Chapter 49
Chapter 49: Composed, Young Master Yan Makes His Move
The Dean of Discipline had been watching Sheng Song for a long time.
He knew exactly what kind of trash the boy was.
But the problem was always the same—no evidence.
Sheng Song was careful. He knew how to skirt the line, how to strike without leaving fingerprints.
The Dean of Discipline had been helpless.
Until today.
He’d been called away by the principal between periods—and had come back with a crystal-clear video.
Malicious bullying of a newly transferred classmate.
Malicious destruction of personal and public property.
He didn’t just want to write Sheng Song up.
He wanted to hit him with the harshest sanction the school could justify—something Sheng Song wouldn’t forget.
At the same time, the Dean of Discipline couldn’t help feeling baffled.
The principal was famously tight-fisted. Had he actually spent money installing new cameras?
Sheng Song stared at the footage on the screen.
It showed him climbing over the wall from outside the school.
It showed him slipping into Senior 2, Class 1.
It showed him ripping Ye Wan Lan’s textbooks and workbooks to pieces, scattering them like trash.
The video was sharp enough to catch his face clearly.
“Dean, I…” Sheng Song’s back went slick with cold sweat. He opened his mouth, but no complete sentence came out.
How was there surveillance?
No. 7 High School’s cameras were never on after lights-out.
That was why he’d dared to do it.
“You what?” the Dean of Discipline stared at him coldly. “Want to say it wasn’t you? Should I play this at Monday’s assembly and let the whole school see whether the person in the video is you?”
“Dean, I was wrong.” Sheng Song’s voice turned hoarse. “I—I…”
He couldn’t deny it.
And he couldn’t admit he’d done it for Sheng Yun Yi.
“Behave,” the Dean of Discipline said, clearly done with him. “If you don’t perform well over the next year, don’t even dream of getting this cleared from your record.”
Sheng Song left the office in a miserable haze, his face dark and twisted.
If he couldn’t handle Ye Wan Lan inside the school, he could make everyone isolate her.
And once they were outside—
There would be far fewer rules.
—
In the principal’s office.
“Classmate Ye,” the principal said angrily, slapping the desk, “as long as you say the word, I’ll expel Sheng Song immediately. This is outrageous!”
“Principal, no need.” Ye Wan Lan smiled faintly. “Even if you expel him, his family can still find another school. He’ll just keep bullying people elsewhere.”
Her eyes were calm, almost thoughtful.
“It’s better to keep him where I can see him. Then I can solve it once and for all. Isn’t that better?”
“Ah?!” the principal yelped.
What kind of approach was that?
He wiped sweat from his brow and hurried to change the subject. “This is on me as well. At noon today, we replaced every camera on campus with the newest models. We also added a lot more.”
“Thank you for your hard work, Principal,” Ye Wan Lan said.
“Not hard at all. Not hard.” The principal waved frantically.
Why did it feel like he’d just been praised by an emperor?
He personally escorted his nine buildings—no, Ye Wan Lan—out of the office.
Halfway down the hall, Teacher Ren intercepted her and dragged her toward the physics office.
“Come, come, come,” he said, grinning like he’d just struck gold. “Your participation in the physics competition is confirmed. Prelims are early September, semifinals are mid-September, finals are mid-October.”
His eyes glittered. “If you take first place, you can earn bonus points and even get recommended admission. And you can compete internationally too. Happy?”
Ye Wan Lan nodded. “Thank you, Teacher Ren.”
“There’s a seven-day physics training camp during summer break,” Teacher Ren added. “You have to attend.”
“We’ll see,” Ye Wan Lan said calmly.
Teacher Ren: “…”
Something shattered somewhere.
Ah. His heart.
“Fine!” Teacher Ren forced a smile, clinging to hope. “As long as you can attend—even a little is good!”
He rummaged through a shelf and pulled out several books. “Take these references. Not that they’ll be difficult for you.”
“Teacher Ren,” someone called from outside. “May I come in?”
“Come in,” Teacher Ren said, turning with a grin. “Oh, Xu Bai. You’re here too. This is our new classmate. You can get to know—”
“Teacher,” Su Xu Bai said flatly, cutting in. “I have a question. It’s urgent.”
Teacher Ren’s attention snapped away immediately. “What question? Let me see.”
Su Xu Bai sidestepped around Ye Wan Lan as if she carried something contagious. He didn’t even give her a glance.
She chose history-chemistry-biology.
What was she doing in the physics office?
Trying to cozy up to Teacher Ren?
No need.
Ye Wan Lan tucked the books into her arms. “Teacher Ren, I’ll go first.”
“Go, go. Read them carefully.” Teacher Ren was already locked in battle with the problem.
Only then did Su Xu Bai’s eyes flick to the book titles in Ye Wan Lan’s arms.
Physics Competition Tutorial.
Feynman Physics Advanced Lectures.
And several English-only texts—all competition-level.
A history-track student studying physics?
If she truly had the ability, she wouldn’t have chosen history-chemistry-biology.
Everyone knew that combination was a pit. It limited your majors in university.
Su Xu Bai’s expression turned even colder.
Sheng Song had been right.
Ye Wan Lan liked to put on a show.
He didn’t like her now.
And he wouldn’t like her later, either.
—
The day passed quickly, and soon it was dismissal.
“Good,” Su Xue Qing said as she packed her bag. “At least the Dean of Discipline didn’t come looking for you again. Crisis averted.”
Then she hesitated. “But I’m worried Sheng Song might do something outside the school. Should we call a few people and walk together?”
“Someone’s picking me up on the way,” Ye Wan Lan said. “Don’t worry.”
“On the way? Then that’s good.” Su Xue Qing finally relaxed. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” Ye Wan Lan waved and walked out.
Su Xue Qing stepped into the hallway and looked up—
Only to meet Su Xu Bai from Class 2 head-on.
He glanced at her, eyes indifferent. “At least remember your surname is Su. People you shouldn’t get close to—stay away from them.”
“None of your business.” Su Xue Qing shouldered her backpack and walked past him without expression.
—
In the underground parking garage, Ye Wan Lan glanced at the map on her phone.
“This route is a bit jammed today,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll drive.”
“Miss Ye, absolutely not!”
“Please, Miss Ye, calm down!”
Bing He and Tie Ma went pale in unison.
If Ye Wan Lan got behind the wheel, would any of them survive the day?
Rong Yu, sitting in the back seat, stared blankly. “No, you really can’t. You don’t even have a license. Also, what’s with you two? Why are you acting like you’re marching to your deaths?”
“It’ll clear up in a bit,” Yan Ting Feng said lazily, fingers tapping the steering wheel.
And sure enough, by the time they reached the stretch of road marked red on the map, traffic had already smoothed out.
Thirty minutes later, the car stopped neatly at the Lin Family residence.
Ye Wan Lan got out.
Only then did Bing He and Tie Ma finally breathe again.
Their lives were safe.
As Ye Wan Lan headed upstairs, she answered a call.
“Hello, Teacher Yan,” she said. “Is something urgent?”
“A Lan, it’s not urgent,” Yan Ting Yue replied warmly. “I want to ask you to accompany me to an art exhibition. When are you free?”
“An exhibition?” Ye Wan Lan thought for a moment. “I have a meeting on Saturday. Sunday I can spend the whole day with you.”
“That’s wonderful,” Yan Ting Yue said, clearly delighted. “The exhibition is on Sunday. I heard there will be quite a few masterworks. We can go and learn.”
—
Meanwhile, at the Sheng Family residence.
“Sister Yun Yi, you were right,” Sheng Song said through clenched teeth. “Ye Wan Lan is fake and slippery. She acted pitiful in front of the teachers and got me written up.”
Sheng Yun Yi frowned. “How could she do that?”
“This time I was careless,” Sheng Song said, frustration sharpening his voice. “I didn’t listen to your advice. Next time I’ll plan it properly.”
“Little Song,” Sheng Yun Yi said softly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She simply gestured to the steward. “Take him to dinner.”
Just then, Sheng Madam came down the stairs.
“Yun Yi, don’t forget Sunday’s art exhibition,” she reminded. “An opportunity like this can’t be missed. You’ll be developing mainly in Shen Zhou in the future. Oil painting can be secondary—you must study the ‘Yong Ning School’ properly.”
Sheng Yun Yi nodded obediently.
“The Fang Family really is lucky,” Sheng Madam sighed. “They actually managed to buy a very mature piece in the Yong Ning School style. No wonder they have such an eye—people raised on calligraphy and paintings always do.”
Sheng Yun Yi’s heart jolted. “Mom… when did they buy it? How much?”
“A few days ago. Three million, I believe.” Sheng Madam sipped her tea elegantly. “Even if you doubled that number, it would still be worth it.”
Three million.
So the painting Ye Wan Lan had picked up from a trash can…
was from the Yong Ning School?
For a moment, Sheng Yun Yi’s emotions tangled into something sharp and complicated.
After a long pause, she smiled and sighed.
A masterpiece like that—and Ye Wan Lan didn’t even understand what she had.
What a waste.
—
After dinner, Sheng Song left the Sheng Family’s old residence with a foul mood still clinging to him.
In the end, Ye Wan Lan was perfectly fine.
He was the one slapped with a major demerit.
Why?
Sheng Song scratched at his hair, pacing as he tried to come up with a better way to punish Ye Wan Lan—something that would finally vent his anger for Sheng Yun Yi.
Maybe he should just hire someone and cripple her.
Then, without warning, Sheng Song felt as if he’d been thrown into a world of ice.
The temperature seemed to plunge in an instant, cold biting straight through his bones.
“What kind of freak weather…” he muttered, shivering in his short sleeves as he rubbed his arms.
His driver was waiting for him, but not allowed into the villa area. The car would be outside.
Sheng Song quickened his steps.
A figure appeared in front of him, blocking his path.
“Who is it?” Sheng Song asked warily.
He knew the people who lived here were either rich or powerful.
The night was deep. A crescent moon hung like a hook. He couldn’t see the man’s face at all.
Then a voice drifted out—light, amused, and far too gentle.
“You touched the gift I gave her.”
A soft laugh followed, like warm wind.
“I’m very unhappy. Tell me—what should be done?”