The Hunter

Let me start with the conclusion. The Professor is a good man.

I didn’t reach this conclusion because of the stories about his past that a senior once told me. While those stories did change my view of him, what truly earned him the label of a “good man” was that day—the day Ning Rou and I had our falling out.

“She has talent, she has ability, and more importantly, she has perseverance.”

To Professor Nangong, that might have been just one of the countless sentences he has uttered in his life. He might have even said it to many others. But to me, it was everything. It was the only validation I had been chasing for years. It truly mattered to me.

Not to mention, the Professor and I are of the same kind.

Like me, he is a “performance puppet” incapable of manipulating emotions. Yet, despite that, he is doing everything in his power to help me. Whether it’s bickering with me or slapping each other in the face—these methods are primitive and clumsy, and the emotions they trigger aren’t even entirely accurate. I’ve known that for a long time.

And yet, I cannot refuse his help. How can a starving person afford to be a picky eater?

Especially when the Professor himself is just another starving victim. The hardships I endure, he likely endured every bit as much back in his day. But unlike me, he never met a Professor Nangong of his own. He never received help from anyone.

Thinking about that gives me a sense of ugly relief. I am incredibly fortunate to have his help. This support from a fellow sufferer—the warmth contained within it—is actually something I crave far more than the help itself.

Amidst this growing craving for the Professor’s company, I discovered a brand-new emotion. One I have never shown in front of him.

Possessiveness.

I never used to crave anything extra. Fine food, accessories, jewelry—these things were worthless in my eyes. Before, I only wanted to succeed on the path of performance; a stubborn obsession and a desperate need to prove myself occupied my entire heart. I thought there was no room left for any other feelings.

Clearly, I was wrong. Greedy possessiveness, like an inextinguishable swarm of insects, is constantly breeding and growing. It has blanketed my obsession and stubbornness, quietly claiming a massive portion of my heart.

To be honest, I am addicted to the Professor’s trust and care. I cannot forget the tenderness and vulnerability hidden beneath his mask. These things are treasures that belong solely to me. I am selfish; I don’t want anyone else to lay a finger on them.

This is a fire of desire burning from within. And thanks to it, the once-reserved me can now bluntly expose my desires. My interactions with the Professor have become increasingly natural and increasingly delightful.

“Miss Monica, may I have this dance?” The Professor extended his hand to me, his face devoid of expression.

“Of course.” I smiled and took his hand.

As the melodious music surrounded us, my heart relaxed. My performance power flowed more freely than ever, and I skillfully maintained the feigned emotions. Taking advantage of the dance, my hands lightly touched the Professor’s broad shoulders and waist. Though separated by layers of fabric, I could still feel the heat of his body and the texture of his skin.

Looking at the Professor’s stiff yet handsome face so close to mine, I could feel my heart racing. Waves of pleasure surged through me.

I am dancing with the Professor. This is my first time having such close physical contact with a member of the opposite s*x. Judging by the slightly panicked look in the Professor’s eyes—which he is struggling to hide—it is likely the same for him. Which means this, too, is a hidden side of the Professor that I alone possess.

Wonderful. Simply wonderful. The mere thought of it sent a rush of pleasure through my heart that was even more intoxicating than the physical contact itself.

I shouldn’t. This is supposed to be normal instruction between a teacher and student. The Professor is only enduring the awkwardness to help me grow… This is just a polite, ordinary ballroom dance.

It should be a proper, justified act. So why am I having such sacrilegious thoughts?

Reason sounds a weak alarm in my mind. The social ethics and logic I’ve been raised with for years keep telling me how disgraceful and unacceptable these thoughts are. How can I look at a teacher as a member of the opposite s*x?

But I can’t help it. Nor do I want to. I’d rather let the alarms of reason blare and let the guilt fester. Right now, I only want to follow my desires and draw closer to the Professor. Or rather… hunt him.

I have already discovered the Professor’s fragile essence. The dominance in our relationship has long since shifted; it is now firmly in my grasp. This was inevitable.

After all, he is too dull when it comes to emotions, whereas I am gradually mastering the art of manipulating them under his very training. And emotions are weapons.

I am like the tiger cub in the fable who was taught all its skills by a cat-master. The master focused solely on cultivating an excellent disciple, ignoring the terrifying gap in strength that was growing between them. In the end, the master became the disciple’s target.

The Professor is that cat-master. He is simply too naive to realize it yet. I have become the hunter, and the Professor is the prey I’ve locked onto.

It’s hard to say if this is “love.” My emotions became a twisted, unrecognizable mess the day I fought with Ning Rou. But if we go by the radical online theory that “love is just a different form of possessiveness,” then I love the Professor deeply indeed.

My possessiveness toward him has become incredibly severe, and it is expanding at a morbid, terrifying speed.

A short, daily tutoring session is no longer enough to satisfy me. If possible, I want to take more from him, to possess more of him. More of his time, more of his attention, more of his validation…

I need more… and more… it will never be enough. Beyond that, I want his care, his smile, his tenderness… those things I haven’t obtained yet, I will find a way to seize.

Perhaps for the Professor, my desires are not a good thing. But it can’t be helped. He was the one who opened the door to my heart. He was the one who gave me a sense of trust and validation I had never felt before.

Shouldn’t he be the one to deal with the consequences? For now, I cannot let these thoughts show. But one day…

“Sss…” “Student Xiao Yuehua, while this performance requires a certain level of hostility, your emotions seem a bit off-track right now.”

Perhaps my fingers were gripping him too tightly, causing the Professor discomfort. He knit his brows slightly as he spoke. “Stay focused.”

“My apologies, Professor.” I apologized casually, but my attention was synchronized with every micro-change in his expression. I couldn’t bear to miss a single detail. Even a slightly frowning Professor is a treasure I want to see—a treasure I want to possess alone.

This is fine. Keeping it like this is fine. This side of the Professor only needs to be shown to me. I must never let an outsider glimpse it.

One day, I will have all of him.