Chapter 30: If I Go Bald, Will You Still Love Me? (30)

Although Bai Yao lacked practical experience, her theoretical knowledge was extensive. Compared to Shen Ji, who was lacking in both practice and theory, she was certainly far more capable. However, once they truly delved into the matter, things quickly slipped from her control.

Even if Shen Ji didn’t understand much, his male pride told him that ending too quickly was unacceptable. He lay atop Bai Yao, his face flushed crimson, burying it in the hollow of her neck, too embarrassed to look up.

With full understanding, Bai Yao stroked his head. “It’s alright, truly. It’s your first time—this is perfectly normal.”

Shen Ji was like an ostrich, wishing he could bury himself away. In a muffled voice he said, “I… I just felt too good. I’m not… I’m not…”

Bai Yao assured him warmly, “Of course. Our Shen Ji is the best there is!”

Shen Ji pressed his lips together, still glum, convinced he hadn’t performed well enough.

He lifted his head, gazing intently at the girl and said stubbornly, “Yao Yao, let’s do it again.”

Bai Yao smiled. “We’re out of supplies.”

Shen Ji pursed his lips once more, unwilling to let it go. He lowered his head and sprawled across her, sulking alone.

Bai Yao stroked his head again. “Let’s wash up and get some sleep.”

He sniffled. “Yao Yao, you’re so good to me…”

Even after all this, she didn’t mind his shortcomings. He knew he hadn’t done well—he’d hurt her at first, and then hadn’t let her enjoy it for long before he gave up the fight. Even if Bai Yao didn’t mind, he couldn’t help but mind himself.

So, on that night, in the old dormitory, the only sounds were those of a girl gently coaxing a young man.

Bai Yao truly thought nothing of it. Judging from Shen Ji’s assets, she never doubted his potential; it was simply that he’d never experienced such stimulation before, so it was only natural he couldn’t endure it for long.

She slept soundly, not waking until after ten the next morning. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the boy’s face, right before hers.

Shen Ji looked resolute. “Yao Yao, next time I’ll do better. I won’t let you down.”

Bai Yao was speechless.

Did he really have to talk about this as if he were going off to save the world?

That Saturday, after having lunch with Bai Yao and checking her homework, Shen Ji disappeared for an entire afternoon.

When evening came and Bai Yao had washed up, ready for bed, he climbed in through the window with an armful of boxes.

Shen Ji wore a radiant smile. “Yao Yao, I’m ready!”

He was carrying so much that several boxes tumbled to the floor.

Bai Yao was left speechless.

So he really planned to stay up all night!

As it turned out, Shen Ji’s second performance was more than satisfactory. Who knows where he’d crammed all that extra knowledge, but his repertoire was so extensive it made Bai Yao feel like she was lacking in information. He truly redeemed himself.

Clearly, hard work does make up for shortcomings.

On Monday morning, the few remaining students on campus filed into their classrooms for study period.

Lu Xiaoran looked at Bai Yao, who was catching up on sleep with her head on the desk, and asked curiously, “Yao Yao, what have you been up to these past two days? I didn’t even see you in the cafeteria yesterday.”

With dark circles under her eyes, Bai Yao replied weakly, “Listening to Baby Bus.”

Lu Xiaoran glanced at Bai Yao’s pallor. Why did she feel that Bai Yao looked as if she’d been utterly drained from overindulgence?

Lu Xiaoran, ever the loyal sidekick, had two main functions: the first was to blindly praise Bai Yao, and the second, to promptly supply her with the latest news—and she always did her job well.

In a low voice, Lu Xiaoran said, “Song Ming from our class has disappeared too.”

Bai Yao didn’t even open her eyes. “Oh?”

“I heard he went looking for that vanished art room, and he never came back. The teachers claim he took leave and went home, but hardly anyone believes it.”

At the mention of “art room,” Bai Yao opened her eyes.

Lu Xiaoran spoke anxiously, “More and more people have been disappearing lately at our school. Yao Yao, I looked up some old records. Although students have always supposedly taken sudden leaves over the decades, the number of disappearances in our year is much higher than before.”

As she spoke, Lu Xiaoran grew frightened herself, hugging her arms with a tremulous voice. “Will I disappear too, one day?”

In truth, this was a common fear. As the sinister rumors spread, everyone was terrified that they might be the next to vanish.

They longed to go home, but couldn’t—feeling utterly abandoned, as if stranded on a deserted island, left to fend for themselves.

Bai Yao sat up and patted Lu Xiaoran’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

Lu Xiaoran didn’t know where Bai Yao’s confidence came from, but she had to admit—amid the escalating anxiety at school, Bai Yao always remained steady, her composure unshaken. That calmness was infectious, and Lu Xiaoran couldn’t help but feel reassured.

A strange sense crept over Lu Xiaoran—perhaps she and Bai Yao truly were friends. She glanced toward the back of the classroom, then, unable to hold back, whispered to Bai Yao, “Maybe it’s just my imagination, but that new student seems really interested in you lately.”

Bai Yao glanced over at Lu Zhizhi, who was quietly fiddling with her phone. Only when Lu Xiaoran brought up her name did Bai Yao realize how quiet the new girl had been lately. “Why is she paying attention to me?”

Lu Xiaoran shook her head. “I’m not sure. Once, when I passed by her, I saw her jotting down your name and Bu Zhongyao’s in her notebook. She’s also been spending a lot of time with Wei Suo from Class Two.”

Bai Yao had heard the name Wei Suo from Bu Zhongyao. The news that Lu Zhizhi was close to Wei Suo struck Bai Yao as oddly unsettling.

At lunchtime, Bai Yao sought out Bu Zhongyao, who was inseparable from her boyfriend.

Bu Zhongyao and Gu Yueshuo sat together, feeding each other so affectionately it could make one’s teeth ache.

When Bai Yao asked about Wei Suo, Bu Zhongyao hadn’t yet answered before Gu Yueshuo, stifling his irritation, sneered, “That creep! He knows Zhongyao is my girlfriend, yet he keeps stalking her.”

Wei Suo had a twisted obsession with Bu Zhongyao. He’d followed her, secretly sent her things, and sometimes, when she was walking alone at night, she’d realize a boy was tailing her—she’d nearly been scared to death.

Bu Zhongyao had firmly rejected him, of course, but Wei Suo seemed immune to reason, constantly intruding on her life.

Although Gu Yueshuo’s relationship with Bu Zhongyao hadn’t always been so close, he’d always regarded himself as her boyfriend, and thus felt responsible for protecting her from that creep. So he’d led others to teach Wei Suo a lesson more than once.