Straight Corporate Slave Accidentally Stumbles into the School's F4 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“Young Master, are you really going to bring him home? I’d bet anything he’s just…”

“I said bring him.”

Hearing the shift in Ferrio’s tone, the driver in the rearview mirror hurriedly withdrew his gaze, his speech becoming somewhat stuttered. “Right… right…”

Ferrio had been forced to attend the party immediately after finishing an interview that afternoon. His schedule was incredibly packed, he hadn’t even had time to change clothes, heading to the party straight in his formal attire. While watching the movie, he had been trying to think of a way to leave early, and then he bumped into the drunk Qiao Nai, providing him with the perfect excuse to bail on the party by taking him home.

In truth, Ferrio had hesitated in the bathroom about whether to use this excuse. Bringing someone home was entirely out of character for him, but he hadn’t expected Qiao An to be so cunning—the moment the door opened, he had thrown himself into Ferrio’s arms, giving him no chance to push him away.

Calculated? Yes, calculated.

Ferrio liked to lean one hand against the window and look outside while riding in a car, a pose he could hold perfectly still for an hour or two. But tonight, he didn’t know what was wrong with him—he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the other side of the backseat.

There sat the drunk Qiao Nai, his head bobbing like a carnival toy, swaying left and right. He bumped into Ferrio’s shoulder several times, and each time, Ferrio pushed him away with his palm, his face full of disdain. Yet, after being pushed away, Qiao Nai would just lean back in again.

After an unknown number of shoves, Ferrio finally gave up and just let it happen. Whatever; he’d just throw the suit away once he got home.

The suit jacket he had worn for the interview came in handy now, draped over Qiao An’s shoulders, leaving Ferrio in just his fitted waistcoat and shirt. The light blue shirt was wrapped tightly by the waistcoat, revealing subtle, fluid muscle lines. Two black sleeve garters gripped his biceps, fluctuating slightly with every breath.

Qiao An wasn’t well-behaved when awake, and he was no better asleep. Despite the vast space in the backseat, he stayed pressed firmly against Ferrio. The car’s air conditioning was set high, making it stuffy, and Ferrio turned his head away, loosening his tie. Before his hand could even drop, a weight suddenly landed on his lap—

Qiao Nai was resting his head on his thighs.

Ferrio, who had severe mysophobia: “…”

Almost instantly, Ferrio’s face turned deathly pale. The veins on the back of his hand bulged; he squeezed his fingers, and the sound of his knuckles cracking was magnified infinitely in the confined space, enough to break the driver out in a cold sweat.

Two years ago, Qiao An, a top classical music student, had transferred here without an entrance exam. Perhaps it was his clean-cut appearance, or perhaps his lack of a powerful background, but he was bullied from the very first day. Yun Cheng couldn’t stand it, so he stepped in to help, introducing him to his friends, including Ferrio.

Qiao An knew he was different from Ferrio and Yun Cheng—he had no money, no power, and no influence. Every day, following in their footsteps, he was incredibly cautious; if they went west, he would never go east. Even if Ferrio never said more than a few words to him, Qiao An never complained. This had been the case for years.

Until a month ago, when Ferrio began to notice that Qiao An was acting strange.

It was one night a month ago when Ferrio ran into Qiao An leaving the stadium. Qiao An, who never initiated conversation, had broken the mold and greeted him. Ferrio frowned slightly, holding a football in one hand and his other in his pocket, waiting for what Qiao An would say next. But after a long wait, Qiao An said nothing more, as if he had only wanted to greet him for the sake of it.

After going home, Ferrio didn’t take it to heart because he knew no one would approach him without an ulterior motive. If Qiao An truly wanted something, he would surely try again. Sure enough, ever since that day, whenever Ferrio left the stadium, he would run into Qiao An. From just greeting him to later bringing him water and drinks, this continued every day for several weeks, just as Ferrio had predicted.

However, the strange thing was that, logically, if he really had a motive, shouldn’t he have said it by now? After all, everyone else who had approached him was like that—some didn’t even bother to pretend and would state their demands outright. But Qiao An didn’t. In fact, other than greeting him, he never tried to strike up a conversation. Qiao An didn’t ask, and Ferrio didn’t pry; he felt Qiao An would say it sooner or later.

But a few days ago, when Ferrio left the stadium as usual, he didn’t see Qiao An. He even waited for a while, but he didn’t see him at all. Ferrio and Qiao An weren’t in the same department; apart from being dragged to parties by Yun Cheng occasionally, it was hard to see him. Ever since Qiao An stopped waiting at the stadium entrance, Ferrio hadn’t seen him for nearly a week.

He had only seen Qiao An again tonight. Ferrio didn’t know what he had experienced in those days, but he felt like he had become a different person, changing from being overly cautious to becoming unpredictable. At the party, Ferrio had noticed Qiao An watching him; every time he looked over, he caught Qiao An hastily looking away.

If he had been doubtful at first, he was certain now. Because later, he had seen that pocket watch on a black string around Qiao An’s neck. That pocket watch, which had been with him for many years—why was it suddenly on Qiao An?

Ferrio’s gaze landed on Qiao Nai once again. …

In a hazy daze, the first thing Qiao Nai saw when he opened his eyes was darkness. The second thing he saw was a vintage chandelier. His brain went blank for a split second, then started accelerating.

He narrowed his eyes, and fragmented memories began to coalesce.

Last night, his drink had been swapped for alcohol, he had been doused in water, and while cleaning up in the bathroom, he had bumped into the “original bottom.” He had wanted to throw up, the “original bottom” wouldn’t let him, and had draped his suit jacket over him. Then someone had knocked on the door, the alcohol had hit, and Qiao Nai had collapsed onto the person next to him…

And then…

His memories after that weren’t very clear. Qiao Nai remembered being put into a car, and in his drunken state, he remembered resting his head on something. What was he resting it on again?

While distracted, Qiao Nai caught a scent of perfume—clear and cold, with a sharp finish, like the mineral scent of something buried deep in an ancient forest. It was a very familiar men’s cologne. It was identical to the one he had smelled in the car last night.

“…”

Qiao Nai’s eyes snapped open.

He remembered—he remembered everything. He hadn’t just fallen into the “original bottom’s” arms last night; he had been taken away by him. On top of that, he had been lying on his lap…

He held his breath for ten seconds, then sat up with a start. Having stayed lying down for too long, his brain buzzed as he rose. Qiao Nai gritted his teeth, pounded his head, and scanned his surroundings, discovering he was sitting on a sofa.

Apart from the chandelier, which looked foreign, everything else was unfamiliar—he didn’t even have an impression of them. The extravagant décor, high floor-to-ceiling windows, expensive red carpet over Baroque geometric tiles, and even the velvet sofa. It looked luxurious no matter how you looked at it.

Qiao Nai’s first thought: This definitely isn’t where Qiao An lives! The novel said Qiao An worked for his tuition, and whenever he saved any money, his lazy uncle would swindle him out of it—this had gone on for years. The uncle wouldn’t even let him keep his scholarships, forcing Qiao An to live in the cheapest studio possible.

So, this must be the “original bottom’s” home…

Qiao Nai slapped his thigh. Isn’t this a perfect opportunity?

With that thought, his brain stopped aching, his arms felt fine, and he threw off the blanket and climbed off the sofa. It was dead quiet; no one seemed to be around. As he got up, Qiao Nai checked himself and found he was still wearing the suit jacket from last night, and he hadn’t even taken his shoes off.

In other words, after the “original bottom” brought him home last night, he hadn’t bothered with him at all and had just tossed him onto the sofa.

It seems the road ahead is long and arduous!

But it didn’t matter. Qiao Nai considered himself a cockroach that couldn’t be killed. He had survived bosses who tried to exploit his every waking hour; compared to that, a college student under 20 was a piece of cake. This was the first time Qiao Nai felt truly confident about something.

After getting off the sofa, Qiao Nai didn’t stay idle. He carefully inspected every corner, ensuring no one was around, then walked to the spiral staircase and looked up. There was no one downstairs; they were either out or upstairs. But the latter was more likely; since a stranger was in the house, it was impossible that no one was home.

“Is anyone here?” Qiao Nai shouted tentatively.

Great, no answer—which meant he was implicitly allowed to go upstairs.

Qiao Nai clicked his tongue, thought for a moment, and decided to check upstairs first. He had just lifted his foot when he heard footsteps at the entryway. The door opened, and Qiao Nai immediately jumped back onto the sofa.

“Hey! Qiao An, you’re awake?” Yun Cheng was the first to rush to Qiao Nai’s side. He scanned Qiao Nai up and down, and only after ensuring his complexion looked decent did he finally stop. “You scared the hell out of me. Thank goodness nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened?” Qiao Nai felt uncomfortable being looked at like that and rubbed his arms.

“Allergic reaction.” A boy with white hair and blue eyes accompanied by Qiao Nai also came over. He wore a turtleneck sweater and a wool coat, exuding a gentle, cultured vibe. He walked up to Qiao Nai and reached out, seemingly wanting to touch his forehead.

Qiao Nai reflexively dodged backward.

The white-haired boy didn’t seem embarrassed; he smiled and retracted his hand. His voice was as gentle as his appearance—the very image of a next-door “big brother.” “Qiao An, are you not having an allergic reaction this time?”

The boy’s name was Cabre. He was one of the F4, and his family were neighbors with Ferrio and Yun Cheng. His family was equally wealthy and powerful, and the three of them had grown up together.

“I…” Qiao Nai paused, realizing Qiao An might be allergic to alcohol. To prevent breaking character, he hurriedly patched it up: “I took medicine beforehand.”

“Oh, no wonder you’re in good shape this time.” Yun Cheng gripped Qiao Nai’s arm and stared for a long time, only letting go when Cabre pulled him away. “Oh, by the way, is it just you here? Where’s Lio?”

Lio?

Qiao Nai’s furrowed brows suddenly relaxed. So, the “original bottom’s” name was Lio.

Support Straight Corporate Slave Accidentally Stumbles into the School’s F4