Chapter 22: Unexpected Tutor

Shen Zheming handled the work Mr. Shen had assigned him and reorganized a new investment plan.

Mr. Shen reviewed it and was satisfied. He wanted to take Shen Zheming to meet a new partner in the afternoon, but Shen Zheming said he already had plans and didn’t intend to change them.

Madam Shen walked into the study holding a bouquet of flowers freshly cut from the garden. She saw Mr. Shen staring at his phone, brows slightly furrowed.

“What’s wrong? Something happen at the group?” she asked.

Mr. Shen relaxed his brow, never hiding anything from his wife. “No, just looking at some posts.”

He put down his phone, the screen still showing a gossip forum.

Madam Shen glanced at it, then placed the flowers into a vase. “You actually read gossip too?”

Mr. Shen said, “The Chen family incident made quite a stir a while back. It’s hard not to pay attention.”

Madam Shen adjusted the bouquet gently. “That was ages ago. I think you have another reason.”

Mr. Shen opened a post about Lu Shi getting into a conflict at a bar. Someone in the comments mentioned Shen Zheming, and many were curious why he got involved.

“Zheming seems quite interested in that newly acknowledged son of the Chen family lately,” Mr. Shen said.

A businessman’s sixth sense was sharp. Shen Zheming had left saying he had “other plans,” which made Mr. Shen suspect those plans involved Lu Shi.

And Shen Luo had mentioned before that Shen Zheming had been in contact with an Omega, which happened after the Chen kid was brought back.

“What? Worried that Lu Shi’s negative press will rub off on Zheming?” Madam Shen lowered her hands.

Mr. Shen remained silent, which was as good as admitting it.

He was naturally glad that Shen Zheming was proactively approaching an Omega, but he hadn’t expected it to be Lu Shi.

Mr. Shen had no issue with Lu Shi himself, but from a family interest perspective, seeing the Shen name associated with all that negativity was irksome.

Suddenly, Madam Shen reached out and poked Mr. Shen hard in the forehead.

“I think you’re getting more indecisive and paranoid as you age. Do you really think Zheming cares about online gossip?” she said. “I find that kid quite spirited—neither servile nor arrogant.”

Just then, a servant came in with tea. Mr. Shen rubbed his forehead and cleared his throat, trying to save face.

“Zheming’s taste has always taken after you. You’re cut from the same cloth…”

“Of course my son takes after me. And how can you criticize him for negative press? Have you forgotten who it was that sabotaged my father’s ideal son-in-law and then swooped in to take his place?”

Madam Shen’s father was an academic titan who wanted his daughter to marry a mathematician or a man of letters, someone down-to-earth with common interests.

Mr. Shen had interfered back then, covertly ruining three of her blind dates.

It infuriated the old man, who rallied a dozen influential figures to publicly criticize the Shen family online.

Eventually, the rumors spiraled, and some people, confused by the gossip, even thought Mr. Shen was a homewrecker.

Bringing up the past, Mr. Shen had nothing left to say.

With an embarrassed expression, he patted Madam Shen’s hand. “Alright, alright. A hero doesn’t boast of past deeds.”

Madam Shen pulled her hand away. “Hero? You’re proud of that?”

Lu Shi pushed open the door to the study room, out of breath, clutching a competition problem set under his arm. Shen Zheming sat by the window, typing a paper on his laptop.

Lu Shi glanced at the time on his phone.

He had rushed back to grab his things and come over as fast as possible, but it was nearly three o’clock.

“Um…” Lu Shi ran a hand through his hair. “I played ball with the guys this afternoon and didn’t see your message.”

Shen Zheming closed his laptop. “I know. You posted in the group. You could have come after the game.”

Lu Shi then remembered that Shen Zheming had only said he’d wait in the study room, not that he had to come immediately.

“No way. How could I make you wait here alone? That’s too embarrassing.”

Lu Shi exhaled in relief and pulled out the chair next to Shen Zheming, sitting down.

He wore a light gray hoodie, the drawstrings hanging unevenly, sleeves pushed up to his forearms. His hair was slightly damp, with stubborn strands sticking up.

Shen Zheming’s gaze traveled over him discreetly from head to toe.

“Just showered?”

“Huh?”

Lu Shi, who had just opened his problem set, turned his head. Meeting Shen Zheming’s downward gaze, he quickly looked back.

“Yeah…”

Lu Shi wasn’t prone to sweating, and his opponents had been so weak that he barely moved, so he hadn’t broken a sweat at all.

Still, he had taken the opportunity when he went back to grab his notebook and pen to quickly shower and change clothes, as a sign of respect.

The scent of lemon body wash wafted through the air—not too sweet, not too cloying.

This study room was Lu Shi’s favorite. It was at the end of the hallway, with only four or five desks, and almost no one came there.

Usually, when Lu Shi studied alone, the space didn’t feel small. But now with someone else—someone with long legs—the room suddenly felt cramped.

Lu Shi watched helplessly as Shen Zheming pulled his notebook over, giving him the same feeling as having his homework checked by a teacher or class monitor in school.

Especially when Shen Zheming read, he liked to lightly tap the page with his pen tip.

Lu Shi swallowed, pressing his lips together.

A long-forgotten nervousness shot through him like an electric current, making his scalp, freshly washed, prickle.

Shen Zheming stopped after a few problems.

Lu Shi thought he had made a mistake and leaned in to look.

Shen Zheming circled a mathematical symbol and said flatly, “Writing it like this can easily be confused with the letter ‘a.'”

“Really?” Lu Shi spread his legs, hands on his chair, and leaned forward with just his upper body. “I think it’s fine. Isn’t it neat and clear?”

Shen Zheming raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Lu Shi’s handwriting was truly terrible.

His horizontal strokes weren’t straight, his verticals were uneven, and his cursive was a mess.

Sure, as long as he could read his own symbols, it was fine, but even his final answers were a chaotic jumble, as if he’d been drinking bootleg liquor.

It took Shen Zheming forever to read one problem, not because it was hard, but because he had to decipher Lu Shi’s scribbles.

“Not every grader has the insight to decipher a bunch of chicken scratch.”

Lu Shi: “?”

Shen Zheming really had a way with words.

In one sentence, he insulted the graders, elevated himself, and belittled Lu Shi’s handwriting.

In all these years, no one had ever said his handwriting was ugly. Maybe no one had ever cared enough to notice.

Not one to back down, Lu Shi grabbed a pen. “I just wrote hastily, that’s all.”

He carefully and neatly rewrote the symbol on the page.

It was impossible to tell the difference, because it looked exactly the same.

Lu Shi: “…”

The person beside him commented, “Still wrong.”

How could it still be wrong?

Lu Shi was baffled. “Isn’t that how you loop it?”

Shen Zheming reached out and took hold of the hand that was still mindlessly scribbling on the paper.

Lu Shi froze, startled by the sudden contact, his arm giving a slight jerk.

Shen Zheming’s palm was broad and dry. His fingers slid over the back of Lu Shi’s hand, then tightened around the fingers holding the pen.

A voice came from above.

“Actually, your grip is problematic too. But you can’t change a habit of so many years, so we’ll have to make do.”

If you’re holding someone else’s hand from too far away, it’s hard to control the pen. Shen Zheming lifted his arm and rested his other hand on the back of Lu Shi’s chair, turning his whole body sideways.

The light hit his profile, casting a small shadow from his lashes.

The air around them seemed to thin out, growing scarce.

Lu Shi instinctively tried to pull his hand back, but the fingers gripping his tightened, and he couldn’t move.

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