The Gloomy Overseas Student Rewards His Hubby With Some Thirst Traps - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Trash Talk

Yu Yanshuang didn’t even dare wait for the elevator. Terrified that Cyan would catch up, he frantically found the stairwell and bolted down the flights.

He didn’t waste a single second. He burst out of the villa and kept running as if a predatory beast were nipping at his heels.

At this hour, the street was still lined with cars; it was only shortly after 10:00 PM, and the party was nowhere near over. Finding no one to hitch a ride with to the nearest bus stop, Yu Yanshuang had to keep walking, using his GPS to navigate.

As his racing heart finally began to steady, he let out a long, fearful sigh and spotted a bench. He slumped down to rest.

Today’s series of maneuvers had nearly drained his spirit. All he wanted was to lie down and not move, but remembering the photos on his phone, he slowly pulled it out to admire his handiwork.

Besides the two he took in the room, he had shots of them holding hands along the way and several of Cyan leaning his head on Yu Yanshuang’s shoulder while drunk. He had over a dozen in total.

He opened a photo-editing app and began mosaicking any parts that could identify him.

When he reached the final photo—the one Cyan had taken—memories of what happened in that room came rushing back. The phantom sensation of being touched returned, and Yu Yanshuang irritably began scrubbing his palms against his pant legs.

He muttered hatefully, “Why is even that part of him so… impressive?”

He added another reason to his list of why he hated Cyan Bas.

After editing several photos and obscuring his own identity so thoroughly even his adoptive mother wouldn’t recognize him, Yu Yanshuang felt secure. He planned to go to Cyan’s class tomorrow and send them to him right in front of his face.

He wanted to savor every drop of Cyan’s reaction.

As for whether Cyan would actually remember the night’s events—well, the deed was done. Yu Yanshuang chose to play the ostrich and bury his head in the sand, refusing to think about the consequences.

The most pressing issue now was simply getting back to campus.

…

“Ah!”

Yu Yanshuang woke up with a start, nearly jumping out of his skin.

He snapped angrily, “Garcia, what the hell are you doing standing by my bed so early in the morning?”

Garcia stared strangely at Yu Yanshuang’s neck. “Who did you sleep with last night? They were certainly… enthusiastic.” He then murmured to himself, “I thought you were still a virgin, but you play pretty rough.”

Yu Yanshuang’s eyes widened. He scrambled out of bed and rushed to the vanity where Garcia had a full-length mirror.

One look and he understood Garcia’s expression. His neck was covered in hickeys.

Yu Yanshuang knit his brows, tilting his chin up to inspect the damage. So when I was dragging Cyan along and he kept burying his face in my neck… he was giving me hickeys?

What the hell? Is Cyan a pervert?

The villa had been loud and crowded; Yu Yanshuang had occasionally felt a stinging sensation on his neck and pushed Cyan away, assuming it was just stubble or a stray button scratching him. The man’s warm breath had been constant, so he hadn’t paid attention to what that lingering warmth actually was.

“Is he crazy?” Yu Yanshuang even found a faint red mark on the curve of his ear.

He stared at his reflection, his gaze growing darker. He grabbed his clothes and ducked into the bathroom.

Last night, he had walked a long distance before finally catching an Uber, then transferred from a bus to the subway. All the while, he’d been on high alert for anyone “carrying heat” who might jump out to steal his phone—he hadn’t even dared to take out his second-hand device.

By the time he reached the dorm, he was exhausted. He suspected the students on his floor had all been at the party, as it was unusually quiet, allowing him to collapse into sleep without noticing his own condition.

By 5:00 AM, the revelers were returning. The dorm walls were pathetically thin; he remembered his first night at school was spent listening to the intense moans from the room next door.

When Yu Yanshuang finished his shower, Garcia was still awake, staring at the ceiling with a complex expression. He looked at Yu Yanshuang as he emerged.

Garcia smiled slightly and teased, “Was it a man? You’re scrubbing your neck like you want to take a layer of skin off.”

Yu Yanshuang didn’t answer. Water droplets slid from his hair down his neck, which was now bright red from his aggressive scrubbing. As he reached for clothes to cover himself, Garcia noticed Yu Yanshuang’s palms were also flushed red.

“It was a man, wasn’t it?” Garcia teased again. “I recall someone saying last night: ‘I don’t like men.'”

Yu Yanshuang looked at Garcia expressionlessly, then suddenly smiled. “You really want to know?”

Garcia was secretly stunned. Yu Yanshuang should smile more; he looked radiant when he did. “You want to talk about it?” Garcia’s voice softened.

Yu Yanshuang’s smile vanished instantly. “I’m not telling you.”

Garcia found the pettiness adorable. Instead of getting angry, he reminded him, “Don’t forget our deal this afternoon.”

“Yeah.” Unable to find a turtleneck, Yu Yanshuang settled for a scarf to hide his neck before heading out to his shift at the cafeteria.

…

When he squeezed into the Economics lecture hall, Yu Yanshuang couldn’t even find a seat.

Economics was the star major at the University of Chicago. Many students who didn’t get into the program would audit the classes, but even more were there just to see Cyan. Usually, these people would filter out once the lecture officially started.

Apparently, the crowds had disrupted class discipline before. Compared to the groupies, UChicago was full of “academic try-hards.” While they didn’t dare complain to Cyan’s face, they gossiped bitterly behind his back.

To resolve this, Cyan had once bought snacks for the entire class and then didn’t show up for a month. This caused a civil war among his fans, who blamed the disruptive ones for driving him away. Since then, an unspoken rule had formed: the onlookers would leave once the bell rang.

Yu Yanshuang huddled in a corner, waiting for the crowd to thin and for Cyan to arrive. He wasn’t even sure if Cyan would show up—rumor had it he was already taking advanced Finance courses and didn’t need the basics.

He lowered his head to look at his own major’s notes. Due to his English level, his previous lecture notes were a mess of half-understood terms. He began translating them one by one.

He didn’t want to fail; he just wanted to limp across the finish line with a diploma and go home. He didn’t want to stay in this country where it felt like he was living with a target on his back. Even if no one was waiting for him in China, he wanted to be somewhere familiar.

Of course, he also fantasized about building an empire and returning in glory—but that was just a dream.

“Cyan! Cyan!”

The excited whispers around him pulled him back. He looked toward the door.

Cyan was saying goodbye to his athlete friends. Only Cyan was taking the Finance-track Economics course; not everyone was as versatile as him.

Yu Yanshuang felt that familiar sting of jealousy. He hated that if he had been just a bit more capable, he wouldn’t be this destitute after losing his status.

Perhaps his gaze was too intense, because Cyan instinctively looked over. After a micro-second of eye contact, Yu Yanshuang immediately looked down, burying his face deeper into his scarf.

He concluded that Cyan must have forgotten everything. Why else would he look so relaxed? If he remembered, he’d probably have turned the school upside down to find him by now.

Yu Yanshuang had no idea how endearing he looked, huddled into his scarf with downcast eyes.

Cyan felt a familiar itch in his teeth. His gaze landed on the scarf-wrapped neck, secretly recalling how the beautiful Asian man had left that vulnerable skin unguarded the night before.

When Cyan had kissed him gently, the boy hadn’t even noticed, his focus entirely on his surroundings. It was only when Cyan sucked hard that the boy’s waist would go weak, causing him to lean into Cyan’s chest before turning around to deliver a frustrated, weak slap.

That slap felt more like flirting than a reprimand, only making Cyan want to bite him more. And he had—leaving a total mess of marks on Yu Yanshuang’s neck.

As Cyan sat down, the bell rang. The onlookers left. Yu Yanshuang, seated where he could see Cyan’s profile, began drafting a text.

He chose the most scandalous photo—the one Cyan had taken himself. Under Yu Yanshuang’s heavy editing, the identity of the person in Cyan’s arms was invisible, making the suggestive pose look even more like a “scandal.”

Just as he was about to hit send, the person behind him tapped his back. Yu Yanshuang looked up dazed, only to see the professor frowning at him.

“You there. I don’t recognize you. You’ve never attended this class. Someone like you couldn’t possibly understand this lecture. If you’re here to stare at Cyan, please leave now.”

Yu Yanshuang’s ears turned beet red instantly. Embarrassment and rage surged within him. He was momentarily paralyzed, unable to find the words to speak back.

Cyan spoke up calmly, “Professor, are you being racially biased?”

The lecturer immediately denied it. “Of course not. He hasn’t even brought a book. I dislike students who don’t respect my time.”

“If you aren’t being biased, then you should first ask if any student is willing to share a book with him, and then observe if he is paying attention—rather than trying to kick him out using my name as an excuse,” Cyan said, turning his head toward Yu Yanshuang. “Do you know what ‘opportunity cost’ is?”

Under the scarf, Yu Yanshuang bit his lip hard. He knew. He actually knew. Before being forced abroad, he had planned to study Finance and had even pre-studied the material. But since arriving in Chicago, he hadn’t opened a single Finance book.

It was a simple question. Cyan was giving him a chance to prove the professor wrong.

But Yu Yanshuang didn’t want this chance. Cyan’s “mercy” only made him hate this shitty world more. Only someone of the privileged class like Cyan could dismiss a professor’s authority so casually without fearing a failing grade. Cyan could learn whatever he wanted without a worry for the future.

Yu Yanshuang was struggling just to maintain a shred of dignity while working a dead-end job!

Fortunately, he wasn’t a student of this major, so he didn’t care about the grade. And fortunately, his life was already a wreck!

Still clutching his phone, in a fit of impulsive rage, Yu Yanshuang hit ‘Send.’ Then he looked up at the professor.

“I heard your lectures were trash, so I came to see just how bad they are. Tsk. As soon as you opened your mouth, I realized I was wasting my time. Go back to your mother and cry about your failures!”

With that, he turned and walked out, ignoring the professor’s sputtering rage.

Trying to out-trash-talk a Chinese person? Good luck.