Childhood Sweethearts (ABO) - Chapter 4

Being Clueless vs. Not Knowing How to Pursue

The next morning.

Xi Zhiyu was dropped off at school by his driver as usual. As both the class monitor and the Chinese language representative, the young man was as busy as a constantly spinning automated gyroscope.

The roster for the European Debate Competition had been finalized. It was his job to aggregate the data and, while at the office, hand over the class’s Chinese homework.

Zhang Wen held a thermos in her hands, the hot water steeping tea leaves emitting a soft mist. She blew on it twice. “I’ll be taking the grade eleven students out of the province for a competition this time; I won’t be back until the end of the month.”

“Zhiyu.”

“I’ll have to trouble you to hand over the Grade 12 physical examination summary sheets to Director Qin.”

Xi Zhiyu nodded. “No problem, Teacher. Please rest assured.”

In Nanling No. 1 High School a prestigious, nationally-renowned key high school Zhang Wen was a famously stern and elite teacher who had won numerous awards for leading competition teams. Even in front of the principal, she remained strictly professional.

However, she reserved a smile specifically for Xi Zhiyu, instructing him in a gentle tone: “By the way, a new student will be transferring here next week. That child’s status is somewhat special. I’ll need to trouble you to help explain a few things when the time comes.”

Xi Zhiyu replied, “Alright.”

“I will show the new student around the campus then.”

After leaving the office, Xi Zhiyu walked down the corridor toward Class S. Along the way, he overheard two students from the neighboring class gossiping.

“I heard a senior is transferring to our school next week.”

“The rumors just started this morning. Why so sudden? Which class do you think they’ll join?”

“It definitely won’t be Class S. Even the sons and daughters of top-tier conglomerates have to go through layers of screening to get into the elite class. What kind of merit would it take to transfer into Class S?”

Xi Zhiyu entered the classroom through the back door, paying no further attention to the chatter.

A breeze blew against his forehead, carrying a hint of grit that seemed to prick his eyes, which were as deep as a misty forest.

With a vroom, his phone vibrated in his school uniform pocket, accompanied by the “Awoo” sound of a little tiger that only he could hear.

The boy was visibly stunned.

Usually, he didn’t use his phone much at school. At this moment, however, he quietly took it out and unlocked it with his fingerprint, feeling a sense of unreality.

The screen lit up, displaying a line of small black text:

Yun-zai nudged your profile picture.

His eyes felt a slight itch. Xi Zhiyu raised his hand to rub them twice, and when he looked again, the notification had vanished into thin air.

Xi Zhiyu contemplated his life. The system wouldn’t show a withdrawal for a “nudge,” so it felt like his phone had malfunctioned, making him doubt whether he had hallucinated the whole thing.

“Zhima (Sesame).”

Someone pounced on him from behind. Xi Zhiyu stumbled slightly, turning around to see a familiar, grinning face.

Yuan Zhoulu tilted his head. “Why that face? Didn’t sleep well last night?”

His thoughts interrupted, Xi Zhiyu feigned composure as he put his phone away. Being called by his childhood nickname as an adult made him feel a bit awkward, and he gave a soft smile.

“Don’t you usually call me by my nickname, Paipai, too?”

Yuan Zhoulu hooked an arm around his shoulder, his expression secretive. “You brought the fan letters to school, right? Also, there’s something I’ve been dying to ask you.”

Xi Zhiyu: “Okay.”

“Class is about to start. Let’s go back to our seats first.”

This study hall period had no teacher supervising. The students in the special elite class, upon hearing the bell, collectively turned into “task-executors” focused on their practice problems.

Everyone was busy; the surroundings were so quiet that only the sound of pen nibs scratching against paper could be heard.

Only Yuan Zhoulu tore a piece of scrap paper and started writing. Taking advantage of being desk-mates, he insisted on passing a note:

Do you and Xie Yun really not have an arranged childhood engagement?

Xi Zhiyu: “…”

The three of them were childhood friends whose fathers were close.

However, Yuan Zhoulu had met them after being adopted at age five. Later, his father and dad went through a divorce, and he had followed one of them back to a rural area abroad to live a farming life.

For several years, Xi Zhiyu hadn’t seen much of him.

As for Xie Yun, he had even less contact with Yuan Zhoulu now. Though they weren’t strangers, they hardly had any communication.

Of course, these were all accounts Yuan Zhoulu had given personally in an exaggerated tone. To this day, Xi Zhiyu didn’t know why he emphasized it so much, but he hadn’t pressed for details.

Tap.

Yuan Zhoulu tapped the note, urging him to respond.

Xi Zhiyu picked up his fountain pen. His long, clean fingers pressed down the edge of the paper as he slowly wrote five words: There is no such thing.

Yuan Zhoulu: I don’t believe it. You clearly hesitated. Also, that love letter are you going to help that fan give it to Xie Yun?

Xi Zhiyu: No.

Yuan Zhoulu: Good. I’ll tell you a secret: I’ve already figured out who stuffed that love letter in there!

Xi Zhiyu: Is that so?

Yuan Zhoulu snatched the paper back and wrote with the intensity of a master sculptor.

He stopped, admired his work for a moment, and shoved the note back. The content was so cramped it filled almost all the white space.

[There’s a birthday party tonight. I’ll take you there, and you’ll find out then. As for the love letter, it’s good you plan to return it. If you helped a fan give it to Xie Yun, he would definitely be very unhappy.]

Xi Zhiyu felt as though he had hit a blind spot in his knowledge. He paused for a long time: Why?

Yuan Zhoulu stretched his arm out and, right in front of Xi Zhiyu, wrote down words that were absolutely shocking.

Xie Yun has someone he likes. Except for that person, he doesn’t want to receive love letters from anyone else.

Xi Zhiyu: “…”

On that well-defined, handsome face, it seemed as if the signal had been lost; he was clearly “offline.”

Yuan Zhoulu waved a hand in front of his eyes, made a funny face, and mouthed: “Want to know who it is?”

Xi Zhiyu’s mind was a blank void. He wrote down his response and passed the note back:

Do not pry into Yun-zai’s privacy. Focus on your self-study.

Central Berlin.

Since arriving at the hotel, Xie Yun had shared a simple meal with the film’s lead creators and discussed outfits with the stylist.

Afterward, he crashed and slept until his alarm went off, waking up to enter work mode.

The blonde youth sat in the suite’s dressing room, drinking an iced Americano. His bangs were pinned to the left with a long hair clip as he played with his phone out of boredom.

Perhaps due to the long journey, Xie Yun’s mind wasn’t entirely clear. His vision was a bit blurry as he looked at the screen, and his hand slipped.

The phone suddenly vibrated, showing he had nudged Xi Zhiyu’s profile picture again.

Xie Yun jolted. Reflectively, he long-pressed and hit “withdraw,” making sure the small line of text disappeared.

He closed his eyes, feeling the world go dark.

What was going on lately? First a slip-up before bed, and now another stupid mistake right after waking up.

Fortunately, it was around 3:00 PM back home; Xi Zhiyu should be in class and likely wouldn’t notice the notification.

The makeup artist was an older sister from his own team. Seeing him like this for the first time, she laughed. “I thought a flea had jumped on our Yun-zai.”

Xie Yun rubbed the end of his eyebrow and flipped his phone face down, slowly recovering. “I didn’t sleep well.”

As the words left his mouth, Jiang Jia walked past carrying a salad, placing it down heavily in front of the vanity mirror like a savior from the heavens.

But this older cousin was strictly there to cause trouble: “Adolescent kids in love are all the same.”

The makeup artist was shocked: “Our superstar baby is in love?!”

Her voice was loud enough to blow the roof off.

Xie Yun: “…”

He rubbed his earlobe, which carried a faint, hidden flush, and muttered, “How is that possible?”

Yet, his demeanor looked exactly like someone who was.

The makeup artist and Jiang Jia exchanged looks; the former’s smile was as sweet as honey.

She and Jiang Jia were college classmates and trusted members of the inner circle. Teasing the young boss was harmless and carried zero risk of leaking his private life.

Everyone in the team was career-oriented. Noticing she had forgotten a tool, the makeup artist dropped the gossip and hurried back to the suite to grab it.

Jiang Jia stood by his side, glanced at Xie Yun, and said casually, “You look quite well-behaved with your bangs clipped up like that.”

Xie Yun was full of question marks.

“The transfer procedures are already done,” Jiang Jia got down to business. “When do you plan on telling Zhiyu?”

Xie Yun said vaguely, “I don’t plan on telling him in advance.”

Jiang Jia hesitated. This was her own fault; she had taken the jokes too far in the car, giving Xie Yun a sense of crisis and leading him to make the snap decision to transfer.

“Even though your uncles didn’t say anything, I still hope… you don’t do anything impulsive like confessing before the college entrance exams.”

Xie Yun poked a piece of fruit with his fork, his cheek bulging slightly as he chewed. “Don’t worry.”

“I have my own considerations. It’s not entirely because of your influence, Cousin.”

Jiang Jia blinked. “Alright then.”

She got the feeling the little guy was calculating something in his head.

Xie Yun specifically picked out low-calorie guava to eat. To prevent facial swelling on camera, his lunch and dinner consisted mostly of two salads and a steak; he was destined to be carb-free for the day.

He was incredibly strict about his physique and appearance.

Just then.

A notification popped up on his phone. The avatar was a bursting, molten blueberry pie an endless temptation.

[Boss.]

The School Grass has been confessed to by several Omegas recently, almost like they coordinated it.

Do those guys even have eyes? They can’t even tell an Alpha from an Omega. Oh, right I’ll send you a screenshot from the forum, Boss!

Xie Yun squinted at the screen. “…?”

Childhood engagement?!

Jiang Jia happened to be busy and didn’t pay him much mind. When she finished her message and looked up, she saw “the money tree’s” phone was filled with chaotic content.

She asked warily, “Who’s this?”

Xie Yun stroked his phone case, saying thoughtfully, “Last year, I heard Zhiyu-ge was being harassed by an Alpha from a neighboring school.”

“I wanted to ask about the situation, so I added this account on the forum. I’ve kept them as a friend until now.”

Jiang Jia: “…”

She didn’t actually want to interfere too much in his private feelings, but worrying that Xie Yun was hanging out with strange people, she couldn’t help but dig deeper.

“Actually, I’ve guessed who he is,” Xie Yun added. “What he’s planning is also very obvious.”

Jiang Jia only half-understood.

Xie Yun mouthed a two-character nickname. Hearing the familiar name, Jiang Jia pressed a hand to her forehead and gave a bitter laugh. “Then you two keep chatting.”

Immediately after.

Jiang Jia accidentally caught a glimpse of Xie Yun playing along as “Big Brother” to tease his “underling,” even hinting that the other person should change how they addressed Xi Zhiyu.

Cal-Calling him ‘Sister-in-law’?

Jiang Jia was startled by the reflexive title. She glanced at Xie Yun through the mirror, feeling like something wasn’t quite right.

With Xie Yun’s personality, it would be more fitting for him to be kept in line by that scholarly older brother.

In her view, Xie Yun wasn’t suited to take the lead in a relationship. Otherwise, how could he be so clumsy that he couldn’t even manage a simple message?

Some people’s reaction time was apparently a century long. If he insisted on waiting until he was “ready” to make a move, his crush might be snatched away by someone else first.

Once the makeup artist returned, Xie Yun switched into professional mode. He got his hair and makeup done, changed into high-end luxury brand outfits, and filmed studio promotional photos and videos. He stayed in the zone the entire time.

Jiang Jia was busy too. Regarding Xie Yun’s privacy, the transfer and the upcoming schedule adjustments were handled entirely by her.

By the time she snapped out of it, the phone had been shoved into her pocket. The Alpha youth had closed his eyes to conserve energy. “I still have the film festival ceremony to attend later. I need to calm down a bit.”

Jiang Jia leaned against the back of the chair and forced a smile. “Do you know how touched I am? I was really afraid you’d get emotional and let a reporter catch evidence of your unrequited love.”

Xie Yun leaned back, letting out a muffled sound of dissatisfaction through his nose.

“Stop using that to tease me.”

Because the angle was remarkably similar to a pet blogger filming a giant dog, from Jiang Jia’s perspective, Xie Yun’s lack of actual intimidation made his “tough act” look even cuter.

He hooked a finger, practiced and smooth, and pulled his phone back out, saying mischievously:

“If evidence really does get caught—”

“Then I’ll just go ahead and confess to my Ge directly.”

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