away with it for years without anyone noticing? If anything, this whole competition feels suspicious.”

Cen Wu’s hands froze, his mind going blank for a moment.

He stepped into the classroom. Xie Guilan was still nowhere to be seen.

Without hesitation, he turned around and went straight to find Meng Liangping.

Meng Liangping was in his fifties, a seasoned teacher who had seen all kinds of things in his years at the school. But never had he felt so stifled, so powerless. He searched his office for his heart medication, realizing that some people really could destroy a person’s future with just a snap of their fingers.

He wanted to talk to Xie Guilan but didn’t know where to start. He had already discussed it with the dean, Wang Qiang, as well as the other teachers in their department. In the end, they decided—if nothing else worked, they would sign a petition demanding that the competition committee reinvestigate the case.

The principal shut them down.

Meng Liangping had been at this school for nearly thirty years. Though he and the principal were technically superior and subordinate, they had a good relationship. If even the principal had tried and failed, then there was nothing more they could do.

At this point, appealing to the competition organizers was pointless. Their best bet was to go to Xie Mingcheng instead.

The prize money and trophy hadn’t been awarded yet, but the first-place winner had already been announced. The moment they saw the name, they understood everything.

The Liao family was a major player in the jewelry industry, famous both domestically and internationally. Unlike the Cen and Xie families, which had diversified businesses, the Liao family focused solely on jewelry. Still, they held significant influence in Huaijing.

Liao Shengrong had always prided himself on his son’s academic achievements.

If a cheating scandal broke out, his reputation in Huaijing would be in shambles. He would do whatever it took to protect Liao Bin.

Meng Liangping knew Cen Wu had been spending a lot of time with Xie Guilan lately, and Lu Wang was also easy to talk to.

But even though he had no business experience, he wasn’t naive. If the Cen or Lu families stepped in, they would inevitably make an enemy of the Liao family. No matter how close they were to Xie Guilan, why would they risk that without a compelling reason?

If he asked Lu Wang for help, Lu Wang would probably agree, but the Lu family wasn’t foolish. Even the Xie family wasn’t intervening—who else would be willing to get involved in this mess?

Cen Wu, however, kept pressing him for answers. Meng Liangping had no choice but to tell him. After a brief silence, Cen Wu spoke again, his voice steady:

“Teacher, I’d like to take a leave of absence. I need to go home.”

---

Xie Guilan had already gone to find Ji Changyu in the middle of the night.

Ji Changyu had been living on campus recently. The dormitory rules at No. 13 High weren’t strict, and the school itself was chaotic, so Xie Guilan had walked right in without anyone noticing.

Ji Changyu had just finished a night shift and had barely fallen asleep when Xie Guilan yanked him awake.

Waking up to Xie Guilan’s cold expression was terrifying.

Honestly, if Xie Guilan wasn’t so naturally aloof, Ji Changyu couldn’t even imagine what his girlfriend would go through on a daily basis.

“W-What do you want?” Ji Changyu stammered, clutching his blanket.

Xie Guilan didn’t bother with small talk. “Can you still get tickets to that racetrack?”

Ji Changyu was a bit of a delinquent—he used to street race. People who could afford racing weren’t usually broke, so through connections, he had met some of Huaijing’s wealthy second-generation heirs and had been invited to an underground racetrack.

It wasn’t legal. It was a wild, high-stakes race where the prize money was huge, but the cost was often human lives.

Hearing Xie Guilan’s question, Ji Changyu immediately sobered up. His usual playful expression vanished as he frowned.

“What do you need that for? If you need money, I can lend it to you. Just tell me how much.”

“Just give it to me,” Xie Guilan insisted.

Ji Changyu hesitated, but he couldn’t win against Xie Guilan. In the end, he handed over a contact—this was what they called a “ticket.” If someone wanted to enter the race, they had to call this person.

The moment Xie Guilan got the number, he left.

Ji Changyu felt increasingly uneasy. He rushed out to stop him, but by then, Xie Guilan was already gone.

---

Xie Guilan hadn’t been to the hospital for days.

Song Lingwei could barely sleep. Mid-Autumn Festival was approaching, and the elderly woman in the bed next to hers had recovered well enough that the doctor allowed her to go home for a few days. That left Song Lingwei alone in the ward.

She was naturally timid, and after falling ill, she had become even more fearful. She curled up in bed, clutching her phone, wanting to call Xie Guilan—but she was afraid of him, too.

Just as she finally worked up the nerve to dial, the door suddenly opened.

Xie Guilan had come to the hospital.

The moment she saw him, her anxiety eased.

He brought her dinner, and she ate while watching TV. The news was reporting yet another accident caused by the relentless rain. The broadcast showed a pixelated crash scene, but the flashes of red were still jarring.

Song Lingwei frowned. “Xiao Lan, change the channel for me.”

She had always been sensitive to these things, and after getting sick, she couldn’t handle anything gory.

But Xie Guilan didn’t change the channel. He left it on purpose.

Song Lingwei felt a surge of irritation, but she didn’t dare to lose her temper. She had no choice but to endure it.

Then Xie Guilan lowered his head and said, “I’m going to that racetrack in the east side of the city. If I die, you won’t have to be afraid anymore.”

She had been brushing her hair, but her hand froze mid-motion. Strands of hair slipped through her fingers as she stared at him in shock.

Before giving birth to him, she had already spent ten years in Huaijing. She had worked as a hostess, sometimes even going beyond that.

Huaijing hadn’t changed much over the years. She knew exactly what Xie Guilan was talking about.

When she first found out he was working at Blue Night, she had been disappointed.

That nightclub had been around for nearly three decades. She had been there before—it was chaotic even by nightclub standards.

She had thought that, despite everything, Xie Guilan had some kind of plan. But in the end, he had ended up in a place like that. What good were his grades? He was walking the same path she had.

Still, she hadn’t stopped him. Blue Night paid well, and they both needed money.

But this racetrack…

She had been there, too.

It had been shut down once before, but now it had relocated. The rules were the same: win, or die. Either way, the prize money would be paid.

If Xie Guilan won, he would get 200,000 yuan—enough for her surgery and a few more years of life.

After Xie Guilan finished speaking, Song Lingwei fell silent and didn’t speak, and Xie Guilan didn’t say anything else.

The rainstorm became heavier at night. Xie Guilan waited for a minute. Song Lingwei’s face was pale, but she remained silent. Xie Guilan did not wait any longer. He got up and left the ward.