Lin Chengtong clenched his teeth. No matter what explanation Ark ultimately gave, its reputation and market share were destined to collapse, and his investments were going down the drain. The only thing left to do was to manage PR, wait for the public uproar to die down, and sell off Ark as quickly as possible.

Thinking of the massive financial loss he was about to suffer, he returned to his study, turned off the lights, and fumed in helpless rage.

Of all times for that battery to explode—why did it have to be at the expo?

And it just had to explode while someone was playing the very mini-game he had invested in!

Now it wasn’t just the phone that was ruined—even that small game, which had never really had a market to begin with, had landed itself on countless parents’ blacklists.

It was truly a case of when it rains, it pours. He was about to lose everything he’d earned over the past few years.

When Lin Lu got home, he immediately sensed the heavy atmosphere filling the entire house.

He silently retreated to his room and locked the door.

But Lin Chengtong, overwhelmed with rage and in desperate need of an outlet, stormed over and banged on Lin Lu’s door.

“I asked you—why weren’t you with Bai Yingchuan today? Didn’t I tell you clearly that you had to bring him to Ark’s booth? If he’d been there, there would’ve been a crowd of young people gathering! That middle schooler never would’ve had the chance to play on the phone for so long!”

At that moment, Lin Chengtong laid all the blame on Lin Lu.

“You ruined all of my plans and arrangements! Bai Yingchuan actually ended up at Xiaolan, giving my competitor free publicity! You couldn’t even keep track of one person?!”

His furious shouting nearly scared Lin Lu senseless.

Only now did he finally understand just how badly his father had lost this time.

“Dad… Bai Yingchuan is a living, breathing person! He just said he was going to the restroom—and then he was gone. I thought Aunt Bai Yue had already talked to him. But clearly… he deliberately avoided me. He didn’t want to be around me. Dad, maybe you should ask Aunt Bai Yue what she actually told Bai Yingchuan. Why wouldn’t he cooperate with us?”

Lin Lu burst into tears, pouring out all his grievances to Lin Chengtong.

Lin Chengtong froze for a moment, then turned and stormed out of his son’s room to call Bai Yue—half to confront her, half to warn her.

What he didn’t know was that while he was making that call, Bai Yingchuan was sitting right next to Bai Yue, playing on his phone.

As Lin Chengtong launched into his usual barrage of accusations, Bai Yue instinctively reached to apologize—but Bai Yingchuan casually took her phone and answered the call himself.

“Uncle Lin, my mother only invested in Ark because she trusted you. She poured thirty million into it. And now, right in front of a crowd, your phones explode due to some laughable, irreparable battery defect. My mom’s too polite to say it, but I’m not. I’m direct. So tell me—will Ark be filing for bankruptcy, or are you planning to sell it? How much of that thirty million do you expect my mom to get back?”

Bai Yue widened her eyes and looked up at her son in astonishment as he calmly and bluntly questioned Lin Chengtong.

On the other end, Lin Chengtong was completely caught off guard—so much so that he couldn’t even begin to scold Bai Yingchuan.

Bai Yingchuan hung up and tossed the phone back to his mother, saying coolly, “See? Easy. You don’t owe him anything. He’s the one who screwed you out of that money. Why isn’t he taking responsibility for your loss? If I hadn’t gotten separated from Lin Lu and ended up at Ark’s booth like Chengtong planned, I’d probably be the one taking the heat right now—publicly crucified to distract from the company’s problems. You’d lose money, and I’d lose my future.”

With that, he turned and headed back to his room.

Bai Yue opened her mouth, but said nothing. It was the first time Bai Yingchuan had flipped the script and shut down Lin Chengtong—and it made her, as his mother, feel utterly useless, like someone who only ever made things worse.

Not long after, news broke online that De Yi Tian Xia had invested in Xiaolan, the domestic smartphone brand.

With such a wealthy backer, Xiaolan’s promotional campaign took off like a skyscraper rising from flat ground.

Ads for the new model flooded subway stations, bus stops, shopping mall LED screens. They even appeared in popular online games, food delivery apps, and video platforms favored by young people. He Changqin was even invited to do a segment on the national broadcaster—he was quickly becoming the face of domestic smartphone innovation.

The search for Xiaolan’s brand ambassador became a hot topic, spilling out of the tech sphere and into the entertainment world.

Whether serious actors or idol celebrities, everyone was eager to get in on it—landing this deal would mean aligning themselves with Xiaolan and its powerful backer, De Yi Tian Xia. The perks that would follow were obvious.

Feeling the ripples spreading through the entertainment industry, Bai Yue could only suffer in silence.

On paper, she was a respected former Best Actress winner, someone with real talent. But she had chosen to side with Lin Chengtong.

If Xiaolan reached out to her, great. But if not—she wouldn’t even dare fight for it. Doing so would directly put her at odds with Lin Chengtong, and he would absolutely hold a grudge. Every future film role would be in jeopardy.

Meanwhile, Bai Yingchuan sat nearby, casually scrolling on his phone, smiling as he said, “Ms. Bai Yue, why do I see netizens voting for Xiaolan’s ambassador and both Xie Langhua and Zhang Minzhen are leading the polls—yet you barely have any votes? Weren’t you three once called the top three leading ladies in the business?”

Bai Yue immediately recognized the sarcasm. “Those two are vote-rigging, trying to get Xiaolan’s attention. They’re so old and still playing these petty games—it’s embarrassing. Do they think the public can’t tell?”

With a smile still on his face, Bai Yingchuan replied teasingly, “Really? Netizens seem more surprised that one former Best Actress hasn’t had any decent work in years and is basically irrelevant now.”

Bai Yue, stung, shot back coldly, “So what if I’m irrelevant? These people can only be snide online. If you’re so confident, why don’t you go try to land the Xiaolan ambassador deal?”

Bai Yingchuan’s smile faded, his voice suddenly carrying a trace of chill. “Yu-jie already approached them. Xiaolan said I’m a risk and can’t be their ambassador.”

“What risk could you possibly be?”

Bai Yue prided herself on managing her son’s public image meticulously—no fights with teachers, friendly with classmates, no dating, always respectful and eager to learn in the public eye. Even if it was just an act, it was a convincing one.

Bai Yingchuan, just about to return to his room, paused by her side and looked down at her.

“My risk is you,” he said. “Did you forget you invested in Ark with Lin Chengtong? If Ark’s investors are ever exposed, what would it look like—mother backing a garbage brand, while the son becomes the face of the future of domestic smartphones? That’s a joke.”

Without waiting for her reaction, he turned and walked off.

Xiaolan’s newest smartphone model had become a preorder hit—even Mu Xianqing called Jiang Ruotang to tease him about investing.

“Turns out you’re a lucky charm.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Jiang Ruotang joked back. “I’m your guiding light.”

“Then, dear guiding light, tell me—any other investments lately? Let your little bro in on the profits.”

For someone like Mu Xianqing to call himself the little brother—probably only Jiang Ruotang could inspire that.

“Let me think.” Jiang Ruotang smiled and paused a moment to build suspense, then finally said, “I’ve got a game studio. We’re working on a fun little mobile game. Low cost, but if it launches, it’ll rake in some cash. We’ve got product design down—you’re the marketing expert. Want in?”

Mu Xianqing laughed. “I’m in.”

The weather in November was growing colder. Jiang Ruotang threw on a sweater under his school jacket and headed to school.

As he neared the gate, he noticed that many classmates had already switched to winter coats.

The moment he opened the car door, a gust of chilly wind swept in.

Zhao Changfeng, meanwhile, hadn’t even added a sweater—he stepped out in just his uniform.

No wonder—he was an athlete. Built tough.

Jiang Ruotang followed behind him, sneezing twice.

Zhao Changfeng looked back and gave him a glance that clearly said, Weakling.

Inside the classroom was a bit better. Although the heat wouldn’t be turned on for another week, just having a bunch of students gathered and giving off body heat made it more comfortable.

When Lu Guifan walked in, Jiang Ruotang was momentarily stunned.

Everyone wore the same school-issued black mid-length wool coat—but Lu Guifan made it look like high fashion.

Even his old backpack and thick black-rimmed glasses somehow enhanced his vibe.

With broad shoulders, long legs, and a confident stride, Jiang Ruotang realized that in his past life, he must’ve been blind not to notice Lu Guifan.

That strange mix of restraint and ease somehow coexisted perfectly on Lu Guifan without any contradiction.

He set down his bag and began his usual morning routine—collecting homework.

As he moved around the classroom, more and more eyes followed him.

Clearly, when it came to aesthetics, humans did have a shared standard.

Several girls couldn’t help sneaking glances—especially when Lu Guifan reached out his right hand to take a practice test and draped it over his left arm.

He looked exactly like the elegant, mysterious, slightly melancholic vampire butler from a popular manga series.

Finally, Lu Guifan reached Jiang Ruotang’s desk and gave the usual light tap on the corner.

“Practice test.”

“Huh?” Jiang Ruotang looked up at him.

Lu Guifan probably thought he was joking around again. He leaned in slightly and said quietly, “Young master, your worksheet.”

Just a few simple words, but they traveled from his ears straight to his heart, leaving Jiang Ruotang feeling weightless.

Just as he was about to reach into his drawer, he suddenly let out three sneezes in a row.

Zhao Changfeng cackled from the back, “Haha, young master, someone’s cursing you!”

Jiang Ruotang retaliated by ramming his elbow against Zhao’s desk.

“It’s cold today—why are you dressed so lightly?” Lu Guifan asked.

“Blame Zhao Changfeng,” Jiang Ruotang grumbled. “I was just thinking I should switch to a winter coat before leaving the house, but that guy insisted it wasn’t cold at all. So I only added a thin sweater under my jacket.” He shot a sharp glare at Zhao Changfeng, silently warning: Keep teasing me, and I’ll flip your desk.

Unexpectedly, Lu Guifan placed the collected worksheets on Jiang Ruotang’s desk first, then took off his own coat and draped it over Jiang Ruotang’s shoulders.

“Zhao Changfeng’s a PE student. You can’t compare with him,” Lu Guifan said.

The sudden weight on his shoulders, along with Lu Guifan’s body warmth, left Jiang Ruotang frozen in place, completely motionless.

It was as if he had been wrapped up in the other boy—a feeling Jiang Ruotang had long yearned for.

That overwhelming sense of safety and belonging made his eyes inexplicably burn.

Across the aisle, Jian Sha sighed dramatically. “Wow… this basically counts as the class monitor giving you a hug!”

Jiang Ruotang grinned and slipped his arms into the sleeves of the coat. He hadn’t expected Lu Guifan’s arms to be so long—the sleeves nearly covered his fingertips.

He spread his arms wide, as if offering a hug. “Come on, Sister Sha! Hug me and it’s basically like being hugged by the monitor!”

Jian Sha crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “If you hug me, the monitor will definitely punish you.”

“Oh yeah? I want to be punished by him! Come on, come on!” Jiang Ruotang joked shamelessly, continuing to goof around with Jian Sha.

Zhao Changfeng suddenly chimed in, “The monitor gave you his coat—won’t he be cold now?”

That reminder sparked an idea in Jiang Ruotang’s mind.

He took off his own sweater. When Lu Guifan returned from handing in the papers and passed by Jiang Ruotang’s desk, Jiang Ruotang suddenly reached out and stopped him with an arm.

“Hm?” Lu Guifan looked down, puzzled.

Jiang Ruotang handed him the sweater. “Let’s trade. I don’t want you catching cold in class.”

Although Lu Guifan’s shoulders were broader, Jiang Ruotang’s sweater was fairly loose, so it would fit fine under the school uniform jacket.

Lu Guifan’s silence made Jiang Ruotang nervous. Just as he was about to make an awkward joke to lighten the mood, Lu Guifan reached out, took the sweater, and said quietly, “Thanks.”

Jiang Ruotang smiled. “I should be thanking you for the coat.”

Across Lin Lu, Bai Yingchuan observed Jiang Ruotang’s expression as he fiddled with the collar of Lu Guifan’s coat. These little actions were so obvious to him—like something straight out of a cliché teen drama. So obvious, it was impossible to ignore the truth:

Jiang Ruotang liked Lu Guifan.

Bai Yingchuan took a slow, deep breath, trying to suppress the sourness rising in his chest.

If this were a drama, it felt like he wouldn’t even be cast as a supporting male lead—because between him and Jiang Ruotang stood someone like Lin Lu.

Lu Guifan returned to his seat, holding the sweater.

The soft, fluffy texture reminded him of its owner.

Some classmates nearby looked over, but Lu Guifan remained calm, removing his school jacket, pulling on the sweater over his shirt, and putting the jacket back on—locking in Jiang Ruotang’s warmth.

Occasionally, when he looked down to take notes, a faint scent of laundry detergent wafted up from the collar—subtle and clean. Every time he smelled it, his heart tightened unexpectedly, and his mind involuntarily drifted to the memory of Jiang Ruotang sniffing his own wrist and saying, “It smells nice.”

It was the first time Lu Guifan found himself distracted during class. He looked up, and there was Jiang Ruotang, half-tilting his head, attentively listening to the English teacher explain future-in-the-past tense, wrapped in his coat like an obedient little lamb.

During the lunch break, Xiao Gao sent a message saying he’d dropped off Jiang Ruotang’s winter coat.

Jiang Ruotang felt a pang of disappointment.

From the back of the classroom, Zhao Changfeng called out smugly, “See how good I am to you?”

So it was you, you big oaf, who told Xiao Gao?! I wanted to wear Lu Guifan’s coat a little longer!

Fuming, Jiang Ruotang silently cursed: You damn husky! May you live the rest of your life gnawing bones without ever tasting meat!

Still reluctant, he had no choice but to go downstairs to the front desk to retrieve his coat.

When he returned, Lu Guifan had already finished lunch and was asleep at his desk, glasses off, cheek resting on one arm.

Jiang Ruotang stood beside him for a while, quietly watching.

Lu Guifan’s eyelashes were long, and without his usual cool demeanor, he looked unexpectedly soft and handsome in sleep.

Jiang Ruotang desperately wanted to touch those lashes—but Lu Guifan was so sharp, if he woke up, he’d have to return the coat.

Carefully clutching his own coat by the collar, Jiang Ruotang gently draped it over Lu Guifan’s shoulders before returning to his seat to nap.

But no sooner had he walked away than Lu Guifan’s eyes slowly opened. He lifted the coat, pulled it closer to his face, and breathed in.

Maybe it was the warmth, but Jiang Ruotang fell into a deep sleep.

He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself in the lavishly decorated Rococo-style bedroom that only his dad could love.

Then came a knock at the ornate carved wooden door, followed by a deep, magnetic voice:

“Young master, it’s time to get up.”

Jiang Ruotang jolted. Wait—wasn’t that Lu Guifan’s voice?!

The door opened, and Lu Guifan stepped inside in a sleek black morning suit, with a white shirt, a tailored vest, and a black satin tie.

He even wore black gloves and held an antique pocket watch in his left hand.

Looking at the still-lazy-in-bed Jiang Ruotang, he didn’t seem annoyed. Instead, he smiled faintly—like a warm ray of winter sun.

“Young master, why aren’t you up yet?”

He leaned one hand on the pillow and looked down at Jiang Ruotang.

Those deep amber eyes made Jiang Ruotang suck in a sharp breath. What is happening?!

“Looks like you need some special wake-up service.”

Lu Guifan calmly tucked the pocket watch into his vest, slowly removed the glove from his right hand with his left. It was a perfectly normal movement—but slowed down like this, it became inexplicably suggestive.

That hand, warm to the touch, gently tapped between Jiang Ruotang’s brows, then teasingly traced his nose bridge, his chin, circled his throat, and slowly slipped under the covers.

Suddenly, a thousand horses thundered past, and Jiang Ruotang jolted awake, heart pounding.

No Rococo room—just the regular classroom, filled with napping classmates.

His shoulders twitched. Realizing what had happened, he peeked under his desk.

Oh god—

Guilt-ridden and panicked, Jiang Ruotang glanced toward Lu Guifan’s desk.

Thankfully, Lu Guifan was still fast asleep, completely unaware.

Jiang Ruotang quietly got up and made a beeline for the restroom, locking himself in a stall to clean up.

As he washed his hands, he mumbled, “This just means I’m young! My body’s healthy!”

When he returned to class, he felt like a guilty thief. Just seeing Lu Guifan’s hand hanging from the edge of the desk made his heart race.

Blame his hands for being too pretty, Jiang Ruotang thought bitterly. No wonder I had that kind of dream. Jiang Ruotang, you’re hopeless!

Ugh… I want to see Lu Guifan take off his gloves again—what do I do?

After school, the school’s security staff were having a hard time—someone had posted a photo of Bai Yingchuan wearing his wool coat online, and once it spread through fan groups, girls from other schools had come to the front gates of Beicheng Guangyao just to see him.

Jiang Ruotang had originally planned to go out for dinner with his friends before heading to the art studio, but the crowd at the school gate shocked all of them.

Jian Sha sighed. “With this many people, Bai Yingchuan definitely isn’t coming out.”

Zhao Changfeng, hands in his pockets, muttered, “It’s just a wool coat. And now he’s being marketed like some noble young master? It’s all hype.”

Jiang Ruotang grabbed Cai Ji with one hand and Lu Guifan with the other, pushing his way toward the gate. “Hurry up and get us a table! If we’re late, we won’t get food! I’ve got to leave for the studio by 6:40!”

All he could think about was that restaurant’s spicy fish and beef offal hotpot—if he missed it, he’d be devastated.

Jian Sha followed behind and murmured, “Love or not… it’s so obvious.”

Sensing Jiang Ruotang’s burning desire for food, Lu Guifan stepped forward and shielded him with one arm. Jian Sha gave Zhao Changfeng a punch to the arm, prompting him to use his height to clear a path. Together, they finally broke through the crowd.

Soon after, Bai Yingchuan’s team arrived to maintain order, handing out autographed postcards and politely asking fans not to block the school entrance or disrupt daily life.

Meanwhile, Jiang Ruotang and his friends managed to grab seats at the little restaurant and began happily feasting.

“Honestly,” Jian Sha said as she stroked her chin, “Bai Yingchuan really does look like a novel’s male lead in that school coat.”

“A wool coat flatters anyone—so long as they’re tall and don’t have a beer belly,” Zhao Changfeng said.

Still locked in a chopstick battle with him, Jiang Ruotang mocked, “Totally, totally! If you had worn one today, you’d have left a trail of fainted admirers behind you!”

Just as the last piece of fish was about to be destroyed in their scuffle, Lu Guifan calmly picked it up and dropped it into Jiang Ruotang’s bowl.

Zhao Changfeng cried, “Monitor, that’s favoritism!”

Dinner was loud and lively. Only when Xiao Gao came to pick Jiang Ruotang up did Lu Guifan suddenly remember—

He was still wearing Jiang Ruotang’s sweater underneath his school jacket.