Chapter 25: The Unmasking and the Reluctant Compromise

Xiao Moyuan naturally noticed Su Mian’s subtle attempts to ‘eavesdrop’ on their conversation.

His deep gaze calmly swept over the slender figure hunched over the desk, revealing only the tips of two crimson ears. The faint thread of doubt in his heart resurfaced.

‘This fellow’s reaction… it’s a bit too intense.’

‘Is it merely because of Shen Zhixia?’

‘Or did his casual comment about “Sweet Cotton Candy” inadvertently strike a precise, unknown chord deep within him?’

‘Even in black stockings, she wouldn’t look as good as her.’

Xiao Moyuan silently replayed the words in his mind, a flicker of almost imperceptible, cold mockery crossing his eyes.

How could someone so timid in reality, someone who struggled even to meet his gaze, exhibit such a violent, almost mortified physical reaction to words that could never truly bridge the gap between the online and real worlds?

‘Absurd. And… intriguing.’

He ceased wasting energy on this insignificant ‘love rival.’ Instead, his full attention returned to Shen Zhixia, who sat beside him.

Compared to Su Mian’s ludicrous and muddled thoughts, the woman before him, whose aura grew increasingly demonic, was the true quarry demanding his focused attention.

He required immense patience, much like a seasoned hunter, to await the decisive clues that would reveal the connection between her and the ‘Special Grade Demonic Entity’ lurking behind her.

“Are you alright, Ah Mian?” Shen Zhixia turned her head symbolically, offering a perfunctory show of concern for Su Mian.

However, her gaze swiftly, firmly adhered back to Xiao Moyuan, laden with cautious scrutiny and a subtle, almost imperceptible attempt at ingratiation.

“I… I’m fine…” Su Mian’s voice, muffled and indistinct, emerged from where his face was buried deep in his arms. It carried the sting of his failed plan, along with a quiet, persistent sense of grievance at being utterly overlooked.

Not only had his plan failed to expose Xiao Moyuan’s ‘scumbag’ facade, but he had also made a complete fool of himself in front of the girl he adored.

What made him even more mortified was the fact that he, Su Mian, had actually experienced a racing heart and burning cheeks—all because of his rival’s indirect affirmation of his ‘cross-dressing leg photos.’

‘What in the world is happening?!’

Throughout the entire class, Su Mian felt as if he were sitting on pins and needles.

He could distinctly sense the invisible pressure emanating from the tall, indifferent back in front of him, a pressure that extended beyond reality, reaching even into the online world.

Yet, amidst this disquietude, an unusual scent, faint yet distinct, permeated the air and pricked his nostrils.

He subconsciously twitched his nose lightly, catching a faint, almost imperceptible… sweet, metallic scent.

It was very subtle, yet undeniably present.

Unable to resist, he slightly tilted his head, lowering his voice to ask the boy at the next desk, “Hey, did you notice any strange smell?”

The boy inhaled deeply twice, looking puzzled, then shook his head, a teasing grin playing on his lips.

“No, I didn’t. What did you smell? Could it be someone’s hemorrhoids acting up from sitting too long? Or maybe a girl isn’t feeling well? Tsk, your nose is as sharp as a dog’s if you can smell that!”

The conversation from behind them, like two pebbles cast into still water, stirred distinctly different ripples within the hearts of the two individuals in the front row.

Xiao Moyuan’s fingertip, resting on a book page, paused almost imperceptibly.

He naturally detected the extremely faint scent of blood lingering in the air, the source of which was Shen Zhixia beside him, who had deliberately applied perfume in an attempt to mask it.

However, this scent, having been processed by demonic energy and concealed by perfume, was so faint it was almost nonexistent. An ordinary human’s sense of smell should have absolutely no chance of detecting it.

‘This Su Mian… if he truly is an ordinary person with no spiritual power, as his records indicate, then where does this unusually keen sense of smell come from?’

‘It seems that Su Mian, whom he had always regarded as a mere jester for his amusement, harbors some unexpected and intriguing little secrets.’

Meanwhile, Shen Zhixia’s back stiffened almost instantly.

‘He smelled it?!’ She wasn’t certain if what Su Mian had detected originated from her.

After her hunt last night, she had meticulously cleaned herself repeatedly, ensuring no residue remained. Today, she had even deliberately applied several extra sprays of expensive ‘man-slaying’ perfume.

A chill snaked its way up her spine.

‘Was it a coincidence, or was Su Mian’s perception truly abnormal?’

‘It seems future hunts must be conducted with far greater caution, and the disposal of ‘food’ must be even more… clean and precise.’

‘Any potential risk of exposure must be strangled in its cradle.’

The dismissal bell rang out, sounding like both a heavenly melody and a decree of liberation.

Su Mian practically launched himself from his seat, clumsily sweeping his books into his bag, ready to return to his dorm.

“Moyuan, wait a moment!” Shen Zhixia’s voice, like a clear silver bell, carried a deliberately cultivated intimacy and a perfectly measured admiration.

“Regarding next week’s research report, I have some details I’d like to consult you about. Could we walk together?”

Xiao Moyuan’s footsteps paused almost imperceptibly. He didn’t turn around, nor did he refuse, merely emitting an uninflected syllable from his throat: “Mm.”

The two left the classroom side by side, their figures converging in the halo of light at the doorway, painting a scene that stung Su Mian’s eyes.

Su Mian froze in place, like an abandoned stone sculpture, watching them disappear into the distance.

His heart felt as if a jar of mixed flavors had been overturned, a tumultuous blend of sourness, resentment, fury, and a sliver of loss that he himself was unwilling to acknowledge, all swirling and intertwining within him.

He shook his head vigorously, as if that could banish Xiao Moyuan’s indifferent face and that damned evaluation from his mind.

‘No! He absolutely could not concede defeat just like this!’

His failures in reality, he would reclaim them with interest in the online world!

Back in his dorm, Su Mian immediately climbed onto his bed, drawing the curtains shut with a ‘swish,’ completely isolating himself in his small, private space.

He had to immediately, instantly, reclaim his standing in ‘Yuan’s’ heart!

‘An ‘unimportant person’—how could such a cold statement issue from a mouth that was 36.5°C?’

‘Were all his days of companionship and effort truly so worthless?’

‘This guy is utterly detestable.’

He opened the chat window with ‘Yuan,’ gazing at the provocative messages he had sent earlier, which had vanished as if dropped into a bottomless sea. A stubborn, almost obsessive resolve surged within him.

‘Since the direct ‘seduction’ approach had failed, he would switch to the ‘devotion’ route!’

‘He refused to believe that Xiao Moyuan’s heart was truly forged from iron!’

He racked his brain, meticulously crafting a short ‘essay’ to portray himself as a devoted lover, conveying the image of ‘Even if I’m humble, I still love you’:

[Sweet Cotton Candy: Gege, the sunlight outside my window is so gentle today, and the clouds are such interesting shapes… I want to capture everything and share it with you immediately… but my finger hovers over the send button, then timidly retracts, afraid you’ll find me annoying, or childish. (Little cat with drooping ears, teary-eyed.jpg)]

[Sweet Cotton Candy: I know I might not be Gege’s type… I’m like an inconspicuous little star, yet I can’t help but want to draw closer to you, my distant sun… even if I get burned, I’ll gladly endure it.]

He unleashed a torrent of all the saccharine, self-deprecating phrases he could recall, gleaned from various emotional bloggers and angsty romance novels. He sent them all, hoping to spark pity, or perhaps… even a glimmer of guilt?

Yet, as time ticked by, the chat interface remained utterly silent. His meticulously woven words were like offerings cast into an endless abyss, failing to elicit even the slightest echo.

Su Mian’s heart pounded with impatience as he waited, his fingertips anxiously scratching at his phone case. He was just debating whether to risk sending another, more daring, archived photo as his ‘trump card.’

Without a moment’s warning, the phone screen abruptly lit up, accompanied by a rapid vibration—a video call request, prominently displayed!

The caller ID showed the single character ‘Yuan’ as the avatar.

Su Mian was scared out of his wits, his hand jerking violently, causing the phone to nearly smack him in the face like a hot potato.

In his current state—without his smooth wig, without delicate makeup, wearing a faded, oversized men’s T-shirt, sporting a messy mop of black hair, and with those unfashionable black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose—he was the epitome of a seasoned otaku.

How could he possibly answer a video call?

‘This would be tantamount to immediate self-detonation!’

Almost the very second he hung up, as if Xiao Moyuan had perfectly anticipated his reaction, a message from him popped up, laden with cold interrogation:

[Yuan: ?]

It was a solitary question mark, yet its oppressive presence was enough to freeze the air.

Su Mian frantically typed out an explanation, his fingertips slipping across the screen in his haste, pressing the wrong letters multiple times:

[Sweet Cotton Candy: I’m so sorry, Gege! I, I really can’t video call right now… I look awful, my hair’s a mess, and I haven’t put on any makeup… I’m absolutely not presentable… (Crying and rolling.jpg)]

[Yuan: When are you available?]

Su Mian stared at the line of text, so concise it felt chilling, and his scalp prickled.

‘Available? When was he ever truly ‘available’?’

Every perfect ‘Sweet Cotton Candy’ appearance required the perfect alignment of circumstances: ensuring his roommates were absent, having ample time for makeup and dressing, adjusting the lighting and angles…

[Sweet Cotton Candy: Once I’m ready… you’ll be the very first person I show, Gege! I swear! (Hands clasped, devout prayer.jpg)]

[Yuan: Your promises lack credibility.]

Su Mian was speechless. He stared at the piercingly accurate reply, choked, and found himself utterly unable to respond.

He took a deep breath, attempting a final struggle, hoping to charm his way through with a bit of coquetry:

[Sweet Cotton Candy: Don’t be so impatient, Gege~ It’s not like I haven’t sent you revealing photos before, even… those kinds of photos (blushing).

We’ll finally meet during the Mid-Autumn Festival, so a few more days won’t matter, right…? (Little cat rubbing.gif)]

[Yuan: Yet it’s you who, every day, tries every conceivable method—using words, photos, and voice messages—to pique my interest. Now that my interest is piqued, you refuse to give me a chance.]

[Yuan: Your behavior makes it difficult for me not to suspect—]

[Yuan: Are you merely toying with me?]

That final sentence, like a bolt of lightning, instantly jolted Su Mian back to his senses.

He froze.

‘That’s right.’ He had been so engrossed in his ‘revenge script’ and ‘gender anxiety’ that he had completely overlooked the other party’s perspective and feelings.

Putting himself in Xiao Moyuan’s shoes, if someone constantly showered him with warm regards online, sent various suggestive photos and voice messages, stirring his interest to an unbearable degree, yet consistently evaded at crucial moments, refusing any real, deeper contact, he too would feel toyed with, annoyed, and would lose patience.

By his own standards, Su Mian’s actions were indeed a letdown, and quite… ‘scummy.’

A surge of intense remorse and guilt washed over him.

His revenge plan seemed to be spiraling in an increasingly uncontrolled direction.

After a long period of thought, his fingernails unconsciously dug into his palm, leaving several pale crescent marks.

Ultimately, a reckless impulse, mixed with the fear of his plan’s failure and a morbid fondness for that secret thrill, overwhelmed everything else.

His fingertips trembling, he typed out his compromise:

[Sweet Cotton Candy: Then… Gege, wait for me for a moment.]

[Sweet Cotton Candy: I… I’ll get myself ready.]

[Sweet Cotton Candy: A little later… I’ll video call you, okay? (Little cat nervously tapping fingers.jpg)]

The moment the message sent, Su Mian collapsed onto his bed.

He must have been ill, for he found himself unable to distinguish the reason for his racing heart.

Was it fear of exposing his disguise, or the prospect of video chatting with his rival while cross-dressed?