MCFEM C2

Chapter 2: The Cold School Genius Turns Out to Be a Bootlicker

Clang—

Hearing yet another crashing sound, the math teacher Liu Feng turned his head stiffly, gazing at the tall boy who had suddenly stood up in the second row near the window. The boy’s blatantly non-uniform golden hair glinted under the sun, stabbing harshly into his eyes.

“Student Yu, what is it this time?”

“Hah? What are you talking about?” The golden-haired boy’s face betrayed a subtle, incredulous expression. “Didn’t you hear it, Teacher Liu?”

In broad daylight, the math teacher felt as though a cold wind had suddenly swept straight through him. Every single student with their head raised was staring intently at him.

A shiver ran down his back for no reason.

What… what sound?

Was there something he was supposed to hear?

Sitting behind Yu Bai, Ying Jiayi tugged at the edge of his uniform. Only then did the boy snap out of it, laughing as though waking from a dream. “Never mind, nothing important. Pretend I didn’t say it. Just keep lecturing.”

With that, he sat down naturally, and without the slightest concern pulled out his phone, typing away noisily with both thumbs.

The math teacher drew in a deep breath, fortified his materialist worldview, calmed his heart, and pretended to brush off his embarrassment with a breezy smile as he pushed at his temple.

Kids these days, truly something else.

Yet no one took note of his little act of self-recovery. Every student had their head lowered; even his prized pupil Shen Mingjun, who usually always gave him face, was trembling under the desk with his hands busy at something he didn’t want noticed.

“Holy crap, Gu Yang’s gone crazy again.”

“Wait wait wait, then why does Liu Feng still look clueless—don’t tell me he didn’t hear it?”

“Did you notice? Gu Yang’s been lying down the whole time. I’m right in front of him, and trust me—the voice didn’t come out of his mouth.”

“At first I thought Liu Feng was just pretending to ignore it, but now it seems… maybe he really can’t hear?”

“What do you mean? Only we can hear? No way—it can’t be haunting, right? I’ve lived all these years and now I see a ghost? No, I’d better head to the temple to pray.”

“Wait wait—you mean to say nobody’s curious whether Gu Yang’s words are actually true? (dog-head meme eating melon.jpg)”

“So Shen Mingjun’s an illegitimate son? What a joke—he still acts like a stuck-up snob all the time.”

“Maybe he doesn’t even know he’s illegitimate? Wouldn’t that be tragic? Somebody should kindly tell him the truth—don’t leave our big study god Shen in the dark, poor thing haha.”

This very chat had been created right on the spot, naturally excluding both Gu Yang and Shen Mingjun so the rest could gossip freely.

[Shen Mingjun knows about it himself. When his identity couldn’t be hidden anymore, the Shen family’s legal wife magnanimously brought him in, even promising the mistress a sum of money so she could live abroad.]

[But that was letting a wolf into the house. Shen Mingjun put on his sweet innocent act, shamelessly calling the legal wife ‘Mother,’ while day after day complaining to old Shen Shan that he was being coldly neglected. He drove a wedge little by little, corroding that marriage until it fell apart.]

[At the end, the mistress climbed up and replaced the original wife.]

Gu Yang’s inner thoughts spilled relentlessly outward, each word like another knife stabbing into Shen Mingjun’s chest, making him nearly cough up blood.

Never had he so desperately wished Gu Yang would shut that cursed mouth of his, no matter how.

If this continued, without doubt he would become the laughingstock of Class Eleven. No one knew better than Shen Mingjun the rotten nature of his fellow classmates—years of pent-up frustrations found their outlet precisely in tearing someone else down for sport.

So far, at least, it hadn’t reached the worst-case scenario.

Words alone about “slandering others to parents” had no proof, and the woman in question was long dead, unable to testify.

But if that matter were to be spoken—!

His face drained of all color, as pale as a sheet of plaster. He wanted nothing more than to leap up, rush back, and physically shut Gu Yang up. But deep down, he knew if he tried, Gu Yang would smack him across the room before he even had the chance.

He couldn’t win against him. So all he could do was slump helpless and despairing in his seat.

Fortunately, after those lines, the instigator finally fell silent.

Unfortunately, Class Eleven itself had no such compulsion toward peace.

“Holy hell, what a complete piece of scum…”

“This is downright vicious. The original wife even let him in, and he repays her like this? The farmer-and-the-snake story, all over again.”

“Truly deserves death…”

Gu Yang’s follow-up inner whispers only served to intensify the classmates’ hostility toward Shen Mingjun.

“I’ve had a bad feeling about Shen Mingjun for ages. All that icy cold front—inside, he just looks down on us. What’s he even so superior about?”

“Exactly. He thinks everyone else is dumb and only he’s clever, but he’s terrible at hiding it. A bastard child can’t handle the spotlight.”

“It’s not even like his family background is all that. Middling at best. Posturing in front of others is one thing, but in here? Pathetic.”

“He’s the big study god of Class Eleven, remember? Haha.”

“If he’s such a genius, why didn’t he go to No.1 High? Didn’t he want to?”

“From untouchable flower to fallen star—how poetic.”

“Flower? Him? He doesn’t deserve the title. Male god—at least look like Gu Yang, that’s the standard.”

“Gu Yang? More like male psycho, lol…”

“Well, yes, Gu Yang’s insane, but you can’t deny—the beauty’s real.”

“And now he’s not just crazy—he’s downright psychic. (terrified.jpg)”

Crack—

The math teacher snapped the chalk in two, then turned again with an overly kind smile far beyond his years. “What’s the matter, Student Shen?”

Shen Mingjun rose to his feet, face pale with humiliation, lips pressed tight. “I’m not feeling well. Going to the infirmary.”

Without waiting for approval, he stormed out, leaving the teacher no choice. If he didn’t leave, he might break down right there.

Any fool could tell—this class definitely had spun up a new chat to joke at his expense.

Liu Feng lifted his thermos, sipped his tea, and swallowed the lump in his throat with resignation. He scanned absently around the classroom and realized that aside from those with approved absences, one more was missing.

“Where did Xu Qingfeng go?”

“Report, Teacher—he went to the nearest temple to burn incense.” Ying Jiayi tossed the update without looking up from her phone.

“Burning incense, eh? Good, very good—what a devout boy.” Liu Feng replied almost automatically. His hairline, which had bravely survived his grueling nonstop years in graduate school, now—after just one year of teaching at Guanguan High—already showed alarming signs of retreat.

Forget it. It’s just a class. Not worth blood pressure.

Luckily, the bell rang at last. He scooped up his lecture notes and teacup and left the room with practiced calm.

A chair scraped back in the front row. Someone sat, tapping faintly on the desk surface.

Gu Yang remained slouched, but lifted his chin slightly. From under his messy fall of hair, dull eyes peeked languidly up.

Admittedly, he was very good-looking.

His features carried a feminine delicacy, as though sketched with intent: cold and beautiful like a painted scroll. His long eyelashes fanned fine shadows like cicada wings across his cheekbones. When he looked up, his gaze brimmed with a nameless gloom and danger.

…Something that easily lured moths straight into fire.

In this world, appearances were everything. For most, knowing someone’s face was simpler than knowing their soul.

What a shame that such packaging wrapped such a rotten core—it was false advertising, pure and simple.

So thought Yu Bai, with deep regret.

He stood by Gu Yang’s right side, elbow propped on his desk, leaning closer. Meanwhile, Ying Jiayi had taken the seat in front—vacated by the “temple-going” classmate—forearms on the chairback as she faced Gu Yang directly. Behind them, a whole crowd’s gazes bored holes in this small triangle of space.

Anyone else might have noticed instantly. But Gu Yang’s natural obtuseness was unmatched. He pulled one hand free from beneath his cheek, fished a candy from his drawer.

“What is it?” He looked genuinely content, rare hints of color brightening his pale complexion. Slouched against his desk, chin tilted up, thick lower lashes visible as he chewed candy, making a small bulge in his cheek.

“Nothing much…” Ying Jiayi flicked her glossy hair aside, arranging her words before folding arms with a smile. “You’ve been lying there all day. Just checking in—are you feeling unwell?”

“Not at all. I’m just fine.” Gu Yang replied offhandedly. And indeed, his mood right now seemed genuinely bright.

[With so much entertainment to watch, what’s there to feel bad about?]

So much entertainment…

Ying Jiayi’s smile froze a fraction. Almost cracked.

Of course. If Gu Yang could dig up Shen Mingjun’s gossip, he could just as easily dig up anyone else’s.

Everyone sitting there—maybe not killers or arsonists, but each with their shameful secret.

But judging from his look, he seemed unaware that his inner thoughts were bleeding out for everyone to hear.

Class Eleven, one and all, kept their mouths sealed in perfect unspoken agreement. Not one dared mention it.

“What’s next period?” Gu Yang asked, tucking away his math book.

“Looks like…” Yu Bai checked his phone schedule. “PE class.”

“Oh. Then why aren’t we heading to the gym? Plan on skipping altogether?” Gu Yang stood, listless as ever.

Everyone choked.

Like they dared admit—their curiosity toward him was the reason they lingered.

But faced directly, no one in Class Eleven had the guts to stop him. The blockade parted silently to clear his way.

Only after his back disappeared did Yu Bai smack himself: “Wait! Weren’t we supposed to follow him? I mean, isn’t it all just moving locations to keep listening?”

That woke the others. Scrambling, they rushed after.

Just outside, Yu Bai nearly stumbled into Shen Mingjun pressed against a wall, jittery and hiding. Their eyes collided.

The whole crowd instinctively retreated, isolating Shen on the spot.

They didn’t know if Gu Yang’s words were true or not. But better to stay safe than sorry.

After all—the disdain for Shen in their group chat was no playacting.

Guanguan High’s PE hall sat in the school’s southeast corner, fronted by a standard 400-meter track. The gray-white structure inside divided into separate sports zones, its rubber flooring shining so clean it reflected human figures.

The PE teacher frowned at the gathering crowd. For once, they weren’t late. Oddly, however, no one had bothered changing into gym clothes. For boys it wasn’t such a problem, but the girls’ autumn uniform was a knee-length skirt—enough to give him a headache. Not wanting confrontation, he simply allowed them to warm up and then disperse freely.

By lineup order, Shen Mingjun and Gu Yang ended up paired together. At last, Shen found a chance to speak privately. He ground out his words through clenched teeth:

“Gu Yang!”

“Mmm?” Gu Yang answered vaguely. They were mid back-to-back stretches. His full weight leaned casually against Shen’s spine, mind drifting elsewhere.

“I just want to remind you: don’t take rumors without proof so seriously. You haven’t actually seen anything yourself, right?”

He had struggled over how to open all morning. Gu Yang didn’t seem to know his thoughts could be heard, and Shen wanted to hold that secret, keep the initiative. So he’d fussed endlessly over phrasing.

When the body behind him gave no response, Shen grew even more irate. “I’m talking to you! Did you hear?”

Gu Yang blinked up from his inner musings. “…What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

[Huh? Shen Mingjun actually spoke to me today. Doesn’t he always wear that funeral face?]

[Did something put him in such a good mood—did he finally land that rich white beauty he’s been chasing?]

[The one daughter of the CEO his family partners with—pretending cold at school but fawning after her outside.]

Seconds of silence. Listening students froze mid-motion. Some had halted so abruptly their spines cracked audible pops.

White beauty? Since when did Shen Mingjun gain the label “bootlicker” right after “illegitimate son”?

And in what way exactly was he licking?

[He’s licking after Zheng Ying from Class 2. Her family runs a record label.]

[He even hired paparazzi to track her daily activities. Staged ‘chance encounters,’ recorded the shops she lingered at, sending gifts under every possible pretext. That’s not a bootlicker anymore—]

[That’s a pervert.]

[But too bad—it’s all for nothing.]

The whole peanut gallery perked up. Even Shen Mingjun, queasy with humiliation, couldn’t help pricking his ears.

What did that mean?

[First, Zheng Ying doesn’t date early. So romance in high school? Off the table.]

[Second, she’s into girls. She knows it herself, plans to study abroad after graduation and then come out to her family. Ask her why—she’ll just say she’s ‘westernized.’]

[Who knew? At dinner she always seemed so quiet. Who’d have thought her inner world was this wild?]

Those words were the final straw.

The collapse of a man’s pride and sunk cost hit him all at once. Reeling, overwhelmed, Shen Mingjun’s legs gave way. He toppled forward, crashing onto the floor.