Chapter 144: Extra 2 - Modern School Life: Scholar vs. School Tyrant

"Don't you dare leave me again..."

The deep, husky voice resonated close to his ear. The heat wrapped around Yin Chengyu like a smoldering blaze, an almost possessive embrace pressing against his back. It wasn't gentle-no, it was firm, demanding, and filled with an unmistakable need to claim.

But in the dream, Yin Chengyu didn't feel repulsed or hesitant. Quite the opposite: an unshakable sense of grounding settled within him, rooted deep in his core.

He jolted awake, his chest heaving as he unfastened the top button of his sleepwear, releasing a sharp breath.

This wasn't the first time. Not even close.

For years-since he turned sixteen-he had been plagued by this recurring dream. The face of the man who haunted him always remained a blurred enigma, a frustrating void. Only the voice-low, rough, and intimate-and that searingly hot embrace stayed unchanging, seared into his mind like a brand.

The stranger in his dreams was undeniably a man, and the words whispered between them were anything but platonic. Yet, at seventeen, Yin Chengyu had never once felt attraction toward a girl, much less a man.

He had even sought help, consulting a psychologist, but no definitive explanation emerged.

Glancing at the time displayed on his phone, Yin Chengyu forced himself to abandon the lingering shadows of the dream. He stepped into the bathroom, washed away the remnants of sleep, and dressed in his school uniform. By the time he made it downstairs, Aunt Zhao had already laid out his solitary breakfast. After eating, he grabbed his bag and left the house, where Uncle Chen, the driver, waited with the car idling at the gate.

Yet, no matter how much he tried to shake it off, the dream clung to him like an unwanted ghost. It lingered, gnawing at his focus during class.

The teacher's voice droned from the podium, blending into the background like static noise-heard but not absorbed. Yin Chengyu propped his chin on his left hand, his right lazily sketching on the corner of his notebook.

A rough outline of a man took shape on the blank page, but the face... the face remained empty, just like in his dreams.

He stared at the void where a face should be, frustration bubbling under his skin as he tried, and failed, to recall even the faintest detail.

The psychologist had once told him that dreams are a reflection of reality.

The repeated imagery, the recurring plea of "Don't leave me again," might be a subconscious projection of his own insecurity, stemming from the distant relationship he shared with his father, Yin Heng. It was logical, almost convincing-if only the sight of Yin Heng didn't make him so nauseated he could barely eat.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Yin Chengyu began filling in the faceless figure on the page, attempting to give it features, a sense of identity. But nothing felt right. Agitation flared, and he scratched the pencil across the paper, obliterating the image in a fit of annoyance.

Deep down, he couldn't deny it: the figure in his dream mattered.

Somehow, inexplicably, that man was important.

He didn't even know what the other person looked like, let alone where to start finding them.

The whole day, a restless energy churned in Yin Chengyu's chest, gnawing at his focus. Classes blurred past; he barely paid attention. When Xie Yunchuan asked if he wanted to hit the tennis court after school, he turned him down without a second thought, retreating to the solitude of his car and heading home.

But Friday's traffic was a disaster.

Yanhai International High sat squarely in the bustling heart of the city, and the rush-hour gridlock had already claimed the streets. The car had barely crawled out of the school gates before it was trapped, suffocated in a sea of honking horns and idle engines.

Leaning back against the leather seat, Yin Chengyu let his thoughts drift, his eyes sliding aimlessly to the world outside the car window. His gaze floated without purpose-until something in a dim alleyway snapped it into sharp focus.

His body tensed as if on instinct. He lowered the window and straightened up, eyes locking onto the scene in that narrow, single-lane passage-a place cars couldn't reach, likely leading to some older, decrepit residential blocks left untouched in this glittering downtown jungle.

At the alley's shadowy corner, five figures stood in a tense standoff.

No, not five. It was one against four.

The four facing his direction were easy to place-typical street thugs. Tattoos sprawled over their skin, their outfits loud and brash, screaming of men who loitered around with nothing better to do.

But Yin Chengyu's attention wasn't on them.

It was the lone figure they were facing. The one standing with their back to him.

He could only catch a partial glimpse of the side of their face, sharp and cold like a blade. Young, dangerous, with a taut energy coiled in their stance-a predator ready to strike. Something about them tugged at a thread deep in Yin Chengyu's chest, a raw familiarity that he couldn't ignore.

His eyes locked on them, unblinking.

The groups seemed to be talking, but the conversation clearly wasn't going anywhere. Within moments, it dissolved into violence.

One against four.

No weapons. Just raw fists.

Yin Chengyu had trained in combat and mixed martial arts; he could see none of them had any real technique. But the lone figure didn't need polished moves. Their strikes were vicious, lightning-fast, and unnervingly precise. A single punch sent one thug crashing into the wall, the back of his head smashing against rough concrete, leaving behind a smear of dark, glistening blood.

This person didn't fight to scare or impress-they fought to destroy.

The four thugs quickly realized they were outmatched, their cockiness unraveling into panic. In less than a minute, they scattered like startled animals, fleeing into the shadows.

The victor made no move to pursue his opponent. Instead, he crouched down, fingers deftly gathering up a scattering of items-wallets, lighters, and the like-that had been knocked loose during the brawl. Rising to his full height, he paused, a faint shift in the air pulling his gaze toward the shadows where Yin Chengyu lingered.

His eyes swept the vicinity, sharp and probing, but they betrayed no sign of discovery. With a deliberate flick of his thumb, he wiped away the blood smeared across the corner of his mouth. Then, without hesitation, he turned and disappeared into the depths of the alley.

Yin Chengyu's gaze clung to his retreating figure, a strange tremor rippling through his chest.

In that fleeting instant when the man had turned his head, Yin Chengyu had caught a clear view of his face.

He was certain he had never seen that face before. And yet, the moment their eyes met, an undeniable certainty gripped him-a voice from deep within whispered, It's him.

The man from his dreams. It was him.

The features were younger than he had expected, boyishly raw, even. He looked to be around Yin Chengyu's age-likely still a student. It didn't match the deep, commanding voice that haunted his dreams, the one that spoke with the weight of maturity and authority.

But Yin Chengyu knew. It was him.

A name teetered on the edge of his consciousness, struggling to emerge. His lips moved faintly, but no sound came, and the name remained unspoken.

......

That night, Yin Chengyu dreamed again.

The same dream. The same man.

The figure held him tightly from behind, arms locked around him with a possessive intensity. A face pressed intimately into the curve of his neck, moving with languid familiarity. The warmth of the man's breath trailed across his skin, sending shivers skittering down his spine.

Yin Chengyu tried to turn his head. He always woke up the moment he attempted this, startled out of the dream by a cruel jolt.

But not this time.

This time, he saw him-clearly, unmistakably.

It was the same face he had seen that afternoon in the alley, though now sharper, more mature, and infinitely more dangerous. Those dark eyes, fathomless and consuming, reflected nothing but his own image.

Yin Chengyu jolted awake, breath catching, lips tingling with a phantom sensation he couldn't ignore.

He sat there in the silence of his room, fingers grazing his lips, where the strange numbness had already faded. The quiet night stretched on outside his window, and after a moment of hesitation, he rose from the bed and began pulling on clothes for the outside.

The clock had long passed midnight. Aunt Zhao and Uncle Chen were fast asleep, leaving the villa steeped in silence.

Yin Chengyu stepped out into the cool, empty streets, letting his feet carry him forward with no destination in mind, his thoughts a chaotic storm he couldn't quite contain.

*

When Xue Shu emerged from the bar, midnight had long passed.

The dim bar had been a chaotic haven for all sorts of people, their figures distorted by the glare of garish neon lights that painted a surreal, lurid scene.

Clutching his recently discarded uniform in one hand, Xue Shu walked with a deliberate rhythm, eyes locked on his phone. A message from his mother sat unanswered-a simple question about when he'd return home, accompanied by a reminder that she'd left him a late-night snack on the table. Warm it up before eating, she had said.

The bar's pounding music had drowned out the notification, and by now, his mother was surely asleep. Xue Shu didn't bother replying. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and continued his slow, steady trek home.

His rented apartment lay nestled in a crumbling urban village, strategically located but unapologetically decrepit. The building had poor lighting, an infestation of cockroaches, and the air of a place long past its prime. The landlord had mentioned that redevelopment plans had been in limbo for years, stalled by outrageous land costs and endless squabbles over compensation. But for tenants like Xue Shu, it was a blessing-a cheap place to stay in a spot with decent transportation.

As he neared the towering gates of Yan Hai International High School, his feet stopped almost on their own.

He stood there, staring up at the grand entrance of the elite school, exhaling a cloud of smoke as his fingers instinctively found a cigarette. Under the dim glow of a streetlight, his shadow stretched long and thin, blending into the curling tendrils of smoke. Leaning against the pole, cigarette between his lips, his eyes remained fixed on the school that symbolized a world he could never reach.

He'd read about Yan Hai International online. It was a breeding ground for the privileged and the powerful-children born into wealth and polished for greatness. Annual tuition alone was staggering, and its students, handpicked from the crème de la crème, were bred on an unyielding gospel of elite education.

A place like this? It was galaxies apart from the mediocre public high school he'd once attended, a divide that gnawed at him every time he thought about it.

The irritation stirred by an earlier sight resurfaced-the sleek car he'd spotted that afternoon.

He knew that car too well. It was the personal ride of the Yin family's eldest son, the one he'd seen countless times slipping into the backseat before being chauffeured away, disappearing into a life far removed from his own.

Two people from two worlds, destined to drift in opposite directions. The clarity of that thought burned at his insides, the bitter sting of reality deepening his restless mood.

Grinding the cigarette butt under his shoe, he flicked it into the trash and turned to leave. Just as he moved, though, his gaze caught a figure approaching from across the street.

In the warm glow of the summer night, the boy appeared. He was tall and slender, his straight posture accentuated by a plain white T-shirt and fitted pants. Under the soft cascade of streetlights, his exposed neck and arms gleamed pale, almost unnaturally so, as though untouched by the world's grime. His narrow eyes carried an impenetrable calm, yet Xue Shu felt something frigid rush toward him, sharp and biting like the edge of a winter storm.

He froze. Then, without a second thought, he bolted.

Running into the dark, unlit alley, Xue Shu only stopped when he found the rough wall of a building to lean against. His chest rose and fell rapidly, though it wasn't the run that stole his breath.

No, it was him-the boy who had appeared so suddenly.

His mind churned with half-formed questions.

Why is he at the school this late?

Did he see me?

Did he recognize me?

In the suffocating darkness, Xue Shu clutched the wall as though it could steady his turbulent thoughts. His eyes flicked back to the alley's entrance, barely more than a shadowy void. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to believe the boy had business at the school.

And he? He was nothing more than a passing stranger, acting just a little out of place.