Who Asked You To Deceive My First Love? - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Thank-You Gift: “A friend of mine liked it.”

Qiao Muyu sensed trouble. He quickly turned off the faucet and walked over, acting as if nothing had happened. “Chen Qian? What’s going on?”

Chen Qian’s eyes lit up when she saw him. “President, he—”

Qiao Muyu interrupted her with a smile: “I’m not the President anymore. You are.”

Chen Qian was one year junior to Qiao Muyu, a student in the sophomore elite class. She was straightforward, had a strong sense of justice, and deeply admired Qiao Muyu, who had looked after her when she was a freshman in the Student Council.

She stuck out her tongue, still not used to her new title. “Senior, this guy brought a phone to school. I caught him sending messages right here.”

Qiao Muyu glanced at Lu Zhen. Seeing the guy’s face clouded with annoyance, Qiao suppressed a smile, knitted his brows, and acted stern. “Lu Zhen, is this true?”

Lu Zhen gave a flat “Mm.” Without a word of defense, he handed the phone over. “My fault. Confiscate it if you want.”

Chen Qian hadn’t expected someone so tall and imposing to be so submissive. The lecture she had prepared died in her throat, and she forgot to take the device.

Qiao Muyu looked at the phone. It was the latest flagship model from a famous brand, looking like it had been unboxed only days ago. Yet, Lu Zhen acted as if it were a fifty-cent lollipop rather than a five-figure piece of tech. Even if it were confiscated, this rich heir wouldn’t feel the sting.

However, if this reached “Old Wan,” Qiao Muyu would likely suffer too. Old Wan had told him to look after the new kid; he couldn’t exactly “look after” him by letting him get written up for a disciplinary review in his first week.

Qiao Muyu turned to Chen Qian, his voice softening. “Chen Qian, he’s a new transfer student. He’s only been here three days and likely doesn’t know the rules. It’s my fault for forgetting to tell him. I’ll make sure he reads the handbook when we get back. How about letting it slide this once?”

Chen Qian was the type who responded to “soft” tactics, and she certainly couldn’t handle Qiao Muyu’s “pitiful puppy” gaze. After a moment of hesitation, she relented. “Fine. For Senior’s sake, just this once. Don’t let it happen again.”

Qiao Muyu immediately turned on the charm: “Thank you, President Chen!”

Chen Qian waved and left, leaving Qiao Muyu and Lu Zhen standing in the corridor in an awkward silence.

“Did she scare you?” Qiao Muyu asked, relieved the situation was handled.

Lu Zhen twitched the corner of his mouth. “She’s a bit fierce. She threatened to drag me to the Dean immediately. I thought I’d committed some heinous crime.”

Seeing him so disgruntled, Qiao Muyu couldn’t help but laugh. “Chen Qian is the Student Council President. She’s responsible. Of course she’d be upset seeing a rule being broken.”

“I didn’t know No. 3 High banned phones,” Lu Zhen admitted.

“I figured.” Qiao Muyu didn’t scold him; instead, he offered some comfort. “It’s no big deal. Plenty of people bring them, myself included occasionally. But we hide them. No one is as blatant as you—bringing it to the opening ceremony where teachers and deans are everywhere? If they caught you, they’d make you write a self-criticism on stage.”

He leaned in closer to whisper: “Oh, and every Monday before morning study, the Student Council checks for contraband. Don’t bring anything you shouldn’t that day, or it’ll definitely be gone.”

Lu Zhen looked at him, confused. “Aren’t you the Student Council President? Is it appropriate to tell me this?”

“I was the President. My year stepped down to focus on the college entrance exams,” Qiao Muyu joked. “Besides, the President is a student too. Building good relations with classmates is important—otherwise, who would’ve voted for me?”

Lu Zhen nodded. “Thanks.”

Qiao Muyu smiled. “We’re in the same class. Don’t mention it.”

…

Not long after returning to his seat, it was Qiao Muyu’s turn to take the stage as the student representative. Despite his experience, the gaze of over two thousand people made him slightly nervous. However, he was a master of appearances. His speech was flawless, and he finished to thunderous applause.

Back at his seat, Du Jingfei draped an arm around him. “Smooth, Xiao Yu! As expected of my ‘son.’ Your ‘father’ is very proud.”

“Piss off,” Qiao Muyu shoved him. “Stop trying to be my dad.”

After the speeches, the elite students were called up to receive their scholarships. Walking down with his gold certificate and an envelope of cash, Du Jingfei said, “Yu, come to my house for lunch after school. My mom is definitely making a feast!”

“No, next time,” Qiao Muyu replied. “I need to go to the bookstore to buy something.” He shook his scholarship envelope. “I’m going to treat myself.”

…

After school, Qiao Muyu cycled to the Xinghai Bookstore. This shop didn’t just sell books; it sold stationery and high-end gifts, making it a hotspot for students.

He rushed to the shelf he had scouted out weeks ago, but his heart sank. The artbook he wanted was gone.

He approached a clerk. “Excuse me, is the new artbook by ‘San Ju’ [Three Oranges] still in stock? The one with the light blue cover?”

“Oh, that one?” the clerk recalled. “It’s sold out. We only had a few copies.”

“Sold out?” Qiao Muyu’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure there isn’t one left?”

“There was one left, but a boy just bought it a few minutes ago.”

His last shred of hope vanished. Qiao Muyu stood there, his hand clutching the scholarship envelope. He had waited for this money specifically to buy this book, which San Ju had released after a five-year hiatus. He was too late.

Dejected, he turned to leave, only to bump into Lu Zhen.

Qiao Muyu quickly hid his disappointment. “Student Lu? You’re here too? What a coincidence.”

Lu Zhen didn’t make small talk. He rummaged through his shopping bag and pulled out a book with a light blue cover. “Looking for this?”

“You bought the last copy!” Qiao Muyu’s eyes lit up. “Wait, did you hear what I just said to the clerk?”

“Mm.” Lu Zhen handed it to him. “You like this?”

Qiao Muyu nodded solemnly. “I love it. Can you sell it to me? I’ll pay double!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Qiao Muyu called himself a “stupid fish.” Trying to bribe a rich kid with money? How foolish.

“No need,” Lu Zhen said. “I’ll give it to you.”

“Give it to me?” Qiao Muyu was stunned. “Are you sure?”

“You helped me this morning. Consider this a thank-you gift.”

Qiao Muyu took the book carefully, feeling the smooth paper and smelling the faint scent of incense. It was perfect. “I didn’t know you liked San Ju’s work too.”

“A friend of mine did,” Lu Zhen said, his voice dropping. “San Ju was his favorite illustrator.”

“Your friend?” Qiao Muyu felt a bit awkward, as if he were taking something meant for someone else. “Is this a gift for him? Is it okay if you give it to me?”

Lu Zhen looked at the cover—a pale blue sea under golden sunlight. His expression was unreadable. “It’s fine. I don’t know where he is now. I couldn’t give it to him even if I wanted to.”

With that, he turned to leave.

“Hey! Have you eaten? Let me treat you to lunch!” Qiao Muyu called out.

“No,” Lu Zhen replied without looking back. “My family is waiting for me. I should go.”

…

Cycling home to the old residential area in the west of the city, Qiao Muyu was in a great mood. He hummed as he climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, but stopped when he heard a familiar voice.

“Oh, Old Qiao, you’re back?” a neighbor asked.

“Just got in!” Qiao Muyu’s father, Qiao Yongde, replied. “Driving that long-haul truck for days… exhausting.”

“Well, your son makes it worth it! I heard he was the student representative today. He’s going to a top university like Qinghua or Peking, for sure!”

“Of course! My son is going to do his best!” Qiao Yongde boasted.

Qiao Muyu waited until the neighbor left before entering. His father was already sprawled on the sofa, opening a beer. He was a long-haul driver who spent his home time drinking heavily.

“Dad? You said you’d be back tomorrow.”

“What, do I need to notify you to come to my own house?” Qiao Yongde barked. “Get in the kitchen and make me some noodles. I’m starving.”

Qiao Muyu put his bag on the sofa and went to cook. When he returned with a steaming bowl, a book was suddenly hurled at his feet. BAM.

The hot soup splashed onto Qiao Muyu’s hand, scalding it.

“Qiao Muyu! Is this what should be in your bag?!”

Qiao Muyu looked down. It was an artbook. His bag had been dumped out on the table. “You went through my things again?” he asked, anger rising.

“I’m your father! I can go through whatever I want!” Qiao Yongde yelled, the alcohol already hitting him. “I slave away for your allowance so you can buy this useless trash?”

“I used my scholarship money!”

“Your money?” Qiao Yongde sneered. “You only got that scholarship because I provide for you!” He snatched Qiao Muyu’s sketchbook and threw it at his face. Qiao Muyu flinched, but the edge still left a red mark on his cheek.

“You spend all day drawing! You think you’re an artist? I told you: nothing but studying! If your grades drop because of this, get out of this house. Your mother and I were blind to bring you home from that orphanage!”

“…”

Qiao Muyu lowered his head, his knuckles white. He wanted to scream, but instead, he looked up with a compliant, harmless smile. “I understand.”

He turned to his room, but his father stopped him. “Take that garbage and throw it out. I don’t want to see it again.”

…

Qiao Muyu picked up the artbook and walked out of the apartment. He stood in the corridor for a long time, stroking the cover. A tear fell, soaking into the blue sea on the front. He quickly wiped it away.

He knocked on the neighbor’s door. A seven-year-old girl, Xia Ling, answered. “Brother Xiao Yu!”

“Hey, Ling-er,” Qiao Muyu smiled, hiding his red cheek. “Here, this is for you. I hope you like it.”

“Wow! So pretty!” the girl chirped.

As he turned to leave, the girl pressed a piece of candy into his hand. “My mom says this is ‘courtesy.’ I heard Uncle Qiao yelling… is it because of the book? Why won’t he let you draw?”

Qiao Muyu sighed. “I’m a high schooler now. I have more important things to do.”

“Like studying?”

“Yeah. Studying to be Number One.”

The little girl tilted her head. “But my mom says being Number One doesn’t matter. Being happy does.”

Qiao Muyu froze. He patted her head. “That’s because your mother loves you very much.”

He went back inside. His father passed out on the sofa, snoring loudly. Qiao Muyu washed the empty noodle bowl and locked himself in his room to study.