Chapter 10 The Cold and Beautiful Professor (10)

Chapter 10: The Coldly Elegant Professor (10)

If Teacher Shen's husband hadn't gone on a business trip—

Then—

Why would Teacher Shen lie to invite him?

Qi Yan moved closer, squinting as he examined the bed, only to realize it was a lifesize silicone doll, crafted with such realism that it could easily be mistaken for a real person at first glance.

He quietly lifted a corner of the quilt—the doll was complete with all parts.

He had never seen anything like it before, but seeing this, Qi Yan’s imagination began to stir.

It seemed Teacher Shen really needed a man.

Qi Yan smiled a kind smile—he could help with that.

After all, Mr. Yan didn’t cherish Shen Juan, and divorced him. Even if there were lingering feelings, the two could never return to how things were. Shen Juan was single, and so was he. If they were mutually attracted, there was nothing wrong with that.

Qi Yan carefully restored everything to its original state, in good spirits as he tucked the silicone doll back under the covers, then began searching for medicine in the master bedroom.

He didn’t even realize it, but though his memory told him it was his first time in this room, his steps instinctively led him to the bedside table. He opened it to find a first-aid kit inside.

Unsure which medicine to pick, Qi Yan simply took the entire kit, planning to ask Shen Juan outside.

If all else failed, he could always trade for a universal remedy from the system—one pill to treat any illness.

"Creak—"

The master bedroom door brushed against the floor, emitting a faint sound, followed by steady footsteps.

Hearing the noise, Qi Yan turned to see Shen Juan’s complexion had returned to normal, pale yet flushed with a healthy glow. He breathed a sigh of relief.

But the main concern was still Shen Juan’s health. Even if his color had improved, it didn’t necessarily mean he was fine. Qi Yan opened the medical kit: "Teacher Shen, see what medicine you need to take."

Shen Juan smiled gracefully: "I’m quite well. I just had a bit of low blood sugar earlier, but after eating something, I’m better. But as for you, Qi Yan—"

"You didn’t see anything you shouldn’t have, did you? If you did, I’d be very troubled. How will you compensate me?"

His gaze lowered slightly, meeting Qi Yan’s eyes across the bed.

Since the medical kit wasn’t needed, Qi Yan placed it down. Noticing Shen Juan’s gaze fixed on him, his expression shifted subtly.

Qi Yan looked innocent: "Teacher Shen, I’d be more than happy to compensate, but…"

"Isn’t your husband watching us right now?"

He glanced meaningfully at the wedding photo on the wall, where the complementary suits seemed to form two pairs of eyes, casting their reflection over the marital bedroom.

Discussing such flirtatious topics in Shen Juan’s former marital home—this was truly thrilling.

Qi Yan loved it and was perfectly willing to pretend he hadn’t heard the rumors of Shen Juan’s divorce, to act as if he were interacting with another man’s wife.

Shen Juan’s lips curled into a lazy smile as his gaze drifted to the wedding photo: "Whenever my husband goes on business trips, it’s always for at least one or two weeks. During that time, I’m alone at home."

His red lips parted as he heaved a soft, lingering sigh: "Occasionally, even a teacher can feel quite lonely."

The melancholy tone sounded almost like a clear invitation to Qi Yan.

Qi Yan’s brow twitched slightly. The impression Teacher Shen gave him now was that of a captivating, coldly elegant serpent.

Usually, he was a proper, polite, and scholarly educator, but in private, how could he be so seductive?

Qi Yan’s arm muscles tensed subconsciously, making him appear even more masculine. He wasn’t the type to lose himself at the slightest provocation.

Though he was more than willing to help alleviate Teacher Shen’s loneliness.

Shen Juan said with a playful smile: "Don’t you think he’s awful? Leaving me alone at home with another man for so long."

"Not even afraid I might do something behind his back."

Qi Yan rubbed his thumb over the medical kit, his expression showing little, as if merely curious: "Are you and Mr. Yan not on good terms?"

Shen Juan didn’t answer. As if recalling something, his eyes narrowed slightly, taking on a reminiscent look: "My husband and I have known each other for eight years. In a few days, it’ll be my birthday, and also our wedding anniversary. Yet at a time like this, he’s away on business… leaving me behind."

Back when they first met, Qi Yan was still this vibrant, youthful figure. He was only twenty then, not particularly concerned about their age difference.

But when Qi Yan returned to this world, whatever mysterious power the system possessed had restored his lover’s youth, while his own time continued to march forward.

So the age gap between them grew wider and wider.

Shen Juan’s eyes flickered with bitterness and hatred. If Qi Yan truly loved him, how could he have disappeared without a word, conspiring with that so-called system to leave behind a disgusting memory replica to live with him?

If he hadn’t stolen the system’s energy and easily killed the memory replica, he’d probably still be foolishly carrying Qi Yan’s child, living in ignorance. How utterly stupid.

Even with the ability to manipulate energy, Shen Juan had tormented himself into a pitiful, resentful husband—hiding his lactating body, guarding a corpse while carrying a child.

How could he not hate Qi Yan for his infidelity, for coming and going as he pleased, without any steadfastness?

The more he hated, the more composed Shen Juan’s expression became, even curling his lips into a slight smile: "Qi Yan, tell me, do you think my husband and I are on good terms?"

Deep in his eyes was a hint Qi Yan couldn’t decipher.

Naturally, they weren’t. In a loving, devoted marriage, would one partner be absent on their lover’s birthday and wedding anniversary?

That’s why they divorced. Qi Yan was already certain of the rumor, needing only final confirmation.

Qi Yan’s fox-like, narrow eyes lifted slightly, his handsome brow arching elegantly as he put on a concerned expression: "How could Mr. Yan do such a thing? If it were me, I’d never dare leave you alone at home for so long."

Every word was filled with concern, but upon closer inspection, it was strongly provocative.

Triple Zero crouched by the door, full of worry. What to do? It felt like its host would be played to death by Lord Villain.

Lord Villain didn’t even spare a corpse—was there anything he wouldn’t do?

Naturally, the two inside had no time to check if a chicken was eavesdropping outside.

Shen Juan’s slender, pale fingers rested on Qi Yan’s shoulder. Qi Yan wore only a tank top, his shoulders exposed, his lean muscles defined and smooth, his waist narrow and powerful.

He could easily carry Shen Juan in his arms, from the bedroom to the bathroom, back and forth eight hundred times without tiring.

This wasn’t a metaphor—it was a fact stored in Shen Juan’s memory.

The warmth of the young man’s palm spread unreservedly across Qi Yan’s skin and bones, radiating through his limbs. Shen Juan lowered his waist slightly but lifted his pale chin, meeting Qi Yan’s gaze from a submissive, upward angle.

Displaying a docile, yielding posture that could ignite a man’s subconscious desire to conquer.

Shen Juan's beautiful, mature face swayed in Qi Yan's view.

Something began to grow hot.

On the surface, Qi Yan remained unmoved, but his fingers had already curled tightly, his fingertips pressed against his palms, faintly damp with sweat.

By his ear drifted scorching warmth—Shen Juan’s eyelashes fluttered. "Qi Yan... help your teacher."

Before Qi Yan could even process what kind of help was needed,

Shen Juan’s foot slipped. Without a second thought, Qi Yan reached out to steady him, but somehow, they both tumbled onto the marital bed that wasn't his own.

Looking after him led Qi Yan to somehow end up with his teacher on the bed.

His hands lay obediently at his sides, but his heart was pounding wildly, out of control. Shen Juan’s hair tangled around Qi Yan’s nose, carrying the clean, fresh scent of shampoo—minty.

Cool and crisp, and subtly fragrant, it lingered gently in his nostrils, slowly seeping deeper. By the time Qi Yan realized it, his sense of smell was completely dominated by the fragrance of Shen Juan’s hair, overpowering everything else.

Qi Yan’s gaze darkened slightly; he swallowed with difficulty. His properly placed fingers, resting at his sides, began to creep toward Shen Juan’s body.

Buzz, buzz, buzz—

After they fell together, Shen Juan had pressed against Qi Yan’s pants pocket, where a pen lay innocently on the surface but was, in fact, a remote control. Now, the switch had been activated.

It was time to stoke the fire for his young master.

A flush tinged Shen Juan's temples—perhaps from being pressed down by Qi Yan—and a pained sound escaped between his lips. His eyes, fixed on Qi Yan, shimmered with captivating ripples.

Along with Shen Juan’s voice, the buzzing grew more intense.

Beneath the wedding photo in the bedroom, both of them heard the sound clearly—Qi Yan heard it, too.

Qi Yan wondered—what was that sound?