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Tsk,
Lamenting his own ill-fated destiny, Pei Xingyan pushed open the door to Shen Zhishu’s office.
In an instant, he masked himself with a smile, his voice sweet as honey as he called out, “Teacher,” and stepped inside.
Shen Zhishu was slumped in her armchair, her expression utterly detached.
She was dressed formally today, perhaps for some important business, yet her current demeanor did not at all match the serious suit she wore, her face etched with sorrow.
Hearing Pei Xingyan’s voice, she indifferently turned her gaze towards him, then unexpectedly sniffled, appearing almost wronged.
‘You’re the one feeling wronged first,’ Pei Xingyan thought to himself. ‘I rushed all the way from the classroom, haven’t even eaten, and haven’t had a chance to feel wronged yet.’
He casually pulled over a stool, seating himself quite close to her.
Yet he didn’t speak first, merely observing the woman.
Shen Zhishu averted her eyes, then subtly glanced at him several more times before finally breaking the silence:
“Your taste isn’t bad.”
[?] Pei Xingyan hadn’t expected her to finally utter such a remark after so long, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
However, seeing her cold gaze, he quickly composed himself.
“What’s her name?”
“Who?”
“Playing dumb isn’t a useful trick. Do you perhaps have several girlfriends?” Shen Zhishu’s voice was soft, yet it carried an aggressive edge.
‘Hard to say,’ Pei Xingyan mused. ‘He wasn’t even sure if Ye Ziwei considered herself his girlfriend now…’
His slight silence immediately agitated Shen Zhishu.
She sprang from her chair, straightening her back, and then dragged the chair she had been sitting on closer to him, closing the distance.
“You’re not actually dating several girlfriends at once, are you?” she asked, incredulous, her eyebrows practically standing on end.
“No, I’m not,” Pei Xingyan shook his head, adding with a hint of guilt, “Definitely not.”
“So, the one I met today was… her?” Shen Zhishu’s tone rose several octaves, and she looked as if she wanted to devour Pei Xingyan whole.
“Well, not exactly,” Pei Xingyan quickly shook his head.
Shen Zhishu gripped the armrest of his chair tightly, blocking the only path he had to stand up.
Her pleasant, fresh scent enveloped him, effectively trapping him within her presence.
Pei Xingyan couldn’t help but let his gaze wander over her.
She was dressed very formally, a white blouse paired with a women’s suit jacket.
It wasn’t overly tight, yet her curves were distinctly visible.
Though it felt improper to think so, he couldn’t deny that the woman had an excellent figure.
Below, she wore straight-cut trousers of black fabric that concealed everything until her feet, where her skin was once again visible.
She wore pointed-toe, stiletto heels—shoes not typically suited for an academic setting.
Yet, on her, they exuded only an air of dignity and competence, devoid of any frivolousness.
Pei Xingyan quickly scanned her, intending to pull his gaze away, but his attention was then caught by the barely visible edge of a stocking beneath her trouser leg.
She wore extremely short stockings, barely reaching her ankles, which reminded Pei Xingyan of ladies from the last century—a fashion of that era which, by today’s standards, seemed… a little dated.
He stared a moment too long.
Shen Zhishu noticed his gaze, followed it downwards, and discovered where his eyes had landed.
Shen Zhishu’s calf gave a frantic twitch, and she quickly hid her feet beneath the chair.
Her face, too, was flushed with an indefinable redness.
Pei Xingyan found it hard to believe she would be shy about such a thing, yet her expression and demeanor spoke volumes.
Now he was truly perplexed.
While ethically speaking, there was indeed no discernible relationship between them, she was undeniably many years his senior—a veritable chasm at their respective ages.
‘Could she truly harbor some special feelings for him?’
Pei Xingyan was about to say something when he was interrupted by the sound of the office door opening.
Two female students entered, one after the other, each carrying a laptop.
Upon seeing the scene inside the office, an awkwardness instantly flickered across both their faces.
They halted midway, their eyes darting between Pei Xingyan and Shen Zhishu, unsure whether to proceed or retreat.
The air grew terrifyingly silent, and Pei Xingyan felt his face flush.
He could almost imagine the forbidden thoughts swirling in the minds of those two girls.
“What is it?” Shen Zhishu was the first to react, her voice so cold it could freeze a person solid.
“Teacher… the review comments are out, and we have some questions we’d like to ask…” one of the girls stammered nervously, her eyes still impishly darting towards Pei Xingyan.
“Alright…” Shen Zhishu lowered her head to compose herself, then retreated to her desk.
Pei Xingyan, understanding the situation, moved aside.
It was a significant matter for graduate students to consult their advisor, especially when it sounded like they had submitted to a journal and received a response.
“Just take a seat for now; we’ll talk later,” Shen Zhishu instructed him, her voice chillingly detached, like a judge announcing a stay of execution for a condemned prisoner.
Yet, Pei Xingyan soon realized that Shen Zhishu’s voice, when speaking to him, wasn’t cold at all.
Compared to the tone she used with her graduate students, her manner with him could almost be described as indulgent.
“This review of yours… *Tsk*, do you honestly not think it looks like it was copied from Baidu Baike? It’s not good at all…”
“The setup for the positive control group is unreasonable; that’s not what you proposed in your previous progress report.”
“And the pervasive grammatical errors throughout—if you can’t manage, why not hire a translator?”
…
Shen Zhishu’s voice remained soft, for scholars rarely spoke harshly, yet it was bone-chillingly cold.
The temperature in the room plummeted below freezing, and the two girls bowed their heads, trembling with trepidation, not daring to even breathe aloud.
It was only then that Pei Xingyan understood she hadn’t been angry with him at all.
At most, it had been a ‘complaint,’ or perhaps even a form of indulgent chiding.
If she were to question him with such an attitude, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t panic and fall right off his chair.
“Summarize it yourselves first; we’ll discuss it in detail at next week’s group meeting.”
Shen Zhishu delivered her final verdict, remaining dispassionate throughout, addressing her students’ work strictly on its merits.
Nevertheless, the two girls’ faces were still terrifyingly pale.
They bit their lips, their complexions ashen, and then quickly hurried out, one after the other.
Pei Xingyan silently resolved not to pursue graduate studies.
While he hadn’t harbored such intentions to begin with, the scene had been truly terrifying.
A whimsical thought suddenly struck him: if Shen Zhishu were the one pressuring Lin Xiaoyu, would Lin Xiaoyu simply choose to ‘restart’ (TL Note: A Chinese slang term, ‘chóng kāi,’ meaning to give up and start over, often implying rebirth or suicide in a game-like context.) before even reaching adulthood?
The tapping of high heels began anew.
He snapped out of his reverie, and as he looked up, Shen Zhishu’s delicate face already filled his entire field of vision.
She was squatting directly in front of him, her eyes mere centimeters from his, gazing deeply as if trying to peer into his very soul.