Noble Academy's Mob Character: Reborn as the Campus Heartthrob - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: The Fourth Dream

Qi Yuan froze, momentarily stunned, and didn’t immediately withdraw his hand.

It wasn’t until Yang Huaiyuan helped him up and their eyes met that Yang Huaiyuan realized what he had just done.

“Th-thank you,” Qi Yuan stammered, forcing a polite smile. He couldn’t understand why Yang Huaiyuan, a near-stranger, would wipe his hand just as he had in the dream. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on such things.

He pulled his hand back, his manner polite yet distant, a stiff smile plastered on his face as he bent to gather his scattered books and cradle them against his chest.

“It’s nothing,” Yang Huaiyuan replied, glancing curiously at his own hand. He felt he had acted impulsively, rushing to Qi Yuan’s aid the moment he saw him fall.

Yang Huaiyuan always carried sanitizing wipes—a habit stemming from his severe germaphobia. Yet when he grasped Qi Yuan’s injured, slightly dusty hand, his usual aversion didn’t flare up. Instead, the knot in his stomach loosened, and he felt strangely at ease.

A strange emotion sprouted in Yang Huaiyuan’s heart, making him momentarily wonder if he was coming down with something.

The Yang Family had its own private hospital. After a moment’s thought, he decided to have his driver take him there for a full-body checkup later.

As for the person in front of him who had stirred this odd feeling, Yang Huaiyuan decided to put it aside for now and wait for the test results.

With a cold expression, he paused as he turned to leave and instructed, “Remember to disinfect the scratch and keep it dry.”

“Mm, got it.”

“Goodbye, Yang-classmate.”

Qi Yuan waved, his thick bangs parting to reveal a pair of strikingly clear, black-and-white eyes.

He gazed intently at Yang Huaiyuan, his eyes curving into crescent moons as he said goodbye.

“Goodbye.”

Walking ahead, Yang Huaiyuan turned back without betraying a flicker of emotion. No one noticed that he was walking with his same-side hand and foot moving together.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, crimson afterglow painted the sky.

Back in his dorm room, Qi Yuan collapsed face-down on his desk, glasses discarded. “I feel utterly drained,” he muttered into the wooden surface.

He had a small first-aid kit containing basic supplies: alcohol swabs, povidone-iodine swabs, adhesive bandages, common medications—stocked by his sister, Qi Meng, who kept an identical set.

Qi Yuan opened the kit, took out a povidone-iodine swab, snapped it at the red line, and watched the cotton tip saturate with the antiseptic. He began gently disinfecting the abrasion on his hand.

Alcohol’s harshness would sting a fresh wound acutely. Povidone-iodine, less irritating, was his preferred choice for disinfection.

As he dabbed at the injury, he mused on how drastically this life’s course had diverged from his previous existence.

Especially puzzling was the tension between You Qinghe and Yang Huaiyuan. Qi Yuan felt something deeply amiss. Ever since that bizarre dream on his first day, his future had been irrevocably altered.

He was utterly powerless against these visions, forced to passively endure their cryptic messages.

Qi Yuan didn’t want to attribute their awkwardness to the dream world, but the glaring evidence before him made denial foolish.

“Sigh.”

“Better to accept it and make the best of it, I guess.”

So far, he hadn’t suffered any real harm, except for the initial shock and subsequent discomfort as he slowly grew accustomed to it.

But what choice did he have? He couldn’t change the situation unless he wanted to die again.

Better to live poorly than die well. Besides, he had unfinished business—he absolutely couldn’t die again.

In low spirits, Qi Yuan skipped dinner, nibbling on the remaining bread instead. He submitted his Student Council application, finished his evening routine, and prepared for bed.

Though he had no idea what dreams awaited him, Qi Yuan could only pray they wouldn’t be too outrageous. Holding hands or hugging would be tolerable, but he drew the line at kissing.

“Amen.”

“Amitabha Buddha.”

“God Almighty, please, I’m begging you.”

Just in case one deity wasn’t enough, he invoked three, hoping at least one would heed his plea.

Tomorrow’s class started at eight in the morning, so Qi Yuan set his alarm. The classroom was a bit of a walk from the dorm.

He obediently lay down, stared at the ceiling, and gradually, his thoughts sank into the darkness.

The curtains parted, letting the morning sunlight stream into the dormitory.

Only after carefully examining his reflection did Qi Yuan realize he was dreaming.

In this dream, his hair was noticeably longer, tied in a small ponytail at the nape. Wispy bangs were clipped back, revealing his sharp, handsome features.

He sat at his desk, propping his chin in his hand, lost in thought.

The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the doorway.

Qi Yuan glanced over.

The desk faced the window, and as the sun rose, the angle of the light shifted. As he turned, a sliver of lake light caught his cheek.

The glare stung his eyes, and he squinted.

The sunlight blurred his vision, and by the time his eyes adjusted, the person was already standing before him, carrying breakfast in hand.

A large hand cupped Qi Yuan’s cheek, its calloused fingertips rough against his skin. Irritated, Qi Yuan brushed the hand away.

Yang Huaiyuan showed no reaction, setting the breakfast down before Qi Yuan and pulling up a chair to sit beside him.

“There’s a group lunch at noon. Don’t eat too much,” he cautioned, pressing chopsticks into Qi Yuan’s hand.

“Group lunch?” Qi Yuan mumbled around a mouthful of a small steamed bun, his stomach already growling.

“Yeah, you forgot again?” Yang Huaiyuan peeled a tea-stained egg, already accustomed to Qi Yuan’s forgetfulness.

“Didn’t we agree to make it official at this lunch?”

He casually dropped the bombshell, leaving Qi Yuan so stunned he nearly choked on his food.

“Make it official?”

Are you out of your mind?!

Qi Yuan had barely managed to swallow his breakfast when Yang Huaiyuan offered him a peeled tea egg.

Struggling to maintain composure, Qi Yuan wondered if the key to escaping this dream realm lay in making their relationship official.

The thought of announcing “Yang Huaiyuan and I are together” in front of a large group of people at the gathering was mortifying.

He cautiously suggested, “Actually, announcing it on social media would be fine too.”

Qi Yuan watched Yang Huaiyuan’s expression closely. When he saw him smile, he assumed he’d agreed.

But in the next moment, the scene dissolved, and everything reset.

As Qi Yuan ate breakfast again, he avoided conversation, silently stuffing his face with soup dumplings.

Whatever. Just do it.

What’s so hard about announcing it in front of a crowd?

It’ll be over in the blink of an eye.

Though he didn’t understand why Yang Huaiyuan was so insistent on making the announcement at the gathering, if it was the key to escaping this dream realm, he had no choice but to cooperate.

More importantly, he really didn’t want to eat breakfast again.

After finishing breakfast, Qi Yuan sat for a while to digest. When he stood up to stretch, Yang Huaiyuan had already tidied up the trash and tossed it into the bin.

The other bed in the dorm was already made up, and Qi Yuan noticed the bedding style looked suspiciously like Yang Huaiyuan’s.

As expected, the dream version of Yang Huaiyuan had moved into the dorm to live with him.