You Like The Smart Ones? You Should Have Said So Sooner! - Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Red Ears

Qin Mian was awake, leaning against the headboard and drinking porridge. Song Ying watched him in silence. The quiet between them was so heavy it felt like the volume had been turned all the way down.

When Qin Mian finished the porridge, Song Ying immediately reached out to take the bowl and handed over two tissues for him to wipe his mouth. He acted just like a dutiful, attentive little wife.

Qin Mian couldn’t stand seeing Song Ying like this and let out a sigh. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Song Ying stiffened, waiting for the judgment to descend.

Qin Mian’s voice still carried the weakness of recovery. He looked at the other boy listlessly and asked, “Your previous high school was Linjiang No. 2?”

Song Ying nodded obediently.

“Teacher Mo Weixin was your math teacher?”

Song Ying hesitated for a split second before nodding.

“This year’s provincial top scholar, Ji Chenxiang, was your classmate?”

Song Ying nodded with difficulty.

Qin Mian fell silent. Recalling his reaction when he saw Ji Chenxiang’s name on Song Ying’s phone earlier, he closed his eyes in wordless frustration. How could I have been so stupid!?

What level was Linjiang No. 2? It was a school where anyone you picked at random was a top-tier student. What level was Mo Weixin? A renowned Master Teacher. What level was Ji Chenxiang? The top science scholar whom the media had been chasing for weeks.

Song Ying was connected to all of them; how could he possibly be bad at school? And here Qin Mian was, thinking he was qualified to teach Song Ying?

Qin Mian almost laughed at his own expense. For so many days, he hadn’t suspected Song Ying in the slightest.

“Tell me, then—why did you play me for a fool?” Qin Mian lifted his eyelids, his voice lacking strength.

Seeing that the other was finally giving him a chance to explain, Song Ying felt a weight lift from his heart. “I wasn’t playing you. I really didn’t do it on purpose.”

Qin Mian raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You’re that good at math, yet you pretended to be a slacker in front of me for so long, and it wasn’t on purpose? Did I force you to pretend?”

In a sense, you actually did,” Song Ying said hesitantly.

Qin Mian: ?

Song Ying steered the conversation back, struggling to organize his words. “I really didn’t mean it. At the time, you mistook Li Zhixun’s test paper for mine and asked if I wanted tutoring. I… I just agreed in a moment of madness.”

“I was looking for a chance to confess afterward, but I just couldn’t get the words out.”

Qin Mian paused, asking tentatively, “……What do you mean by ‘a moment of madness’?”

Song Ying didn’t answer immediately. His mind flashed back to the scene of Qin Mian looking at him expectantly that night, offering to help him study. He thought of how Qin Mian looked every night at 10:00 PM—smelling of soap after a shower, his hair soft under the light, his expression full of focus. He thought of the moment they ran into Zhang Kun’s gang, how Qin Mian had grabbed his hand and sprinted through the dark alleys without a care in the world.

And… many other things. Although they had only known each other for a month, it was enough.

Song Ying suddenly lifted his lashes. His gaze was burning and bright, clear as a mountain lake. He looked at Qin Mian earnestly and spoke slowly: “I don’t know. Maybe it was just madness that made me say yes to you back then. I regretted it before, but thinking about it now… I’m glad I did.”

The ward fell silent for a moment.

For some reason, Qin Mian found Song Ying’s gaze a bit too hot, making him instinctively want to look away. Unaccountably, the atmosphere in the room felt warmer and thicker.

Dammit, those words sound so strange, Qin Mian thought, like he’s agreeing to something unspeakable.

Qin Mian’s hand on the blanket tightened as his brain worked sluggishly. He could feel Song Ying still staring at him, making him feel completely out of place. Finally unable to stand the weird vibe, Qin Mian snapped his head around and glared at Song Ying.

“Have you seen enough?! Is there something on my face?”

Song Ying curled his lips slightly and said innocently, “Nothing. I’m just curious—why are your ears so red?”

Qin Mian choked, his ears turning even redder.

“They’re getting redder,” Song Ying added, flirting with death.

Qin Mian: “……”

Now the red was spreading to his neck. Song Ying was about to speak again but shut his mouth tightly under Qin Mian’s “death glare.”

In truth, Song Ying really wanted to ask Qin Mian why he had risked his life to save him. Had he not considered the consequences? He had clearly seen Zhang Kun holding a knife; he could have turned and outrun them, yet he stayed behind to fight five people alone.

Back in Linjiang, whenever Song Ying was beaten, passersby would flee in a panic, terrified of getting involved.

Ultimately, Song Ying didn’t ask. Perhaps there was no need; Qin Mian was just that kind of person—a very, very good person. It was simply that Song Ying’s luck had been too poor in the past to meet someone like him.

But that was okay. He felt that spending over a decade’s worth of luck just to meet Qin Mian was worth it. He was happy.

During the two days of hospitalization, to pass the time, Qin Mian and Song Ying finished the math papers Mo Weixin had brought from Linjiang No. 2.

Qin Mian picked up Song Ying’s perfect-score paper and studied it with a sigh. “So this is the level of Linjiang No. 2? Pretty impressive.”

It wasn’t just the accuracy, but Song Ying’s speed. It was fast and precise. Qin Mian was also great at math, but he couldn’t match Song Ying’s speed, and his precision was a tiny bit off—he ended up with a 148.

Song Ying replied, “Actually, that’s just my level.”

“?” Qin Mian didn’t follow.

Song Ying explained, “The rest of No. 2 isn’t at this level.”

Qin Mian understood. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “……Can’t you be a little humble?”

Song Ying blinked innocently. “Hmm? I thought I was just telling the truth.”

Qin Mian: “……” He actually couldn’t argue with that.

“I wonder who’s better, you or Ji Chenxiang,” Qin Mian remarked casually, looking at the perfect score.

Song Ying said decisively, “Me, definitely. That scrub? He doesn’t even compare.” As he spoke, his eyes were sparkling as they searched Qin Mian’s face.

Qin Mian hesitantly gave a thumbs-up. “You’re… great?”

Weird, Qin Mian thought. Now that he’s confessed, has he stopped pretending entirely? He felt like Song Ying was “showing off his feathers” like a peacock.

If Qin Mian knew that Song Ying had stalked his WeChat Moments, he might understand the reaction. Not long ago, while waiting for Qin Mian to finish a timed problem, Song Ying had scrolled through Qin Mian’s profile. He found a post from early August, the first day of school.

Caption: My idol. The picture was a news report about Ji Chenxiang.

Song Ying: “……” For some reason, he felt extremely annoyed.

At that exact moment, Ji Chenxiang—who always had impeccable timing—sent him a flurry of messages.

Ji Chenxiang: Song-ah, I’ve been so busy lately I forgot to ask. Ji Chenxiang: Did Old Mo find you? Are you okay? Are you still among the living? Still breathing? Ji Chenxiang: Answer me! Ji Chenxiang: No way… Ji Chenxiang: Song-ah, I’ve failed you… Ji Chenxiang: Crying loudly.jpg Ji Chenxiang: Howling at the sky.jpg Ji Chenxiang: Banging head on floor.jpg

Within seconds, Song Ying’s phone was pinging and vibrating nonstop. Song Ying stared at the device, wishing he could crawl through the internet and strangle the noisy guy on the other side.