YMW CH 37

Seduction

Xie Guilan finished speaking, but Cen Wu didn’t react. Instead, Xie Guilan grabbed Cen Wu’s wrist and pulled him into his arms. His cold, indifferent gaze lifted slightly, as if he had already resigned himself to fate, letting Cen Wu do as he pleased.

He looked so distant, but under the covers, his hands were tightly gripping Cen Wu’s, forcing him to follow through.

“You… you let go,” Cen Wu shivered, his pale cheeks instantly burning up. “I-I don’t want yours, it’s broken anyway. Mine’s… mine’s better.”

His mind was a complete mess—he barely knew what he was even saying.

Xie Guilan couldn’t hold back a low chuckle. He didn’t release Cen Wu’s hand, not even when Cen Wu finally lay down to sleep. Instead, he lay beside him, his voice still tinged with laughter.

“…” Cen Wu had just calmed down, but hearing that laugh made him furious all over again.

What was so funny?

Irritated, he kicked Xie Guilan a few times. But before he could land another, a large, burning-hot hand suddenly caught his leg. Under the covers, Xie Guilan’s grip was firm, keeping him from moving. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of Cen Wu’s thigh, pressing it against his sharp knuckles.

“Young Master,” Xie Guilan lowered his dark eyes and murmured in a raspy voice, “be careful of your injury.”

Cen Wu squirmed uncomfortably. Who was to blame here? If Xie Guilan hadn’t let him do that, he wouldn’t have kicked him in the first place. His ears turned bright red as he struggled again. “Let go.”

Instead of letting go, Xie Guilan pulled him closer, guiding him into a comfortable position. Caught off guard, Cen Wu nearly ended up with his leg hooked around Xie Guilan’s waist.

And Xie Guilan’s waist—well, it was built to be hooked onto. His abs were lean and well-defined, exuding a restrained yet youthful strength.

Cen Wu felt numb. He lay there, letting Xie Guilan position him like some kind of ragdoll. What was this? Did straight guys really do this every day? Touching thighs, wrapping around each other—wasn’t anyone going to question this?

Xie Guilan’s calloused fingers grazed against his skin, leaving behind a trail of warmth. The fair flesh of Cen Wu’s leg quickly flushed red, trembling slightly under the touch.

“Don’t… don’t touch me,” Cen Wu’s body tensed instinctively, his breath catching. He was terrified that Xie Guilan’s hand might wander further up. Thankfully, the man wasn’t that crazy—at least, he didn’t go that far.

Finally, Xie Guilan let him go. Cen Wu realized only then that he had been holding his breath the entire time. His vision swam slightly, black spots flickering at the edges. He had nearly given himself oxygen deprivation from sheer tension.

Desperate for a distraction, he grabbed his phone and opened it, scrolling aimlessly. A notification popped up—several, actually. Among them was a message from Lu Wang.

The hospital bed was far too small. Two grown men sleeping on it was already a stretch—there was no way to escape from each other’s grasp.

Xie Guilan lowered his gaze, catching a glimpse of Cen Wu’s phone screen.

Cen Wu had intended to open Lu Wang’s message, but just then, another notification arrived. His finger slipped, and before he could react, he had opened a different chat.

A shirtless photo filled the screen.

The guy had clearly just taken a shower—water droplets trailed down the sharp lines of his abs, gliding over his shark-fin muscles. He was wrapped in nothing but a low-hanging towel, which revealed the deep lines of his hips and even part of his pelvis. A long, slender hand casually hooked onto the towel’s edge, playing at the perfect line between suggestive and teasing. Not explicit enough to be crude, but just enough to be provocative.

Cen Wu: “…”

Xie Guilan: “…”

Cen Wu’s face went nuclear red. Mortified, he scrambled to send Lu Wang a random emoji before slamming his phone shut and stuffing it under his pillow in one swift motion.

Xie Guilan’s expression darkened, an almost suffocating chill rising in his gaze. The underlying aggression and ice-cold hostility surged for just a second before he pressed it down again.

Cen Wu opened his mouth but found himself at a complete loss for words. Whatever explanation he could give felt pointless, so he just shut up.

There was nothing between him and Xie Guilan. He had no reason to feel guilty.

It was everyone else’s fault. They had spent the entire night insisting he liked Xie Guilan, so much so that when he accidentally opened that photo, he hadn’t even taken the time to appreciate it. His first reaction had been—what if Xie Guilan gets mad?

Why the hell should he care?

“Alright, alright,” Cen Wu patted his pillow and muttered, “this time, I’m really going to sleep.”

Xie Guilan’s lips were pressed into a thin line. He didn’t respond. He simply continued to stare at him with an unreadable expression.

Cen Wu: ?

Why did it feel like Xie Guilan was actually upset…?

But what for? He had just added some random male model—actually, maybe the guy wasn’t even a model. The original owner of this body had a habit of following good-looking men, and this was hardly the only one.

So what was Xie Guilan’s problem?

Cen Wu had no choice. He sighed, picked up his phone again, and scrolled through his contacts. Finding the guy’s profile, he clicked ‘Delete’—right in front of Xie Guilan.

Only then did Xie Guilan’s expression ease, though there was still no hint of warmth in those pitch-black eyes.

“…Should I delete more?” Cen Wu asked cautiously.

Xie Guilan immediately caught the key detail. He paused for a moment before speaking in an even tone.

“…There’s more?”

Cen Wu: “…”

Cen Wu: “!!!”

Oh no, he slipped up.

A chill ran down his spine. In a desperate move, he started deleting names right in front of Xie Guilan, one after another—ten in total—before finally looking up, stammering, “That’s really… really all of them now.”

With each deletion, Xie Guilan’s expression darkened a little more. Every time he thought Cen Wu was done, he’d watch as he opened another name.

The people he was deleting were sending him abs photos—some even showing half their pelvis. No one would believe these were just casual online acquaintances.

Cen Wu didn’t even dare to delete people in bulk from a contact group. He had a sinking feeling that if Xie Guilan saw the full extent of his “fish pond,” he might just wipe them all out in one go—and then never speak to him again.

Xie Guilan didn’t say whether he believed him or not. His jet-black eyes stayed locked on Cen Wu before he suddenly asked, “Why is your profile picture different from the account you used to add me?”

Cen Wu froze.

The profile picture on this account was a luxury yacht—his father had given it to him for his sixteenth birthday.

Just moments ago, when scrolling through his contacts to delete people, he had seen the names of his parents, his brother, Chu Zijian, Lu Wang, and a few classmates.

This was obviously his main account.

And yet, he hadn’t added Xie Guilan.

Cen Wu hadn’t expected Xie Guilan to be this observant. For a brief moment, he thought, dating Xie Guilan must be exhausting—there’d be no room for even a second of distraction, let alone cheating. He’d catch it immediately.

Xie Guilan’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, bringing a faint metallic taste to his throat. He didn’t doubt that Cen Wu liked him—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t like others too.

Cen Wu turned to face him, his voice dropping to a whisper. “On that account… you’re the only one I added.”

The original Cen Wu had parents who raised him, had friends like Lu Wang. But he himself… was nothing. Lu Wang wasn’t really his friend.

He hadn’t touched the original owner’s account much, aside from deleting a few male models and changing Lu Wang’s nickname from “Idiot” to just his name.

He didn’t want to use that account to add Xie Guilan. The Xie Guilan he knew now, the one who didn’t hate him, was the one who had come to understand him, not some shadow of the past.

The hostility in Xie Guilan’s dark eyes faded significantly. He actually didn’t want to be on that account either—he had an inexplicable aversion to it.

Cen Wu had deleted those contacts without hesitation. That was enough.

He was the only exception.

Cen Wu was so sleepy his head kept nodding forward, eventually bumping into Xie Guilan’s shoulder. Just before he completely drifted off, he felt Xie Guilan’s fingers graze his cheek, then pinch it.

A low, exasperated voice followed.

“Did they ever kiss you?”

Cen Wu, half-asleep and completely out of it, mumbled something incoherent. He hadn’t even processed the question.

Xie Guilan’s thumb brushed over his lower lip. He hesitated for a moment, then, in a moment of self-inflicted torture, asked again, “Did you do more than that?”

Cen Wu’s lashes fluttered, lost in a dream. His head bobbed a little, giving a half-conscious nod.

In his dream, he had meant to haunt Xie Guilan like a ghost until he forgave him. But something went terribly wrong—he was the one being haunted instead.

The ghost in his dream pinned him down, ignoring his protests, and kissed him. Cen Wu was scared out of his wits.

The next morning, he opened his eyes to find Xie Guilan standing beside his hospital bed. His pale, strikingly handsome face was void of expression, eyes dark with exhaustion.

The weight of his silent resentment was even heavier than the ghost in Cen Wu’s dream.

Cen Wu: “…”

What now, bro?

Seeing that he was awake, Xie Guilan lowered his gaze and smoothed out his expression, looking slightly better. “Let’s check your temperature first.”

The rain had poured all night and only just stopped. Cen Wu’s fever had finally gone down, though his leg still hurt like hell.

Chu Zijian had been there all night too. He hadn’t dared to get in the way, so he had tucked himself into a corner. Now that Cen Wu was awake and had taken his medicine, Chu Zijian awkwardly followed behind him, hunched over like a scolded puppy.

Xie Guilan walked at the back.

He almost instinctively moved to pick a fight with Chu Zijian, but before he could step forward, he forced himself to stop.

His expression twisted into something truly unpleasant, like he had just swallowed something rotten. He cast a cold glance at Chu Zijian, who stiffened and muttered hesitantly, “Brother Xie…”

Xie Guilan didn’t even acknowledge him. He strode past, completely ignoring his existence, and went straight to open the car door for Cen Wu.

Chu Zijian stood frozen, seething in silent rage.

It was Friday. Cen Wu had wanted to go to class, but Guan Xingxue gave him no choice, immediately dragging him to the hospital for a full-body check-up.

Meanwhile, Song Lingwei was still hospitalized.

Xie Guilan had originally planned to stay with Cen Wu for his check-up, but then he got a call from Song Lingwei’s attending physician. Her condition had worsened.

She had been vomiting uncontrollably all morning. Her face was as pale as a sheet of paper. When she finally stopped, she lifted her head and saw Xie Guilan standing there—her entire body tensed up in fear.

The nurses were baffled. Wasn’t this her son? Why did she look like she had just seen a ghost?

“Xie,” the doctor approached him, “these tests need to be done as soon as possible. The surgery can’t be delayed anymore. About the medical expenses…”

“I’ll take care of it,” Xie Guilan said.

The doctor exhaled in relief. The surgery had initially been arranged by Xie Mingcheng, but now that father and son had fallen out, things had become tricky.

Xie Guilan rented a wheelchair and took Song Lingwei for her tests.

She wiped her face with trembling fingers, trying to push her disheveled hair away. She looked like she wanted to say something—but hesitated.

“Don’t worry,” Xie Guilan said. “Your twenty thousand is still there.”

For a moment, her clenched hands relaxed. But just as quickly, her body stiffened again.

No.

Something was off.

Xie Guilan was watching her too closely.

She turned her head cautiously to look at him—only to meet his pitch-black eyes, cold and full of malice.

It felt like staring into a bottomless abyss.

A crushing sense of dread crawled up her spine, seeping into her bones.

The nurse nearby noticed the situation and quickly walked over, saying to Xie Guilan, “Xiao Xie, it looks like your mother is about to have an episode again. I’ll help you push her. You’re heading to the third floor for an examination, right?”

“Mm.” Xie Guilan didn’t refuse. “Thank you.”

Song Lingwei had been hospitalized for a long time. While the medical staff remained professional and refrained from saying too much, they couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Xie Guilan.

It wasn’t just that Song Lingwei suffered from stomach and heart problems—her mental state also seemed unstable. Whenever her emotions became volatile, she would go into a frenzy at the sight of Xie Guilan, screaming and crying hysterically until he left the ward.

The doctors had even suggested that Xie Guilan take her for a psychiatric evaluation. But every test result indicated that Song Lingwei’s mental health was perfectly fine.

No one knew what she was afraid of—it was as if she saw her own son as a demon.

At the third floor, while undergoing an ultrasound, Song Lingwei finally stopped trembling, and her tears ceased. Xie Guilan took the wheelchair from the nurse, but the moment they exited the elevator, Song Lingwei’s face turned deathly pale. She clutched at him, screaming wildly, “Don’t go out! Don’t go out!”

Xie Guilan ignored her and pushed her forward anyway—only to run into Cen Wu and Guan Xingxue.

Song Lingwei’s long black hair was disheveled, covering most of her face. She hunched over, her head lowered, barely lifting it enough to reveal a single pair of tear-reddened eyes through the curtain of hair. She stared blankly at Cen Wu.

“Xiao Xie,” Guan Xingxue glanced at them before lifting her head and smiling. “Bringing your mother for a check-up?”

Xie Guilan responded with a quiet “Mm.”

Guan Xingxue took Cen Wu’s hand. “Wu Wu and I will be heading off. Another day, I’ll have Wu Wu invite you over for a meal.”

A polite but distant pleasantry.

Xie Guilan exchanged a few more words with her before continuing to push Song Lingwei forward. As he brushed past Cen Wu, Cen Wu instinctively reached for him, and Xie Guilan’s hand also lifted slightly—just enough for their fingers to graze, hooking briefly together.

Cen Wu turned his head, meeting Xie Guilan’s gaze. Xie Guilan seemed to smile slightly.

A heat rushed to Cen Wu’s ears, and he hurriedly averted his eyes, avoiding another glance before following Guan Xingxue away.

He couldn’t stand it—things between him and Xie Guilan felt too strange.

After Cen Wu and Guan Xingxue left, Song Lingwei suddenly grabbed Xie Guilan’s hand, her thin fingers clutching tightly. Her tear-reddened eyes stared at him as she demanded, “How do you know Cen Wu?!”

“Let go.” Xie Guilan’s voice was cold, a shadow cast beneath his brow bone.

“Xiao Lan…” Song Lingwei shrank back slightly, lifting her head with teary eyes, pleading, “I’m not blaming you, but… you should avoid him. He’s someone we can’t afford to provoke.”

Xie Guilan ignored her.

Song Lingwei let her tears fall, wanting to turn back and look at Cen Wu again, but she was too afraid of being noticed. She remained silent throughout the examination and, upon returning to the hospital room, lay down without moving.

Cen Wu didn’t return to school until Monday. He had been worried that, because of the cheating scandal, someone in their class might still be targeting Xie Guilan.

But perhaps because Xie Guilan had also participated in the school performance, he had gotten somewhat familiar with his classmates. Whether in front of him or behind his back, Cen Wu didn’t hear anyone saying anything anymore.

Some of the more straightforward boys even came up to Xie Guilan and said, “Xie-ge, I believe you. Those bastards from Affiliated High are the sneakiest. If you ask me, there’s definitely something fishy about this competition. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they dare re-evaluate when Lao Meng demanded a review?”

“Exactly! Do they think we’re stupid? That Liao guy is all bark and no bite. If you ask me, someone should just throw a sack over his head and give him a good beating. That’ll shut him up.”

Meng Liangping happened to walk in just as he heard them discussing this. A vein throbbed on his forehead, and he barked, “What the hell are you guys talking about?! How about I throw a sack over you and give you a beating first?!”

The boys in the back row scattered, scrambling back to their seats.

Cen Wu turned his head and saw Xie Guilan’s expression—his eyes remained icy, like snow that never melted on a distant mountain.

Cen Wu let out a quiet breath, thinking that Xie Guilan had finally returned to normal. A few nights ago at the hospital, he had seemed completely off.

How should he describe it?

It was as if… even if Cen Wu had actually pissed on Xie Guilan’s hand back then, Xie Guilan wouldn’t have gotten mad—he would have just enjoyed it.

Meanwhile, Guan Xingxue acted swiftly. The very next day, she directly ordered the Qingyue Cup organizers to reopen the investigation into the cheating incident. It wasn’t a request—it was an undeniable command.

The Liao family was caught off guard. They had no idea how they had offended Guan Xingxue, so for the moment, they didn’t dare make a move.

But by the next evening, when Liao Shengrong attended a jewelry auction, Guan Xingxue’s subordinates outbid him three times in a row. Each time, they waited until the final moment before crushing him with an exorbitant price.

The money Liao Shengrong had brought suddenly seemed laughably insignificant. He became a complete fool in front of the entire auction hall.

The taste of blood filled his mouth. He could tell Guan Xingxue was doing this because of the competition, but he had already bragged to everyone that Liao Bin had placed first. If he admitted to cheating now, it would be humiliating.

So, he tried exerting pressure on the competition committee to block the investigation.

Then, on the third day, Guan Xingxue’s studio publicly announced that she was terminating all endorsement contracts with Liao Jewelry—and that they would never collaborate again.

Liao Shengrong could no longer sit still.

Guan Xingxue wasn’t just famous—she had been a top actress for years and had an impeccable reputation. Her sudden termination of their partnership brought a massive wave of public scrutiny onto Liao Shengrong. Others in the industry took the opportunity to trample on him, and Liao Jewelry’s stock prices even started fluctuating.

With no other choice, Liao Shengrong finally abandoned the competition and, that very night, took Liao Bin to the Cen family’s doorstep to personally apologize.

But Guan Xingxue had no interest in his apology, and Xie Guilan didn’t want to see them either. Liao Shengrong never even made it past the Cen family’s front door before the old butler politely sent him away.

“…Guan Xingxue.”

Sitting in his car in utter humiliation, Liao Shengrong practically ground his teeth to dust.

Everyone in Huaijing’s high society knew one thing—if you had to offend someone, you’d be better off provoking Cen Junshan or Cen Xiao than Guan Xingxue.

Cen Junshan might be ruthless, but at least he would leave you some dignity.

Guan Xingxue, however, was cold and merciless.

Back in their younger days, when the rich second-generation heirs of their circle indulged in debauchery, Cen Junshan had been the odd one out, never dating anyone—waiting for “true love” before getting married.

They had all speculated about who he would end up with, never expecting it to be Guan Xingxue, a woman known for being both cold and ruthless.

Most of them had married for business interests. The idea of “love” was almost laughable. But they had all been certain that Guan Xingxue could never love Cen Junshan.

Yet, in the end, her husband and child became her greatest weakness.

“F*ck!” The evening self-study bell had just rung when Zhang Yuanzhou rushed in from outside the classroom, excitement all over his face. “Did you hear?! Hou Shenyu got suspended! He might even get expelled!”

The Qingyue Cup’s corruption had drawn the attention of the provincial authorities, who sent a special team to investigate. Hou Zhong was temporarily detained under suspicion that this wasn’t his first time leaking exam questions.

Xie Guilan’s prize money was still issued. With the 30,000 yuan from the competition and the 200,000 from racing, he had enough for the surgery and could even pay off some debts. He quit a few of his part-time jobs.

However, he still worked at Lanye. The pay was too good to give up—he needed to save for college tuition.

Cen Wu hired a few people to spread the news of Liao Bin’s cheating on both the No. 1 High School and the affiliated school forums. Once the buzz caught on, the forums were flooded with posts about Liao Bin’s scandal, making sure everyone knew exactly who the real cheater was before he finally let it go.

He even had Cen Xiao buy a trending search to drag the Qingyue Cup’s reputation through the mud.

“You really hold a grudge,” Cen Xiao chuckled over the phone. “Guess I better be careful not to piss you off.”

This was very much like Guan Xuexing’s style—if he did something, he’d go all the way with it.

Cen Wu hesitated for a moment before hanging up.

Just then, He Yao, the sports committee member, walked over and said, “I’m celebrating my birthday this Saturday night. You guys wanna come? We’re having hotpot at that place near school. Xie-ge, Er Shao, you guys too?”

Lifting his gaze, Xie Guilan still carried that chilling aura. But since no one had provoked him, he wasn’t about to start a fight over an invitation.

He Yao wasn’t as scared of him anymore. Leaning in a little, he said fawningly, “Xie-ge, you should come…”

“I’ll come,” Xie Guilan replied.

He Yao finally relaxed and backed away.

Cen Wu wasn’t really keen on going. He Yao, being an athlete, had plenty of friends in other classes. On top of that, with all the juniors and seniors from Class 3 attending, the guest list had ballooned to around sixty people. Just thinking about it made Cen Wu’s social anxiety flare up.

But if he didn’t go, Xie Guilan probably wouldn’t either. And he wanted Xie Guilan to interact more with their classmates.

Lu Wang was out of luck—he’d caught a cold and was stuck at home for a few days. When he heard that Cen Wu was going out for hotpot, he whined in jealousy, practically wailing like he was about to pee himself.

On Saturday night, school let out at five, and they headed straight to the hotpot place. It was an old, well-known spot—great food, generous portions of meat, and affordable prices. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been enough to satisfy a bunch of hungry teenage boys and girls.

The only downside was that the tables were small. With ten people squeezed around one, their legs were practically touching.

Xie Guilan took a seat by the wall, where it was a little more spacious. He left a spot beside him for Cen Wu, but when Cen Wu came over with his dipping sauce, he hesitated for a second before sitting across from Xie Guilan instead, squeezed in with a few other guys.

Xie Guilan’s expression froze. His whole demeanor turned ice-cold, and his thin lips pressed into a sharp line.

The guy next to him shuddered from the sudden chill, scooting away with trembling hands, clinging to his deskmate like he was about to cry.

Mom, I wanna go home.

Cen Wu was too thin and too socially anxious to speak up about being squished, so he just quietly picked at his food in the cramped space. His pale nose tip was damp with sweat, and his ears turned red from the heat.

He had wanted to sit with Xie Guilan, but since Xie Guilan had finally started opening up to their classmates, he figured it was better to let him talk to others.

The guys at their table were all big eaters. A whole plate of meat was dumped into the pot, and before it even finished cooking, people were already grabbing at it. Cen Wu wasn’t fast enough and only managed to scoop up a few overcooked pieces of lamb.

“Er Shao,” He Yao, who was sitting beside him, noticed his empty bowl and how he was just eating plain sesame sauce. He raised a brow and smirked, leaning down to whisper, “What do you wanna eat? I’ll grab it for you.”

Cen Wu’s face turned red. He stammered, “N-no, I can get it myself…”

He Yao ignored him and used the public chopsticks to fetch him some meat.

The latest batch of meat was off-limits until Cen Wu had gotten his share. Once he had half a bowl, He Yao let the others continue their feeding frenzy.

Cen Wu ate quietly, while He Yao kept chatting him up. Cen Wu just nodded along, but He Yao got more and more into it, eventually picking up a white radish. “I know how to carve radish flowers. Want me to make you one?”

A guy next to him scoffed, “You’ll probably just end up with a bald-headed Strong ^[1]again. Besides, we’re just gonna eat it anyway.”

“Shut the hell up,” He Yao snapped, annoyed.

Cen Wu didn’t really like radishes, but when He Yao carved a delicate white rose and dropped it into the pot, he had no choice but to fish it out and eat it.

Meanwhile, Zhang Yuanzhou was bouncing between tables, chatting with different groups. After messing around with some girls and getting kicked a few times, he scurried off with a cheeky grin and ended up next to Xie Guilan.

“Xie-ge,” Zhang Yuanzhou grinned, holding up a beer can. “Want one? It’s cold.”

Xie Guilan’s long lashes cast deep shadows over his sharp eyes. Without saying a word, he took the beer but kept his gaze fixed on something else.

Zhang Yuanzhou followed his line of sight, then smirked. Lowering his voice, he whispered, “Looks like He Yao’s kinda into Er Shao.”

He Yao was openly bisexual, dating both guys and girls without making a secret of it—most people in school knew. In the past, he hadn’t paid much attention to Cen Wu. That changed the day Cen Wu had to read a self-reflection in front of the whole school, eyes rimmed red, on the verge of tears but forcing himself to hold it in.

Pretty cute.

Still, when Cen Wu put on his cold, distant face, his whole vibe changed, making He Yao hesitant to approach. But tonight, seeing him quietly stirring his sesame sauce, He Yao decided to strike up a conversation.

“I wish I had a boyfriend,” Zhang Yuanzhou sighed, taking a swig of beer before leaning back against his chair. His stomach was full, and now he was enjoying the show—watching He Yao spread his metaphorical peacock feathers.

Xie Guilan had been silent the entire time, his gaze low and unreadable. He rarely showed emotion, making it difficult to tell what he was thinking.

But even Zhang Yuanzhou could sense the storm brewing in the air.

Cen Wu, however, was completely oblivious.

He Yao talked so much that it felt like there were a hundred Zhang Yuanzhous calling his name. Cen Wu was already tempted to cover his ears when, suddenly, he felt something touch him under the table.

The tip of someone’s shoe brushed along his calf—not pulling away immediately, but instead hooking around his ankle and the back of his leg, gently rubbing in an indistinct, suggestive way.

Cen Wu was speechless.
Who is it?! Who’s trying to seduce him?

In his past life, Cen Wu never lacked admirers. He was young, attractive, and his love life was as innocent as it was enviable—whether they genuinely cared for him or just craved the benefits of his charm, suitors flocked around him by the dozens.

Cen Wu could feel that this person was deliberately rubbing against him. But when he looked up, everyone was busy devouring their meals, stretching out their chopsticks to grab meat, and he couldn’t imagine who among them would do such a thing.

He glanced around in confusion until his eyes met Xie Guilan’s cold, unyielding gaze—like the chill of moonlight. Under the table, someone continued to nudge against him. Cen Wu’s pretty face slowly flushed red as he peeked down, but each time the mysterious toucher dodged away, leaving him unable to catch a glimpse of the culprit.

Xie Guilan, studying his reddened face, asked coolly, “Young Master, are you feeling hot?”

“N-no… not really,” Cen Wu stuttered.

Even He Yao had noticed something was off about Cen Wu. Unable to bear the unsettling sensation any longer—his heart pounding uncomfortably—Cen Wu apologized to He Yao and then went over to Xie Guilan.

Leaning in close with trembling eyelashes, Cen Wu whispered, “I think… I think someone is rubbing against my leg.”

Xie Guilan’s thin, ruddy lips curved into a slight, concerned smile as he replied, “In that case, just stay close to me.”