Chapter 147: Chapter 146. Extra 4.

Chapter 146: Extra 4 - Modern School Setting: The Genius x The Bad Boy

Xue Shu casually pulled out his phone and scanned the code to add him on WeChat.

The moment Yin Chengyu accepted the friend request, he announced he had something to attend to and started heading out. Just before reaching the lounge door, he hesitated, turned back, and delivered a stern reminder, his voice low and commanding: “No more drinking. Send me a message when you get home.”

Xue Shu watched as his figure disappeared around the corner of the hallway. Only then did he lower his gaze to the freshly added contact on his phone.

Yin Chengyu’s profile picture featured a viral Alaskan Malamute from a popular short-video app. His username was minimalistic, just “YIN.” Out of curiosity, Xue Shu tapped into his Moments feed but found nothing—completely blank. No posts, no updates, nothing to work with.

Backing out of the profile, Xue Shu decided to change the contact name. At first, he planned to use Yin’s full name, but as his thumb hovered over the keyboard, a playful smirk tugged at his lips.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he typed something else: “Young Master.”

Staring at the freshly renamed contact, a mischievous thrill bubbled up inside him. Almost on instinct, he pinned the conversation to the top of his chat list. Now, Young Master sat proudly at the very top.

With a quiet satisfaction, Xue Shu tucked his phone away and returned to the private room.

The bar wouldn’t open for business until the afternoon, leaving plenty of time to rest during the morning. His colleagues were already plotting their next move, suggesting a trip upstairs to the third-floor karaoke rooms. But Xue Shu, recalling Yin Chengyu’s firm instructions, declined with a quick excuse about having to wake up early for class tomorrow. Without another word, he left for home.

By the time he caught the last bus and stepped through his door, it was well past midnight.

Opening the door as quietly as he could, Xue Shu was surprised to find the lights still on. From the kitchen came the comforting aroma of warmth and sweetness, accompanied by soft wisps of steam.

“Mom? Why aren’t you asleep yet? Got tomorrow off?” he asked, peeking into the kitchen.

“Mm. The new recipe’s been selling like crazy. I sell out before closing every time. Thought I’d prep a bigger batch tonight to bring extra tomorrow.” Xue Shu’s mother glanced at him briefly, her hands deftly busy, and smiled. “Did you have fun at the dinner tonight?”

Xue Shu froze for a second, Yin Chengyu’s image flashing in his mind. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he nodded almost absentmindedly.

“I’ll give you a hand,” he offered, stepping forward, his voice soft yet firm.

Xue’s mother swatted his arm sharply, her expression one of disdain as she pushed him toward the door. “You’re just going to get in the way here. Go on, off to bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

She was a woman of quick hands and sharper skills, especially when it came to the kitchen—a domain where she excelled effortlessly.

Left with no other choice, Xue Shu retreated to his room. After washing up and changing into his sleepwear, he grabbed his phone and opened WeChat. His eyes lingered on his conversation with Yin Chengyu.

For what felt like an eternity, he debated his next move before finally typing and sending a message: [I’m home.]

As soon as the words were out, they felt cold, rigid—too detached. He hesitated, then followed up with a second attempt to soften the tone: [I’ll do better from now on and focus on my studies like you said.]

The other side remained eerily silent. No typing dots, no reply.

Was Yin Chengyu already asleep?

Staring at the sparse thread of their conversation, Xue Shu couldn’t help himself and sent another brief line: [Goodnight.]

The night stretched on, and the clock reminded him it was getting late. He sighed, set his phone to vibrate, and placed it aside to charge before settling under the covers to sleep.

But just as his eyes fluttered shut, a faint vibration buzzed from his phone. His heart skipped—he knew who it was before he even reached for it.

Unlocking the screen, his breath caught at Yin Chengyu’s reply: [Goodnight.]

There it was—short, teasing, and laced with that same casual charm that left Xue Shu restless.

*

Xue Shu attempted to dive into studying with a newfound determination, but ambition alone couldn’t erase years of neglect. Just like Rome wasn’t built in a day, a top-tier slacker doesn’t master the art of academics overnight. He wanted to learn, sure, but the chasm of missed classes and half-understood concepts made every word on the page feel foreign. Listening to the teacher only added to his confusion—he couldn’t even tell which chapter the lecture had reached.

For a few grueling days, he gritted his teeth and played the part of a good student: focused during class, hunched over textbooks, giving his all.

But when it came to solving problems? Blind as a bat in daylight.

It wasn’t long before his rowdy gang of basketball buddies found him, their laughter filling the air when they caught sight of Xue Shu staring daggers at a textbook.

“Yo, Shu-ge! Domination on the court’s not enough? Now you’re taking on the Everest of academics?”

“C’mon, don’t ruin it! ‘The Five High Tyrant’ sounds way cooler than being some bottom-of-the-rank study struggler.”

Their jeers grated on his nerves until he snapped, kicking the desk leg hard and chucking a crumpled scrap of paper straight at them. “Get lost! All of you!”

They scattered like startled pigeons.

Clearly, his so-called friends weren’t about to rally behind his attempts to reform. Hell, they weren’t even much better at exams, barely scraping past him with stolen answers. If he wanted real help, he’d need to look elsewhere—like the classroom’s academic elite.

Even in the chaotic mess that was Five High, a low-tier school infamous for its delinquent atmosphere, there were always a few students taking studying seriously. After some careful scouting, Xue Shu zeroed in on his target: the class’s top student, a pint-sized, bookish study rep.

But when Xue Shu approached with his test paper in hand, the reaction wasn’t what he’d expected. The moment he got close, the study rep flinched, grabbed their thermos like a lifeline, and bolted out of the room without so much as a word—just a blur of panicked retreat.

Xue Shu froze. What the hell was that?

He tried again, several times, but the outcome didn’t change. The second he got within a meter of the kid, they’d scurry off like a rabbit spotting a hawk.

“Am I really that terrifying?” he muttered to himself, utterly baffled.

With no other choice, he went back to his books, wrestling with the pages like they owed him money.

By July, the dreaded final exams rolled around. Once the tests were done, there were still four days of classes before report cards were handed out, marking the official start of summer break.

On the last day, Xue Shu received his results. Staring at the brutally red-inked grades, he couldn’t deny that his half-hearted cramming had some effect—just not nearly enough to make a real dent.

He snapped a picture of the disaster and opened his chat with Yin Chengyu. Fingers hovered over the screen for a long moment before he gave up, unable to bring himself to hit send.

Ever since they added each other on social media, their conversations had been sporadic at best—always initiated by Xue Shu. The only exception was recently when Yin Chengyu, seemingly out of nowhere, learned that Fifth High had already finished their exams and messaged to ask when the results would be released.

At the time, Xue Shu didn’t think much of it and casually gave a rough estimate, even offering to send his scores once they were out. But now, staring at the disastrous grades laid bare on the report card, a faint sense of shame clawed at his chest. His finger hovered indecisively over the send button before retreating altogether.

Maybe he could delay for a couple of days?

With any luck, Yin Chengyu would have forgotten by then. Clinging to this thin strand of hope, Xue Shu exited the chat window and stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

The last day of class marked the official start of summer vacation, and the school erupted into chaos as students, freed from their academic shackles, flooded the gates like birds escaping a cage. They paired off and scattered in noisy groups, eager to seize their long-awaited summer freedom.

Xue Shu, with his bag slung lazily over one shoulder, strolled toward the school gate flanked by his usual gang of troublemaking friends. Plans for hot pot were already underway.

But just as he was about to step off campus, his gaze snagged on a sleek, black Bentley parked conspicuously near the entrance. Familiarity struck like a bolt, and his eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the man watching him from behind the car’s tinted window.

Yin Chengyu had seen him too.

The man stepped out of the car, movements fluid and deliberate, and leaned casually against the door. His tall, striking figure commanded attention, and those absurdly beautiful eyes locked onto Xue Shu, unwavering amidst the milling crowd.

Xue Shu’s pulse stuttered, then raced as a flicker of excitement bloomed in his chest. But just as quickly, the memory of that catastrophic report card resurfaced, dousing his thrill in cold water. His grip on his bag tightened as a curse slipped through his clenched teeth.

Shit!

He’s not here just to confront me about the grades, is he?

Yin Chengyu, as it turned out, absolutely was here to confront him.

This wasn’t some impulsive move; no, it was the result of meticulous observation and careful deliberation. After confirming that Xue Shu was that person—the one from his dreams and the one who held undeniable significance—Yin Chengyu had already slotted him into his plans.

Friend?

Lover?

Whichever role Xue Shu might eventually play, one thing was clear: Yin Chengyu’s standards were exacting, and the current Xue Shu fell far short of them.

Yet here he was, undeterred. Moving confidently against the tide of retreating students, he closed the distance until he was standing directly in front of Xue Shu. His sharp gaze flicked briefly to the four boys clustered around him.

The boys faltered under his scrutiny, instinctively shrinking back behind Xue Shu. Their curiosity betrayed them, though, peeking through their wary expressions. Clearly, the reality of Xue Shu’s entourage didn’t align with the cold and unflattering descriptions Yin Chengyu had read in his reports.

With a polite but curt nod to the group, Yin Chengyu dismissed them from his focus and turned his attention fully to Xue Shu.

“Got a moment?” he asked, voice smooth but edged with undeniable authority.

Thinking about the report card hidden in his bag, Xue Shu wanted to say, "I'm busy." But when the words reached the tip of his tongue, he couldn’t bear to refuse such a rare invitation from the other person. He nodded instead. “I’m free.”

His rowdy friends shot him dissatisfied glares at his response, jabbing him from behind as if to remind him of their prior plans.

Weren’t they supposed to go for hotpot?!

Xue Shu, unfazed, elbowed them back sharply. Turning to his friends, he announced with deliberate finality, “I’ve got something else to do. You guys go ahead without me.”

Though they didn’t know Yin Chengyu personally, the man’s intimidating aura and the luxurious car idling not far behind him spoke volumes. The group exchanged bewildered glances, hesitated, but wisely retreated.

Left alone, Xue Shu found himself standing in front of Yin Chengyu, an inexplicable nervousness twisting in his gut. The kind of unease he felt wasn’t just about being caught—it was more suffocating than a school dean busting him for skipping class.

Yin Chengyu’s expression softened, his tone casual yet sharp. “You’re on break?”

His information was accurate. Xue Shu’s school had gone on break earlier than Yin Chengyu’s, something the latter had learned through mutual connections.

Xue Shu made a vague sound of agreement, already anticipating where this was going. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, bracing himself. Clutching his bag like it held a live grenade, he pulled out the dreaded report card. “The semester grades are out.”

Yin Chengyu accepted it with a calmness that somehow felt more suffocating than anger. A quick glance, and his brows furrowed in displeasure.

“You need tutoring.”

His tone wasn’t a suggestion—it was a decision. With the summer break marking the start of their final year, time was no longer a luxury.

“Tutoring classes are too expensive,” Xue Shu countered quickly, trying to gauge Yin Chengyu’s reaction. His voice carried a thin layer of defensiveness, as if bracing for disapproval. “And I don’t have that kind of time. I’ve already arranged with the bar to work full shifts for the next two months.”

Yin Chengyu didn’t flinch. Of course, he already knew about Xue Shu’s situation. His question was pointed. “What’s the bar’s work schedule?”

“Five in the evening to three in the morning,” Xue Shu replied, downplaying the grueling hours. Truthfully, the bar opened at six-thirty and closed at two, but prep and cleanup stretched the shifts.

Yin Chengyu nodded curtly, wasting no time. “Then we’ll schedule your tutoring sessions from noon to two-thirty.”

Before Xue Shu could protest, Yin Chengyu added, his voice firm, “I’ll tutor you. Is your place convenient?” Then, as if sensing hesitation, he clarified with a surprising patience. “We could use my place, but your home is closer to the bar. You’ll save time on commuting, which means more time to rest.”

Xue Shu froze, words caught in his throat. “How… how... do you know where I live?”

That was just the tip of the iceberg. Since their first encounter, countless questions had swirled in Xue Shu’s mind, questions he never dared to ask. But this one slipped out.

Yin Chengyu, unfazed and unapologetic, delivered the answer bluntly. “I had someone investigate you.”

Xue Shu’s lips parted, but no words came. “…Why me?”

The question lingered in the air, charged with an emotion neither of them fully understood.

Yin Chengyu didn’t answer immediately, his gaze sharp as he countered, “Then why do you keep taking detours past my school?”

The flush of guilt that rushed to Xue Shu’s face was impossible to hide. He averted his eyes, unwilling to meet Yin Chengyu’s piercing stare, and chose to let the topic drop.

Satisfied, Yin Chengyu’s lips curved into a faint smirk. He finalized the tutoring schedule with the ease of someone used to getting his way before finally leaving, leaving Xue Shu reeling in his wake.