The Art School Angler Reeled in the Ice Hockey Prince - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Red Devil

The next day, White Ming’s wound had already scabbed over. He clutched the blanket and headed to the laundry room. It was crowded today, so he tried to minimize his presence, finding a corner washing machine and slotting in his quarters. The dryer cost extra, and since he was a bit short on cash, he figured air-drying it on his balcony would work just as well.

As the large machine hummed and churned, he stood by, waiting quietly.

Before long, people from the neighboring machines started making eye contact. Despite being strangers, they began chatting fervently. For a brief second, the conversation halted as one of them recognized him.

“Hey, Ming! What’s up?”

“Hey. What’s up,” White Ming replied, lifting a hand. He recognized them as classmates from his General Education course. After a month here, his “What’s up” phobia wasn’t cured yet, but he had learned the “Magic Reflect” technique—returning the greeting immediately, since it was just a polite formality and no one actually cared about his life.

However, he forgot to keep his voice down, which invited the very concern he expected.

“Are you okay? You look a bit unhappy,” a classmate asked with a worried gaze.

“No, no, I’m very happy.” He just didn’t have a facial expression!

“Really? I haven’t seen you in class lately.”

The professor spoke too fast for White Ming to follow, so attending felt like a waste of time. Luckily, the grade was based on reading texts, which he did in his dorm. As he struggled to find an explanation, the conversation drew the attention of two other strangers. The worried looks were contagious, and soon they surrounded him.

“I think I’ve seen you on campus; you’re always alone.”

“If you’re having trouble, you must tell us,” another said, grabbing his hand.

Thank you, I’m having trouble right now.

“Don’t bottle it up! There’s a game tonight, come join us!”

A colorful poster was pulled from beneath a laundry basket. White Ming reflexively started to wave them off, but then his eyes caught the “Prizes” section. His gaze was instantly glued to the paper.

Neil saw White Ming at the assembly point for the “Glow Night” event below the library. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he had miscounted.

“Ming, is that really you?!”

“Hi.” That faint, indifferent greeting—who else could it be but White Ming?

Neil didn’t even have to guess what could have dragged him out. “You saw the poster?”

“Yes.” White Ming stretched his arms and bent his waist, looking like a man determined to win.

“Good luck!!!”

The campus was pitch black to coordinate with the night’s activities. The rules were simple: different teams wore different colored fluorescent wristbands and had to snatch glow sticks from the belts of opposing teams. The team with the most of their own color left at the end won. Because the campus was so large, it was divided into zones; in their area, students were split into Green and Red teams by drawing lots.

After drawing his lot, White Ming stepped aside and spotted a familiar silhouette in the darkness.

Connor?

He was also in line. The people around him were very familiar with him, and they looked familiar to White Ming too… he remembered them from that wall mural. The hockey team was here tonight? White Ming, who had already put on a green wristband, looked at their heights and physiques and silently pressed his palms together, praying to the stars above.

Most of them drew green!

Yes! Heaven is on my side!

However… heaven’s help only lasted three minutes.

As it turned out, the hockey team had just finished intensive training and had been dragged in to make up the numbers. They knew better than to waste energy outside of actual matches, so they just went through the motions. Their height became a disadvantage; they were visible everywhere and were quickly surrounded by the Red team, caught like fish in a net.

Amidst a hallway scuffle, White Ming, hiding in the shadows, saw the last fluorescent green stick “crying for help.” He rushed forward. In the chaos, he nearly tripped, but felt someone catch him. Amidst the pushing and shouting, he realized he had been shoved into a dark room.

He met a pair of green eyes. The person holding him was actually Connor. White Ming froze for a second, then noticed something glowing in the dark. He looked down.

“Put it in, quick!”

The dark-haired youth had his legs wrapped around the man’s waist, pinned against the wall in the tiny storage closet. A sliver of light leaked through the door gap, illuminating his opening and closing rosy lips. Seeing no reaction from the man, the boy hooked his calves inward, his eyes filled with urgent longing.

The man, however, brought up a completely unrelated topic: “Is your injury better?”

“It’s fine, hurry!”

Slowly, the man took the green glow stick from his hand and tucked it into the strap on the boy’s waist.

“Thanks!”

With a quick word of thanks, the boy slid off him, peeked out to make sure no one was there, and slipped away like a silent cat.

The man pushed the door open, and the sensor lights flickered on. A slightly shorter man rounded the corner from the shadows. “Connor, he actually came. Did you hook the little beauty?”

Connor, still remembering the tactile sensation of the boy in his arms, shook his head.

“No way. I specifically saved that lot for you so you’d be on the same team and have more time together.”

Connor looked in the direction the boy had run. “Idan, give me your wristband.” Idan was wearing the red one that Connor had originally drawn.

Wait… you can do that?!

White Ming ran, carrying the last hope of his team. A shadow darted past, scaring him.

“It’s me!” It was Neil. He hadn’t been in this area and didn’t know what happened, so he just started running wildly alongside him.

“Why are you trying so hard?!”

“Because of my terrible teammates!”

Useless hockey team!!!

Neil was also on the Green team. He helped White Ming guard his last stick. “Ten minutes left. Everyone is heading to the central fountain. Just hide nearby. If you aren’t found, we win! I have a great idea.”

“What?”

The Garden.

White Ming hid inside a hollow tree trunk. This tree had been crushed by a blizzard last year. Later, art students had hollowed it out and turned it into an installation piece lying on the lawn.

Inside, he started checking the time on his phone. Seven minutes, six, five…

Every second felt eternally long. When it reached the three-minute mark, he felt he could head to the meeting point! Suddenly, there was a rustle of footsteps.

He held his breath.

The footsteps vanished… a hallucination?

He peeked out with one eye. A large hand wearing a red wristband reached in, looking like the bloody maw of a demon about to strike his face! He pulled his head back, and a familiar face appeared at the opening of the tree hollow.

Connor?!

“What are you doing here?” White Ming leaned half his body out, but seeing the wristband flick like a snake’s tongue, he quickly retreated. “How did you become Red?”

Connor spoke unhurriedly: “A good boy’s disguise.”

Disguise?! Since when was that a rule?! No one told him!!!

“Where is it?” Connor’s belt was empty.

With a friend turned enemy, White Ming changed tactics. “I lost it.”

“Want me to help you find it?” That hand moved to his waist. White Ming had nowhere to hide and shuddered. Connor felt around unhurriedly, moving from his stomach to the small of his back. The boy’s waist was barely wider than one and a half of Connor’s palms, it felt even thinner than it looked. The same strap was wrapped around him several times with room to spare.

The man seemed to lose his patience. “Hand it over?”

White Ming shook his head, defending the stick as if he were defending his dignity.

Connor suspected he had tucked the glow stick into the inner layer of the belt. Unable to feel it by just touching, he pressed his palm down. White Ming let out a yelp.

Found it on his side waist. Connor pinched it out with his fingers and waved it at him.

White Ming gripped Connor’s hand with both of his. His round eyes were like a fawn’s, reflecting the green glow with a pitiful look. Connor is a good person; maybe acting cute will work. “Connor, can you give it back? I really, really want the prize.”

“My signed photo?”

White Ming shook his head with total sincerity: “The fishing rod.”

“…”

White Ming tugged on his sleeve. “Please.”

No one could bear to look at that pitiful face and say no. Connor let out a breath. “Want to make a deal?”

White Ming nodded.

The game had been over for five minutes, but everyone was still waiting for the last members of the Green and Red teams. The outcome was undecided, and the organizers didn’t know how to distribute the prizes.

Then, Connor appeared, carrying someone over his shoulder.

The hockey players saw their captain wearing a red band while carrying the “cutie” and knew they had lost. They feigned disappointment. “Dude, teamwork!”

However, as White Ming slid off his shoulder, he showed them his belt. The green stick was clearly still there!

The Green team won!

The dramatic reversal had everyone cheering!

The student organizers lined up to give out rewards. Neil stood next to White Ming, unable to believe it. He whispered, “Ming, how did you win? That was Connor.”

White Ming averted his gaze. “It just… it was still in my hand when the countdown ended.”

The prizes included a hundred dollars in cash, signed photos of sports stars and business moguls, supermarket point cards, amusement park vouchers, movie tickets—all sorts of miscellaneous things. As the school’s most famous fisherman, the only fishing rod went to White Ming.

Neil received a signed photo of Connor. His eyes lit up as he showed it off to White Ming. “I have to treasure this! It’s worth way more than a hundred dollars! You know how many people want this? Some people pay five hundred for one!”

The photo was practically vibrating in White Ming’s face, but he didn’t notice at all. He was lost in his own glittering treasure—a brand-new, limited edition carbon nanotube rod. He was busy kissing and petting it.

“Heh.”

Connor, watching from behind, let out a cold chuckle.

After the crowd dispersed, White Ming headed back to the dorm joyfully clutching his rod. Neil stopped him. “Are you going back to eat grass in your room again?”

“I didn’t catch any fish yesterday. I have no money for anything else.”

“I’m happy today. My treat, let’s get burgers!”

Neil took White Ming to a burger joint, actually a bar near campus that served burger combos. It had wooden tables, simulated deer heads, and pirate ships on the walls, with a central bar and chaotic colorful lights. White Ming didn’t usually visit such noisy places, but he had won a prize and someone was treating him, so he was in a good mood.

They found a booth. Five minutes later, the booth next to them got noisy—the hockey team had arrived. The booth backs were high and the music was loud, so no one noticed them talking quietly. Neil was curious: “How did you get so close to Connor?”

“We aren’t close.”

“Not close? I saw him follow you into the garden almost immediately. Did he let you win on purpose?”

White Ming took a sip of coconut juice. “No. Your idea was good, I hid fast. He’s too big to fit inside that tree hollow.”

“Then why did he carry you back?”

“The time was probably up. He probably thought my legs were short and I walked too slow, wasting his time.”

Neil remembered the rumor and warned him again. “I heard that rumor from a friend who was a hockey team manager for a bit. Be careful.”

White Ming touched his rod and repeated, “He’s a good person.”

The hockey table next door seemed to be getting drunk. Someone slammed a glass on the table and started singing. Neil changed the subject. “Such a good rod! Let’s go test it tomorrow!”

White Ming nodded. With this rod, he could already imagine himself standing grandly at the bow of a boat catching sharks. “I’ll go register it tomorrow morning, and we’ll fish in the afternoon.” Fishing around the Great Lakes was strictly regulated; you needed a license, and equipment changes had to be registered.

Speaking of fishing licenses…White Ming felt around his pockets. His mind went blank. Where was his fishing license?!