novelraw Chapter 63
Chapter 63
Chapter 63
Ding-ding-ding~
The muscles pressed against the wall kept broadcasting a steady, piercing ache, freezing the smile on Yan Huan's face.
The phone in his hand vibrated against the bricks, snatching the attention of both Yan Huan and Tong Yingying.
"Shiyu sis?"
Tong Yingying glanced at the glowing screen, started to ask something, then stopped—because Yan Huan was staring fixedly at her.
More precisely, at her lips.
"."
Only then did she realize how close she'd drifted; his breath stirred the tips of her lashes.
Thump.
Her heart lurched once, then steadied, but her lashes fluttered like moth wings.
After a moment she asked, voice level,
"Why are you staring at my mouth?"
Yan Huan blinked, lifted his gaze, and met her slightly averted eyes.
The reason was simple.
Up close, her mouth looked delicious—like the strawberry cake displayed behind bakery glass, begging for a taste.
He couldn't say that.
So he just grinned wider, pinched his own nose, and answered,
"Cigarette breath, Tong sis."
".Your paycheck just vanished, understand?"
Tong Yingying's face went dark; she shoved away from him and took a step back.
"Kidding! You only took one drag—it's not that bad."
Yan Huan rubbed his shoulder, glanced at Ye Shiyu's incoming call, and pressed Decline.
He sent back a cat sticker that read "Sorry," then typed,
"Sorry, Shiyu sis, tied up for a bit. I'll call you later."
"No rush. I've got the gist about the club. We'll talk details at school tomorrow."
Tomorrow—when the study group meets.
Come to think of it, gathering all the Modifier hosts in one place might be a bad idea.
He still had no clue what kind of chain reaction two hosts might trigger.
After all, Spencer had swiped Ye Shiyu's keychain without setting off any alarm; the Modifier still worked on another host.
Bai Yi's condition seemed the mildest—low lethality, decent personality.
The headaches were Ye Shiyu and Spencer: one getting worse by the day, the other already terminal—basically on life support.
He sent another "Got it" sticker, then moved to lock the screen.
But Shiyu added,
"By the way, Xiao Huan, I made you a shirt—when it's done, come try it on.
A thank-you gift for last time; I'll bring it for you to see."
[Image]
Yan Huan stared at the slightly zoomed-out photo: half-finished fabric on a desk, and in the corner, perched on the bedside table, half of a jellyfish plush—the gift he'd given her.
He had meant it as a tactical move against the Modifier, yet she kept it within arm's reach.
"."
He finally typed,
"Thanks, Shiyu sis."
Followed by a cat bowing "Thank you."
"No worries.
I'll get back to sewing.
Good night."
"Night, Shiyu sis."
On the other end, Ye Shiyu lay on her bed, cheeks flushed, rereading his last message. She rolled over and buried her face in her arms, thoughts spinning.
Back in South District, Yan Huan gave a helpless chuckle and looked up at Tong Yingying, who was glaring at him while he typed.
Their eyes locked.
Tong Yingying smirked.
"Wow, your sis even sews you clothes."
"Not bad, right?"
"Heh."
Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
Before she could needle him further, Yan Huan adopted a serious expression.
"Speaking of which—what are you doing in this alley so late? You know it's dangerous."
His sudden flip left Tong Yingying momentarily speechless.
She arched a brow. "Cut the act. Did you hear what we were talking about earlier?"
"What talk? Did you say something, Tong sis? To whom?"
Tong Yingying blinked.
"You didn't hear, so why did you run?"
Yan Huan blinked back.
"Exactly—if I didn't hear, why were you chasing me?"
"If you hadn't run, would I have chased?"
"If you hadn't chased, would I have run?"
"."
Tong Yingying said nothing; she simply reached into her coat and pulled out a long, thick stun baton.
Yan Huan surrendered on the spot.
"My bad, Tong sis."
"One day this baton will knock some sense into you."
"I swear I was on the phone. Didn't catch a word. Was it something important?"
Tong Yingying studied his earnest face, rubbed her temple, and finally said,
"Adult business—kids stay out. Best you didn't hear. If you did, forget it. I'm looking out for you."
"Copy that."
She holstered the baton, folded her arms, and asked,
"So what are you doing here at this hour? You skipped work, didn't go home to study or do homework?"
"I came to work out. And since it's Monday, I'm off shift anyway, remember?"
"Work out?"
Tong Yingying swept her gaze over his frame, then asked,
"Looks fine to me—why the gym? Got a crush?"
"Come on, Tong sis, you're so romance-brained."
Yan Huan covered his face, shaking his head in mock despair.
He flexed an imaginary bicep. "Can't getting stronger just be for me? Or do you see me as the type who works out just to strut for girls?"
Tong Yingying suddenly recalled the way he'd stared at her lips minutes ago.
For no reason, her own lips tingled; she ran the tip of her tongue along them.
Then she said, tone loaded,
"Mmm, you're right—you're not that type. Want a medal?"
"Stingy. You do know a little praise boosts employee morale."
"Heh. I prefer cash."
"You're right, Sis Tong."
Yan Huan had no comeback, so he just gave Tong Yingying a thumbs-up.
Tong Yingying glanced at the gym behind her, thought for a moment, then pulled a wallet from her pocket and handed Yan Huan a card.
"What's this?"
"It's the gym's card. You can swipe it for everything—entry, water, personal trainers, whatever."
Yan Huan didn't take it. "Sis Tong, are you secretly a rich kid? Just tell me—how many shops do you have in South District?"
"Two."
"Last time I asked you said only one."
"Uh-huh. Ask me again next time and maybe you'll get a third answer."
Tong Yingying yawned and stuffed the card into his hand.
"Take it. I'm heading back to the bar. You train slowly—just don't slack off."
Yan Huan looked at the pure-white card and tried to hand it back. He really had no use for it. He needed to train shirtless, and that wouldn't fly in a public gym. Besides, he already owed Sis Tong enough—his wages were one thing, but this was her first outright gift.
Hss...
Could Sis Tong's parents be pushing her so hard she'd lost her mind and was now eyeing him as marriage material?
Could he invoke some inequality? Accepting a gift ≠ agreeing to marry?
But she seemed to read his mind. Another yawn, then: "Once you take it, train properly. Don't pry into society's business, and talk less. Got it?"
Oh—
hush money?
Moments ago he had overheard fragments of her conversation with the gym owner. Out of context, yet he could piece together enough—especially when combined with Tong Yingying's mysterious background. A woman who lazed around all day yet could afford multiple South-District storefronts...
Terrifying. Thank goodness she's probably just connected to the underworld; for a second he'd feared she'd actually gotten rich in finance.
Yan Huan exhaled, then tensed again. He could almost picture himself whisking caramel pudding in the bar when, screech—an old two-door troop carrier with busted air-con slams to a halt outside. Seventy bookish men hop out clutching newspapers, shouting "hands up, hands up," and storm the place.
He shuddered; the card stayed in his hand.
Tong Yingying didn't notice. She nodded, turned to leave, then paused. "Right, during summer break you mentioned some spring class trip?"
Yan Huan blinked. "Uh-huh. You mean the Class Retreat?"
"Whatever fancy name your elite school gives it. When is it?"
"Not yet. We've got Club Wars first, then mid-terms. After exams we head out—two weeks abroad, as usual."
Tong Yingying drooped. "Fine. You'll drop by less, so the bar will be short-staffed. I'll have to hire another hand. Go train; I'm off."
"Sure thing, Sis Tong."
She waved and walked away, then looked back. "One more thing."
Sis Tong, are you my dad now?
"What?"
"I misspoke earlier. That card isn't all-inclusive."
"Huh? What's not covered?"
"Female personal-trainer fees."
"...."
Seeing his face, she finally cracked a sleepy grin. "Kidding. Don't be dense. Come to the bar when you're free."
With that she vanished into the neon night, leaving Yan Huan alone with the white card. He pocketed his phone and stepped back inside.
The gym owner stood by the door, smiling like Principal Hermes—minus the wrinkles, so no chrysanthemum folds.
"Something on your mind?"
"Nope, just looking. Oh—actually, we have a VIP zone that's empty at night. Want me to show you, kid?"
"VIP zone?"
"Right, right, here."
The owner's meaningful smile never wavered as he slid a recharge menu across the counter. Four-digit top-ups granted VIP access plus dedicated female trainers—
then he slapped both hands over the words "female trainers."
Yan Huan raised an eyebrow.
The owner laughed awkwardly. "Ah, no female trainers at the moment, haha."
"...."
"Argh, another off-banner? Two patches, three wrong pulls! Are you even human?!"
Tuesday morning, South-District school bus.
Yan Huan covered his ears and glanced at Hashimoto beside him, eyes bloodshot, phone creaking in his grip.
"Even whales get spooked?"
"Exactly! The more I pay, the worse the rates—blatant forced spending! Conspiracy, President!"
Yan Huan watched him gnash his teeth, about to say, "Then stop paying."
Instead, Hashimoto slammed the purchase button and bought another 648-crystal pack.
The words died in Yan Huan's throat, condensing into the line everyone eventually uses:
"Hashimoto, you're hopeless."
"You don't get it, President! This new character is different—I must have her!"
"How? We've pulled big-chested, black-stockings, meta units, lolis—what's new?"
"She's hot, President."
"...."
Hashimoto's family couldn't actually afford monthly 648-packs; light spending was his ceiling. Luckily he was a coding prodigy, earning good money writing homework for others—Yan Huan had even introduced him to the same ghostwriter who'd sent those calculus slides. Every yuan, however, still vanished into "digital dowries."
Well, "you can't put a price on joy," and it's his own money. Best not to judge.
Sakuramiya Hitomi handled it perfectly—she alone in the student council respected Hashimoto's hobby without a single negative word.
The bus soon reached campus. Yan Huan and the finally-lucky Hashimoto stepped off.
The new school building was nearly finished; scaffolding was coming down, revealing an opulent silhouette.
Instead of heading to class they walked toward the library. Today the study group officially launched; Yan Huan had emailed everyone to meet Tuesday morning in the soundproof seminar room on the library's top floor. Because attendance was optional, the final roster remained uncertain—this morning was simply a head-count before the real sessions began at noon.
Yuanyue's library was enormous, directly opposite the new teaching block.
The demolition outside clanged and hammered so loudly that even after Yan Huan and Hashimoto stepped into the elevator, the racket followed them.
"Way too noisy."
"Mm-hmm. Still, silver lining—all the normies who used to hog the study rooms are gone now. Heh-heh-heh."
"."
The elevator doors slid open at the top floor. Right in front of them stood Seminar Room L501—the spot the student council had claimed as the study-group headquarters.
Yan Huan swiped his campus ID and pushed the door. The room wasn't large. By the window, at the only occupied table, sat a girl with soft, golden curls that looked like a lion's mane.
She had her back to the door, an empty black tote at her side. Head bowed, she was humming a tune and swaying gently, clearly absorbed in something fascinating.
When the door creaked, she twisted around with obvious irritation—only to freeze as her eyes locked on the two boys entering. The moment she recognized Yan Huan at the front, the annoyance melted into a chilling grin.
A stunning beauty—tall, athletic, radiant—yet the vibe she gave off was pure menace.
Yes, the girl lounging in the room was the new first-year transfer student, host of the dangerous Modifier.
Aria Spencer.
She tilted her head, propped her chin in her hand, and greeted Yan Huan in a sing-song voice.
"Well, well, if it isn't President Yan~"
That angle gave Yan Huan a glimpse of what she was reading. Sunlight from the window lit up page after page of thick black censor bars that looked like digital mosaics.
One glance and he recoiled as if he'd swallowed a fly.
Who on earth
had given her that thing?!!