YMW CH 55

Wild Man

“What… what’s it to you?” Cen Wu choked out, his ears burning even redder. He shoved Xie Guilan away with force. “Can’t I just be really hot? What’s it… got to do with you?”

It was still raining that night, and the back door of the classroom was left open. The damp, chilly wind blew in—it was actually freezing. But Cen Wu’s lashes fluttered slightly as he leaned away from Xie Guilan, his entire body radiating heat. Even the pale tip of his nose was dotted with fine beads of sweat.

Xie Guilan grabbed his wrist, refusing to be pushed away. Cen Wu was already seated against the wall, and now he was backed into the corner of the desk. Paranoia crept in—he was sure someone was watching them. What kind of scene were they making, tugging and pulling like this? He tried to stand up and return to his own seat, but Xie Guilan shifted his leg to block him.

Unapologetically, shamelessly, Xie Guilan barred his way, not even bothering to pretend. His knee pressed firmly against Cen Wu’s.

Furious beyond reason, Cen Wu raised his hands to strip off his school jacket, as if to prove just how overheated he was. Afraid he’d catch a chill, Xie Guilan stopped teasing and held him down, refusing to let him take it off.

“My bad,” Xie Guilan apologized without hesitation, though his dark eyes glinted with amusement. His tone was infuriatingly insincere as he added, “Whatever the young master says is right.”

A classmate who had just run in from outside, shivering from the rain and cold: “…”

Stop fighting. If you really must, just give him your jacket.

Trapped, Cen Wu had no choice but to sit beside Xie Guilan and work on his homework. Xie Guilan, having already finished the provincial chemistry competition papers from the past two years, pulled out a notebook and started scribbling something.

When he noticed Cen Wu studying, he turned to watch him.

Head bowed, Cen Wu couldn’t solve a single problem. The tips of his ears grew progressively redder until he finally gave up and covered the test paper with his arm.

So annoying.

If he didn’t end up as the provincial top scorer, it would all be Xie Guilan’s fault. Huaijing No. 1 High would lose its rising star because of him.

When he copied Xie Guilan’s homework, Xie Guilan leaned in shamelessly and asked, “You won’t copy from anyone else—just me. Does that mean you like me?”

When he tossed a handful of black goji berries into Xie Guilan’s thermos, Xie Guilan stared at him and deliberately lowered his voice. “You only give them to me, no one else. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“…” Cen Wu snapped, “It means… you’re especially weak.”

Xie Guilan’s brow arched, but before he could speak, Cen Wu clamped a hand over his mouth.

His face burning, Cen Wu didn’t dare let Xie Guilan get a word out. That guy was nothing but trouble—he’d definitely say something like, Haven’t you seen for yourself? Don’t you know whether I’m weak or not?

Cen Wu was tempted to just break it—confiscate the offending equipment—but he was afraid Xie Guilan might actually enjoy it.

Muffled by Cen Wu’s hand, Xie Guilan chuckled softly. Cen Wu immediately pressed down harder. Afraid of pushing him too far but unable to help himself, Xie Guilan nipped at his palm, catching the soft flesh between his teeth and lightly grinding down.

Cen Wu: “…”

You really asking for another slap, bro?

Cen Wu knew this couldn’t go on. He wasn’t going to date Xie Guilan—this messy entanglement was no good for either of them. The longer it dragged out, the harder it would be to leave.

Forget whether he even liked Xie Guilan or not. The closer they got now, the more it would hurt when they parted. He was an adult—he should be more level-headed about this.

Honestly, Cen Wu hadn’t really experienced high school in his past life either. He’d started acting at sixteen and was almost never at school. Like Xie Guilan, this was his first real time in a classroom.

He shouldn’t grow attached to this school. He shouldn’t make friends. And he definitely shouldn’t fall for anyone. After all, never having something was entirely different from gaining it and then losing it.

But he couldn’t bring himself to be harsh with Xie Guilan. He couldn’t bear to cut him off, didn’t know how to refuse him.

He hadn’t been entirely lying to Xie Guilan before—if the whole world were drowning, he’d save Xie Guilan first.

Xie Guilan was important to him.

No matter how heavy the rain, a thousand times, ten thousand times—he’d still go looking for him.

Cen Wu’s lashes trembled slightly. He released Xie Guilan, no longer covering his mouth, and lowered his head to continue his homework.

Xie Guilan shifted slightly, his long legs sprawling until his knee bumped against Cen Wu’s again. He propped his chin on the desk, watching him write, then snatched his scratch paper to doodle something.

Cen Wu absolutely did not want to know what Xie Guilan was drawing—but the moment Xie Guilan looked away, he peeked.

And saw a puffy-cheeked, sulky little cat face.

Cen Wu: “…”

How can someone be this infuriating?

“Stay away from me,” Cen Wu couldn’t take it anymore, jerking back. His voice turned sharp. “I don’t want to talk to you. Why are you clinging to me? Do I have to say it again—I don’t like you?”

Xie Guilan’s lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes were a deep, fathomless black, like a vortex that would swallow you whole if you stared too long.

Cen Wu’s words suddenly reminded him—that night during the autumn outing, when they played Truth or Dare, Cen Wu had admitted to liking someone. At the time, he’d thought it was him.

If Cen Wu didn’t like him, then who was it?

Xie Guilan’s pale, handsome face darkened abruptly, a shadow of violent irritation flickering across his features. Where the hell did this new bastard come from?

No matter how many he got rid of, they just kept popping up.

Cen Wu assumed his words had been too harsh and Xie Guilan was angry. Not daring to look at him, he shoved Xie Guilan’s leg aside and stood up, returning to his own seat.

Lu Wang had been playing games with some guys in the back row earlier. When he came back, he saw Cen Wu stabbing holes into his test paper—jagged little punctures scattered everywhere, not a single problem answered.

Scratching his head, Lu Wang had no idea what was going through Cen Wu’s mind, but he’d been there too—staring at a problem for hours without making progress.

He patted Cen Wu’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out and teach you later.”

Cen Wu: “…”

Thanks. Really.

“Oh yeah,” Lu Wang suddenly remembered, “Your birthday’s this weekend, right? I got you the limited-edition sneakers!”

He’d been dying to buy things for Cen Wu, but lately, Cen Wu kept refusing his money, even returning anything he bought. This time, he’d finally seized the chance to splurge—thirty thousand yuan on a pair of kicks.

Truthfully, he’d had his eye on an even pricier pair but held back, afraid Cen Wu wouldn’t accept them. These’ll have to do for now.

The Cen family threw a birthday banquet every year for the original host, and this year would be no exception. Just thinking about it made Cen Wu’s skin crawl.

At other parties, he could at least hide. But at his own birthday banquet? No way to escape. He’d been managing fine until Lu Wang brought it up—now his hands and feet had gone ice-cold.

He couldn’t refuse, either. The Cens would grow even more suspicious if he did. After all, the original host loved being the center of attention at his birthday celebrations. Faking illness wouldn’t work—a hospital visit would expose him immediately.

Cen Wu bit his lip. This should’ve been Xie Guilan’s birthday. Song Lingwei had a rare moment of cunning when she registered Xie Guilan’s birthdate as December.

Aside from her and the now-dead Chen Weiguo, no one knew Xie Guilan’s real birthday—not even Xie Guilan himself.

Instinctively, Cen Wu turned to look for Xie Guilan—only to remember mid-motion that they were fighting. But before he could dwell on it, his gaze froze.

Xie Guilan wasn’t at his seat. No idea when he’d left, though his belongings were still there.

Cen Wu immediately shook Lu Wang’s arm. “Wh-where’s Xie Guilan?”

“Huh?” Lu Wang blinked, confused. “He was here just now.”

A wave of panic hit Cen Wu. Had he actually driven Xie Guilan away? Xie Guilan had endured too much humiliation in his life—his pride was fiercer than most. The fact that he hadn’t killed Cen Wu after getting slapped was already a miracle.

Cen Wu waited a few more minutes. Xie Guilan still hadn’t returned. His lips paled slightly.

Thick night enveloped the school, rain still drizzling outside. Xie Guilan hadn’t taken an umbrella.

Lu Wang said something to him. Cen Wu’s lips moved, but Lu Wang only stared at him strangely. That was when Cen Wu realized—no sound had come out. Not even a stutter.

A sharp buzz exploded in his head. He pressed a hand to his tightening throat. His ears rang, drowning out Lu Wang’s voice. Lu Wang leaned closer, worried, mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

Lu Wang panicked. He wasn’t completely oblivious—he could tell Cen Wu couldn’t hear him. But his own life skills were abysmal; he had no idea how to handle this. His eyes reddened in distress.

Cen Wu forced himself to calm down and shook his head. His composure steadied Lu Wang a little.

Miming that he needed to rest, Cen Wu waited until Lu Wang nodded in understanding before dropping his head onto the desk, taking slow, deep breaths. Beside his hand lay the scratch paper—the sulky little cat face still glaring up at him.

He’d had episodes like this before, but this was the first time since transmigrating into the book.

Under his school jacket, Cen Wu wore a thin hoodie. He pulled the hood up and stayed like that for a few minutes until the shrill ringing in his skull finally faded. Once he’d recovered, he decided to go look for Xie Guilan.

Then, without warning, the hood was gently lifted—and something warm pressed against his cheek.

Cen Wu startled, raising his head.

The rain had lightened. Teenage boys ran hot; most students hadn’t bothered with umbrellas.

Xie Guilan hadn’t brought one either. His knuckles were icy, his black hair slightly damp with rain. But the cupcake in his hand was still warm—fluffy sponge cake, its sweet fragrance unmistakable.

Huaijing No. 1 High had three cafeterias. Beneath the first was a bakery, and these cupcakes were legendary—fresh out of the oven just before evening self-study, with students lining up every day.

Evening self-study lasted over three hours. Teacher Meng didn’t mind them snacking as long as they didn’t make a mess or stink up the classroom. So half the class usually bought these cakes.

Cen Wu, socially anxious to the core, could never handle the crowd. He’d never gone himself, though he’d always peeked longingly at the display—especially the lychee cupcakes, topped with five or six fresh lychees.

Xie Guilan had waited until just before self-study, when the cakes were ready, to go buy one. He’d meant to tease Cen Wu, maybe startle him—only to find him pale-lipped and red-eyed, clearly unwell.

“What’s wrong?” Xie Guilan frowned, reaching to check his forehead for fever.

Cen Wu shook his head. “N-nothing.”

Only after confirming he wasn’t sick did Xie Guilan relax—though the gloomy resentment still clung to his striking features. He’d even suspected Ji Changyu by now, yet still couldn’t figure out who Cen Wu might like.

Cen Wu stared at the lychee cupcake, wide-eyed, not daring to speak or take it. Xie Guilan paused, then unwrapped the spoon and placed it in his palm—as if ready to feed him outright.

Like he was a child.

Cen Wu’s ears burned crimson. He could feed himself, damn it!

The evening self-study bell rang. Teacher Meng herded everyone to their seats, and Xie Guilan returned to the back row.

Cen Wu took a few bites of the cake. He’d insulted Xie Guilan, and Xie Guilan still bought him dessert. Xie Guilan was good. He wasn’t.

Having already eaten dinner, he wasn’t hungry. After a few mouthfuls, he set it aside for later.

But as soon as he sat up and took out his math homework, the nape of his neck was suddenly gripped by a pale, slender hand.

Cen Wu was forced to lean back as Xie Guilan said to him, “I’m not angry.”

Cen Wu’s eyes reddened slightly again.

Then he heard Xie Guilan lower his voice, speaking in that wicked, lazy tone of his: “Only my boyfriend gets to scold me like that. Since you seem like you could be my boyfriend, I’ll let it slide for now.”

Cen Wu: “…………”

Like hell I am. Your whole family’s like that.

All the heaviness in Cen Wu’s chest was obliterated by Xie Guilan’s shamelessness. Not only did his speech become fluent again, he felt like he could now take on ten Xie Guilans in an argument.

Lu Wang watched with a numb expression—he’d worried for nothing.

Hou Zhong had been dismissed for cheating in competitions, and the school assigned them a new chemistry teacher.

With Xie Guilan away for provincial chemistry competition finals training, often absent from class, Cen Wu finally got a few days of peace. But whenever Xie Guilan wasn’t busy, he’d bombard Cen Wu with messages.

At first, Cen Wu pretended not to see them and didn’t reply. Undeterred, Xie Guilan kept sending more.

【Xie Guilan: Hello! Press 1 for dinner delivery, 2 for homework service, 3 for customer support.】

Cen Wu: “…”

【Cen Wu: TD ^[1]】

【Xie Guilan: Confirmed. Transferring you to customer support.】

Cen Wu: “…”

Someone call the police. Please.

Even during training, Xie Guilan would ride his motorcycle to pick Cen Wu up every evening, dropping him home before heading to the hospital or Blue Night.

Cen Wu felt like he’d become Xie Guilan’s burden somehow. This was all wrong—shouldn’t he be the one arranging chauffeurs for Xie Guilan instead?

On Saturday evening, their grade was dismissed early at 5 PM. Song Lingwei still needed a CT scan, and her attending physician wanted to discuss her next treatment steps with Xie Guilan, making for a busy night ahead.

So Cen Wu didn’t go home, accompanying Xie Guilan to the hospital instead—maybe he could help somehow.

Truthfully, he couldn’t care less about Song Lingwei’s fate. Once the truth about the swapped identities came to light, he wouldn’t go to the Xie family or acknowledge Song Lingwei, only leaving this place for good.

But he couldn’t ask Xie Guilan to abandon Song Lingwei either, so helping out was the only option.

After taking Song Lingwei for her scan and settling her back in her room, Cen Wu went with Xie Guilan to the 16th floor to wait for the doctor. Several other patients were undergoing examinations nearby.

The hospital corridor was quiet, nearly empty.

“Tired,” Xie Guilan suddenly murmured, wrapping his arms around Cen Wu and resting his chin on his shoulder.

Startled, Cen Wu tensed up completely—only to feel Xie Guilan bury his face against his neck and let out a soft chuckle, his deep, husky voice sending heat rushing to Cen Wu’s ears.

Cen Wu suspected this was an act. The original novel’s Xie Guilan never admitted to exhaustion. But Xie Guilan wasn’t immune to fatigue—he just never voiced it. What if he really was tired?

Xie Guilan nuzzled his nose against Cen Wu’s neck.

Hesitating, Cen Wu returned the embrace, gently patting his back. “Then… lean on me and rest a while,” he whispered.

From around the stairwell corner, Song Lingwei watched their entwined figures, her heart numb.

She couldn’t hear their conversation, but she’d never seen Xie Guilan rely on anyone like this. Cen Wu’s ears were burning red, yet Xie Guilan made no move to pull away—just shamelessly clinging to him.

She’d caught traces of Cen Wu’s voice from her room and followed it, never expecting to actually see him here.

Though not an actor, Cen Wu was acutely sensitive to being watched. He soon noticed Song Lingwei’s presence.

At thirteen, the original host had accidentally discovered he wasn’t the Cens’ biological child.

It started in middle school biology class during a blood type lesson. When classmates went to get tested out of curiosity, the original host joined—only to find his blood type didn’t match his parents’ claims.

He kept it secret until the day he ran into Song Lingwei at the hospital.

Back then, Song Lingwei’s health was even worse. Facing a high-risk heart surgery, believing she might die, she’d been overcome upon seeing him.

Xie Guilan wasn’t there that day—Song Lingwei had gone alone for tests. At the sight of him, she burst into tears.

The original host initially thought some madwoman was harassing him, screaming for staff to remove her.

But he recognized her. When Song Lingwei lifted her head, her swollen eyes behind disheveled hair gave her away—Xie Mingcheng’s mistress.

Blood ties carried undeniable power. Something in her gaze terrified him.

He secretly took a strand of her fallen hair for a paternity test with Xie Guilan, discovering Xie Guilan wasn’t her biological son. Too afraid to test himself against Song Lingwei directly, he checked with Cen Xiao instead.

The results suggested he likely wasn’t Cen Xiao’s brother either.

From Xie Shangjing, he’d learned Song Lingwei came from a mountain region—the same place Guan Xingxue had given birth. Dread consumed him.

Though not particularly clever, even he could deduce something was terribly wrong.

Xie Guilan’s back was to Song Lingwei. Unsure if he’d noticed her, Cen Wu rose slightly on his toes to peek over Xie Guilan’s shoulder.

Song Lingwei immediately flinched, hiding her face in panic.

Cen Wu ducked back, then popped up again—just to scare her.

She startled every time.

There wasn’t much else he could do now. Frightening her repeatedly would have to count as vengeance for Xie Guilan. Xie Guilan ruffled his hair, amused. “What are you doing?”

Cen Wu shook his head, his beautiful lashes curving with mischief.

After Xie Guilan finished consulting the doctor, he took Cen Wu home. By the time his motorcycle stopped outside the Cen estate’s gates, it was past 10 PM.

“G-goodnight,” Cen Wu waved through the ornate iron gates, turning toward the house—when Xie Guilan abruptly seized his wrist with undeniable force.

The evening breeze brushed past as Xie Guilan slid his grip down from Cen Wu’s wrist, interlacing their fingers tightly together.

Cen Wu’s palm grew slightly damp under the faint glow of streetlights that draped over their intertwined shadows. Neither let go—knuckles tangled, the tension between them swelling like unchecked spring vines.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, only that his legs had gone numb and his hand began to ache.

Finally, he tried to pull away, but Xie Guilan held firm. His ears burning, Cen Wu could only murmur, “Why are you holding my hand?”

Xie Guilan sat astride his motorcycle, one long leg braced against the ground. A helmet dangled from one hand while the other refused to release Cen Wu.

The night cast a cool sheen over him, yet his palm was searing. He traced a teasing circle against Cen Wu’s skin, then hooked their fingers tighter. “Isn’t it obvious?” he countered.

Cen Wu looked up, bewildered.

Xie Guilan’s dark, peach-blossom eyes curved with amusement. “I’m courting you,” he said, voice laced with a smirk.