I Can’t Keep Being a Scumbag Anymore—What Should I Do? [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 10

Ran Muqiu immediately pulled out the script he had prepared in his head: “We’re not close at all. That guy just transferred here; how could I possibly be familiar with him?”

Li Zhu gave a soft “Oh,” and Ran Muqiu quickly pressed on: “Besides, he came from East High. They say he was the boss there. Apparently, he has a pretty bad temper.”

In truth, Ran Muqiu wanted to lodge a direct complaint and tell Li Zhu that Feng Qin had stolen his seat on the very first day.

But a vague description like “bad temper” sounded too much like he was just looking for trouble or speaking ill of someone behind their back, which might backfire.

Furthermore, he was a school bully himself. If word got out that he’d had his seat snatched by the boss of a rival school, how was he supposed to maintain his reputation?

Even though his dignity had mostly crumbled in front of Li Zhu already, he couldn’t just give up on himself entirely.

After speaking, Ran Muqiu nervously observed Li Zhu’s reaction.

“I see.” Li Zhu nodded thoughtfully. He reached out, giving Ran Muqiu’s soft palm a gentle squeeze. “He certainly doesn’t sound like a good person. In the future, try to speak to him as little as possible.”

Ran Muqiu blinked.

He was so surprised that he forgot to protest against Li Zhu casually taking liberties with him again. “That’s it?”

Li Zhu lifted his gaze. “Hmm?”

“Oh, uh,” Ran Muqiu was still a bit dazed. “Nothing.”

He was just stunned. The Protagonist Shou actually just went along with him and spoke ill of Feng Qin?

Was it really this easy to drive a wedge between them?

By the time the two returned to the classroom, the bell had long since rung.

The homeroom teacher was already standing at the podium.

Seeing Ran Muqiu and Li Zhu arriving late, the teacher looked ready to snap, but upon seeing Li Zhu’s face, he forced himself to swallow his anger. “Since Li Zhu is back, remember to move your seats back.”

He finished speaking and looked away, seemingly afraid that looking at them longer would only frustrate him more.

Li Zhu was the only student in class with the potential for a top-tier university, but for some reason, he’d started entangling himself with Ran Muqiu, the leader of the troublemakers.

The teacher had tried talking to him—appealing to emotion and reason. Last time, he’d even been blunt: Ran Muqiu’s family was wealthy and powerful; even if he failed the college entrance exams, he had ten thousand other paths. But if Li Zhu messed up his exams by hanging around him, what would happen to the rest of his life?

But Li Zhu hadn’t been appreciative at all. He’d simply said, with quiet dignity, that he knew what he was doing and it wouldn’t affect his studies.

Then he’d turned right back around and spent every day trailing after Ran Muqiu, regardless of whether the boy even paid him any attention.

If they weren’t both boys, the teacher would have suspected Li Zhu was trying to court a girl and would have called his parents immediately.

The teacher let out a long sigh and opened his lesson plan.

While he lectured at the front, a rustling sound came from the back—Li Zhu was moving a chair.

There were exactly forty-four seats in the class, not one more or less.

Since Feng Qin had forcibly taken Ran Muqiu’s spot, Ran Muqiu had moved to Li Zhu’s seat, which fit perfectly.

But now that Li Zhu was back, there was obviously one seat missing, yet no one offered to help.

The moment Ran Muqiu entered the room, he had naturally reclaimed his spot at Li Zhu’s desk and flopped down to sleep. He had absolutely no intention of giving the seat back to Li Zhu.

The entire class was waiting to see Li Zhu embarrassed, assuming he’d have to stand for the rest of the period. Dozens of gazes drifted toward the back of the room.

Then, they watched as Li Zhu walked to the last row, picked up the chair used to prop open the back door, and placed it right next to Ran Muqiu.

Li Zhu sat down, shoulder-to-shoulder with Ran Muqiu.

Sensing someone beside him, Ran Muqiu looked up. He didn’t protest; instead, he groggily leaned a bit closer and tilted his head, resting it right on Li Zhu’s arm.

Li Zhu arched his body slightly, adjusting his posture so the boy could sleep more comfortably.

The entire class: “…”

Qin Wei had the strongest reaction. He was so angry he looked ready to snap his ballpoint pen in half, hissing through gritted teeth, “That bastard!”

He’s doing it on purpose, isn’t he?

He’d known all along that this guy named Li was a fox spirit, just like his mother. In broad daylight, in front of everyone, he dared to openly seduce Brother Qiu?

Since class was still in session, Qin Wei couldn’t explode. He shifted his gaze to Feng Qin, sitting to his front-right.

Feng Qin had his elbows on the desk, staring expressionlessly at the blackboard. His jawline was taut, and he was radiating a heavy, low-pressure aura.

Qin Wei sneered.

If it weren’t for this East High grandson stealing Brother Qiu’s seat, Brother Qiu wouldn’t have been forced to sit with Li Zhu, giving the guy this opportunity. Even if Brother Qiu didn’t say it, Qin Wei would find a way to deal with this brat sooner or later.

He was ruining everything.

Ran Muqiu was completely oblivious to the undercurrents in the room.

The basketball game had drained his energy, and dealing with an unplanned “crematorium” scene afterward had left him exhausted.

When he’d looked up groggily, he’d momentarily forgotten where he was, thinking he was back at the rental apartment. Seeing Li Zhu, he had naturally leaned over.

After all, he spent a fortune “sponsoring” Li Zhu; using him as a human pillow was a fair deal.

He slept soundly, pillowed comfortably on Li Zhu’s left arm, his cheek slightly puffed out against the pressure.

Their seats were in the most inconspicuous corner of the classroom.

Li Zhu reached into his pencil case for a pen. Looking down at the soft, close-range face of the boy, he couldn’t help himself and reached out to touch it.

Feeling an itch, Ran Muqiu’s long lashes fluttered. He wrinkled his nose but didn’t open his eyes.

Li Zhu gave his cheek two gentle pinches.

This finally disturbed his slumber. Ran Muqiu’s nose wrinkled further, and a tiny, kitten-like whimper escaped his throat. He shifted his neck, burying his entire face into the crook of Li Zhu’s arm and nuzzling against it.

The corners of Li Zhu’s lips curled upward.

A moment later, he lifted his head and locked eyes with Feng Qin, who had looked back as if by accident.

Feng Qin’s eyes were ice-cold, staring at them with a look bordering on somber.

Li Zhu didn’t flinch or look away. He simply raised an eyebrow, his own gaze gradually turning cold.

The bell rang.

It was the second-to-last period, almost time for school to let out. The teacher was assigning homework over the noisy chatter of the classroom.

Ran Muqiu, unable to sleep through the noise, finally lifted his head.

Li Zhu stood up, picking up the water bottle from the top right corner of the desk. “I’ll go get you some water.”

Still sleepy, Ran Muqiu nodded indifferently. “Mm.”

Once he was gone, Ran Muqiu pulled out his phone, scrolling aimlessly and occasionally letting out a small yawn.

A shadow suddenly loomed over him.

“Get up.”

The male voice was deep, laced with a suppressed anger.

Ran Muqiu looked up, puzzled.

Standing by his desk was Feng Qin.

He hadn’t even changed out of his basketball uniform. His muscular arms were exposed, but his handsome face was so dark it looked like it might drip ink, as if someone owed him millions.

He looked extremely dangerous.

Ran Muqiu immediately went on the alert. “What?”

As a fellow Gong, Feng Qin’s physical “hardware” was clearly superior. In a head-to-head fight, Ran Muqiu would definitely lose.

But this was his home turf.

Ran Muqiu glanced toward Qin Wei.

Qin Wei was already staring them down, looking ready to charge in and protect his boss the moment Feng Qin made a move.

Ran Muqiu breathed a silent sigh of relief and looked back at Feng Qin, tilting his small chin up. “Something you need?”

“The seat,” Feng Qin stared at him. “I’m giving it back to you.”

Looking at Feng Qin’s dark expression, Ran Muqiu blinked, his sleepiness vanishing instantly.

Having read dozens of “heartbreak” novels, he quickly pieced together the situation.

The Protagonist Gong had originally stolen the seat to show his dominance, but he’d realized too late that this move had only pushed his love rival and his crush closer together. Now he was off-balance and wanted to swap back so he could be close to the Protagonist Shou.

But by what right?

As the primary stumbling block on the road to the protagonists’ romance, why should he obediently let himself be ordered around?

A line immediately sprang into Ran Muqiu’s mind.

He flashed a smile at Feng Qin, his slender index finger tapping the rhythm on the desk. “You seized my seat whenever you felt like it, and now you don’t want it anymore and expect me to just take it back? Since when does everything go exactly how you say?”

Feng Qin looked down, scanning the cramped desk that now held two chairs. He took a deep breath and countered with a question of his own: “So, you’re going to keep sitting here?”

“Is there a problem with that?” Ran Muqiu threw his own words back at him. “I’m not nearsighted; it’s all the same to me where I sit.”

Feng Qin remained silent for a long moment.

He seemed to have been rendered speechless by the retort.

Ran Muqiu held his chin high, looking at him with an air of pure defiance.

Feng Qin stared at him for a while, his face growing darker by the second. Suddenly, without a word, he turned around, strode back to his own seat, lifted the entire desk, and marched back to Ran Muqiu’s side.

Holding the desk with one hand, he addressed the boy sitting to Ran Muqiu’s left: “Hey, classmate. Care to swap seats?”

His tone was polite enough for a negotiation.

However, his face was clouded with such ferocity that he looked like a god of death. The chubby boy was terrified and nodded frantically. “Huh? Sure, okay.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the boy grabbed his backpack and fled the scene as if escaping a natural disaster.

He wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever drama was unfolding between these three.

Feng Qin moved quickly, finishing his setup before Li Zhu could return from the water dispenser.

He sat in his new spot, his eyes closed and the front legs of his chair tilted off the floor. His long legs were lazily crossed, and his arms were folded over his chest as he leaned against the wall to rest—looking every bit the arrogant, punchable jerk.

Ran Muqiu was genuinely stunned by his sheer shamelessness.

“You.” He stared wide-eyed at Feng Qin’s sharp profile, stammering, “How can you be like this?”

Feng Qin didn’t even lift an eyelid. “Like what?”

Ran Muqiu knew exactly what this was: the Protagonist Gong was launching his offensive, officially moving in to steal his person.

The original script didn’t have all these twists and turns; it relied entirely on explicit scenes to drive the plot, and the personalities of the main characters were largely diluted between one bedroom encounter and the next.

But after entering this “Quick Transmigration” world, the adult content had been censored, allowing the characters’ true personalities to shine through.

Ran Muqiu was now certain that the Protagonist Gong was naturally this much of a roguish, overbearing brat. He was utterly insufferable!

Why on earth would Li Zhu fall for someone like this?

Fuming, Ran Muqiu lost his filter and blurted out, “Do you really have to be such a third wheel?”

Currently, the protagonists weren’t even a couple yet; he was the one and only “sponsor” of the Protagonist Shou. What was Feng Qin’s behavior if not being a third wheel?

Feng Qin was quiet for a moment before finally opening his eyes.

After a beat, he turned his head and gave Ran Muqiu a blatant, mischievous grin. “Being a third wheel isn’t against the law, is it?”

How do you think Li Zhu will react when he returns to find he now has two “suitors” flanking him?