MCFEM C19

Chapter 19: He Doesn’t Care About These Things

“Senior, Song-senior!” The hushed call drifted in through the window. Song Yinxing snapped back to reality and saw a girl crouching sneakily outside.

Zheng Ying, from Class 11, second year. She had been coming by so often lately that Song Yinxing had grown familiar with her face.

“Senior Xia isn’t here today?” Zheng Ying craned her neck, peering around the room.

“No, she took leave to do a magazine shoot.”

“I see.” Zheng Ying’s face instantly fell. “Did she say when she’ll be back?”

“She only took today off. And since the shoot’s in Jiangcheng, she should be back tomorrow.”

“That’s great!” Her eyes lit up at once, and she bounced to her feet. “If it’s in Jiangcheng, then it’s easy—I’ll ask my dad if he can arrange a visit to the set!”

“Thanks so much, Song-senior.” She shoved two cups of coffee into his hands. “Since senior Xia’s not here, you can give the extra one to your desk mate.”

Song Yinxing looked down at the coffee, and the memory of that other day surfaced. “Next time, just buy one. It’s only a few steps for me, no need to go out of your way to get me one.”

“It’s fine! Senior, you work so hard in class. A coffee will perk you up. I’ve already bought them anyway—one more cup won’t hurt.”

He patiently explained in a soft voice, “I’m here on a special admission, and I applied for financial aid. If someone who doesn’t know sees me drinking something this expensive, it could cause misunderstandings.”

Zheng Ying hadn’t considered that. Her brows pinched together, and she instantly smelled trouble. “Has someone been giving you a hard time over this?”

“It’s nothing—it’s been dealt with.” Song Yinxing shook his head, though the dream from last night still weighed on him, casting a shadow.

“It’s almost class. You should head back.” He reminded her.

Zheng Ying glanced at her watch—indeed, time was nearly up. Before leaving, she added that if he ever had trouble, he could come to her.

Back in her classroom, there were still a few minutes before class began. Her friend grinned as she walked in. “You went to see that senior again, didn’t you?”

Zheng Ying didn’t deny it, answering openly. Spotting a cup of milk tea on her desk, she blurted, “Did Shen Mingjun come again?”

“What? No! Heartless!” Her friend swatted at her. “I bought it!”

“Well, he’s been pestering me nonstop. Lately he’s been quiet, but just now I almost thought—”

Her friend cut in, “Haven’t you heard? The Shen family’s in deep trouble! He doesn’t have the time to chase after you now—he can barely fend for himself.”

“What kind of trouble?” Zheng Ying asked.

Her friend lowered her voice. “The Gu family. Everything’s scrubbed from the internet now, cleaned spotless. But a few days ago, it was all over the place.”

“The Shens must’ve lost their minds. Their company’s whole business is PR crisis management, yet they can’t even clean up their own mess, and they still dared to provoke the Gus. Who knows how that’ll end for them.”

From the back row, Gu Qingxu lifted his head, smiling faintly, almost mockingly, in their direction.

Zheng Ying nudged her friend with her elbow, and the two of them quickly pretended nothing had happened, returning to their seats.

The phone in someone’s hand was silenced again.

No need to guess who was calling.

Within the WanYin app, you could search all contacts across the Wanhe-affiliated schools and businesses. Shen Shan couldn’t get in to see Gu Yuhui, so he sent his son instead to plead with him.

Even though Shen Mingjun and Gu Yang were in the same class—and Gu Yang was the direct victim—they still went through such a roundabout way to reach him.

Stupid as it was, at least they recognized who actually had the authority.

But the call still wouldn’t go through.

It didn’t even ring long before being cut off, the message clear as day: it wasn’t unheard, it was ignored.

Shen Mingjun’s face darkened as he clenched his phone tight.

Everything was ruined. How had it escalated this far?

He—he had only wanted to disgust Gu Yang a little.

After all, his father had done plenty of the same. Not only would he release vaguely suggestive press pieces, but he’d even use them as bargaining chips in private deals.

His own admission to Class 11 was thanks to Shen Shan’s maneuvering.

So why was it falling apart for him?

All the fault lay with that damn employee.

The one who had dragged him into this mess. He had already bought the guy a new iPhone, paid him off—and the bastard turned around and, with the shiny new phone, dumped their chat logs in the company group, tagging him directly: Task complete, young master.

Shen Mingjun had gone blank, his carefully crafted excuses collapsing on the spot. Shen Shan had slammed the doors shut, taken up a golf club, and beaten him within an inch of his life.

Now, Shen Shan demanded he fix it—by any means necessary, even if it meant kneeling to apologize.

“What are you doing standing at the door, Shen?” He Min’an entered with a file folder, smiling as he reminded him. “Class is about to start.”

Shen Mingjun jolted, eyes snapping to He Min’an as though he were his last lifeline.

“Class monitor,” Shen Mingjun said, “there’s been some misunderstanding these past days, but you have to believe me, it really was a mistake. I want to explain to Gu Yang—could you, maybe…”

He Min’an regarded him, smile unchanged. “There’s nothing to explain. Ah Yang doesn’t care about these things.”

The words stuck in Shen Mingjun’s throat.

Right—Gu Yang had been unnervingly calm.

On the day it hit trending, afterward when it was scrubbed clean, even when Shen Shan dragged him to the Gu residence to apologize—

No reaction. He had been cold, detached, as if it had all happened to someone else.

It had always been that way. All the snide remarks and jabs Shen Mingjun threw at him—Gu Yang seemed immune, treating him no differently than anyone else.

How was he even supposed to start?

Shen Mingjun couldn’t comprehend it. “What’s he thinking? Is he sick or something…”

Before he could finish, He Min’an’s gaze cut into him, silencing him.

When He Min’an smiled, his eyes narrowed pleasantly. But when his face turned cold, it was terrifying in a way words couldn’t capture.

“He simply doesn’t care about anything.” He Min’an’s tone was flat, the next words softer: “He truly doesn’t care about anything…”

The bell rang.

“Don’t overthink it. What comes next isn’t something you can worry about. Just focus on class.” He Min’an’s expression smoothed back into its usual calm. He entered, tossed the file folder onto the podium, and returned to his seat.

“What were you talking about with Shen Mingjun at the door?” In the back, Gu Yang still looked listless, uninterested.

“You actually care?” He Min’an glanced down at him. “It was about that trending topic.”

“Oh, that.” Gu Yang propped his head with one hand, mumbling, “Just some stale old business.”

After that, he fell silent, lost in thought.

“Gu Yang, I want to talk to you. Could you give me a few minutes?” Shen Mingjun came back inside, forcing himself to speak.

But Gu Yang didn’t mock him or ignore him. Instead, he slowly covered his ears.

“Don’t bother me.”

The speech Shen Mingjun had prepared died on his tongue. “You—”

When he made to persist, Gu Yang ripped a sheet of paper from his notebook, scribbled down a number from his contacts, and handed it over. “This is Gu Qingxu’s number. Go to him. He loves meddling in this kind of thing.”

Shen Mingjun’s nose twisted in fury.

Wasn’t it because the calls weren’t going through that he was forced to bow his head to Gu Yang?

He swallowed his temper, forcing himself to appease him. “Still, I need to talk to you. Gu Yang, maybe there’s been some misunderstanding between us.”

“Since March this year, my account has had several cases of suspicious log-ins, including this time too. Out of nowhere, someone used my account to message employees at my dad’s company. Doesn’t that sound… unnerving to you?”

Though everyone else appeared busy, their ears were tuned in. Hearing this explanation, Yu Bai looked at him in surprise.

Shen Mingjun didn’t even blush. He thought his excuse flawless—and Gu Yang seemed easy enough to trick.

Gu Yang sighed.

【How bizarre.】

His lips hadn’t moved. It was his inner voice.

And whenever it came, Shen Mingjun knew—things would go badly.

【Back then, to climb higher, Shen Mingjun secretly poisoned his father’s first wife’s supplements with slow-acting toxins, making her ill. With his mistress constantly agitating her, her mental state never stabilized during treatment, and she died within a few years.】

【I clearly sent the evidence, with witness statements, to the relevant people. What the hell are they doing? Why hasn’t anyone acted? And why is Shen Mingjun still strutting around here?】