Fang Nianqing still had two classes left. There was no way he was going to change the rhythm of his life for Wen Lan. As he walked toward the teaching building, he said to Lan Xi, “Follow me if you want.”
Lan Xi said nothing and followed him straight into the classroom, then unceremoniously sat down right beside Fang Nianqing.
The other students couldn’t help whispering among themselves. “Isn’t that Young Master Wen?” “Looks like him. He’s changed so much.” “Why is he still pestering Fang Nianqing? God, Fang Nianqing really has the worst luck, getting tangled up with someone that unreasonable.” “Shh, keep your voice down. If Young Master hears you, he might start another fight with you.”
The tips of Lan Xi’s ears twitched. He had already heard them. But then he thought, I’m not Wen Lan anyway. It has nothing to do with me. So Lan Xi merely propped his chin on one hand and turned to stare at Fang Nianqing.
Fang Nianqing’s expression was faintly cold. Even with Lan Xi staring at him like that, he didn’t spare him so much as a glance. Although Fang Nianqing couldn’t clearly hear what the people around them were whispering, he could guess. He didn’t care. In fact, he thought this was probably a good thing—it would be enough to prove to the Wen family that Wen Lan had been the first to revert to his old ways.
Before long, the teacher responsible for their ideological and political theory class came in.
Elio’s Notes: 思政课 refers to ideological and political theory courses commonly required at Chinese universities, covering political theory, ideology, ethics, and related civic education.
Fang Nianqing even thought coldly that someone like Wen Lan ought to take a few more classes like this so they could straighten out that brain of his, which was stuffed with nothing but garbage. Unfortunately… Wen Lan had no interest in this sort of cla—ss?
Fang Nianqing’s sidelong glance suddenly froze because he discovered that Wen Lan had finally turned his head away from him. Instead, he was looking directly at the teacher, his eyes bright and full of yearning.
Lan Xi was actually rather pleased right now.
Oh. So this is what “going to school” means. Can I finish those twenty books here?
Lan Xi was filled with anticipation. Then a huge screen lit up at the front of the classroom, just like a television, filled with all kinds of pictures and text. The teacher pointed at it and began lecturing, but Lan Xi couldn’t understand any of it. Something about Mark dying… What died? The more Lan Xi listened, the more confused he became.
Not nearly as good as Fu Hui!
He didn’t like that huge screen. He liked it when someone sat in front of him the way Fu Hui did, opened a book, pointed at the characters one by one, taught them to him one at a time, and even taught him how to write them. Lan Xi’s face scrunched up miserably. The less he understood, the more anxious he became.
Just then, Fang Nianqing felt the notebook beneath his arm being tugged. He turned and found himself looking straight into Lan Xi’s hopeful eyes.
“Paper.” Lan Xi curled one finger. “One… sheet.”
He still hadn’t learned how to say “borrow.”
Fang Nianqing was already used to his lack of manners and quickly tore a sheet out of his notebook for him.
Lan Xi took the paper, then stared at Fang Nianqing’s pen.
Fang Nianqing: “…” He ignored Lan Xi.
But Lan Xi was far too anxious now. He didn’t understand—there was simply too much he didn’t understand. Not caring whether Fang Nianqing liked it or not, he snatched the pen away. Anger flashed across Fang Nianqing’s face before he quickly suppressed it again, making himself look as though he had no choice but to tolerate him.
But what the young man beside him did next was genuinely a little ridiculous. He tried to draw something on the paper… No, not draw. Write. It was just that every character he wrote came out crooked and completely mangled. And so Lan Xi spent the entire class diligently writing, every so often looking up at the teacher a few more times.
In a large ideological and political theory lecture like this, plenty of students weren’t particularly eager to attend. Even when they did show up, they inevitably got distracted, and some secretly played on their phones. Looking around now, somehow only Wen Lan and Fang Nianqing himself could really be called attentive. Fang Nianqing could even see a hint of approval and fondness for Wen Lan in the teacher’s eyes.
When the class finally ended, Lan Xi let out a huge breath of relief, as if he had just been granted a pardon.
At that moment, the teacher couldn’t resist walking over. “Young man, what department are you from? You seem very eager to learn, and you took so many notes too. Let me have a look. Is there anything you don’t understand?”
As he spoke, the teacher picked up Lan Xi’s notes.
“…” The teacher coughed lightly and set the paper back down. “Your notes are… a little abstract.”
Even Fang Nianqing couldn’t resist looking over when he heard that. Cheng Yiran, who was sitting toward the back, also quietly craned his neck.
After one look, both fell silent.
If this could even be called taking notes…
His page was full of bizarre phonetic misspellings—one that turned “Marx” into something like “Marx-die,” and another that wrote “road” with the wrong character. Just looking at them was enough to make anyone’s vision go dark. Beside the words, he had even drawn a cooking pot. What did any of this have to do with anything? Fang Nianqing ventured a guess: perhaps Lan Xi had heard the “-ism” in “Marxism” as though it meant “to cook” and thought they were talking about boiling something.
Elio’s Notes: This joke layers several beginner-reading mistakes together. Lan Xi hears 马克思 (Mǎkèsī, “Marx”) as 马克死, with 死 (sǐ) meaning “die/death,” then writes 死 incorrectly as its two visible components, 歹 and 匕, producing 马克歹匕. He also writes 到路 instead of 道路 (dàolù, “road/path”), using the wrong dào. Finally, the 主 (zhǔ) in 主义 (zhǔyì, “-ism/ideology”) sounds exactly like 煮 (zhǔ, “to cook”), which explains the pot he drew.
The teacher tactfully asked Fang Nianqing, “He’s not actually a student at our university, is he?”
The corner of Fang Nianqing’s mouth twitched. “He is.”
The teacher: “…” He gave Lan Xi several more astonished looks, decided that this student must be messing with him, and walked away with a dark expression without saying anything else.
Lan Xi was unhappy too. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with his notes. Did I write it wrong? It’s not my fault I can’t understand. If you’re so capable, come teach me how to write it yourself!
Lan Xi missed life in the mountains a tiny bit again.
If only Fu Hui hadn’t died.
“What new trick is this?” Fang Nianqing finally couldn’t resist asking.
Lan Xi said, “Studying.”
Fang Nianqing found him impossible to communicate with.
Fang Nianqing’s next class was English. Lan Xi followed him all the way into that classroom too… and this class was even more painful for Lan Xi. Even so, he diligently filled his paper with another heap of incomprehensible scribbles.
Fang Nianqing didn’t even know what to say anymore.
There was something almost endearing about the stubborn stupidity with which he applied himself. Maybe this is his new trick—putting on a performance on purpose.
When the second class ended, Lan Xi walked out a little faster. He left first and leaned against the corridor railing to let his overheated brain cool down. Fang Nianqing ignored him and slowly packed his schoolbag before walking out.
“I’m going to work. You’re following me there too?” Fang Nianqing asked from behind him.
Lan Xi slowly turned around. The shifting light and shadow across his face made his features look pitiful and beautiful. He nodded.
Fang Nianqing said nothing more and turned to leave. Lan Xi immediately followed him.
No one knew that Cheng Yiran was trailing far behind them.
Fang Nianqing was practically the textbook example of a financially disadvantaged campus heartthrob. Even with a generous scholarship, he still worked part-time to earn money. His job was at an upscale private club near the Third Ring Road. To save money, Fang Nianqing always took the subway there.
Lan Xi had never ridden anything like the subway before. Fang Nianqing expertly scanned his code through the turnstile, while Lan Xi was helplessly stranded on the other side.
The crowd surged around him. People rushing back and forth lingered a little longer with their eyes because of Lan Xi’s excessively striking appearance, but none of them would stop their lives for him. Lan Xi was jostled aside.
Fang Nianqing stood on the other side, watching him with cold mockery. As expected of a rich family’s young master. He doesn’t even know how to get through a subway turnstile. Of course Fang Nianqing wasn’t going to help. Wasn’t Wen Lan determined to follow him? Then he could figure it out himself.
Watching from a distance, even Cheng Yiran began to feel that Wen Lan looked a little pitiful. …In fact, he had even started wondering whether Fu Hui had sent someone to beat Wen Lan stupid.
“You have ten minutes. I’m not waiting any longer than that,” Fang Nianqing called to Lan Xi from afar, without caring whether he could hear.
Lan Xi turned around and randomly grabbed the sleeve of a middle-aged man. “Help… help me.”
Such a direct plea immediately stopped the man in his hurried tracks. The middle-aged man looked closely at Lan Xi and was stunned by his face. “Help you with what?”
Lan Xi pointed at the turnstile.
The man immediately asked, “You don’t have your phone?”
Lan Xi: “Mm.”
The man couldn’t resist looking at his face a few more times. “Wait here.” With that, he hurried off to buy a ticket for him.
Cheng Yiran was stunned. That works too?
The middle-aged man soon returned and stuffed a day pass into Lan Xi’s hand. Then his gaze trembled, and even his voice trembled. “Could I get your contact information? Oh, sorry, I forgot you don’t have a phone. Could you write your number down for me? Or I could write mine down for you?”
Lan Xi could see the infatuation in the man’s eyes and wasn’t surprised in the slightest. But the aura around this man was extremely faint. He was only the most ordinary kind of angel. Lan Xi wasn’t interested.
Seeing Lan Xi remain silent, the man stopped worrying about anything else. He quickly pulled out the notepad and pen he carried with him and wrote down a number for Lan Xi. “Contact me. You have to contact me, okay?”
Cheng Yiran frowned tightly as he watched.
Lan Xi accepted the note and casually stuffed it into his pocket.
The man was delighted. Only then did he finally walk through the turnstile.
After all that commotion, even more people nearby had noticed Lan Xi, and several looked eager to come over and strike up a conversation. But Lan Xi already had what he wanted. He quickly swiped through the turnstile and caught up with Fang Nianqing.
Something complicated flickered through Fang Nianqing’s eyes. That man had just asked Wen Lan for his contact information. Fang Nianqing refused to believe Wen Lan didn’t understand what that meant. He had expected the young master to lose his temper on the spot. Who would have thought he would actually accept the man’s phone number? What exactly is he pretending at?
The two of them boarded the subway one after the other. There were no seats. Like an inquisitive child, Lan Xi clung to the area beside the train doors and stared fixedly at every pitch-black tunnel and every illuminated advertisement that passed outside. Fang Nianqing was speechless. Every time the doors opened, he was forced to grab Lan Xi by the back of his collar so the fool wouldn’t tumble out.
After nearly sixty minutes of transfers and commuting, they finally reached Fang Nianqing’s workplace.
Rulan Private Club.
The doorman stared at Lan Xi for a long time before daring to recognize him. “…Young Master Wen?”
Lan Xi ignored him.
The doorman didn’t mind and immediately put on an enthusiastic smile. “Young Master Wen, are you meeting Young Master Cui and the others?”
Lan Xi squeezed out a word. “No.”
Then he continued following Fang Nianqing inside. That left the doorman completely bewildered. At a loss, he hurriedly used his radio to tell someone inside to come receive him.
Fang Nianqing went to the staff room and changed into his uniform. The other employees gradually finished changing and headed out as well. The moment they stepped outside, they saw Lan Xi, with an eager female hostess chatting away beside him. Slowly, the employees remembered who that face belonged to.
“Is that Young Master Wen?”
“Didn’t he and Fang Nianqing make a huge scene here at the club before? How come Fang Nianqing has given in now?”
“Look closely. Young Master Wen really is beautiful, and his family’s rich too. If it were you, wouldn’t you give in?”
Fang Nianqing listened expressionlessly, and a thread of malice slowly rose in his heart.
He picked up a tray of drinks and headed out.
Lan Xi followed him.
Fang Nianqing turned around. His words were directed at Lan Xi, but his gaze rested on the hostess. “I’m going to deliver something to the guests. Are you sure you intend to keep following me?”
The hostess thought, How would that work? She hurriedly linked her arm affectionately through Lan Xi’s. “Young Master Wen, why don’t we sit over there and rest for a while? What would you like to drink today?”
Lan Xi remembered what he had drunk at the villa. He smacked his lips. “Sweet… soup.”
The hostess: “Huh?”
“Young Master Wen isn’t drinking alcohol today?”
She earned commission when customers ordered bottles, so naturally she pushed hard.
“Alcohol… tastes good?”
Although the hostess thought the way he broke up his sentences was a little strange, she didn’t think much of it. There were plenty of strange rich people here.
“Of course it tastes good.”
Lan Xi: “Okay.”
“Then what would you like? How many bottles?” She led him toward the dazzling liquor display.
Lan Xi casually pointed at one with a pretty color. “One.”
One bottle? The hostess thought he was being a little stingy, but hurried off to place the order anyway. She also brought him a plate of assorted fruit and a plate of tea snacks.
That was much more to Lan Xi’s taste, and for a while he completely forgot about Fang Nianqing.
After delivering drinks to one table, Fang Nianqing came back out and looked behind him.
No one.
Of course. The moment Wen Lan comes somewhere like this, it’s like he’s come home. Fang Nianqing sneered inwardly. He couldn’t even keep pretending.
Meanwhile, Lan Xi started on the tea snacks.
Pah.
Not as good as the ones at the villa.
He reluctantly began eating the fruit instead. The watermelon was good. The mango was good. The pineapple was good… Only then did Lan Xi finally settle comfortably into the sofa.
But he wasn’t left in peace for long.
“Wen Lan, what are you doing here?”
“Our Young Master Wen sure has guts!”
Several young rich men suddenly walked over toward Lan Xi.
Lan Xi raised his eyelids. There was a trace of languid allure in the movement.
Their footsteps faltered. They felt that Wen Lan had become a little strange. And somehow… strangely attractive. Suppressing the thought, they sat down opposite Lan Xi.
“I heard you offended Mr. Fu. What happened?”
“You’re actually still alive!”
Lan Xi knew they must have been people Wen Lan knew. He couldn’t even be bothered explaining anymore that he wasn’t “Wen Lan.” No angel believed him anyway.
Crunch, crunch.
Lan Xi continued eating honeydew melon.
“Why are you ignoring us?”
“Yeah. Tell us, how did you dare offend the Fu family? Your two brothers didn’t kill you?”
Chew, chew, chew.
Lan Xi started eating cherry tomatoes. They were so juicy that some of the juice sprayed straight into the face of the person opposite him.
The man froze, raised a hand to wipe his face, and nearly brought his fingers to his mouth to lick them before suddenly realizing just how bizarre that would be.
The corner of Lan Xi’s mouth curled slightly as he took in the man’s embarrassing reaction. My charm is as effective as ever. Unfortunately, none of them were seraph-level. Boring.
After finishing another round of drink deliveries, Fang Nianqing came out just in time to see Lan Xi surrounded by admirers, all those familiar good-for-nothing friends gathered around him.
One of them, annoyed that Lan Xi had been ignoring them for so long, deliberately stood up and said, “Set up two champagne towers for our Young Master Wen. He’s treating tonight.”
Lan Xi didn’t understand what a champagne tower was. But alcohol and snacks began arriving in a steady stream.
He tasted everything one by one. Anything that tasted bad, whether food or drink, was immediately spat out.
The others eventually got bored when he still refused to engage with them and simply started drinking with the women beside them. Before long, they were thoroughly drunk. Some began tugging at their companions’ clothes, while others tried pushing women into Lan Xi’s arms. Lan Xi pushed every single one away.
What an ugly spectacle.
Fang Nianqing set down an ashtray and straightened up, only to discover that Wen Lan somehow seemed to be the only person among them keeping himself entirely out of the mess. He ignored everyone else and only stared fixedly at Fang Nianqing.
Fang Nianqing’s shift was over.
He turned his gaze away and hurried toward the exit.
Now that Lan Xi had eaten and drunk his fill, he got up and continued following him.
But someone blocked his path. “Young Master Wen, you’re leaving already?”
“Mm.”
“Will you be paying by card, or…?”
Lan Xi looked confused.
The employee explained, “Young Master Cui and the others said you were treating tonight… The total comes to 278,000 yuan.”
Up ahead, Fang Nianqing’s footsteps stopped.
Heh. Rich people… What they spend in one night is several years’ income for someone else.
His disgust deepened, and he turned back to stare coldly at Lan Xi.
Only then did Lan Xi remember Wen Yue telling him something about cutting off his cards and seeing how he would live without money. So he calmly stated the facts.
“No… money.”
The employee was stunned.
Who could say that so righteously?
“Please don’t joke with me. Where’s your card?”
Lan Xi pulled open his trouser pockets, then his jacket pockets, and showed him—completely empty.
The corner of Fang Nianqing’s mouth twitched. He nearly laughed out loud.
The employee was utterly dumbfounded and hurriedly called the manager over. The manager got a headache as well and asked where Lan Xi’s phone was.
Lan Xi said, “Don’t… have.”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t leave…” The manager didn’t want to offend him. After all, Young Master Wen was a regular customer. But tonight’s bill was too large for him to simply let the man walk away.
Lan Xi pointed at the drunken mess behind him. “Why… not ask… them?”
“They’re drunk…”
Lan Xi swept them with a contemptuous glance, walked over to those good-for-nothing friends, bent down, searched their trouser pockets, and pulled out a pile of wallets and phones.
“Here.” Lan Xi was very generous.
The manager didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “We can’t use their cards without their permission. Besides, we don’t know the PINs.”
PIN?
Lan Xi thought for a moment, then randomly chose the loudest and most annoying man from earlier. He climbed straight onto the man and slapped his face twice.
Smack, smack.
The man woke up. “What…?”
His eyes were unfocused for a moment before he slowly reached toward Lan Xi. “You’re so beautiful…”
Lan Xi leaned down slightly and uttered one word. “PIN?”
“What… PIN?”
Lan Xi pulled out one of the cards and held it in front of his eyes.
The man met Lan Xi’s gaze. Those eyes shimmered beautifully, carrying something that made a person feel as though drowning in them would be worth it.
“PIN…” the man murmured, then recited a string of numbers.
Watching from a distance, Fang Nianqing thought that beneath the flashing lights, Wen Lan looked almost like some enchanting spirit out of an old supernatural tale.
Lan Xi paid the bill with the man’s card. He didn’t return the card afterward. While he was at it, he took the man’s phone too.
Now I have money, don’t I?
Delighted, Lan Xi went over to Fang Nianqing. “Go.”
Fang Nianqing: “…”
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