4: Dear Customer, You Bought the Wrong Thing
This competition had originally been nothing more than a spur-of-the-moment agreement, born from two opposing groups who couldn’t stand the sight of each other.
Other classes found it strange. Aside from the rocket classes, the parallel classes all had a few transfer students too. They were admittedly a bit arrogant, but wouldn’t it have been easier to just ignore them?
Someone cut straight to the heart of the matter.
“You’re forgetting who’s in Class 9: Ice God. Do you really think he’d allow someone that arrogant to exist?”
“What do you call this, then? Two tigers can’t share one mountain, unless—”
“One’s an Alpha and one’s an Omega?”
The more people thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The forum even opened a red-versus-blue poll.
The support rates swung left and right, sending the spectators’ emotions on a full-on roller coaster.
At first, seeing the young masters actually start doing practice problems made it seem like they were just cramming at the last minute, which kept Class 9 fairly relaxed.
That illusion shattered when the math teacher assigned a homework problem. Only a handful of students in Class 9 managed to solve it, while the other side somehow produced answers across the board, including Liu Qimai.
That was when they realized how serious the situation really was.
A misstep.
They might have underestimated their opponents.
Jiang Yifan created a second Class 9 group chat and added everyone except the young masters.
[Comrades, I think, maybe, possibly… we got played.]
[Playing dumb to eat the tiger. Insidious!]
[Future capitalists revealing their true faces. Learning feints at such a young age.]
[Thinking back, they did say several times that their grades could crush ours.]
[I thought they were just bluffing.]
[Turns out the clown was me.]
Anxiety was contagious. With the monthly exam scheduled for that afternoon, a heavy pressure seemed to settle over everyone’s heads.
Losing itself wouldn’t have been a big deal, except Liu Qimai kept yelling about kneeling down to sing “Conquer,” and doing it in front of all the teachers and students.
If Qian Kun really turned into a muddle-headed tyrant who listened to slander, wouldn’t they lose face completely?
Shen Jin was jolted awake by constant buzzing. His phone, stuffed in his desk drawer, had been vibrating nonstop.
He’d been feeling increasingly exhausted these past few days, with a dull, cramping pain in his abdomen. It was probably from drinking too much coffee.
He took out a bottle of omega-only painkillers. The label had already been torn off, making it impossible to tell which gender it was meant for.
He swallowed a pink, heart-shaped pill. As he reached for water, he sensed a gaze on him and paused.
Qian Kun’s eyes lingered briefly on the blank pill bottle before casually shifting away.
Qian Kun had a pair of phoenix eyes, long lashes gathered beneath the lids, the corners slightly upturned. When he smiled, there was a hint of something bewitching about it, as if countless tiny hooks were hidden inside.
Shen Jin kept his expression steady, though that glance made him feel inexplicably guilty.
He drank too quickly and nearly choked.
“Cough—cough!”
When he looked up again, Qian Kun was smiling as if watching a show.
Shen Jin pretended nothing had happened, capped the bottle, and tossed it into his bag.
The bottle didn’t even have a label. There was no way Qian Kun could tell anything, right?
His mind refused to settle, and the drowsiness from earlier vanished completely.
He opened the group chat and saw anxiety seeping through every message. Pulling up the private-school practice exams he’d done before, he photographed several representative problems and sent them into the chat, complete with explanations.
The class watched in a daze as Big Boss Shen transformed into a ruthless learning machine, breaking down high-difficulty problems and force-feeding them straight into everyone’s brains.
What kind of leader did this take? He’d already scouted the enemy in advance and even prepared detailed solutions.
Although they’d been caught off guard by the young masters’ true strength, the private-school difficulty level still wasn’t beyond the syllabus. As long as it wasn’t out of scope, there was hope.
[Awoooo!! Serving tea to the boss.jpg]
[Ice God, do you need a keychain? Graduated from a key high school, excellent at rainbow compliments!]
[I suddenly feel like I can do this again! Brother Jin is the best!!]
Shen Jin really wasn’t used to being praised. He sent a [Dragged out to write practice papers.jpg] sticker and turned off his screen.
The monthly exam began that afternoon. The homeroom teacher had the study committee notify everyone to separate their desks from their seatmates.
The invigilator had barely stepped into the classroom before sensing something was off.
Why did everyone look so fired up, staring at their papers with almost fervent enthusiasm?
What was going on? Since when did students love taking exams?
Outside the window came the cicadas’ late-summer, early-autumn chorus. Inside the classroom, only the soft rasp of pen against paper could be heard.
By the third subject, Shen Jin’s condition began to decline sharply. His abdomen felt as if hundreds of tiny people were fighting inside it.
He closed his eyes briefly, waited for the pain to ease a little, then continued reading the questions.
This exam was harder than usual, yet Shen Jin still worked quickly. His foundation was solid, and most answers came from mental calculation alone.
When he concentrated, time and surroundings faded away.
Qian Kun spent some time on the final big question. After setting down his pen, he looked up, his gaze freezing.
The seats had been rearranged temporarily, and he’d ended up directly behind Shen Jin. He doubted Shen Jin had even noticed.
Shen Jin was like an AI. No one else existed in his field of vision.
Fine beads of sweat had gathered along Shen Jin’s pale neck.
His back was ramrod straight. His grip on the pen was steady, yet his whitening knuckles betrayed how much force he was using.
The invigilator noticed and snapped, “Qian Kun, stop staring at other students!”
Qian Kun glanced at her. An indescribable pressure surged forward, choking off the rest of her words.
He took out his answer sheet, erased two responses, and filled in two new ones.
Passing by Shen Jin, he slipped something onto the desk near Shen Jin’s elbow from a blind spot in the cameras, then handed in his paper right under the teacher’s stunned gaze.
He looked utterly calm, nothing like someone who’d just intimidated a teacher.
There wasn’t even the faintest trace of pheromones on him. Even if someone wanted to claim pheromone suppression, there was no evidence.
He didn’t return to his seat, leaving the classroom and heading straight toward the teachers’ office.
Liu Qimai muttered to Zhou You, who was still drafting answers, “That beast. He broke another speed record, didn’t he?”
Only half the exam time had passed.
“If you don’t write,” Zhou You replied, “you’re going to be singing ‘Conquer.’”
“Zhou You, whose side are you on?” Liu Qimai roared.
The invigilator snapped, “You, the bald one, say another word and I’ll treat it as cheating!”
Liu Qimai raised his hand. “Reporting, teacher, this is a buzz cut. I’ve got one millimeter.” He pointed at his hair.
The class collectively wondered where this idiot had come from.
The teacher couldn’t help laughing. “No one asked. Sit down and finish your exam.”
“Got it!” Liu Qimai grinned.
He shot a vicious glare at Zhou You, who had serious spy potential, and finally shut up.
Seeing how quickly Qian Kun had turned in his paper, the rest of Class 9 thought of the rumors about him holding first place year after year.
This couldn’t possibly be a blank paper. It had to be that the exam was too easy.
Easy?
They looked at their papers again. The difficulty was at least ten percent higher than the placement exam.
As expected, when geniuses fail, they’re just messing around.
Human joys and sorrows truly aren’t shared.
Liu Qimai noticed the shifting expressions across Class 9 and thought to himself that Brother Kun really knew how to crush people psychologically.
He glanced at Shen Jin again. Shen Jin had opened a strong mint cooling roller and ran it across his forehead and philtrum, instantly feeling better.
This was what Qian Kun had tossed to him earlier.
Qian Kun knew Shen Jin wasn’t the type to give up halfway, so he’d simply made sure Shen Jin could finish the exam in good condition.
Shen Jin’s thoughts cleared, and his pen seemed to fly.
Seeing Shen Jin remain calm and composed, Class 9 felt as though a stabilizing pillar had been driven into their hearts.
They gradually settled down and returned to their papers.
When the bell rang, Shen Jin stopped writing and checked the final big question.
The difficulty matched that of the rocket classes, complete with a small trick in reading comprehension.
After handing in his paper, he finally realized how fiercely his stomach was protesting.
At the back door, the homeroom teacher beckoned to him. It wasn’t clear how long he’d been waiting.
“I just called your family,” the teacher said. “They’re waiting at the school gate. Go back and see a doctor first. Don’t push yourself.”
The teacher couldn’t have known so quickly. An image of someone leaving early flashed through Shen Jin’s mind.
The pain left his face pale, though his naturally cool complexion and perpetually blank expression kept anyone from daring to fuss over him.
No one noticed his stomach pain as he left.
Going downstairs, all his focus was on his body. He didn’t notice a shadow following behind him.
There was evening self-study later, so the stairwell was nearly empty.
Shen Jin drifted downward, one hand braced against the railing as he tried to catch his breath.
A strong arm suddenly appeared in his vision, bracing his shoulder and catching his unsteady body.
A faint pine scent mixed with cool mint slipped into his nose, refreshing and pleasant.
A low chuckle sounded above him.
“Class rep, is this you throwing yourself into my arms?”
Shen Jin glared up at him. Would this man ever shut up?
“Aren’t you the one delivering yourself right to me?”
Shen Jin pushed Qian Kun away cleanly.
To really draw a line, he even wiped his palm against his shirt.
The pain left a sheen of moisture in his usually indifferent eyes.
Qian Kun’s expression shifted slightly.
He caught a whiff of something subtle and deeply enticing. He—, but Shen Jin brushed past him and walked away without looking back.
“Class rep.”
Shen Jin turned around.
An object flew toward him.
A disposable heat patch.
Qian Kun left one more sentence behind. “Also, your suppressor patch needs changing.”
When Shen Jin looked again, Qian Kun was already gone.
He touched the back of his neck. The suppressor patch had been replaced that afternoon.
Under normal circumstances, its effects lasted twenty-four hours.
Qian Kun headed upstairs.
The figure peeking from the shadows hadn’t even had time to run before Qian Kun grabbed his collar and yanked him up.
With a soft laugh, he asked, “Following him. What were you planning to do, hm?”
The overwhelming pressure was suffocating.
The man’s pheromones were forcibly triggered, leaving him trembling in agony.
Wasn’t Qian Kun a Beta?
How could he have an aura like this?
Thinking of the homeroom teacher’s words about his family waiting, Shen Jin’s steps unconsciously grew lighter.
He wondered if it would be his father or his mother.
They were actually coming to pick him up.
With the pass the teacher gave him, he quickly exited the school gates. A familiar car was parked outside.
After getting in, he saw that the driver was Old Feng.
The faint light in Shen Jin’s eyes dimmed.
“Uncle Feng.”
Uncle Feng was the Shen family’s driver, usually responsible for picking up and dropping off Shen Jin’s younger brother, Shen Xie’an.
“Second Young Master heard about your condition and had me bring you to the hospital.”
Shen Jin nodded.
After a while, the pain in his stomach, which had briefly eased, surged again.
He remembered the heat patch Qian Kun had thrown him earlier.
He tore it open and stuck it over his stomach.
Time passed, yet the patch remained completely cold.
Shen Jin pressed it, puzzled.
He pulled the packaging back out of the car’s trash bin.
Yushu-brand Heat Patch.
…Heat Patch. Patch.
Dear customer.
You bought a knockoff.
School convenience store: Boss, we stocked the wrong goods!!
Kun-kun: …
0 Comments