Chapter 70 Clean Family Background? Scholarly Heritage?

Chapter 70: Good Family? Or Well-Bred?

Gao Cheng was momentarily stunned, not expecting Director Jiang's son to be so blunt in his assessment.

"So you're Director Jiang's son. Didn't realize you were."

This explained why Jiang Ruotang, despite his young age, had such broad knowledge and insights—after all, he had grown up around it.

"I haven't disclosed my investments to anyone, including my father. I hope you can keep it a secret for me, Uncle Gao."

"Why? With your father's status in the industry and the backing of his film company, securing funding for Little Sweet Fruit would be much easier."

Gao Cheng was puzzled. Was this just the naive idealism of a young master who wanted to "do everything on his own"?

Jiang Ruotang smiled helplessly. "He’s practically a figurehead at Universe Pictures—how could he help me? The reason I’m rushing to start a business before even entering college is to prepare for the day when he, like the incompetent historical figure Liu Adou, gets ousted from his position. At least then, I’ll have some backup funds for his films."

Gao Cheng sighed in understanding. He had heard rumors about the internal power struggles at Universe Pictures.

Indeed, where there were interests, there were schemes.

"Uncle Gao, let me tell you about the current shareholder structure of Little Red Fruit."

Gao Cheng nodded—this was something he cared about.

"There are only two shareholders with decision-making power in the entire platform: me and Qi Yanze, the younger brother of Hongtian Borui’s current chairman, Qi Yanfeng. On the surface, he’s just a spoiled rich kid, but if you make a compelling argument, he’ll listen. He’s also willing to delegate tasks he can’t handle to capable people. In short, while he's not brilliant, he doesn’t resent talent."

The bluntness of the remark made Gao Cheng hold back a laugh, though his expression remained neutral.

Jiang Ruotang thought for a moment and added, "Oh, I almost forgot—there’s also Chen Dan, the son of Red City Pictures’ chairman. But Brother Chen hardly gets involved and isn’t the type to micromanage. Plus… neither Qi Yanze nor I are good at socializing over drinks, but Brother Chen said he could handle that."

Meanwhile, Chen Dan, who was racing motorcycles at a club a kilometer away, suddenly sneezed violently.

The simplicity of the internal dynamics was highly appealing to Gao Cheng, who was still recovering from office politics.

"Little Sweet Fruit doesn’t have complicated power struggles, and after our initial discussions, the three major shareholders are aligned on the big picture. In short, this platform is nowhere near as big as Kirin Video, but it’s not starting from scratch—it has millions of existing users and a strong emotional connection with young audiences. Right now, even if you searched high and low, you wouldn’t find a better platform than Little Sweet Fruit."

It was true—there were film companies and video platforms more powerful than Little Sweet Fruit, but those were either out of Gao Cheng’s reach or had internal environments even more convoluted than Kirin Pictures.

"I’ll think about it," Gao Cheng said, lifting his eyelids. "This isn’t something a kid who hasn’t even started college can decide just by talking."

"Then you can talk to Uncle Zheng. Unlike me, he’s already graduated from college."

Gao Cheng: "..."

The high schooler across from him began focusing completely on his food.

Watching him, Gao Cheng couldn’t help but reminisce about his younger self when he first started his business—just as passionate and naive, believing the world was vast and full of possibilities.

Noticing Gao Cheng’s thoughtful look, Jiang Ruotang said, "Uncle Gao, don't worry too much. Who knows? In a few days, you might be glad you left Kirin Video."

"Why do you say that?" Gao Cheng wondered if the kid was trying to comfort him or just making stuff up.

"With Kirin Video making such a big deal about inviting foreign celebrities, won’t the fans of our own domestic superstars start comparing, causing drama, and filing complaints about under-the-table deals or something?" Jiang Ruotang shrugged as if it were just a guess, though in reality, Kirin Video would later face a major scandal—one orchestrated by Bai Yingchuan’s fanbase, an incident Jiang Ruotang remembered vividly because he had once been part of it.

Gao Cheng laughed, suddenly wanting to mess up Jiang Ruotang’s hair. "Kid, you really know how to comfort people."

"If I’m right, Uncle Gao, come to Little Sweet Fruit and be the real decision-maker for once."

Gao Cheng looked at Jiang Ruotang. Since leaving Kirin Video, he had experienced the fickleness of human relationships firsthand.

This wealthy young master kept extending olive branches and even gave him an easy way out. To say he wasn’t moved would be a lie.

Gao Cheng chuckled along. "Alright."

"Shake on it—no take-backs." Jiang Ruotang raised his hand.

"Ha…" Gao Cheng lowered his head and laughed, feeling like he had been talked into this by a high schooler.

The real problem was that he didn’t mind being talked into it—and even felt a little excited about the future. What was that about?

After the meal, Gao Cheng, being polite, took Jiang Ruotang to the underground garage and personally drove him back to school.

When Jiang Ruotang saw the luxury Mercedes, he whistled. "Wow, feels like I’ve found myself a sugar daddy."

Gao Cheng, of course, knew what "sugar daddy" meant. Combined with Jiang Ruotang’s fair and handsome looks, parking this car in front of the school would definitely look exactly like that.

"If you keep talking crazy, kid, you’re taking a taxi back to school."

"I’ll stop. Uncle Gao, please drive me back."

By the time Jiang Ruotang entered the classroom, lunch period was almost over.

From across the aisle, Jian Sha leaned over and asked, "Where’d you run off to during P.E.? I was so bored."

"Huh? No one played badminton with you?"

"I played with the class monitor." Jian Sha’s face darkened at the memory. "He never gave me easy returns—just kept smashing it at me!"

"That’s so rude! Call him out!" Jiang Ruotang clenched his fist.

Zhao Zhangfeng, sitting behind them, chimed in, "Come on, the class monitor only started smashing after five rallies. He went easy on you for the first four."

Jian Sha tilted her head back indignantly. "But he’ll feed Jiang Ruotang easy returns for the entire P.E. class! Such special treatment… it’s outrageous!"

Jiang Ruotang immediately changed his tune. "Then… still call him out!"

Just then, Lu Guifan, who had been called away by homeroom teacher Song Qinghe, walked by Jiang Ruotang’s desk. Leaning one hand on the edge of the table, he bent down and asked, "Who are you condemning?"

"Myself," Jiang Ruotang grinned.

Jian Sha and Zhao Zhangfeng said in unison, "Brown-noser!"

With the end-of-term exams approaching, Jiang Ruotang no longer needed to attend art studio sessions and focused entirely on his academic subjects, never missing a single evening study hall. On Sundays, his only day off, he liked to finish his homework in the morning and spend the afternoon getting tutored by Lu Guifan.

As the Lunar New Year drew closer, the weather grew colder. Lu Guifan’s parents, now with stable incomes, had installed an air conditioner in his room to ensure he had a comfortable study environment.

Lu Guifan, who was pretty tough, usually turned it on just long enough to warm the room before switching it off. But on Sundays, he kept it running all day—because Jiang Ruotang would be there.

One day, the child of the uncle who owned the convenience store fell ill and had to be taken to the hospital, so Lu Guifan had to cover at the store again.

Jiang Ruotang only saw Lu Guifan’s message after arriving at his house and replied: [Can I wait for you in your bed?]

Lu Guifan, who was restocking shelves at the time, nearly dropped the yogurt bottle in his hand when he read the text.

After a few seconds, he realized Jiang Ruotang just meant he wanted to take a nap in his room.

Lu Guifan sighed and replied: [Go ahead. But word it better next time.]

Jiang Ruotang tilted his head, pondering for a long time—which of his words hadn't been properly said?

But with permission granted, Jiang Ruotang happily took off his coat and socks, opened up Lu Guifan’s blanket, and wrapped himself up.

At first, he curled up like a tiny caterpillar in hibernation.

Lu Guifan’s bedding was just ordinary cotton, pilled like his pajamas, coarse yet sun-warmed. The smell of Lu Guifan enveloped Jiang Ruotang, making him feel as if he were being embraced.

Just as Jiang Ruotang was rolling around in the blanket, his phone suddenly rang. Before he could even see the name on the screen, he drew out his words cheerfully, “Hello? Who is it?”

The other end paused briefly before replying in a casual tone, “Your sugar daddy.”

Jiang Ruotang froze for about two seconds before choking on his own saliva. “Uncle Gao! CEO Gao! Please don’t joke like that—you nearly gave me a heart attack! If I fail my exams because of this, are you going to compensate me?”

“So now you know how I felt that day?” Gao Cheng chuckled lightly.

“Ah, didn’t I already apologize? But since you’re joking like this with me, does that mean you’re joining our pirate crew and become a happy pirate with us?”

Gao Cheng fell silent for a moment before asking, “Can you tell me… how did you know?”

“Know what?”

What kind of random conversation was this?

After another pause, Gao Cheng spoke again. “Qilin Video handed over a script originally meant for Bai Yingchuan to a very popular K-pop idol. But they didn’t expect that among their staff was a die-hard fan of Bai Yingchuan, who anonymously exposed this underhanded move in Bai’s fan group. The fan group went wild.”

Jiang Ruotang was stunned for a moment. So even without him—a superfan who had invested both time and money—this would have happened anyway?

“The fans organized and lodged complaints with regulators, accusing Qilin Video of using shadow contracts, siphoning project funds, and even tax evasion. Tax auditors have already moved in, and next will be anti-commercial bribery investigations. If I had stayed… they might have pinned the blame onto me as a scapegoat. Even if I could eventually prove my innocence, the endless probes and blame-shifting would have been exhausting.”

Jiang Ruotang collected himself and replied calmly, “So Qilin Video’s current management is probably in hot water now. The people who wronged you are getting their just deserts—karma's a bitch. Uncle Gao, are you thinking of going back to Qilin Video?”

“Do you think I would?” Gao Cheng was genuinely curious how well this kid could read him.

“No.” Jiang Ruotang answered. “There’s no sorrow greater than a broken heart. You finally escaped that cesspool—why would you want to go back to playing politics and boxing yourself in? The world outside is vast.”

At that moment, Gao Cheng stood on his balcony, smoking. He found it incredible how well this kid read him—as if he had lived through it himself.

“Jiang Ruotang… have you ever been ostracized or bullied at school?”

Jiang Ruotang chuckled. “Uncle Gao, everyone has their own story. Once, under the manipulation and misguidance of someone I trusted most, I threw myself completely into seeking approval from someone who would never acknowledge me. I stayed up late, worked hard, worked myself ragged for his success, even studied English and French diligently for his career. But he never gave me the time of day—not even when I was lonely and desperate. He was too afraid of offending his boss to offer me so much as a kind word of comfort or encouragement. If I’m not mistaken, the chairman of Qilin Pictures knows you were wronged but still hasn’t reached out to ask you back, right? Because in his mind, you’re not one of them. No matter how capable you are, they won’t use someone who disagrees with them.”

When you're at rock bottom, what people want most is to be understood and needed.

And Jiang Ruotang had given him both.

Gao Cheng felt like a stray mutt without a home in front of this child.

Acting on impulse, he wasn’t sure if he’d regret it in the future.

Jiang Ruotang suddenly said, “Uncle Gao, why not invest with us? That car of yours looks pretty valuable.”

“What?” A vein pulsed at Gao Cheng’s temple.

“If you invest, you can nurture Sweet Fruit like your own child. You won’t be so torn anymore. If it grows into a giant redwood, you’ll feel a sense of achievement too.”

Hearing this, Gao Cheng immediately understood—this was Jiang Ruotang’s way of giving him reassurance, an affirmation of his decision-making power.

“Uncle Gao, between us, it’s like high mountains and running streams meeting a soulmate. If you miss me, you might never find your Zhong Ziqi again.”

At this, Gao Cheng couldn't suppress his smile.

One minute ago, he thought Jiang Ruotang was throwing a stray dog like him a bone. The next, the kid was comparing them to Bo Ya and Zhong Ziqi.

They were equals.

Even Gao Cheng, thick as he was, could hear the respect in Jiang Ruotang’s words.

He decided to go with his gut and join Sweet Fruit’s startup venture.

“Alright, I’m in,” Gao Cheng replied.

Jiang Ruotang immediately spread the word to Qi Yanze and Chen Dan. Far from opposing, they welcomed Gao Cheng’s involvement enthusiastically.

Qi Yanze, who happened to be with his older brother at the time, casually mentioned, “Bro, Gao Cheng left Qilin Pictures and just agreed to be Sweet Fruit’s CEO. He’s also investing.”

Qi Yanfeng was a practical man.

Hearing this, he grinned from ear to ear. “Your motley crew's got some serious clout, huh!”

He had wanted to recruit Gao Cheng for his own company but was worried about causing friction with Qilin Video. He had planned to wait and see how the investigations played out before making any moves.

Never did he expect Gao Cheng to pass on bailing out his old company entirely and choose Sweet Fruit instead.

This made Qi Yanfeng even more curious about his brother’s mysterious partner—who could earn Qi Yanze’s respect, earn Chen Dan’s praise, and even secure Gao Cheng’s full support.

“A’Ze, just who are you working with?”

Qi Yanze glanced at his brother and deflected with a laugh. “Don’t worry, they come from a clean background, with deep family roots. A proper friend you’d be hard-pressed to find a second of.”

Qi Yanfeng was amused. “What do you know about ‘clean backgrounds’ or ‘deep roots’? What kind of ‘proper friends’ could you possibly make?”

But Qi Yanze kept mum. Having promised Jiang Ruotang not to reveal his identity, even if his teeth were knocked out, he’d swallow them before talking.

Qi Yanfeng was surprised. He never thought his brother had the patience to keep a secret, yet no matter how he probed, Qi Yanze didn’t let slip a word.

In a way, this counted as growth.

By the time Lu Guifan returned from the small supermarket, Jiang Ruotang was already fast asleep in his bedroom.

He quietly turned the doorknob and saw the lump under his blanket and the tuft of black hair peeking out. An odd sensation came over him.

It was as if he owned Jiang Ruotang.

Treading softly, he sat by the bed, resting one hand on the edge as he leaned down. Jiang Ruotang’s steady breathing filled his ears.

Lu Guifan had thought Jiang Ruotang might find his bed too hard, his blanket not soft enough, his space too cramped—but all those assumptions were chased away by the peaceful look on Jiang Ruotang’s face.

It was as if Jiang Ruotang was born to adapt to every imperfect part of Lu Guifan’s life.

A while later, Jiang Ruotang turned over, lips pursing slightly, eyelids fluttering before slowly opening.

“Hm? Class monitor, you’re back!”

“Mn.” Lu Guifan responded softly.

He wanted to ruffle Jiang Ruotang’s hair, pinch his nose, touch his eyelashes—but before he could figure out how to do any of it naturally, Jiang Ruotang had already sat up, leaning against the headboard with a sigh.

“I don’t want to leave your blanket…” Nothing could have melted Lu Guifan’s heart more than that.

"Then stay under the covers."

Jiang Ruotang thought Lu Guifan was speaking ironically, so he slowly sat up, slipped into his cashmere sweater, and noticed his socks had been kicked off at the foot of the bed. Not wanting to crawl over to retrieve them, he stretched out his foot, trying to hook them with his toes.

Suddenly, he realized Lu Guifan was watching him.

He remembered once using his feet to pick up a book from the floor, only for Sister Juan to see him. She picked it up for him while teasing him, calling him a little lazybug who’d rather lie down than sit up.

Would Lu Guifan think him lazy too?

Just as Jiang Ruotang was about to crawl to the foot of the bed, Lu Guifan stood up, walked over, and cupped his heel in his palm. The touch sent a jolt through Jiang Ruotang, his heart fluttering. He reflexively pulled back, but Lu Guifan’s fingers tightened slightly, holding him in place.

With his other hand, Lu Guifan picked up the sock and slipped it onto Jiang Ruotang’s foot.

Jiang Ruotang’s face flushed immediately.

Lu Guifan glanced at him. "I thought you were waiting for me to serve you. Why are you blushing now that I’m putting your socks on?"

Jiang Ruotang lifted his chin, putting on his best "I’ve got the toughest hide around" expression, then raised his other foot and wiggled his toes.

Lu Guifan chuckled, giving his foot a light tap before putting on the other sock.

"Such a lazybones!"

Perhaps because of the nap, Jiang Ruotang was energetic and focused.

Lu Guifan was good at guiding him through practice questions while reviewing key concepts, targeting weak spots and shaping Jiang Ruotang’s thought process—helping him remember things more clearly.

Though they only tackled five problems that afternoon, Jiang Ruotang grasped them thoroughly, his mind buzzing with comprehension.

Since Lu’s father was busy accompanying Mr. Zheng with paperwork and business dinners, and Lu’s mother was preparing dinner at Lawyer Hong’s place, Jiang Ruotang and Lu Guifan had to cook for themselves.

Luckily, the fridge was stocked with dishes Lu’s mother had prepared earlier. Lu Guifan reheated them and brought them to the folding table, only to see Jiang Ruotang contentedly eating steamed buns, shredded pork with pickles, fermented glutinous rice tofu, and even edamame. It struck Lu Guifan how low-maintenance Jiang Ruotang was.

He should be more spoiled, more finicky—because Lu Guifan inexplicably wanted to give him more, and better.

But when they moved on to comprehensive problem-solving in the evening, no matter how many approaches Lu Guifan tried, Jiang Ruotang remained completely baffled. Lu Guifan sighed softly.

Easy to please, yes—but a mental marathon.

"Monitor, is there still hope for me?" Jiang Ruotang asked, tilting his head up.

"There’s hope. I’ll think of another way."

"Mm, problems are fixed, but you’re adaptable."

Lu Guifan studied him, unsure whether that was flattery or genuine admiration.

But Jiang Ruotang could look at him with such unabashed confidence. Lu Guifan sighed and mussed his hair.

At least… he finally got to touch his head.

While Jiang Ruotang and Lu Guifan enjoyed their peaceful harmony, Bai Yingchuan was fighting a headache.

He never expected that Qilin Video’s investigation was sparked by complaints and reports from his own fan group.

No matter how the studio staff in the group tried to guide and reassure them, several fans remained furious, even accusing the studio of being useless, kowtowing to the platform, and letting their idol be bullied by Qilin Video.

Inflammatory remarks fueled the fans’ emotions.

Upon digging deeper, the studio discovered that the most active account stirring trouble was actually Lin Lu’s sockpuppet account.

Hearing this, Bai Yingchuan massaged his temples, gritting his teeth. "Why is it him again?"

His manager, Sister Yu, sighed. "Even if we contact him now to stop inciting the fans, it’s too late."

"What happened?"

Sister Yu replied, "A Qilin Video executive in charge of TV acquisitions leaked to me. The higher-ups are furious—they see this as a threat from Bai Yingchuan: retaliation for failed deals."

They’ve already stated they’d no longer acquire any future projects starring Bai Yingchuan.

Bai Yingchuan couldn't decide between resignation and rage. "Lin Lu… or rather, the Lin father-son duo—do they have some grudge against me?"

At this point, Bai Yue had no choice but to work connections for her son. She returned home past 1 a.m. after a night of heavy drinking.

Sister Yu helped her to the bathroom, where she was sick violently.

Bai Yue had a high alcohol tolerance, but even she couldn’t handle that much liquor unscathed.

Yet she deliberately hugged the toilet bowl, retching—just to make her son understand how much she sacrificed for him, to demand his respect and dependence.

In critical moments, she was the only one who could fight for Bai Yingchuan.

But Bai Yingchuan saw through her act and didn’t bother stepping into the bathroom.

If he did, she’d only milk it more.

After emptying her stomach, Bai Yue was helped to the living room sofa by Sister Yu.

She saw Bai Yingchuan sitting on the sofa's arm, chin resting in his palm, watching her with cold detachment. He didn’t fetch her water or ask how the talks with Qilin Video went—just stared with detached, icy indifference.

Bai Yue covered her eyes with one hand and sneered, "How filial of you."

"You chose this. Nothing I say will change your decisions. And the more filial I act, the more validated you’ll feel."

Bai Yue suddenly straightened, her voice sharp. "I went to that dinner for you! And this is how you talk to me? Do you even—"

Bai Yingchuan cut her off. "No, you went for Lin Chengdong. You’re worried that if Qilin Video blacklists me, I’ll lose value in Lin Chengdong’s eyes. So even now, you’re still siding with him? You followed his phone investments, but his corner-cutting caused battery explosions. You backed his gaming company, but it collapsed after infringement penalties. And the Chengtan project? From what I hear, thanks to Geng Zhaotan’s influence, Lin Chengdong’s now on the provincial blacklist. Have you ever succeeded even once?"

Bai Yue exhaled, frowning. "That was just unfortunate timing."

"Director Jiang Huaiyuan’s six-episode suspense drama—they offered you the lead, the brilliant, witty detective. You read the script. It was tailored for you. But you turned it down for Lin Chengdong’s ‘Oscar-bait’ film script. Now that film’s a box-office flop, while Jiang Huaiyuan’s show got bought by national TV—with your rival Wang Chenlu in your role. Don’t tell me you don’t regret it."

Bai Yue insisted, "Jiang Huaiyuan lacks business acumen or guile. Once Old Qin, his protector, is gone, Lin Chengdong will take his place. Yingchuan, listen to me—I’d never mislead you. No matter how good Jiang Huaiyuan’s films are, this business isn’t just about talent. You can’t conquer it just with skill."

Bai Yingchuan looked at her with pity. "Do you even know Lin Chengdong’s currently hamstrung at Universe Pictures because Zhao Yunshu has him boxed in?"

Bai Yue turned away, exhaling slowly. "Zhao Yunshu’s capable, but she won't resort to underhanded tactics. Trust me, she’s no match for Lin Chengdong's scheming."

"But Ms. Bai Yue—do you really think Lin Chengdong has ever cared about our interests?"

When Bai Yingchuan called her "Ms. Bai Yue," it meant his next words required her serious consideration.

"...What do you mean?"

"It was Lin Lu fomenting trouble in the fan group that got us banned by Qilin Video."

"I know. That child just cares about you—he meant well."

"He did it on purpose. Don't you get it? Lin Chengdong has close ties with Yunfeng Video. Yunfeng Video and Qilin Video are fierce rivals. This was likely something Yunfeng Video instructed him to do."

At that moment, Bai Yue's head cleared slightly.

Had Bai Yingchuan not mentioned it, Bai Yue would never have considered the possibility.

But once he brought it up, the more she dwelled on it, the more disturbing it seemed—downright chilling.

Could Lin Chengdong really throw her son’s reputation under the bus just to undermine a competitor?

Bai Yingchuan returned to his room and sat at his desk. The first thing he saw when he looked up was the painting Jiang Ruotang had given him.

In that instant, he felt a powerful craving to see Jiang Ruotang, to hear his voice. Perhaps he had some broader perspective that could soothe his emotions.

But at this hour, Jiang Ruotang was surely already asleep.

So Bai Yingchuan just sat there, waiting until dawn.

When he arrived at school, the first person Bai Yingchuan saw wasn’t Jiang Ruotang, but Lin Lu.

Lin Lu wore a triumphant smile as he looked at Bai Yingchuan. "Yingchuan, have you heard? Several Qilin Video bigwigs got hauled in for questioning! The fan club is losing their minds! Everyone’s saying that after riding with you all this time, they’ve finally done something big for you! From now on, these big shots won’t dare to underestimate you!"

Bai Yingchuan couldn’t muster even a perfunctory smile. Instead, he replied in a detached tone, "Oh? Wasn’t it you who made waves in my fan group? Finally rallied enough people to meet the KPI your father assigned you?"

"Huh?" Lin Lu was stunned.

It was true—his father had instructed him to do his best, even planting quite a few ringers in the fan group, claiming it was all to protect Bai Yingchuan’s interests.

But why wasn’t Bai Yingchuan happy at all?

Just then, Jiang Ruotang walked in wearing headphones, listening to an English listening drill.

The moment he sat down, Bai Yingchuan’s gaze locked onto him. But Jiang Ruotang remained oblivious, simply coiling up his earbuds before leaning toward Jian Sha beside him to ask about English grammar.

The homeroom bell rang. As Jiang Ruotang muted his phone, he caught a glimpse of Bai Yingchuan’s message: [Free for lunch? Let’s eat together.]

The English teacher in charge of morning study had already entered, so Jiang Ruotang didn’t reply. Instead, he stashed his phone in his desk.

Bai Yingchuan noticed and exhaled heavily, feeling left hanging—in answer limbo.

Even when the English teacher called on him to read a cloze passage, his mind was elsewhere.

It wasn’t until after the first English class that Jiang Ruotang finally replied: [Where?]

Bai Yingchuan’s fingers danced across the screen. This was the place he had decided on last night—not too far from school, with a nice atmosphere and private nooks to avoid interruptions.

He sent the address to Jiang Ruotang, who replied with an "OK" before putting his phone away again.

Propping his chin in his palm, Jiang Ruotang began to think.

He knew Bai Yingchuan was drowning under the weight of pressure. He needed to show him that beyond Lin Chengdong, the world was full of beauty.

Once Bai Yingchuan got a whiff of freedom and a sense of achievement, if Lin Chengdong tried to restrain him again, he might just bare teeth.

At noon, Bai Yingchuan ditched Lin Lu and met Jiang Ruotang at the school gate.

He put on a mask and cap, flagged down a cab, and headed to their destination.

Throughout the ride, Bai Yingchuan’s phone wouldn’t stop blowing up—calls from Lin Lu, probably asking where he was for lunch and why he couldn’t find him.

Bai Yingchuan replied with two words: [Tied up.]

When Lin Lu saw this, he immediately picked up on the chill in the response.

What had he done wrong this time?

Meanwhile, Jiang Ruotang sent a message to Lu Guifan: [Class rep, Bai Yingchuan asked me out to lunch to discuss something. But I already ordered BBQ spare ribs. Please help me finish it?]

Lu Guifan glanced at the message and stood up to head for the off-campus takeout counter.

As he walked, he couldn’t help but think—even though Jiang Ruotang didn’t mind sitting next to Lin Lu or Bai Yingchuan’s attention, he had to admit it made him uncomfortable. It was like getting a fishbone stuck in his throat while eating fish hotpot.

With only a few months left until the college entrance exams, Lu Guifan was considering how to completely remove Jiang Ruotang from Lin Lu and Bai Yingchuan’s influence, giving him a headspace free of distractions.

The place Bai Yingchuan chose was a dim sum joint, open from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. He picked a small booth and let Jiang Ruotang order first.

Jiang Ruotang selected Flaky Char Siu Bun, Phoenix Claws, Honeycomb Tripe, and steamed ribs before passing the menu back to Bai Yingchuan, who added a few more items and gave it to the server.

Before all the dishes arrived, Bai Yingchuan kept his cap and mask on. But he said to Jiang Ruotang, "Ruo Tang, go ahead and dig in."

Though it wasn’t the first time, hearing his name spoken so familiarly still made Jiang Ruotang a tad uncomfortable.

"It’s fine. The food’s still a bit hot anyway. Let’s wait for everything to arrive."

With waitstaff popping in and out, Bai Yingchuan didn’t get a chance to say much. This was the first time he and Jiang Ruotang were alone together in the same space—no Lin Lu between them, just him by his side.

But whenever Jiang Ruotang’s elbow accidentally bumped into Bai Yingchuan, he would pull back and mumble an apology.

Bai Yingchuan knew that if it had been Cai Ji or Zhao Zhangfeng, they would’ve started roughhousing instead.

That "sorry" was the barrier of formality.

Only when all the dishes were served did Bai Yingchuan flip the lock and finally peel off his mask and cap.