Chapter 15: The Bold Little Rascal

Wang Yan felt a twinge of discomfort.

As usual, he had gotten up early, though today he skipped his morning run. His right hand was acting up—while he could bend it normally, a dull ache lingered, especially in the middle and ring fingers, which were almost impossible to separate.

He boiled some water and added a piece of leftover medicinal paste from Pei Zhanxi, pouring it over his right arm. The effect was immediate; the soreness eased significantly.

With classes scheduled for the morning, he planned to “visit” Pei Zhanxi in the afternoon.

For breakfast, he made Chinese-style sandwiches using recipes from the system. These magical recipes had stronger nutritional effects than ordinary meals, and most also came with minor special effects that enhanced taste.

Even with limited emotion points, he insisted on using high-quality ingredients—good both for nourishing Tong Xingyao and for increasing Pei Zhanxi’s favor.

He set a glass of hot milk on the table and sent a message to Xingyao:

“Wake up! Breakfast is on the table. I’m off to class.”

The early morning streets were quiet. Wang Yan energetically strode into the classroom, and as soon as he entered, the bell rang.

His eyes immediately found that familiar, composed figure—Pei Zhanxi.

She had been discharged from the hospital and was sitting in the front row, her back perfectly straight, like an untouchable snow lotus, absorbed in the lecture. The obedient, shy girl he had fed yesterday seemed entirely absent. A top student indeed—her composure returned incredibly fast.

A sly grin crept onto Wang Yan’s face.

He quietly slinked in through the back door, taking a seat not too far from her.

While the professor droned on, Wang Yan’s attention was fixed entirely on her precise movements. Her meticulous note-taking revealed tension: knuckles white, pen pressed so hard the ink sometimes splattered. Clearly, her mind was not as calm as she appeared.

During a brief five-minute break, Wang Yan moved swiftly like a cat, sliding into the seat next to Pei Zhanxi.

Her body stiffened instantly. She could feel the faint warmth of his presence—a subtle “sunlight” emanating from him.

That mischievous man!

She forced herself to keep facing the podium, not daring to glance sideways.

[Panic +15]
[Nervous +20]
[Shame +10]

Wang Yan noticed the rapid increase in her emotion stats on the system panel and his grin widened. A little closeness already triggered a flood—what would happen if he pushed further?

He shifted slightly closer, leaning toward her. She could feel the tense warmth of his body through the gap between them.

“Pei Zhanxi,” he whispered softly, “I didn’t catch that formula just now. Can I see your notes?”

She didn’t respond, only tightening her grip on the pen. The nib leaked ink from the pressure.

Wang Yan’s curiosity peaked. He extended his right hand—still tingling slightly from the medicinal paste—and naturally covered her left hand resting on the notebook.

“Mm?” he hummed lightly, a gentle but teasing threat.

Pei Zhanxi froze—her body jolted. She tried to pull away, but Wang Yan inserted his fingers between hers.

[Panic +30!]
[Shame +25!]
[Resistance +20!]

Half her body went numb from the sudden heat of contact.

“Pei Zhanxi, I need your help, okay? I’ll reward you. I’ll cook for you, lots of delicious food—remember to come over for lunch and dinner. My house is big enough.”

He guided her hand, hidden under the desk, onto his thigh.

“Big, really big—enough for three people. So I can make you breakfast, like we agreed. I’ve already paid.”

Through the thin fabric, she felt the firm muscle and warmth of his leg. Electric currents seemed to shoot through her body, leaving her mind blank, blood rushing to her head, then freezing in place.

“Wang Yan! You…!” she finally managed to whisper.

Her stammering resistance amused him.

“I… I’m not…” she tried to assert herself.

Wang Yan watched intently, enjoying her struggling words.

“It’s a bit chilly today. Why are you wearing short sleeves? Let me warm you.”

He pressed his chest lightly against her.

Her throat went dry; the warmth was intoxicating, so delicate—this was a man’s touch. Wang Yan couldn’t hide his smile.

“Haha, look at you—your face is bright red, ears flushed. Truly a helpless little chef,” he teased.

Close enough to see her emotions flare, her attempted composure crumbling, he felt a surge of satisfaction.

“I’m… I’m not easy to bully,” she tried to finish her defiant sentence.

Wang Yan chuckled. “Oh, you are very easy to bully!”

Her eyes flickered downwards.

“Please… don’t… tease me.”

“Shh,” he whispered, finger to his lips, “let’s just call it… classmates helping each other.”

“And your hand… it’s so cold.”

He lightly traced his finger along her stiff hand.

[Extreme Shame +50!!]
[Fear +40!!]
[Brief Submission +1]

Pei Zhanxi felt all her blood rush to the contact point—shame, fear, and anger all mingled. She wanted to recoil, to rise, to scold—but she couldn’t.

Only she knew how this hidden, burning touch beneath the desk pinned her in place. Her icy mask trembled, leaving only a storm of shame, fear, and helplessness toward this audacious little rascal…

Meanwhile, Wang Yan basked in the continuous flood of emotion points.

At that moment, the professor cleared his throat, eyes sharp as they swept across the classroom:

“Pei Zhanxi, please answer this question.”

Her body stiffened instantly—frozen like a perfect ice sculpture.