Shallow Feelings, Deep Chaos

When the truth was laid bare in front of him, Wu Qie felt a strange sense of relief, like a boot that had been hanging in midair had finally landed.

“‘sssssss’ means?”

“‘SF’ (*small forward), teacher.”

“And the Bulbasaur avatar?”

“The center, Lu Jianing, uses Squirtle, and the power forward, Zhao Shu, uses Charizard… he uses that on WeChat too, right?”

Alright.

The original three starter Pokémon.

The original ace frontline of Hongtie High School.

Art.

If this wasn’t art, then what was?

What surprised him was that, after realizing that everything about that dramatic crush—both what should and shouldn’t have been said—had all been told directly to the very person he once had a crush on, Wu Qie didn’t feel like the sky was falling at all.

Instead, he felt oddly relieved, like having too many debts made them no longer heavy.

Compared to that, it was still less devastating than sitting on Mr. Zhao’s lap and then being forced to see him every day afterward.

After a brief silence, the black-haired young man simply nodded.

“Got it.”

“Take your time looking at that data notebook, I’m not in a rush.”

As he spoke, he stood up and took out his phone, which had just gained a little charge, sending a message to Zhao Shu, asking when he would come to the room to move Pei Qingyu’s luggage out.

He suddenly found himself missing his fiancé a little.

—Having a dumb dog sleeping beside him felt far safer than sharing a room with a damp, gloomy ghost.

At least dogs warded off bad luck.

“Teacher Wu.”

Pei Qingyu suddenly spoke.

Wu Qie’s steps froze abruptly, so abruptly that his shoes scraped against the floor.

He adjusted his expression and turned back, pretending nothing had happened, his face innocent as he responded with a soft “Mm.”

“Is there anything else, classmate Pei?”

Pei Qingyu lowered his gaze, eyelashes casting shadows, and chuckled lightly.

“Today I helped Duan Bairui.”

“He was very grateful, and in the infirmary, he held onto me and said I was a good person.”

“….”

Wu Qie suddenly realized he had developed a severe allergy to the phrase “good person.”

The symptoms included dizziness, nausea, blood rushing under his skin causing itchiness, and difficulty breathing.

“I told him that if he ever needed help in the future, he could come to me.”

Pei Qingyu tilted his head slightly and said softly,

“From the perspective of ‘judging a gentleman by his actions, not his heart,’ teacher, would you say that makes me a good person?”

“Uh…”

Wu Qie let out a single syllable.

“I guess so? And then?”

Pei Qingyu smiled faintly.

“Shouldn’t you honor the bet and accept defeat, Teacher Wu?”

“This is the first time I’ve seen gambling based on shared resources as the medium.”

Wu Qie replied dryly.

“I don’t remember agreeing to such a stupid bet.”

“Besides, you should have guessed by now—I always thought the person I was talking to was Zhao Shu.”

Pei Qingyu tapped the spine of the black notebook lightly against his palm.

“So?”

“You’ve decided you don’t want to like me anymore, Teacher Wu?”

Wu Qie’s toes curled inside his shoes.

He answered in a tone one might use to politely refuse a gym membership flyer on the street—gentle, courteous, but firm and quick.

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry.”

That afternoon, it really did start pouring rain.

When Zhao Shu received the message that Wu Qie had personally invited him to stay in the same room, the feeling was no less shocking than witnessing food fall from the sky.

Humans really did have the ability to cry tears of joy.

Zhao Shu didn’t cry, but his mind went blank.

He sent Wu Qie a “?” and asked if this counted as compensation for not letting him do a temporary marking.

Wu Qie replied with a “?” of his own.

While everyone else was still marveling at the strength of Hongtie’s S-level Alpha pheromones at noon, this other S-level Alpha, who wasn’t even part of that incident, was instead thinking about wasting his pheromones on a Beta.

Zhao Shu didn’t care about Wu Qie’s sarcasm at all.

He was filled with a sense of justified pride from being personally invited inside, even if it only meant sleeping in the next bed over.

He messaged Pei Qingyu asking where he was.

No reply.

He called several times, but the calls were hung up.

After bombarding him with messages and even threatening to dump all his belongings into the hallway—including his underwear—

Pei Qingyu finally replied slowly.

“What’s the rush?”

“I’m in the multimedia hall. Everyone’s here. Do you want to come?”

On a rainy day, there wasn’t much to do.

Students from all three schools had gathered in the multimedia hall for entertainment.

They first watched a popular horror movie.

After that, someone suggested playing last year’s national autumn league finals—

Yicheng Affiliated High School versus Bashu No. 3 High School.

Yicheng had no objections.

They had won that match.

By the time Wu Qie arrived, Zhao Shu and Pei Qingyu were already seated together in the front rows.

Under the gaze of the two S-level Alphas,

Teacher Xiao Wu walked quietly along the wall and sat in the very last row.

He propped his chin on his hand and stared blankly ahead.

The footage played.

Wu Qie yawned.

His phone lit up.

[ss?]

Once the truth had been revealed, the way “sssssss” spoke was so obvious that Wu Qie couldn’t understand how he had failed to recognize it before.

Zhao Shu might be loud and reckless, but he would never speak in that damp, sarcastic tone.

[sssssss: Did Zhao Shu ask you to come?]

[sssssss: He couldn’t find me earlier, so he might have thought I went to look for you… his intuition is quite sharp. He tried to warn me at the mountain not to do unnecessary things.]

[sssssss: He said he doesn’t plan to break off the engagement.]

Wu Qie wasn’t surprised.

Considering what Zhao Shu had done earlier, nothing about him suggested someone who wanted to end the engagement.

Wu Qie didn’t bother dwelling on it.

Zhao Shu’s decisions always changed like the wind.

Wu Qie didn’t reply.

Ignoring Alphas was practically his specialty.

Sitting in the back row, he looked toward the front.

Zhao Shu sat there, relaxed, watching the projection screen.

If someone had been paying attention, they would notice before Wu Qie entered, Zhao Shu hadn’t been this relaxed.

But now that he was within sight,

with several rows between him and Pei Qingyu,

Zhao Shu felt an unprecedented sense of ease.

Sensing Wu Qie’s gaze, Zhao Shu turned around.

Their eyes met briefly.

He mouthed silently: “What?”

Wu Qie shook his head, meaning nothing.

[sssssss: I still don’t understand why you liked me because of something small, and stopped liking me because of something even smaller.]

[sssssss: You focus your attention so easily, and withdraw it just as easily. Have you ever thought that being the one you focus on can also be a burden?]

[sssssss: Your liking is really shallow.]

Wu Qie: OK.JPG

Say whatever you want.

I’m too lazy to argue.

Outside, the rain grew heavier.

As the accusations kept coming, Wu Qie stared at the rain pouring like a curtain, his thoughts drifting.

When the audience gasped at a brilliant steal on screen,

he found himself thinking about Pei Qingyu’s words.

They weren’t entirely unreasonable.

Wu Qie admitted that the “shallow” accusation wasn’t wrong.

Even he thought so.

“….”

He suddenly wanted a cigarette again.

This recent craving had been unusually frequent.

He suspected it had something to do with constantly using Picline.

But there were no cigarettes or lighters available.

The resort had cleared them out.

Wu Qie suddenly remembered the cigarette handed to him that day—

held between the fingers of a composed, mature Alpha.

Zhao Guipu.

Wu Qie opened his phone and scrolled down to a long-inactive contact.

Before he could think, he had already sent a message.

[Wu Qie: What brand of cigarettes do you smoke?]

He stared at the screen.

Then internally spammed himself with question marks.

Would retracting it now look too deliberate?

[ZHAO: You like it?]

Too late.

[Wu Qie: It’s okay.]

[ZHAO: Hmm? Better not smoke.]

“…”

Seriously?

Wu Qie sent a random sticker and quickly exited the chat.

Meanwhile, messages from “sssssss” kept coming.

He didn’t reply.

Then suddenly, laughter erupted from the front.

The projection had stopped.

A group of Alphas gathered around someone’s phone.

Wu Qie looked up.

The projection screen displayed a warning:

[PICLINE WARNING]

He froze.

At the same time, Zhao Shu stood up and walked straight toward him, like a wall.

“You’re not watching?” Wu Qie asked.

Zhao Shu looked at him like he was crazy.

“You want to watch?”

The screen now displayed Picline’s restricted section.

Adult content.

Strict verification.

Rare access.

Most people were excited.

Zhao Shu wasn’t.

He planned to leave—and drag Wu Qie with him.

But Wu Qie sat there calmly.

Just like Pei Qingyu in the front row.

Then the video began playing.

A luxurious hall.

Empty.

Dark.

Then two identical golden-haired men appeared.

Rhein Vise.

Vega Vise.

Their identities were unmistakable.

The heirs of a powerful mafia family.

The audience stirred.

Then a black-haired young man appeared in their arms.

Face obscured.

A sacrifice.

The tension built.

Until—

everything changed.

The “victim” suddenly moved.

Grabbed a fork—

and stabbed it into Rhein’s eye.

Chaos erupted.

Blood spilled.

The Beta escaped.

The video ended.

[W: Who knows.]

[W: Maybe I was just like that unlucky Beta in the video.]

[W: Hoping someone would save me.]

[W: Classmate Pei, you just happened to show up at the right time.]