Chapter 221: Gift

**Chapter 221: The Gift**

On Saturday, Ms. Zhang carefully selected a Cantonese restaurant after much consideration.

Both Wen Xian’s father and elder brother attended to celebrate “Young Master Wen’s unprecedented score of 89 in the monthly exam, achieving the outstanding result of ‘just one point shy of passing.’”

For the occasion, Ms. Zhang wore an elegant gown, had her nails done and her hair styled, and adorned herself with custom jewelry featuring ruby and sapphire inlays. She even opened an expensive bottle of foreign liquor and asked the waitstaff to place a sunflower arrangement in the center of the private room, symbolizing “growth and prosperity.”

When Wen Xian pushed open the door, he froze in shock.

He was used to his mother’s penchant for extravagant displays, but with Shen Zhao by his side, he worried about making a poor impression.

In their past life, Shen Zhao and Ms. Zhang had a terrible relationship.

More accurately, Shen Zhao got along poorly with everyone in the Wen family. In the business world, the Shen Group rose unexpectedly and gained the upper hand. At that time, Wen Zhu was heading the Wen family and suffered repeated defeats. He seethed at just hearing Shen Zhao’s name. Wen Huarong, already retired and fond of fishing with a bamboo pole, was dragged back to take over the company. Overwhelmed and stressed, he found fault with Shen Zhao at every turn.

As for Ms. Zhang, mother-in-law/daughter-in-law dynamics were always tricky. Her beloved Wen Xian had been strong-armed into marriage by Shen Zhao—there was no way she could like him.

The only time they had dined together was at Wen Xian’s wedding banquet. In front of relatives and friends, Zhang Xiaoping remained cold-faced the entire time, while Wen Huarong and Wen Zhu stayed silent. Even when Shen Zhao came to toast, no one acknowledged him; everyone simply ate with their chopsticks.

Wen Xian remembered that Shen Zhao had remained calm. He smiled without a word, drank his glass dry, then turned it upside down to show it empty—completing the ritual.

But this time, Ms. Zhang was eagerly waiting.

The moment she saw Shen Zhao, she beamed and beckoned him over. “You must be Wen Xian’s classmate! What a handsome boy—you seem much better behaved than my Wen Xian. Come, sit here.”

Knowing Shen Zhao was introverted and uncomfortable in such situations, Wen Xian immediately stepped in front of him, interrupting, “Hey, hey, what’s with the seating? Hand me the menu—”

He had intended to change the subject, but to his surprise, Shen Zhao actually stepped forward and politely said, “Hello, Auntie Zhang, Uncle Wen, and… Brother Wen.”

Wen Xian had no choice but to lower his blocking hand, scratching his nose, growing more confused.

Brother Wen?

What the hell—Shen Zhao had never called him “Brother Wen,” yet he addressed Wen Zhu first?

Upon meeting the academic ace who helped their son/brother improve his grades, Wen Huarong and Wen Zhu nodded politely. Ms. Zhang, however, was completely taken with him. She pulled out a small velvet box from her bag and handed it over. “Here, a little gift for you. Keep guiding our Wen Xian—he gets easily distracted. If he ever bullies you, let me know.”

Wen Xian’s face darkened.

What could he possibly bully Shen Zhao about? He’d been forced into marriage already—the only dominance was in bed, and wasn’t that something Shen Zhao had wanted?

The box bore no markings, so Shen Zhao had no idea what was inside. It would be impolite to open a gift in front of the giver, so he simply accepted it. “Thank you.”

Throughout the meal, Wen Xian, Wen Zhu, and Wen Huarong barely spoke, focusing on eating. Ms. Zhang, however, chattered nonstop, jumping from academics to family matters, nearly digging up Shen Zhao’s whole family history. Shen Zhao, too, wasn’t his usual business-self, answering every question honestly.

When she learned that he was the top student at the 33rd Middle School, fatherless, with his mother having passed away early and his home destroyed in a flood, Ms. Zhang sighed. “Poor child.”

She nudged Wen Huarong. “The Wen family has an education fund. If you’re really struggling, we can help with tuition and living expenses.”

Wen Huarong nodded.

As they exchanged words, Wen Xian found himself with little to say. He coolly stabbed a chunk of watermelon, thinking, *Don’t bother. In a few years, you’ll be addressing him with honorifics at banquets. Maybe then he’ll be the one giving me an allowance.*

The Wens were rich, but most of the wealth wasn’t in Wen Xian’s hands—it was all in the company coffers. Wen Xian lived comfortably, free from financial worries, but his spending had limits. A few hundred grand was no problem, but million-dollar toys like luxury cars or helicopters required approval from the family.

But with Shen Zhao’s card? He bought a top-tier sports car on a whim.

Dinner dragged on past eight. Wen Zhu drank, but as high schoolers, neither Wen Xian nor Shen Zhao were offered alcohol—though Shen Zhao raised his glass anyway.

Wen Xian couldn’t figure out why he was being so stubborn. He leaned in and whispered to Shen Zhao, “You know your face turns red when you drink, right?”

In their past life, Shen Zhao would flush after just a couple of sips, and even low-alcohol beer could leave him completely wasted.

Wen Xian, who studied biology, knew that facial flushing was due to the body's lack of alcohol dehydrogenase and acetaldehyde dehydrogenase, which could lead to harmful substances accumulating in the body and increase the risk of cancer.

Shen Zhao whispered back, “Just this one cup. Your dad toasted me—I have to drink it.”

Wen Xian thought to himself, *That’s just how my dad is—classic middle-aged boss behavior, toasting everyone in sight. Why bother indulging him?*

But Shen Zhao had already picked up the glass, furrowed his brows, and chugged it. Wen Xian had no choice but to let him be.

After drinking, Shen Zhao turned his head and coughed twice. Wen Xian remarked drily, “I told you not to force it if you can’t handle it. Choked, didn’t you?”

He reached out and took the glass from in front of Shen Zhao.

Ms. Zhang had been to this restaurant many times, and the dishes were carefully selected—delicious, crisp, tender, and sweet, and everyone enjoyed the meal.

Once everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, Wen Zhu drove everyone home.

He drove a large seven-seater minivan with three rows: the first row for Wen Zhu, the second for Wen Xian and Shen Zhao, and the third for Zhang Xiaoping and Wen Huarong.

The Cantonese restaurant was quite a distance from the house near the foreign language school, about a forty-minute drive.

Shen Zhao got drunk at the slightest touch of alcohol. As soon as he settled into the second row, Wen Xian keenly sensed something was off.

…His academic ace seemed a little zoned out.

On the surface, he looked perfectly normal—sitting upright, impeccably proper—but his eyes were dazed, and he kept slouching lower in his seat, eyelids drooping, swaying as if about to fall asleep.

Yet, at the very last moment—just before he could lean toward Wen Xian’s shoulder—Shen Zhao would straighten up abruptly.

Wen Xian watched, amused.

He folded his arms, waiting to see when Shen Zhao would actually fall asleep and whether he’d lean toward the window or him. The next second, Shen Zhao leaned in.

With a frown, he let his shoulder drop against Wen Xian’s.

Wen Xian glanced at him but didn’t push him away. Instead, he thought, *My parents are right behind us.*

Though in their past life, they’d done all there was to do—and then some, right now they were still just students. Shen Zhao wasn’t the marriage partner who’d forced him into wedlock—just a regular classmate.

But now, Shen Zhao’s hair brushed against his shoulder, his warm breath hitting Wen Xian’s collarbone. Wen Xian shifted uncomfortably, feeling all kinds of awkward.

It was hard to imagine that Zhang Xiaoping and Wen Huarong were just inches away, behind them.

Wen Huarong, having drunk, had started lightly snoring as soon as he got in the car. Zhang Xiaoping, meanwhile, rested her head on her hand, looking out the window.

The van’s seats were high, so only the top of Wen Xian’s head was visible. Shen Zhao, slightly shorter, was completely hidden. But the glass reflected light—if Ms. Zhang paid attention, she could see the posture in the front row.

…This is so weird.

Wen Xian got goosebumps, unsure whether to push Shen Zhao off. Then, from behind, Zhang Xiaoping suddenly sighed, as if remembering something, “Ah, I just don’t get how you academic aces’ brains work. Those math problems are so hard, those formulas so long—just looking at them makes me dizzy.”

Her voice abruptly shattered the quiet in the car. Shen Zhao bolted upright as if jolted awake.

Wen Xian was only wearing a T-shirt. The warmth and firmness of his shoulder against Shen Zhao’s cheek made him instantly remember where he was.

For a moment, it felt like Ms. Zhang’s sharp gaze had pierced through the seats, landing squarely on Shen Zhao’s back. Goosebumps erupted across his skin, and in his panic, he instinctively grabbed the nearest thing—Wen Xian’s hand.

Their fingers laced together tightly, Shen Zhao let out a soft "ah" and replied with a smile, "Nah, Auntie. Math has its patterns—once you grasp one, the rest become clear."

Wen Xian glanced at him, smiling without a word.

The top student was clearly still distracted. Though he answered Zhang Xiaoping's question clearly and logically, his back was rigidly straight, and his grip on Wen Xian's hand remained tight, never loosening.

Wen Xian waited casually for him to realize it.

Sure enough, once Zhang Xiaoping sighed a few times and fell silent, Shen Zhao relaxed slightly, loosening his hold on Wen Xian's hand. Seizing the chance, Wen Xian mischievously moved his palm, his thumb brushing against Shen Zhao's. Shen Zhao jerked like he'd been shocked and immediately let go.

A few seconds later, he stammered in a quiet voice, "S-sorry about that. I didn’t realize I was holding you. Did I hurt you?"

Wen Xian whispered back, "Yeah, you were gripping so hard. Your nails dug into my skin."

Shen Zhao went still, instinctively reaching to check Wen Xian's hand. Just then, they heard a cough.

Both Wen Xian and Shen Zhao stiffened, looking up simultaneously to see Wen Zhu watching them in the rearview mirror. His gaze lingered on them for a silent moment before he looked down and quickly looked away.

Wen Zhu pretended to focus on the road, though he occasionally raised his left hand to touch his nose and mouth before lowering it again.

Wen Xian & Shen Zhao: "..."

Wen Xian knew his brother did this when he was embarrassed.

They sat rigidly upright, eyes fixed straight ahead, like two kindergarten students being corrected by a teacher on their posture, enduring the rest of the ride in silence.

When they arrived at the house near the Foreign Language School, Zhang Xiaoping and Wen Huarong were dozing off. Only Wen Zhu walked them out. The older brother hesitated, then patted Wen Xian on the shoulder and said, "Keep up the good work."

Without looking back, Wen Zhu left.

Wen Xian & Shen Zhao: "..."

They filed into the house one after the other.

Only then did Shen Zhao have time to examine the gift from Zhang Xiaoping.

Carefully opening the box, he caught his breath. Inside the simple velvet case was a beautiful golden ornament—a goofy, chubby bird about to take flight, coated in a matte finish that gave it a fluffy appearance. The bird held a plaque in its beak, inscribed in playful font: "Soaring Success."

Wen Xian leaned in. "Whoa, this dorky bird is supposed to be a roc? It looks so stupid."

The ornament, including its base, was quite heavy. Shen Zhao tried handing it back to Wen Xian, lips pressed together. "No, this is too valuable. I can’t accept it."

Wen Xian sidestepped. "Keep it. If you try to return it, my mom would kill me."

He thought to himself, *This is the first time Zhang Xiaoping has ever given Shen Zhao a gift.*

In the Previous Dynasty, Shen Zhao had never missed a holiday or occasion when it came to presenting Zhang Xiaoping and Wen Huarong with expensive, proper gifts—Dragon Boat Festival, Mid-Autumn Festival, New Year, birthdays, even their wedding anniversary. His gifts arrived more reliably than calendar reminders.

But Zhang Xiaoping had never reciprocated.

Wen Xian thought, *Think of it as payback for last time.*

He forcibly placed the silly bird back into Shen Zhao's arms. "Take it. It’s not *that* valuable. If you don’t like it, melt it down and make something else."

Hearing this, Shen Zhao lifted the bird higher, out of Wen Xian's reach. "No."

*

After the monthly tests, the results of the joint exam were also released.

The joint exam, which affected admission to the Foreign Language School and eligibility for substantial scholarships, was more important than the monthly tests. The results were publicly posted, and teachers personally called each selected student’s family.

Wen Xian didn’t wait for a phone call. That very day after school, he dragged Shen Zhao to the glass wall, planning to look for Shen Zhao’s name.

Turns out there was no need to search—Shen Zhao’s name was right at the top, clearly posted and standing out.

He’d expected it, but Wen Xian still raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

Thinking about his own 89 points, he couldn’t help but reach up and rub his nose.

He was way behind.

Not long after checking the list, during dinner, Shen Zhao’s phone rang. The admissions officer offered congratulations first, confirmed that he would attend the foreign language school, and then asked for his personal information to process the scholarship.

“I should mention,” the officer added, “that this scholarship is sponsored by Chairman Shen Yuechuan. The amount will cover your tuition and living expenses. There’ll be a ceremony where you’ll pose for photos with him—please make sure to attend.”

Shen Zhao: “Okay.”

Shen Yuechuan and Ji Mingzhu were a philanthropic couple known for their generosity. He had donated a large sum to the foreign language school.

Overhearing this, Wen Xian suddenly said, “Do you have to go?”

He added, “My family can provide funding too.”

For some reason, Wen Xian really didn’t want Shen Zhao getting involved with Shen Yuechuan.

Hearing this, Shen Zhao stiffened for a moment. His fingers gripped the seam of his pants, tightening silently, before he managed a smile and softly replied, “This is a good thing, isn’t it? Of course I’ll go.”