Chapter 11: Afternoon

Chapter 11: Afternoon

Lunchtime break.

The classroom was quiet, with only a handful of day students who hadn’t gone home. Some buried themselves in homework, some napped, others scrolled through their phones. The only sounds were the occasional muffled game effects breaking the silence.

Chen Shiyu returned with a stormy aura hanging over her, went straight to her seat, and collapsed onto the desk without a word.

At the blackboard, Chen Jing was working on a class mural. She kept glancing back, her brows knitting tighter and tighter. Normally, her best friend was full of energy, always buzzing around, chatting endlessly. But today? She’d hardly spoken, her smiles had been forced, and now she just radiated gloom.

“What’s wrong with Shiyu? She’s been off all day.”

At the very back row, Shen Yan had been lounging with his legs crossed, flipping lazily through a book.

At Chen Jing’s words, his eyes lit up, and he immediately sat up straight, face serious.

“Exactly! I thought so too! Not just today—she’s been acting weird since a few days ago!”

His gaze burned as he looked at Chen Jing. Finally, an ally!

“What did you do to make her mad?” Chen Jing shot back without missing a beat.

“Huh? No way!”

Shen Yan glanced toward the girl still lying motionless on her desk, then bit back what he really wanted to say.

He did have a theory. After all, he’d grown up with Chen Shiyu—he knew her inside out. That sharp sense of wrongness, the way she’d been acting… it wasn’t just “mood swings.” Sometimes, it almost felt like she wasn’t the same person at all.

But even he had nearly been fooled. If he hadn’t caught glimpses of the cracks—if he hadn’t suspected a fox spirit was wearing her skin—he would’ve believed her excuses without question.

“Look at your guilty face. Obviously it’s your fault.” Chen Jing gave him a knowing look, suddenly enlightened. “You must’ve ticked her off without even realizing it.”

“Uh…”

Truthfully, Shen Yan had no idea what he’d done to set her off during their little walk earlier. The fox spirit’s heart was impossible to read—maybe even harder than a woman’s.

But that wasn’t even the point right now! They were on completely different wavelengths!

“Go apologize already. Go on.”

“I’m not going.”

Rolling his eyes, Shen Yan pulled out his stack of homework, determined to knock out as much as possible before the break ended. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could game at home.

But his pen stalled. After only scribbling a few lines, he found himself glancing back at Chen Shiyu again.

She’d sat up now, also working on homework. But her brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a faint pout, her long lashes shadowing her eyes. The picture of someone quietly nursing grievances.

He was used to her bubbly, mischievous side, always brimming with energy. But like this—fragile, wounded, clinging to silence—she tugged at something else entirely.

A protective urge welled up in him. She looked so delicate, so pitiful, it made him want to pull her close and comfort her.

Damn it. As expected of a fox spirit—what a terrifying charm!

Shen Yan scratched the back of his head in frustration, then bent over his homework again, muttering curses under his breath.

One day, sooner or later, that fox spirit would slip. One day, those ears and tail would pop out right here in front of everyone.

And when that happened, no matter how cunning it was, it would be finished. Then the real Chen Shiyu could come back.

Beside them, Chen Jing sighed helplessly. 

This blockhead was hopeless.

Privately, Chen Shiyu often complained to her that Shen Yan was a total pighead—always glued to his games, replying to messages with nothing but “yeah” or “mm,” never taking the initiative. Dating him, she’d said, was worse than dating Xiao Ai the AI assistant. At least Xiao Ai responded when you called.

Sometimes, you had to wonder if this “relationship” was really just one-sided—Chen Shiyu chasing after a shadow.

After all, Shen Yan’s attitude toward her had never once been proactive. If anything, he acted more like an older brother than a boyfriend.

By now, classmates had started trickling back into the room, and the classroom slowly buzzed back to life.

“Shiyu~ guess what, two people in the class next door just got caught dating!”

Having reset her expression and put her cheerful mask firmly back on, Chen Shiyu was once again the center of attention. Three or four girls gathered around her desk, chattering excitedly.

“Really? Who?” she asked with feigned curiosity.

“Dunno their names, but I heard… it was two guys!”

Her mind went blank for a second. Wait—guys?

Now this was interesting. Her smile instantly turned genuine as she leaned forward eagerly.

“And then? Did their parents get called? Didn’t their legs get broken yet? Wait—don’t tell me one of them’s a cross-dresser?”

She herself wasn’t into men, not in the slightest. But having a “Bro, please turn around” drama unfold right under her nose? That was way too juicy to ignore.

“No clue~ I’ll sneak over to their class after next period.”

Chen Shiyu’s excitement died instantly. “What? Who gossips halfway and stops there?”

“Yeah, seriously,” another girl chimed in.

Just then, a shadow loomed over Chen Shiyu’s desk.

She froze. Slowly turning her head, she found the stern face of their homeroom teacher staring in through the window.

Her heart lurched. In the sweltering summer heat, a chill swept down her spine, goosebumps prickling, scalp tingling as if something was about to burst out.

Were all homeroom teachers this goddamn stealthy?

Thankfully, she hadn’t been playing on her phone, nor badmouthing the teacher. The woman simply gave her a mild nod before letting her gaze slide past, scanning the rest of the noisy classroom.

Everyone else, of course, was still chatting away like nothing happened.

Across the room, Shen Yan’s deskmate Shi Lei was cackling at some short video on his phone.

“Hey! Shen Yan, look at this! It’s hilarious, haha!”

He shoved the screen practically into Shen Yan’s face.

But Shen Yan didn’t budge, just pushed it away irritably.

“C’mon, just watch! Stop pretending you’re some model student doing homework.”

Grumbling, Shi Lei went back to scrolling. Then he noticed something strange—the class had gone eerily silent. So quiet, he could hear the cicadas screeching outside the window.

A terrible premonition seized him. Slowly, stiffly, he raised his head… to see the homeroom teacher standing right behind him.

The grin vanished from his face in an instant, replaced by blank despair.

Around the room, muffled laughter spread. Smiles bloomed on Shen Yan’s face, on everyone’s faces—but none more strained than Shi Lei’s.

“How many times have I said no phones in class? It’s five minutes until the bell and you’re still glued to the screen.”

Expressionless, the teacher held out her hand.

Shi Lei obediently removed the SIM card and surrendered the phone.

“You can have it back at the end of term.”

Resisting was out of the question. Once the teacher’s back was turned, heading to the podium, he flipped her off under the desk, muttering, “Old hag…”

“Class, stand!”

Listlessly, Chen Shiyu got to her feet. “Stand up.”

“Good afternoon, teacher~”

The students chorused their greeting, then flopped back into their seats. Chen Shiyu immediately lowered her head again, copying Chen Jing’s English homework line by line.

She was class monitor—not because she was a top student (her grades were average), but because she got along well with both teachers and classmates. People respected her enough to listen.

In her past life, the highest position she’d ever held had been “homework collector.” Now she was monitor. What a promotion.

“Ugh… I don’t wanna come to school tomorrow.”

She sighed quietly, resentment dripping from her voice.

Back in her memories, high school had blurred by in a flash. Living it again, though, every day dragged on like a prison sentence.

Worse, she had to wear a mask, day in and day out. It was exhausting.

For a moment, she just wanted to drink. To escape. To forget this reality altogether.