Brother Six, you smell so delightful.

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Cen Wu had no time to argue with Lu Wang; he feared that if he delayed any longer, the iron fist of the law would strike him down. He hurriedly checked the original owner’s bank account and found over six million yuan still there. He repaid Lu Wang seventy thousand yuan, principal plus interest, and finally breathed a sigh of relief. No one had told him that entering a story world meant he’d have to do time in jail.

“Why are you like this?” Lu Wang sighed in frustration, plopping down beside him. “The closest people to me, besides my parents and brother, are you, my brother. My dad and mom have money; I don’t need to give them anything, so isn’t my money meant just for you to spend?”

This was what the original owner had taught Cen Wu before.

Cen Wu: “...” So ruthless.

“I... I borrowed some money from you before because I needed it,” Cen Wu explained. “Now that I have money, I want to pay you back. Otherwise, if you lend me money, what do you have left for yourself to spend?”

Lu Wang sniffed but wasn’t convinced; instead, he felt Cen Wu was looking down on him. Confused, he said, “But I have so much money, I can’t even spend it all.”

Cen Wu: “...” Does that even sound like human speech?

But he couldn’t argue with Lu Wang. Lu Wang didn’t even start speaking properly until he was three years old. The Lu family had taken him to the hospital for testing; he wasn’t very intelligent, his IQ below normal. The original owner had a sweet, innocent face, so the Lu family thought they were truly close and had placed them in the same class since elementary school, hoping he could look after Lu Wang at school.

But the original owner was resentful and looked down on this fool. How could someone so dumb be a Lu family child when his biological mother was a hostess?

After much coaxing, Cen Wu finally calmed Lu Wang down. Even though it was a top-tier class, the morning was noisy until the bell rang for the morning self-study, after which the classroom fell silent. Cen Wu turned his head and suddenly realized that Xie Guilan had yet to arrive at school.

—

After leaving the Cen family, Xie Guilan went straight to the hospital. Six months ago, Song Lingwei was diagnosed with a malignant tumor in her stomach. Xie’s father had consulted many specialists and arranged surgery. The prognosis was good, but Song Lingwei had pre-existing gastric ulcers, and the aftereffects were severe, causing frequent vomiting.

Every day before school, Xie Guilan would visit the hospital to care for her. After she took her medicine, he would then go to class.

When he arrived, Song Lingwei was awake, and a nurse was measuring her blood pressure. Post-surgery, Song Lingwei weighed just over eighty pounds. Her skin was pale, her long black hair draped over her neck. She looked frail and sickly, but there was still a ghostly beauty about her, like a delicate mist flower.

The doctors initially couldn’t believe Xie Guilan was her son, as she looked barely over thirty.

Xie Guilan placed a bowl of lean meat porridge on the table. Song Lingwei saw him and tucked her hair back, smiling up at him. Then she noticed the wounds on his face, and her gaze faltered. Especially the bruises on his neck, dark purple marks left by a whip.

Song Lingwei said nothing, but the nurse was startled, asking, “Xiao Xie, what happened to your neck? Even in a fight, it’s hard to get marks like that.”

Xie Guilan lowered his long lashes coldly, saying nothing, and glanced briefly over Song Lingwei’s test results.

Song Lingwei had spent most of the last decade in hospitals, staying in the oncology ward for months. The nurses knew Xie Guilan was cold by nature. Seeing him silent and not asking questions, they finished the check-up and quietly left the room.

The ward grew silent.

“...Xiao Lan,” Song Lingwei forced a smile and spoke cautiously, “If you’re busy, you don’t have to come every day. There are nurses here…”

Xie Guilan’s lips were tightly pressed, still saying nothing. Song Lingwei’s many chronic illnesses required a handful of daily medication, which he carefully prepared for her.

Her fingers clenched the blanket as she continued softly, “Mom didn’t mean to stop you from coming. Your father also sends people to visit me. The surgery is done now, and I don’t want to hold back your studies, you…”

Xie Guilan placed the cup down heavily beside her, the sound loud. Song Lingwei immediately closed her mouth, saying no more.

He never spoke a single word, watching her finish her medicine, then grabbed his backpack and left.

The city hospital wasn’t far from Huaijing No.1 High School—about a half-hour bus ride. Xie Guilan received a message from his homeroom teacher on the bus and went straight to the office after arriving at school.

The homeroom teacher of Class 3 was Meng Liangping, in his forties, wearing a typical middle-aged male teacher’s dark blue sweater. Seeing Xie Guilan, he waved him over. “Come have a seat.”

Xie Guilan didn’t sit but stood beside him. The boy’s height—about 1.89 meters—made the office feel cramped.

The homeroom teacher: “...”

“Cen Wu said you were sick and helped you get sick leave,” the teacher craned his neck to speak. “Why aren’t you resting at home? Your health is more important.”

Xie Guilan: “I’m not sick.”

The teacher asked, “You left school so suddenly last night. Was something wrong? Do you need help?”

Xie Guilan: “No.”

The teacher: “Is there a conflict between you and Cen Wu? I want to help if I can. And your injury…”

Xie Guilan: “No.”

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The teacher was speechless. Three refusals in a row, he choked on his words and couldn’t ask further.

Huaijing No.1 High was a key city school, known for difficult tests, even harder than college entrance exams. The top grades in each class usually hovered around 730 points.

But Xie Guilan disrupted this balance. He always scored first with a gap so wide it was almost shocking. The second-ranked student scored 731, but he could reach 745. Unless he skipped the test, he was always the top of the grade.

Moreover, Xie Guilan’s family was poor. Teachers naturally paid more attention to such students. Although merely an ordinary teacher with no access to the Lu family’s power, he knew Xie had a seriously ill mother and conflicts with the wealthy boys.

Cen Wu had suddenly helped Xie Guilan get half a day’s sick leave last night, which made the teacher uneasy. Seeing Xie’s injuries worried him even more.

But teenagers had strong pride. Xie Guilan was cold, independent, and stubborn. Even if the teacher wanted to help, he didn’t know how to ask.

Xie Guilan’s deep-set, dark, and cold peach blossom eyes resembled obscure beast pupils. After so many years as a homeroom teacher, this was the first time he felt intimidated by a student’s gaze.

Although Xie was polite to teachers, those eyes always seemed to say: “Old man, what more do you want?”

The teacher: “...”

“If there’s nothing else, go to class,” he wiped sweat from his forehead, helplessly waving a hand. “Oh, and here’s the registration form for the chemistry competition.”

“Thank you, teacher.”

Xie took the form and headed to class. The morning self-study was halfway through. The sky was overcast, a light drizzle dampening clothes against the skin.

His face remained expressionless until he reached the classroom’s back door and looked up at his desk. His eyes suddenly froze.

The desk was spotless—not a scrap of trash or a drop of spilled water. It gleamed as if polished, the test papers neatly stacked. Approaching closer, a faint scent of lychee filled the air.

Xie paused for several seconds before sitting down. Nothing unusual happened.

Cen Wu had planned to catch up on homework during morning study but found the original owner hadn’t done any last night. Too exhausted, he collapsed as soon as he opened the papers.

He lay on the desk, sleeping so soundly his ears were flushed red. His neck was snow-white and delicate. Behind his ear was a tiny red mole, like a collapsed red dwarf star.

Xie glanced down at the desk, then inexplicably looked up again, fixing his gaze on the red mole at the tip of Cen Wu’s ear.

His thin lips pressed coldly and straight.

Indeed, Cen Wu had cared for him last night, but the spotless desk couldn’t possibly be Cen Wu’s doing.

—

Cen Wu slept until the class bell rang, then rubbed his sleepy eyes. He hadn’t written a single word of homework, but the class monitor was used to not collecting his work and just skipped him.

Lu Wang, however, despite barely understanding the questions, diligently completed his homework every day.

Suddenly remembering something, Cen Wu turned and caught Xie Guilan looking up at the board at the formulas. Their eyes met, and Cen Wu was scared straight awake.

“...”

Why does this guy never make a sound when he’s here?

He quickly shoved the pancake and soy milk he’d bought before morning study toward Xie, whispering, “You... you haven’t eaten breakfast, right? This is still warm. The pancake has... two eggs.”

Xie’s father only gave medical expenses for Song Lingwei, no living expenses or money for hiring a caregiver.

To save money for a caregiver, Xie never ate breakfast.

Cen Wu decided to use the six million yuan the original owner had saved for running away to support Xie. As for the money for running away, he’d figure it out later. In any case, he couldn’t spend the Lu family’s money anymore.

The original owner owed the Lu family too much; he couldn’t repay it. But he didn’t want to owe the Lu family any longer. The original owner was gone, and now he occupied his place. Besides, the debt was too big to escape cleanly in the future.

Xie didn’t reach out to take the food or say anything. Cen Wu pursed his lips and placed it near Xie’s hand.

So difficult.

Cen thought to himself, but there was no hurry. He planned to cling to Xie like a ghost and avoid Lu Shangjing like he was a specter. Sooner or later, Xie would believe he genuinely wanted to turn over a new leaf.

“Eat it while it’s hot,” Cen reminded him, then shifted over to his own seat.

Xie coldly stared at the bag, slid it into the desk drawer, and didn’t touch it again even after it cooled.

After morning study, the class monitor began distributing the last weekly test papers. This was the second week of school. From sophomore year, Huaijing No.1 High held weekly tests every week.

Not all subjects were tested; two were selected weekly to take a test during study hall.

Cen Wu: “...”

He didn’t really want to take it. The original owner had always ranked second from last, and Lu Wang was last.

He suspected placing their seats in front of Xie Guilan was to balance the low IQ at the back of the classroom.

But since he was here, he decided to glance at the test. To his shock, the original owner had actually fallen to last place!

The other subjects didn’t matter, but scoring only twelve points in English? He might as well have thrown the paper on the ground and stepped on it.

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“I... wasn’t I second to last?” Cen muttered. “How come I’m last?”

His voice was small, just talking to himself, but Lu Wang heard and immediately lowered his head guiltily. “It’s all my fault. I had diarrhea last week and missed the test.”

He was used to reliably being last, with Cen second to last. If he hadn’t missed the test, Cen would still be second to last.

Cen Wu: “...”

Honesty is a killer tactic.

Cen was defeated before he could say anything when Xie Guilan suddenly slid his desk back a bit. The movement was calm and voice low, but Cen sensed mockery.

As a director, Cen knew every human action had a logical motivation. In a film, Xie sliding his desk would be symbolic.

To be precise, it was as if Xie was dumbfounded. More accurately, he wasn’t enemies with Lu Wang but was dumbfounded by Cen Wu’s stupidity.

Cen Wu: “...”

In a fit of anger, Cen grabbed a chemistry test paper to redo it. It’s just a test, after all.

Ten minutes passed.

Cen Wu: boohoo. qwq

Sorry, I’m clueless.

He gave up and opened the textbook to study whatever he could understand.

Cen was a humanities student, but the original owner was in science. He could barely recite half the periodic table.

Cen began memorizing definitions and formulas miserably. Lu Wang, seeing him study, copied him and picked up a book.

Just then, a few boys swaggered in through the back door. One suddenly pinched his nose and loudly gagged, as if struck by a sudden illness.

“Stinks to death,” he sneered, bumping Xie Guilan’s desk hard on his way by and sarcastically telling his friend, “How unlucky, being in the same class with him.”

Xie was working on a test. His pen scratched loudly as the desk was hit.

But he was used to it. Clutching his pen, he silently straightened the desk. His high nose bridge caught the dim, rainy light, illuminating half his face. At the boundary of light and shadow, his dark peach blossom eyes were swallowed by darkness, sinking heavily.

Cen lay on the desk, his mood sour. He lowered his eyes and suddenly stretched out a leg to trip the boy.

Xie’s eyes froze.

The boy stumbled and fell flat on his face. Many in the class saw it and tried to suppress their laughter but failed.

“Hahaha, Zhou Ye, your brain’s unbalanced. How do you fall flat in the classroom?”

“That fall’s perfect for kowtowing to the second young master.”

“Damn!” Zhou Ye cursed and got up, ready to swear, but when he saw Cen Wu had tripped him, his expression changed instantly. He smiled apologetically. “Second young master, what do you want?”

“Just... you talk too much.”

“Huh?” The boy didn’t understand but flattered himself, patting his mouth a few times. “I talk too much, I talk too much. I won’t say anything anymore, second young master. Didn’t bother you, right?”

“What stinks?” Cen’s beautifully arched eyebrows were shrouded in cold mist. He leaned back in his chair, sniffing around with a tone of disgust. “I don’t smell anything. You must have stinky breath.”

Who’s he insulting? Cen had gotten up at 5:30 a.m. to come to school, spent over half an hour scrubbing the desk, and had even bought a lychee-scented air freshener, leaving it in the desk for a few minutes. He was careful to buy a cool, light scent that most people would accept.

“You...!!!”

Even the most flattering boy was somewhat embarrassed but couldn’t offend Cen Wu. Veins bulged on his neck, and he had to grit his teeth and swallow his anger.

Cen didn’t care as the boy stormed off. He turned to Xie and winked, comforting him, “Don’t mind him. He’s got a problem with his nose. It smells nice.”

Besides, Xie’s clothes were faded from washing, his skin cold and pale. He naturally carried a faint cold fragrance, whether from body wash or detergent; it was crisp and pleasant.

“...” Xie raised his dark eyes, scrutinizing Cen for a few seconds but still said nothing. He crumpled the scratched test paper and threw it away, then took another to write on.

Cen didn’t know if Xie was unfazed or silently holding a grudge—probably the latter.

Knowing Xie’s vengeful nature, that boy would probably end up with his mouth sewn shut and thrown into a stink ditch by Xie’s underlings to suffocate.

“Really,” Cen grew anxious, fearing the male lead’s pride would be hurt and he’d turn dark again. “Why would I lie to you?”

This novel was full of villains. Even the male lead wasn’t a good person—dark-hearted and ruthless, more brutal than the antagonist. Trying to save such a person was nearly impossible.

Cen had no doubt that if it weren’t illegal and conditions allowed, Xie would choke him to death right now.

Cen’s long eyelashes trembled fiercely, his whole face flushing with nervousness, afraid Xie would punch him.

But he didn’t give up. Bracing himself, trembling but determined, he said, “Brother... brother, you smell really good.”

Xie Guilan: “............”