Chapter 32 — Yu Fan, You Just Don’t Learn, Do You?
The first person to notice Yu Fan studying was Wang Lu’an.
He had paper and pen ready, planning to hit up Chen Jingshen for help as soon as the bell rang. He turned his head and saw two heads close together.
To be precise, Yu Fan was the one leaning in. Chen Jingshen still sat straight as a board.
Yu Fan’s arm was crooked on the desk, his chin propped lazily on it, head tipped a little. From Wang Lu’an’s angle, he was practically brushing Chen Jingshen’s shirt sleeve.
Wang Lu’an tried to hold out until the bell, but failed. He pulled out his phone and texted.
[Wang Lu’an: Fan, level with me. You’ve been studying behind my back so you can pull a dramatic midterm comeback, leapfrog my rank, and blindside me, right?]
[-: …]
[-: Get lost.]
[Wang Lu’an: Also I feel like you and the top student are getting along better these two days.]
[Wang Lu’an: Well, okay, you were already kind of fine. You even sent him home from the KTV…]
[Wang Lu’an: But now it’s like, even better.]
What a load of crap.
This was only for the midterms.
Once the exam was over, he was going to burn the bridge and kill the—
“Did that make sense?” Chen Jingshen asked.
Yu Fan tossed his phone away and scowled like he had a vendetta. Chen Jingshen had explained in plenty of detail; to say he did not get it would make him look dumb.
“I got it.”
Chen Jingshen lowered his eyes to look at him.
Afraid to miss a step, Yu Fan was listening hard, edging past the midpoint between their two desks without noticing, his other hand raking through his hair in frustration. His hair was dense and black, looked soft.
No voice came. A few seconds later Yu Fan realized and glanced up.
“…What are you staring at?” He tugged harder at his hair. “Don’t look at me, look at the problem.”
Chen Jingshen turned away and broke the solution back down.
Yu Fan: “Why? I said I got it.”
“Yeah,” Chen said. “I want to explain it again for myself.”
“…Whatever.” Yu Fan grumbled, eyes going back to the page.
For several nights running, right at nine, Yu Fan would get messages that Chen Jingshen had “sent to the wrong person.”
Because Chen held his phone casually, the videos showed more than worksheets. Yu Fan saw the gray of Chen Jingshen’s desk, pen cup, even his lamp; the surface was bare except for paper, pens, and earphones. A sliver of shirt showed when he leaned forward. Sometimes black, sometimes gray plaid. With that cool, low voice, the whole thing felt chilled.
Chen stopped claiming they were mis-sent, and Yu Fan stopped asking. The two of them quietly piled up a long chat thread.
The night before midterms, Yu Fan showered and came out to no message. He raised a brow. Nine fifteen.
He slouched into his chair, towel scrubbing his damp hair, eyes lingering on Chen Jingshen’s avatar before tapping into the chat. Yesterday’s messages were still at the bottom.
Late?
He opened the input box and typed a character, then instantly deleted it.
No… idiot move.
Chen had never promised to send videos every night at nine. Yu Fan realized he had gotten presumptuous. Chen had no obligation to tutor him online. They had no agreement, no deal, and they were not the type to chat every day.
He tossed the phone onto the desk, popped a pen cap with one hand, raked his bangs back, and opened the workbook.
Self-study then. He could handle the simple solutions now anyway—
Bzz.
Yu Fan dropped the pen. Twenty minutes late, huh. He opened his phone with a blank face—
[Nancheng No. 7 Top Dog group chat @’d you.]
[Zuo Kuan: @Wang Lu’an @- Game? Mobile battle royale, 2v2.]
[Wang Lu’an: I’m in, gimme a sec.]
[Zhuang Xianjing: You’re not studying tonight?]
[Wang Lu’an: I thought about it. I’ve worked hard for two weeks; one night won’t kill me. And if I bomb anyway, then tonight is my last night of freedom!]
[Zuo Kuan: Cut the crap and log on. Where’s Yu Fan? @- ]
Yu Fan scrolled, bored, about to type, when the phone vibrated again. A pop-up slid down from the top.
[s is inviting you to a video call.]
…?
Yu Fan blinked, then his brain caught up. He sat up straight, stared at the screen. The invite held; the caller did not hang up.
A few seconds later he scrubbed his freshly washed hair into something less disastrous and picked up.
Chen Jingshen had the phone propped on the desk at an odd angle. He seemed to have just showered too; when the call connected he was tilt-headed, towel moving through his hair.
Yu Fan stared at the screen and felt a weird little twist. They had been side by side two, three hours ago. Why did a nighttime video feel so f***ing weird?
“…What?” Yu Fan recovered fast and asked coolly.
Chen lifted his eyes at the sound. Yu Fan had the phone so close only the lower half of his eyes and a bit of collarbone showed.
Chen glanced aside. “I found a few problem types. If I record them all, it will be late. Can we do video?”
You already called. Why are you asking?
Yu Fan popped into the group chat to reply “no,” then grabbed a stand and set his phone up.
Hating the small screen, he shoved it closer. “Okay. Talk.”
After the last problem, Yu Fan stretched, instinctively about to flop down to nap before remembering he was not in class.
He slid out of frame, then checked the screen again. Chen Jingshen looked a little strained. He picked up a glass and drank; his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow.
“Anywhere else you’re stuck?”
Yu Fan slid half his face back into view and dropped his gaze, trying to sound careless. “Nope. Hanging up.”
“Okay.”
Silence settled.
Yu Fan’s thumb hovered over the red button for a long moment, then drifted away.
“Chen Jingshen,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Show me the dog,” Yu Fan said. “You haven’t sent any clips lately.”
For once, Chen Jingshen froze, then his expression reset. “Okay.”
He called, “Fanfan,” the camera flipped, and the Doberman’s front paws were already up on his leg.
In gray slacks today, Chen scratched under its chin when it panted at him.
“Why are its ears standing?” Yu Fan slouched back, finally relaxed. “Aren’t Doberman ears floppy?”
“Cropped.”
“Oh… what?” Yu Fan blinked.
“The previous owner wanted him as a working dog,” Chen said lightly. “Floppy ears affect hearing. You crop and stitch so they stand. Some people dock the tail too, easier to move in the field.”
“…Huh.”
Yu Fan sat up without meaning to and racked his memory. “I remember the tail wasn’t docked?”
“Mm. I took him home before that.”
Yu Fan let out a breath he had not noticed he was holding and sank back again.
Sensing he was the topic, Fanfan barked excitedly. Chen patted him, but the dog kept up a low whine.
So Chen just cupped a hand over his snout.
Fanfan gave a muffled “woo” and settled.
“Yu Fan,” Chen said.
Yu Fan stared at the screen. “What.”
The frame was still on the dog. Fanfan stood nice and quiet beside those gray pants. Chen’s fingers moved to his ear and idly rolled the edge.
“Do well tomorrow.”
“…,” Yu Fan drew a breath and forced out, “Sure.”
After the call ended, Yu Fan stayed put and realized his mouth was dry.
He stared at the chat window, clicked his tongue, tossed the phone, and stood to yank the window wide open.
Night wind flooded in. He stood there a few seconds and shoved his bangs back roughly.
F***, why is it so hot.
Studying really fires you up.
After midterms he was done. To hell with geometric functions…
And also.
What gave Chen Jingshen the right to pet the dog while talking to him?
Day one of midterms. Chinese in the morning, Math in the afternoon.
Yu Fan slipped into the exam room right on the bell.
He was in the very last room. The proctors were already in; one was half asleep under the podium.
Everyone here was bottom of the grade. With the signal jammer on, the whole room was dead in the water.
The proctor flipped open a newspaper without a care.
Zuo Kuan flopped on his desk, bored, and turned to ask the guy beside him if he wanted to hand in early and hit the internet café.
He froze.
The guy who usually slept through the entire session was sitting straighter than he did playing LoL, head down, writing like his life depended on it.
Zuo Kuan: “???”
Feeling the stare, Yu Fan paused, looked over, and said icily, “Face forward.”
“…,” Zuo Kuan changed positions and went back to sleep.
After Chinese, Wang Lu’an popped by from the room on the same floor to drag them out for lunch off campus.
The three hit a nearby Sichuan place.
“I swear he was possessed. He wrote the entire Chinese exam sheet in one go!” Zuo Kuan was still stunned. “He even wrote the essay!”
Wang Lu’an: “I told you yesterday while we were gaming he’s been studying. None of you believed me…”
Yu Fan: “Are you quite done?”
“Not done,” Zuo Kuan said. “So what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Yu Fan muttered. “Just this midterm.”
Seeing he did not want to talk, they let it drop and changed the subject.
Yu Fan was zoning out when his phone buzzed.
[s: How was it.]
It had been a long time since anyone asked him that. For a second Yu Fan was thrown.
He typed, annoyed.
[-: They didn’t test ‘A Petition to the Throne.’]
[s: Yeah, figured.]
…You watched me recite it for two days and did not think to say that earlier?
Yu Fan resisted the urge to reach through the screen and beat him, ground his teeth, and closed the chat.
After lunch, Wang Lu’an wiped his mouth. “My dad insists I come home for a nap and head back later. You two?”
Math started at three. They had more than three hours to kill.
“I’m gonna hit the café,” Zuo Kuan said. “You coming?”
Yu Fan: “No.”
“What are you doing then?”
Go back to the room and skim formulas.
No way he was saying that.
He pocketed his phone and stood, tossing over his shoulder, “Taking a walk.”
The front and back exam rooms were two different worlds. Kids in the front stayed to review; the back rooms were basically empty.
Yu Fan’s room was in the science building.
Passing the main building, he could not help glancing toward Class One.
A few students were reading on the balcony. No Chen Jingshen.
His room was empty as expected.
He pulled out a practice sheet, reached for a pen. His phone buzzed.
Chen Jingshen with more nonsense?
Yu Fan’s brows loosened as he looked down.
Then his face went cold. The pen he had just picked up fell back to the desk.
[Unknown number: You and your pack fling slop in the cafeteria like mad dogs. If you’ve got the balls, come out of school now and fight me one-on-one.]
A**hole.
Yu Fan went to lock the screen. Five or six more popped up.
[Unknown number: What, no reply? Not so tough now, huh? You sure were big when you slapped a tray in my face.]
[Unknown number: By the way, I looked up your student file. Why is there only a father and no mother?]
[Unknown number: Your mom dead?]
[Unknown number: No wonder you always look like an orphan.]
In Class One, even the air seemed to move slower.
Everyone was cramming.
Finishing a problem, Chen Jingshen took out his phone again. No messages.
The proctor walked in, set test papers on the podium, and noticed the top scorer in the first seat still had his phone out. He was a little surprised.
“Five minutes to go,” he coughed. “Put your books and phones away outside the room.”
Chen’s face did not change. He was about to lock the screen when a preview popped from a muted group.
A familiar name flashed by. Chen’s thumb halted and tapped in.
[Zhuang Xianjing: We’re screwed. A friend at another school tipped me off. They gathered a dozen people today. They’re coming to block Yu Fan and say they’re going to cripple him!]
[Wang Lu’an: No way. He’s in school. A dozen people barging in? Fat Tiger will put them all on the floor.]
[Zuo Kuan: Exactly.]
[Zhuang Xianjing: She said they have a way to lure him out. Anyone with Yu Fan right now??]
[Wang Lu’an: Nope—F***. I just called him and he didn’t pick up…]
[Zuo Kuan: Sh***. I can’t get him either. Boys, where are you? Rally up, quick.]
[Wang Lu’an: F***’s sake… Fangqin is proctoring in here so I can’t get out. You guys check around the school first.]
The proctor frowned at the first row. “Phones away, please. Do you hear—hey? Where are you going? The exam is about to start! Hey, hey… Chen Jingshen!”
The narrow alley behind the billiards hall.
Yu Fan looked at the dozen half-familiar faces and had complicated feelings.
“When you took my knife last time, you should’ve known we’d meet again,” the buzz cut said. “Yu Fan.”
Yu Fan said nothing.
“What, cat got your tongue? Weren’t you cocky as hell when you stood up for that bookworm?” someone behind the buzz cut added. “If you’d stayed out of it, I might not be here today.”
Still silence.
“Maybe he realized he’s about to get his a** handed to him and is too pissed to talk,” another snickered.
“It’s f***ing annoying,” Yu Fan said.
He finally learned a little for once.
And now it was all going to waste.
“What’d you say—F***!!”
Before the guy finished, Yu Fan grabbed a busted trash can with one hand and smashed it into his face.
The alley was too narrow to cram a dozen in. At first only six or seven could rush him.
Yu Fan grabbed the first one to reach him, drove a knee up hard, and sent him seeing stars.
A blow landed on his shoulder with a stick. He did not flinch. He flung the half-conscious one into the others, snatched the next, and cracked his forehead into the guy’s nose—
The buzz cut was still holding a cigarette like a boss and had not taken a single drag before the ash was kissing his fingers. One of his boys tugged his shirt. “Bro… this guy doesn’t care if he dies! Does he not feel pain?!”
The buzz cut knew that.
Otherwise he would not have lost last time.
“F***…”
“Bro, maybe call it,” the lookout near the mouth of the alley said nervously. People occasionally passed by. “I think he’s had enough and—”
“Enough my a**. We’re the ones getting wrecked.” The buzz cut crushed the butt and waved the lookouts in. “F*** it. All in!”
Shoved against the wall, Yu Fan licked the blood at the corner of his mouth and waited for a gap to run.
A dozen against one, even a champ would go down. He was not stupid.
But they had the exit covered. He needed to drag more of them in first.
They yanked him back to the middle. He had just elbowed one grip loose when he heard a rush of air behind him—the whistling arc of a stick.
Great.
He clenched his teeth and braced for impact.
It never landed. Instead, a shriek split the air.
“Ahhhh!”
Yu Fan blinked.
What, did the guy hit his own teammate?
Before he could look, someone yanked his collar hard. Wind razored past his ear, and a familiar schoolbag arced through the air and slammed into the buzz cut’s face.
Yu Fan: “???”
Buzz cut: “F***!!!”
Yu Fan still had not caught up when the same hand hauled him back two steps.
What the hell strength was that…
Mint ghosted past his nose.
Yu Fan’s nerves snapped tight. He turned his head.
Chen Jingshen stood behind him, face blank.
…?
What was Chen Jingshen doing here?
The exam??
“You—”
“Run.”
Chen said it, then kicked the next one clean off his feet. Yu Fan watched the poor bastard lift off the ground and crash into the buzz cut, the two of them howling together.
Yu Fan: “???”
Blood on his chin, completely dumbstruck, he was about to ask more when his wrist was grabbed and he was pulled toward the alley mouth.
Three in the afternoon. The streets near school were quiet, no teachers or students around. Most shops were empty.
The milk tea lady sat at her doorway chatting, talking about the studious boy who had been coming by lately.
“Such a well-behaved kid, but always hanging with the ones who don’t like to study. I’m not saying they’re bad, but they aren’t the same type, you know, I feel—”
She cut off.
She saw the “well-behaved” boy she was praising sweep past like a gust of wind, face cold, yanking along the one she thought was the worst troublemaker.
Shop lady: “…?”
Yu Fan had no idea how long they ran. He had burned too much energy in the fight and was out of air. For a moment he thought he was going to pass out.
Before he died, the person in front finally stopped.
They were in an empty patch of sand in a park.
Yu Fan collapsed, gulping air, shoulders heaving, heart like a drum.
Something slid into his hair, cold against his scalp. Before he could react, fingers tightened and lifted his head.
Chen Jingshen crouched and looked down at him.
His eyelids were taut and cool. The way he looked at Yu Fan was like at a mangy stray about to be put down.
“Yu Fan, you just don’t learn, do you?”
Yu Fan’s heart clenched. He could not move.
The next second, Chen lifted his other hand and reached straight for his face.
Yu Fan had fought too often. When somebody came at him without a word, it was either a fist or a slap.
So he shut his eyes on instinct—
A cool brush at the corner of his mouth.
Chen’s fingertip swiped away the blood.
Then he pressed on a band-aid.
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