Noble Academy's Mob Character: Reborn as the Campus Heartthrob - Chapter 48

Chapter 48: Dream Love Variety Show 8

“Sounds good to me,” Qi Yuan replied eagerly.

He was more than happy to go out for a good meal, though he wondered if their tastes would align. After all, they had grown up in different countries, and their dietary habits likely differed.

Qi Yuan traveled light, carrying only his phone, keys, and a few other essentials.

As they exited the villa, a luxury car was already parked outside. Qi Yuan recognized the brand—an expensive model, far beyond what the production team would provide. This must be Cyril’s personal vehicle.

The car came with a driver, a foreign-looking man with a sturdy build who doubled as a bodyguard.

Qi Yuan understood this.

Wealthy people always needed to prioritize security when traveling. After all, no one could guarantee that an accident wouldn’t happen in the next moment.

Back in Weilika, he’d often heard stories about kidnappings and rescues.

Better safe than sorry. Even though he was broke, anyone targeting Cyril wouldn’t bother checking his phone account for funds before taking him.

So the bodyguard’s role wasn’t just to protect Cyril; Qi Yuan understood he was being protected too.

After getting into the car, their first order of business was breakfast at a grand hotel. They ate lightly, just enough to fill their stomachs.

While eating, Cyril asked Qi Yuan, “Qi Yuan, would you like to try rafting?”

Rafting on a Dating Show?

Intriguing, Qi Yuan thought. I like it.

He’d never been rafting before, and he was eager to embrace this new challenge.

“I’d love to!” he replied.

But he also had reservations.

“We’ll need to go back for dry clothes to change into after rafting. And what we’re wearing isn’t suitable for rafting anyway. We’ll need proper rafting gear.”

After Qi Yuan spoke, he realized that Cyril’s initial plan probably hadn’t been rafting at all. He didn’t know why Cyril had suddenly changed his mind, but there must be a reason. Since Cyril hadn’t offered an explanation, Qi Yuan decided to pretend he hadn’t noticed the shift.

Cyril: “Alright. We’ll head back to the villa after breakfast.”

The summer heat was stifling, but the mountain valley offered a welcome respite from the city’s swelter.

Qi Yuan relished the breeze, the tickle of grass against his ankles as they walked, and the incessant chirping of insects in the air.

Dream Love wasn’t broadcast live; only the daily life at the villa was streamed. The Production Team feared that livestreaming dates would reveal their location, attracting hordes of irrational fans and risking chaos. They couldn’t afford to be held responsible for any incidents.

Thus, dates were filmed, edited, and uploaded later.

Qi Yuan walked ahead, Cyril at his side, their bodyguards trailing behind.

“The scenery here is stunning,” Qi Yuan remarked, visibly impressed.

“If you like it, that’s all that matters,” Cyril replied, relief washing over him as he watched Qi Yuan’s cheerful expression. He had originally planned to take Qi Yuan to an amusement park.

However, as they prepared to leave that morning, his subordinates discovered enemy agents had laid an ambush at the park. Unable to risk Qi Yuan’s safety due to his own enemies, Cyril had been forced to scrap their carefully laid plans.

Cyril knew Qi Yuan enjoyed slightly more thrilling activities. Since the amusement park was out of the question, he had his subordinates research alternative thrilling activities nearby.

From the array of options they presented, he chose river rafting to suggest to Qi Yuan first. If that didn’t appeal, there were plenty of other options; eventually, they’d find something Qi Yuan would enjoy.

Cyril hadn’t yet pinpointed who had leaked his movements, but he wasn’t worried. He already had leads, and he had never shown mercy to traitors.

They played wildly until noon, drifting to the end of the rafting course.

Water fights broke out everywhere, people splashing and soaking each other.

Qi Yuan casually scooped up water and splashed it onto Cyril, then grinned.

Before Cyril could react, he scrambled out of the raft, into the thigh-deep water, and tried to run.

He knew he couldn’t win a direct water fight against Cyril.

Cyril wiped the water from his face, flicked his wet hair back, and watched the droplets slide down his refined features.

A smile curled his lips as he watched Qi Yuan flee.

He rose and gave chase.

Qi Yuan had a decent build; his water-soaked T-shirt clung to his frame, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist as he waded through the stream.

But he was no match for Cyril, who was built like a tank.

The water made running difficult. Just when Qi Yuan thought he’d gained some distance, he glanced back to see Cyril strolling leisurely toward him.

The sun hung high in the sky, as if it favored Cyril. The sunlight cast a striking aura around him, making him resemble an elven prince from a movie—both beautiful and imbued with an ethereal dignity.

Stunned for a moment, Qi Yuan splashed water at Cyril again.

“Take this!”

Cyril raised a hand to block the splash, his advance unwavering.

After taking a few more steps, he retaliated.

“Here’s your payback.”

Qi Yuan dodged sideways, then taunted him, grinning triumphantly.

“You can’t even hit me!”

The two of them splashed each other back and forth until they were utterly exhausted.

Qi Yuan called for a truce.

They stopped and sat by the stream, soaking their feet in the clear, crystal-clear water that revealed the stream bed with perfect clarity.

“Ah, this feels so good!” Qi Yuan stretched luxuriously.

He was exhilarated and relaxed. It had been ages since he’d had so much fun.

Cyril pulled out two towels, stood up, and began drying Qi Yuan’s dripping hair.

Though Qi Yuan felt blissfully comfortable, he was actually too tired to move. He simply let Cyril dry his hair.

Once Cyril confirmed Qi Yuan’s hair was no longer dripping, he draped the towel over Qi Yuan’s shoulders before drying his own hair.

The towel was quite large, only slightly smaller than a bath towel.

After regaining some energy, Qi Yuan waved to Cyril.

“Let me dry your hair too.”

Cyril paused mid-motion, stopped, and obediently walked over to sit down.

Qi Yuan took the towel from Cyril’s hands and gently dried his hair.

When they were younger, he had always cared for Qi Meng this way.

Washing, drying, blow-drying—he took care of it all himself.

Sometimes he jokingly called Qi Meng his “Little Sister,” but deep down, he felt like he was raising her as his own daughter.

So young, yet already living the life of a middle-aged man, Qi Yuan thought to himself with a silent Tsukkomi.

After drying Cyril’s hair sufficiently, he returned the towel.

Sitting beside Cyril, their shoulders brushed.

Qi Yuan: “Cyril, are you happy?”

He asked, idly kicking his feet in the water.

Cyril: “Yes, I’m happy.”

Cyril turned to gaze intently at Qi Yuan, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to want to carve Qi Yuan’s image into his very soul.

“I’m happy too. Thank you, Cyril,” Qi Yuan replied, turning to meet Cyril’s gaze. He tilted his head slightly upward, and their eyes locked. When his eyes met those affectionate, violet eyes, his pupils flickered, and for a fleeting moment, his composure wavered.

He quickly looked away, his movements a little flustered, and his gaze settled on his feet in the stream.

I must be too happy. That’s why my heart’s racing out of control, he reasoned to himself.