Chapter 149: Chapter 148: Extra 6.

Chapter 148: Extra 6 — Modern Campus: Top Student x School Tyrant

In Yanhai City, the Song Group's status stood just a notch below the illustrious Yin family. Song Ya, the pampered jewel of the Song family chairman, had it all: stunning looks, impeccable grades, and a magnetic presence that crowned her as the reigning star of Yanhai International High School since her freshman year. A bona fide campus queen, the epitome of wealth, beauty, and brains, her admirers swarmed like fish in a river.

Yet, Yin Chengyu remained unmoved by her charm.

The Song and Yin families had crossed paths in the business arena on numerous occasions, and she had encountered Yin Chengyu several times. Each meeting left her marveling at how someone as lackluster as Yin Heng could sire such an extraordinary son.

Yin Chengyu was nothing like his father—a glaring anomaly in the Yin lineage.

Yin Heng, the chairman of the Yin Group, was infamous for his sham of a marriage to the capital’s Yu family heiress. Their union was a business arrangement bound tightly by mutual interests, with no love left to speak of. Though they had long since separated in all but name, a divorce was out of the question. Yin Heng’s numerous mistresses and illegitimate children never dared to challenge Yin Chengyu’s position as heir, constrained by the influence of the formidable Yu family.

Yin Chengyu's role as the crown prince of the Yin empire was rock solid.

In families like theirs, marriage was rarely about love; it was a strategic alliance, a lesson Song Ya had absorbed from an early age. Yin Chengyu, with his striking looks, remarkable abilities, and an equally prestigious family background, seemed like the perfect match for her. Especially now, with talks of deeper collaboration between their families, he was the ideal boyfriend candidate. If their relationship proved stable, engagement after college was a logical next step.

Song Ya was confident that she was equally suitable for Yin Chengyu—a natural fit as his partner.

But Yin Chengyu was maddeningly aloof. As their three years of high school drew to a close, his circle of friends remained sparse, and her repeated attempts to get close to him had all ended in failure.

With graduation looming, she knew her window of opportunity was closing fast. Determined not to let him slip away, Song Ya orchestrated an elaborate confession on Christmas Eve, meticulously planning every detail. Her confidence was unshakable; the idea of rejection had never crossed her mind.

Yet Yin Chengyu’s response was a cold, unwavering rejection.

Surrounded by the jeers and laughter of their peers, his voice remained gentle yet firm, delivering his "Sorry" with a composure that made it impossible to dislike him.

Stunned, Song Ya froze for a moment, realizing she had been too presumptuous. Still, she was not one to wallow in anger or humiliation. Gathering herself, she pressed on with a calm yet stubborn inquiry, “Can you tell me why?”

“You’re outstanding,” Yin Chengyu replied, his tone unyielding yet polite. “But I already have someone I like.”

At the mention of “someone he likes,” his expression softened, a rare tenderness breaking through his usually impassive demeanor.

Having grown up witnessing his father’s failures, Yin Chengyu never imagined he would fall for anyone, let alone someone who seemed to emerge from the fragments of a dream. But spending time with Xue Shu had convinced him otherwise. If he were to spend a lifetime with someone, it could only be Xue Shu.

Instinctively, he reached into his pocket, brushing his fingers against his phone. It had buzzed several times earlier—most likely messages from Xue Shu. He’d kept him waiting too long already, and Xue Shu was probably growing anxious.

“There’s someone waiting for me,” he said, his voice steady yet gentle. With a slight nod toward the stunned Song Ya, Yin Chengyu turned and strode purposefully through the crowd, heading for the school gate without looking back.

Upon reaching the school gate, Xie Shu was nowhere to be found.

Yin Chengyu frowned slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing in mild irritation, before he finally remembered to check the messages on WeChat. There were three new texts in their chat. The first, sent half an hour ago, stated plainly that Xie Shu had already arrived. The other two came ten minutes prior: a curt update saying something had come up at home, and Xie Shu wouldn’t be attending their tutoring session today.

Yin Chengyu’s gaze lingered on the last two messages, his brows furrowing even deeper. The words were short—too short—and devoid of the usual warmth and eagerness Xie Shu had always carried in his tone.

Something was off.

And his instincts, honed to precision, weren’t wrong. Since Christmas Eve, Xie Shu had been consistently absent, skipping three days straight.

Christmas Eve had been a Friday. By their usual arrangement, Yin Chengyu would spend the weekend afternoons at Xie’s house—half the time meticulously overseeing his study progress and the other half engrossed in their own respective materials.

Occasionally, Xie Shu would come to him with a challenging question, their moments of quiet exchange charged with a subtle intensity. This was routine, unbroken since the start of their sessions.

But that weekend, Xie Shu had brazenly called off their plans without so much as a convincing excuse. It was unlike him.

Come Monday after school, Yin Chengyu had staked out the gate of Fifth High, waiting with unrelenting patience. One by one, the students trickled out until the grounds emptied, yet Xie Shu never appeared. The realization hit him like a shard of ice—Xie Shu was avoiding him.

Suppressing the slow-burning irritation that coiled in his chest, Yin Chengyu made a quick decision. With a clipped command, he instructed Uncle Chen to drive him straight to Xie Shu’s house.

*

After returning from Yanhai International High, Xue Shu spent several days drowning in a dark, oppressive funk. The memory of that scene kept replaying in his mind, a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest, an unrelenting frustration burning within him—a choking, unspoken rage that neither rose nor subsided.

He regretted walking away that day. No, not just regretted—he was tormented by it. If he had any guts, he should have stormed forward and dragged Yin Chengyu away right then and there.

But then what?

What the hell would he have done after that?

Lying flat on his back, arms folded behind his head, Xue Shu stared at the ceiling, his thoughts running in maddening circles. Every possibility he considered fell apart under scrutiny, each dismissed with a bitter shake of his head. Frustration mounting, he sat up abruptly, yanked out a worksheet, and tried to calm himself the way he always did—an unconscious habit he’d picked up from spending too much time around Yin Chengyu.

But as he settled at his desk, his peripheral vision caught the empty chair beside him. That mocking, hollow space struck a raw nerve, the seething tension in his chest spiraling into something unbearable. Without a second thought, he crumpled the worksheet into a tight ball and hurled it to the floor.

Falling back onto his bed with a defeated sigh, he muttered to himself, “Why bother? He’s got a girlfriend now. Probably doesn’t even think about me anymore.”

When the doorbell rang, his body jerked upright out of habit. But then, hearing the faint sound of the door opening, he sank back down.

Not him. Never him.

He was drifting in that strange, numbing limbo when a sharp knock on his door jolted him back to reality. His mother’s voice came muffled through the wood: “Ah Shu, Chengyu’s here.”

Her voice softened, but there was a playful edge as she added, “What’s wrong with you lately? You’ve been sulking around like a storm cloud. Haven’t even stepped out of your room.”

On the other side of the door, Yin Chengyu chuckled lightly, a sound that only made Xue Shu’s pulse race. “I’ll talk to him,” Chengyu said calmly.

“Oh, good. He always listens to you,” Xue Shu’s mother replied with an indulgent laugh. “You two chat. I’ll make dinner—red-braised lion’s head, your favorite!”

As she bustled off to the kitchen, Yin Chengyu tapped twice on the door again, this time his voice smooth but commanding.

“Open up.”

The door creaked open, and Xue Shu stood there, his face a tight mask of unreadable tension. Yin Chengyu stepped forward without hesitation, forcing Xue Shu to retreat and make way. Once inside, Yin Chengyu closed the door firmly behind him, leaned back against it, and looked Xue Shu up and down with a sharp, scrutinizing gaze.

“What’s with you?” he asked, his tone cool but edged with authority.

Xue Shu froze.

That voice, that calm demeanor—how could Chengyu act like nothing had happened? The half-step between them felt suffocating, as if the air itself was charged with unspoken words and raw, electric tension.

And then it broke.

In one quick, impulsive move, Xue Shu closed the distance, slamming his hand against the door beside Yin Chengyu’s head. Trapping him in place, he leaned in, his jaw clenched so tight it ached, his voice low and venomous.

“I’m only mad,” he hissed, “because I didn’t want to interrupt your precious date with your girlfriend.”

The words dripped with sarcasm, each syllable forced through gritted teeth.

Yin Chengyu’s expression shifted in an instant. First, realization dawned, then a cold smirk curled at the corners of his mouth.

“So you saw that day?” he asked, his tone dangerously even. “And instead of staying to find out what was going on, you just ran off to sulk like a child?”

Xue Shu blinked, stunned. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He just stared at Yin Chengyu, his pupils slightly dilated, his breath caught somewhere between relief and disbelief.

“You—why didn’t you—”

“Why didn’t I what?” Yin Chengyu interrupted smoothly, his gaze unflinching.

Xue Shu’s thoughts spiraled as fragments of that day clawed at his mind. He had convinced himself he couldn’t compete—not with someone like that. The thought of hearing something definitive, something that would crush him entirely, had been too much. So he’d chosen ignorance, though it had brought him no peace.

But now?

Now, standing here with Yin Chengyu’s piercing eyes locked onto his, he wasn’t sure if he wanted answers—or if he wanted something else entirely.

He didn’t like girls, and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise.

Yin Chengyu’s expression remained cold and distant as he shoved the other man away, reaching back to twist the lock on the door with a sharp click. “You’ve skipped class for three days. Have you even completed your assignments?”

As he spoke, he bent down to pick up a crumpled piece of paper from the floor, smoothing it out with a practiced flick of his fingers. It was blank. His sharp gaze shifted to the desk, where a stack of untouched workbooks and unfinished test papers waited. The sight made his demeanor frost over further.

“No progress?” His voice dropped a degree, ice slicing through his tone. “Then you’ll be punished.”

Xue Shu, caught between shock and elation, was still processing those earlier words. He barely managed to suppress the wild grin threatening to break free, muttering his acceptance with a faint tremor of excitement.

“How…how will you punish me?”

“Weighted push-ups. Ten.”

Yin Chengyu’s eyes scanned the room briefly before he slid the chair away from the desk, clearing an open space. The simplicity of the punishment left Xue Shu blinking, doubt flickering in his gaze.

That’s it? Too easy.

Yin Chengyu didn’t bother explaining. “Get down,” he ordered coolly, motioning to the floor.

Without hesitation, Xue Shu complied, his palms pressing against the cold surface. Yet his thoughts churned restlessly.

Was it leniency?

Maybe Yin Chengyu couldn’t bring himself to be harsh.

But then, he doesn’t like girls…could that mean he likes guys?

Do I…stand a chance?

His spiraling thoughts screeched to a halt when a sudden weight settled on his back. Twisting his head, he caught sight of Yin Chengyu, barefoot now, perched on him with one knee slightly bent to avoid putting his full weight down.

“Think you can handle this?” Yin Chengyu asked, his voice lazily provocative.

Xue Shu’s pride bristled. A real man never admits defeat. “Yeah,” he rasped, his breathing uneven.

Yin Chengyu smirked faintly, crossing his legs as he adjusted his position on Xue Shu’s back. The cool touch of his fingertips landed against the nape of Xue Shu’s neck, tapping lightly as though to test his resolve.

His voice dripped with icy indifference. “Begin.”

Forcing his scattered thoughts into focus, Xue Shu bent his elbows, lowering himself before pushing back up. His muscles flexed with effort, shoulders, arms, and back straining into taut, well-defined lines under the exertion.

“One,” Yin Chengyu drawled, tapping the back of Xue Shu’s neck again, drawing the syllable out in a deliberately languid rhythm.

The casual contact sent electricity sparking down Xue Shu’s spine, his body caught between the searing heat of his blood and the chilling coolness of the man perched above him. Yin Chengyu’s skin was smooth, unnervingly cold, like polished jade that glided ever so slightly when he shifted, igniting shivers in its wake.

Biting down hard, Xue Shu bore the punishment with gritted determination, equal parts agony and twisted pleasure.

Yin Chengyu’s counting continued, every syllable delivered in a tone that felt less instructional and more like a challenge. Each number wormed its way into Xue Shu’s ears, tugging at his restraint with a subtlety that bordered on cruel.

By the time he hit ten, Xue Shu was gasping for breath, sweat tracing glistening paths along his flushed skin. A single bead slid down his neck, disappearing into the hollow of his collarbone as he sagged slightly, the aftershock of Yin Chengyu’s icy, unrelenting control still coursing through him.

Yin Chengyu slid off his back, letting his sharp, unrelenting gaze sweep across the room before it locked onto something, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. His tone dripped with teasing mockery, his words laced with a wicked edge: “Not bad. Impressive.”

Xue Shu followed his gaze downward, only for the realization to hit him like a bolt of awkward lightning. Heat rushed to his face as he snatched the sleepwear from the bed to cover himself. Without a word, he bolted for the bathroom, muttering as he went, “I’ll just take a shower.”

Under the icy deluge of water, the mortifying tension in his body finally began to subside.

When he returned to the bedroom, Yin Chengyu had already commandeered his study desk. The scattered unfinished assignments from the past few days were now gathered into a neat stack at the center.

Yin Chengyu didn’t look up when Xue Shu entered, merely gestured with a commanding finger, his voice cool and authoritative: “All of this. You’re finishing it today.”

Xue Shu muttered a quiet “Okay,” and obediently settled at the desk, pen in hand. He tried to focus, but after only a few problems, his thoughts began to wander. His chest felt tight, like a restless animal caged inside, pounding to get out.

Against his better judgment, he turned his head to look at him, voice hesitant but daring enough to break the silence. “Do you... like guys?”

Yin Chengyu’s gaze flicked to Xue Shu, sharp and laced with amusement. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips, leaving no room for ambiguity. “I suppose you could say that.” Before Xue Shu could push further, he cut him off with a swift kick to his shin under the desk, his voice commanding and impatient. “Less talking, more working.”

Resigned, Xue Shu turned back to his assignments, forcing his focus on the problems in front of him.

It wasn’t long before the silence broke again. “There’s only one semester left. Have you decided where you want to apply yet?”

Yin Chengyu didn’t look up from the papers he was flipping through, his response casual but precise. “Originally, I wasn’t planning to take the college entrance exam. I intended to go abroad instead.”

His words were nonchalant, but the weight behind them was clear. He had already secured an offer from a top-tier school overseas. Staying in the country had never been part of her plan—not when there was his mother’s business abroad to manage and his own ambitions waiting to be realized. Studying overseas would give him the freedom to build his own empire while waiting for the right moment to take his place in the family’s corporate throne.

The word “abroad” sent a sharp pang through Xue Shu’s chest, but before he could dwell on it, his voice continued. “But I’ve had a change of heart.”

His gaze lifted then, locking onto his. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips. “Yenching University has its merits. The domestic market is booming, and there are plenty of opportunities for startups. Besides…” He leaned back slightly, his eyes gleaming with intent. “What about you? Half a year left. Where are you aiming?”

Xue Shu swallowed hard, his pulse quickening under her gaze. His words tumbled out before he could think better of them, raw and unfiltered. “I just want to be near you. But… Yenching’s scores are too high.”

He had missed two entire years of schooling. No matter how hard he pushed himself now, reaching Yenching’s requirements seemed impossible.

But Yin Chengyu’s voice was firm, his words sharp and pointed, slicing through his self-doubt. “Capital University of Technology is solid. It’s close to Yenching. Half a year is enough time to push for it. And even if you fall short, there are plenty of other good schools in the capital.”

His tone was deliberate, almost as if he were answering an unspoken question.

For a moment, their gazes locked, something unspoken passing between them. Xue Shu nodded, determination hardening in his chest. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady and resolved.

*

The countdown on the blackboard dwindled day by day, each number vanishing until it hit zero. With its finality came the searing heat of summer and the arrival of the dreaded college entrance exams.

Xue Shu, after a grueling year of intensive tutoring, had clawed his way into the top ten of his grade. Though Fifth High’s ranking for university admissions was pitiful at best in Yanhai City, the top ten students still had a strong shot at 211 universities, while the top five were practically guaranteed entry into the prestigious 985 tier. He was closer than ever to the goal he had promised Yin Chengyu.

On exam day, Xue Shu didn’t let his mother see him off. He simply boarded the school-arranged bus, steeling himself for the battle ahead.

Two days of nerve-wracking testing passed. By the afternoon of June 8th, a flood of students surged out of the exam halls, faces radiant with the exhilaration of long-awaited freedom.

Xue Shu and Yin Chengyu weren’t at the same exam center, so he sent a quick message to both his mother and Yin Chengyu before hopping back on the school bus to return.

The first evening after exams was a chaotic celebration.

In the classrooms, books were tossed into the air; in the hallways, declarations of love were shouted with abandon. The air was filled with a cacophony of voices, discordant yet intoxicating. Declining his classmates’ invitation to join the revelry, Xue Shu weaved through the frenzy and slipped home.

His mother, noticing his early return, looked puzzled. “Weren’t you going out tonight?”

“Just came back to grab something,” he muttered, brushing past her and retreating into his room.

She shook her head but didn’t press further.

After grabbing what he needed, Xue Shu headed straight to Yanhai International High. With the lessons learned from Christmas Eve, he bypassed the front gate, scaling the wall instead. His steps carried him with purpose to a quiet corner of the sports field.

The underclassmen of grades one and two were still in session, and aside from the jubilant third-years, the field was mostly deserted.

Standing beneath a tree, Xue Shu tapped out a message to Yin Chengyu: [I’m here.]

When Yin Chengyu followed the location pin, he spotted the tall, lean figure waiting beneath the tree. The evening sky was painted in vivid streaks of sunset, and as Xue Shu walked toward him, he seemed to stride straight out of the light.

It wasn’t until Yin Chengyu got closer that he noticed the glass jar in Xue Shu’s hands, stuffed full of colorful notes. They were the wish slips he’d handed out during their tutoring sessions—a playful promise, never redeemed.

Yin Chengyu arched a brow, his voice laced with amusement. “So, what do you want to trade them for?”

Xue Shu’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, nerves taut enough to fray. His voice came out hoarse, betraying the weight of what he was about to say. “One wish per note. I have thirty-two. But I only want to use them all for one.”

Yin Chengyu’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “And what wish would that be?”

Xue Shu hesitated, his gaze unwavering despite the tension. “We’re both graduates now. It’s not considered a high school romance anymore.” His words dropped like stones in the silence. “I want a boyfriend.”

Yin Chengyu’s smile deepened, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Then you should probably tell the person you like.”

“I am.” Xue Shu’s tone was deliberate, every word precise and steady. “The person I like… is you.”

He extended the jar toward Yin Chengyu, his movements tentative yet resolute. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

The silence stretched unbearably thin, every second an eternity, until Yin Chengyu exhaled softly—a sigh that carried exasperation and something warmer. “You really couldn’t wait, could you?”

Under Xue Shu’s intense, almost trembling gaze, Yin Chengyu popped open the jar, fishing out a single slip of paper. “For something this small, one slip is enough.”

Before Xue Shu could even process what was happening, Yin Chengyu reached out, cupping the back of his neck, and leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss suffused with the sultry heat of summer, leaving no room for doubt.

“I accept, boyfriend.”

———TN:

The romantic subplot introduced in the extra chapter may come across as abrupt, but it oozes sweetness in a way that’s undeniably captivating.