Chapter 19: What Are You Feeling Guilty About, Professor Shen?

Zhou Yili sat in the living room for a long time.

Thinking back, he realized he never could handle it when that person glared at him—whether in anger or sorrow... So easily, his thoughts would be unsettled. It felt as if a piece of his heart had caved in, soaked through with a soft, aching bitterness.

Perhaps tonight the alcohol had dulled his nerves; once again, he slipped past his own defenses and sank into memory.

"...Twenty years old?"

Pale golden sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the music room. A boy in a blue basketball jersey stood in the doorway, cradling a ball, his breath slightly uneven as he gazed inside.

The young man at the white piano lifted his eyes. He seemed not to have understood, "What?"

"Don’t pretend," the boy tilted his head with a mocking smile, damp black hair clinging to his brow, still carrying the humidity of summer. He slapped the basketball absently as he stepped closer.

"Are you really twenty years old?" he challenged. This so-called world-class genius tutor of his—he almost looked younger than the student himself.

The resounding thud of the basketball echoed across the room, matching someone's heartbeat.

Shen Jixing's quiet gaze fell on the black and white keys. The expensive white piano, a treasure cherished wherever it was placed, stood between them.

The boy seemed unafraid of scuffing it with his ball. His eyes and brows were wild, carrying the arrogance of youth.

"My information has already been reviewed by Mr. Zhou. If you, Young Master Zhou, have any questions," Shen Jixing replied, his tone calm as still water, "you can ask him when convenient—"

"Let me see it," the boy interrupted.

"..." This young master clearly refused to play by the rules.

Shen Jixing’s clear eyes met his. "What?"

The indolent youth closed the distance between them. His long fingers rested carelessly on the white keys, elegant and slender, dusted with gray from the basketball. He pressed down two notes without a thought.

"Your information. Hand it over for me to see."

"..." Shen Jixing glanced at the smudged piano keys. "I didn’t bring it."

He tried to end the pointless exchange, standing to give up his seat. "Time’s up. You should start your lesson—"

But a strong, slender hand pressed his shoulder, stopping him. Zhou Yili reached for his black music bag.

Shen Jixing’s brows tightened. "What are you doing?"

He hadn’t even managed to intervene before a burning grip caught his wrist, pinning his hand to the keys.

The piano let out a discordant crash.

"Don’t move," Zhou Yili said, eyes lowered.

Sweat dripped from his damp hair, his eyes dark and bright, glistening. "I just want to take a look. What are you so nervous about, Teacher Shen?"

Shen Jixing could feel his breath, warm against the pale curve of his ear. This closeness made him deeply uncomfortable.

Just as Shen Jixing frowned and turned away, Zhou Yili upended the music bag—a flurry of white sheets and musical notes fluttered to the floor, along with a document bearing a photo.

With a faint clatter, an ID card hit the ground.

At the sound, Shen Jixing’s fingertips curled reflexively.

The accidental brush of his hand against the boy’s palm was like snow falling into molten rock.

Zhou Yili froze, then let go.

He bent to pick up the document and ID, glancing down at them leisurely—

Name: Shen Jixing
Gender: Male
Age: 20 years
Other information: Height 185cm, weight 64kg, currently a sophomore in the piano department at Venus Royal Conservatory...

Another ID card—

Name: Shen Jixing
Gender: Male
Date of birth: December 24th, 1997 (18 years old)
Home address: No. 1, Endless Long Street, Luoyu District, Qinghuai City

Zhou Yili thumbed the thin card, his brows arching with bemused amusement.

"Well now, which is the real Monkey King?"

Shen Jixing closed his eyes with calm resignation.

But Zhou Yili wasn’t about to let him off so easily.

"One says twenty, one says eighteen," he said, eyeing the pale, striking young man with interest. "So how old are you really, Teacher Shen?"

Shen Jixing was silent for a moment, then replied coolly, "Older than you, at any rate."

Zhou Yili: "..."

Damn it, he really was.

"World-class genius?" Zhou Yili glanced at the information, noting his height and weight. The man looked as if he barely ate a thing—slender to the point of frailty, though not much shorter than himself.

"Sorry, but I can’t stand liars," he said, laying the document and ID atop the piano and withdrawing his hand, his interest clearly fading.

Once, Zhou Hengyang had sweet-talked his mother too. In the end, new lovers were found without a second thought. Promises were cheaper than anything.

"I’ll resign with Mr. Zhou myself," Shen Jixing said quietly, not bothering to defend himself further. "I apologize."

Young master Zhou had achieved his goal. He didn’t need a tutor—or perhaps, just not this one.

Shen Jixing bent to his knees, gathering the scattered sheet music and placing it back in his bag, which the boy had tossed at his feet. His slender back was like a butterfly drenched in rain, lost, uncertain of its path or home.

"Are you feeling wronged now?" Zhou Yili looked down at him, his voice tinged with an odd, stifled note he couldn’t understand himself. "You faked your identity, and I’m to blame for exposing you?"

Shen Jixing looked up, puzzled. "When did I blame you?"

"..."

"Whatever. You’re in no position to blame me anyway," Zhou Yili said coldly, grabbing his basketball and turning to leave.

"I didn’t fake my identity," Shen Jixing called after him.

As Zhou Yili paused, Shen Jixing continued calmly, "I am a world-class genius."

Zhou Yili had never met anyone so brazen, yet the man's tone was so composed, as if it were nothing remarkable.

"I was admitted to Venus Royal Conservatory with the highest professional score, breaking their historical entrance record."

Zhou Yili, basketball in hand, turned back. "?"

Anyone familiar with music knew Venus Royal was the ultimate dream for students everywhere. And this man had broken the entrance record? Was he even human?

"But the tutoring site doesn’t accept minors. Your father’s requirement was twenty. I’m sorry I lied about my age, but could I ask you not to tell anyone..." Shen Jixing’s face remained cold and beautiful, even when he was asking for a favor.

But he was earnest—he desperately needed money, and he was serious in his plea.

Shen Jixing felt the young master watching him, squinting as if to scrutinize him. And at last, he spoke.

"So you’re underage?"

Shen Jixing: "..."

Was that really the point?

Zhou Yili toyed with his basketball, then chuckled, "Well, you’re not much older than me then. I’m seventeen this year."

Rounded, they were practically the same age.

Shen Jixing stared at him, silent, his eyes damp with a mix of anxiety and indignation.

"Could you..." Shen Jixing struggled to steady his voice. "Please don’t tell anyone. I still need to apply for other tutoring positions."

Zhou Yili looked at him. "Are you short on money?"

Shen Jixing was silent for two seconds, his long lashes casting slender shadows. He replied softly, "Yes. I need to save for tuition."

It struck Zhou Yili as odd. Most music students came from wealthy families; studying abroad was expensive, but someone living in a villa shouldn’t be—

"Hey, I never said I was going to refuse you, so why are you crying?" Zhou Yili quickly tossed aside his basketball, took two steps, and crouched in front of Shen Jixing.

The brash, unruly youth had never faced this before; confronted with the faint redness in the other’s eyes, he was at a loss for the first time.

He anxiously circled the beautiful young man. "Oh, look at you—are you really that upset? I didn’t mean to bully you... If you’d just said so, I wouldn’t have thought you were a fraud."

"How much is my dad paying you? Is it enough for tuition?" The blue-clad boy knelt before him like a little lion, tilting his head. "Should I give you a bit more?"

Shen Jixing blinked, then looked up into his eyes. "You want to keep me on?"

Back then, beneath his cold, proud exterior, Shen Jixing sometimes lost control of his emotions.

Zhou Yili saw the faint trace of tears at the corner of his eye. His fingers twitched, as if to wipe them away, but the dust from the basketball held him back.

In the end, he withdrew his hand, afraid to dirty that face.

The youth sat under the piano by the floor-to-ceiling window, smiling with a wild, easy charm. "A world-class genius—who wouldn’t want one?"

—

Note: Falsifying age is wrong and should not be imitated! This story is set in a fictional world, and Xingxing has his own difficulties. Even if it’s a spoiler, let me clarify: in the end, Xingxing returned all the money and didn’t go abroad. He’s a good kid.