Noble Academy's Mob Character: Reborn as the Campus Heartthrob - Chapter 70

Chapter 70: Masquerade Ball

“Just be careful,” You Yuanxiu warned, tossing the words over his shoulder as he prepared to leave. “Not everyone will be as understanding as I am.”

Before departing, he handed Qi Yuan a business card. Qi Yuan paused before accepting it.

The card felt substantial, made of stiff, high-quality paper. Qi Yuan ran his fingers over the embossed lettering, a subtle ripple stirring within him.

He didn’t feel humiliated. On the contrary, he was grateful You Yuanxiu hadn’t pressed the issue. Considering the circumstances, letting them go and withdrawing his men was surprisingly magnanimous.

Qi Yuan and Hu Xiang helped Zhuo Ming, still sprawled on the floor, to his feet and led their group toward the bar’s exit. No one tried to stop them.

The surrounding patrons eyed the young man who had prompted You Yuanxiu to break his rules, each expression reflecting curiosity, speculation, and a hint of envy. They wondered what magic he possessed to earn such an exception.

Outside Lan Xun, the taxi was still waiting. They piled in and headed back to the Academy.

Standing on Lan Xun’s second floor, Xu Yu, his eyes narrowed, took in the scene below. He found the young man who had persuaded You Yuanxiu to show leniency strangely familiar.

I’ve definitely seen him somewhere before, he thought, but no matter how hard he searched his memory, he couldn’t place the face.

“What happened?”

You Qinghe emerged from a private room after a nap, glass of wine in hand. He took a sip, trying to shake off the drowsiness, and glanced at the scene below.

“Is it over?”

Xu Yu’s train of thought was interrupted. He abandoned his musing and answered You Qinghe’s question: “Just ended, Boss. You came out at an inopportune moment.”

“The troublemaker seems to be the Department Head of the Academy’s popular Impoverished Students Department.”

“And the other victim? Boss, you’ll never guess who it is.”

You Qinghe’s interest piqued, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Someone I wouldn’t expect?”

“Could it be my Big Brother?”

Xu Yu choked, speechless.

Is my hint that obvious, Boss?

You Qinghe chuckled. “Pretty obvious.”

He watched the first floor gradually regain its liveliness, intrigued by the lack of bloodshed. After all, he knew his Big Brother was no saint—it was unlike him to let someone who had offended him off so easily. What could have happened?

“Spill it. Who got my narrow-minded Big Brother to show mercy?”

“Don’t leave me hanging.”

You Qinghe knew You Yuanxiu’s temperament well, just as he knew Xu Yu’s. Neither of them were exactly saints—himself included. He was acutely self-aware.

Xu Yu shrugged, feigning ignorance. “No idea. Don’t recognize him.”

“He was a skinny, tall young guy with glasses. Couldn’t get a good look at his face, but you could tell your brother was really into him. He even gave the kid a business card with his personal number on it.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“Could Big Brother finally be getting the spring fever?”

“Who knew? I never pegged your brother as the type to go for men, Boss.”

Xu Yu trailed off, realizing You Qinghe himself seemed to fancy men.

Oh, shit.

Don’t tell me the You Family Main Branch is about to die out with this generation.

The thought sobered him up instantly, and he dared not make another joke.

But while he fell silent, You Qinghe started talking.

“Stopped talking? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

Xu Yu slapped his own mouth twice, inwardly cursing his own loose tongue.

Seeing his reaction, You Qinghe decided not to press the matter further.

He drained his glass in one gulp before realizing what Xu Yu had just said.

“A young man with glasses, I couldn’t see his face clearly.”

“Zhuo Ming, the Department Head of the Impoverished Students Department… could he be a student at the Academy?”

He murmured to himself.

Listening to You Qinghe’s self-talk, Xu Yu thought, These characteristics sound exactly like the person the Boss is looking for.

He had almost scoured every male student wearing glasses in the Academy.

But now he realized he’d overlooked one group: the impoverished students.

His preconceived bias against them had made him dismiss the possibility of finding the person there.

Cold sweat began to bead on Xu Yu’s forehead. If the Boss finds out about this, I’m done for.

You Qinghe, unaware of his subordinate’s thoughts, tapped his finger lightly against the glass.

“Xu Yu.”

“Get me everything on this person.”

“I need to confirm if he’s the one I’ve been looking for.”

A sense of urgency rose within him, a premonition that he was only one step away from the truth.

The mere characteristics Xu Yu had mentioned wouldn’t have triggered such a strong premonition. The more critical reason, he kept unspoken.

That was it—Big Brother’s special treatment.

This was what truly bothered him. You Qinghe didn’t fully understand why he cared so much about this particular detail, but his subconscious kept nudging him.

Xu Yu nodded in agreement. “Alright.”

Back at Weilika Academy, Qi Yuan paid the fare and saw the two who had gotten off first squatting by the roadside.

Ugh…

The sound of vomiting rang out.

It was Zhuo Ming, throwing up. Qi Yuan had hung a plastic bag over his ears precisely to prevent him from vomiting on the ground, and Qi Yuan couldn’t help but admire his own foresight.

Hu Xiang had also had a few drinks, though not as much as Zhuo Ming. His main role had been listening to Zhuo Ming vent. Still, he’d inevitably downed a few cups. His tolerance wasn’t great, and though he’d managed to hold his own at Lan Xun earlier, now he was slumped on the ground, his head spinning and his face flushed crimson.

After vomiting, Zhuo Ming seemed somewhat clearer-headed.

He sat on the ground, silent except for the tears streaming down his face. After a long spell of quiet crying, he finally turned to Qi Yuan and asked, “Don’t I look like a complete fool right now?”

“I don’t want to cry, but I can’t stop it.”

“Waaah…”

“We were together for five years, since high school. Why would he do this to me? Just cut me off without a word.”

Cough, cough…

“I really gave it my all for our future. I saved money and worked hard to find a stable, high-paying job.”

“No explanation, just dumped me like that. It makes all my efforts seem like a joke…”

“Waaah…”

“Hu Xiang told me to let it go, but how can I?”

“Qi Yuan, tell me… if you were me, would you be able to let it go?”

Zhuo Ming stared at Qi Yuan with his swollen, red-rimmed eyes.

Qi Yuan thought for a moment. If he were Zhuo Ming, he probably would be able to let it go.

Of course, that was assuming he experienced Zhuo Ming’s situation with his own personality. If he had Zhuo Ming’s temperament, he’d probably end up doing exactly what Zhuo Ming was doing now: drowning his sorrows in alcohol, sobbing uncontrollably, and repeatedly asking “Why?”

“Brother Zhuo, we’re different.”

Zhuo Ming: “Yeah… we’re different. Why am I making you suffer?”

“Let’s go home.”

He struggled to his feet. The three of them supported each other as they staggered back to their dormitory.

Qi Yuan escorted them back in silence, his thoughts in disarray.

It was late at night, and the Academy was deserted.

As he walked back to his own dormitory, the moon overhead looked like a giant flatbread with a huge bite taken out of it.

He knew love could hurt, but he never imagined it could hurt this much. Seeing Zhuo Ming—the normally hyper-rational Zhuo Ming—in such a state left Qi Yuan speechless.

A phrase he’d read earlier came to mind: Treasure life, steer clear of love. He thought it made perfect sense.

Right now, the very idea of love filled him with an urge to run far, far away.

The night passed quietly, giving way to dawn.

After morning classes, Qi Yuan headed to the department to complete the newly assigned tasks.

The moment he pushed open the door, he saw Zhuo Ming, who had been sobbing hysterically the previous night, now completely composed, showing no trace of his earlier disarray.

Hu Xiang, however, lacked Zhuo Ming’s resilience. Looking utterly drained of energy, he slumped over his desk and weakly greeted Qi Yuan.

“Qi Yuan,” he croaked. “You finally arrived.”

“Thank you so much for your help last night. Brother Zhuo and I would have been finished without you.”

“I didn’t realize this alcohol had such a delayed effect. By the time we got back to the Academy, I was already delirious and couldn’t thank you properly.”

Qi Yuan sat down, yawning from a late night and restless sleep. “It’s nothing,” he said. “We’re friends.”

Hu Xiang looked deeply moved.

“Qi Yuan, you’re such a good person. I hope we’ll always be friends.”

He handed Qi Yuan a massive “Good Guy” card. Qi Yuan accepted it, waiting for the day he could pass it on to someone else.

Hu Xiang gazed enviously at Zhuo Ming’s vibrant energy, almost doubting the near-disastrous events at Lan Xun the previous night. How else could Zhuo Ming have drunk so much without showing any ill effects?

He and Qi Yuan exchanged glances, each understanding the unspoken message in the other’s eyes. They both felt utterly miserable.

The days that followed were outwardly uneventful, seemingly calm, yet subtly disruptive ripples stirred beneath the surface.

Qi Yuan’s friend list grew by one: You Yuanxiu.

He also gained a persistent stalker—someone who sent friend requests daily, unwavering in their persistence. One day, Qi Yuan’s patience snapped, and he blocked the account. But the person simply created a new account and resumed sending friend requests. Eventually, Qi Yuan relented and accepted the request, only to immediately block the account afterward, finally feeling a sense of relief.

Around this time, Weilika Academy’s annual masked ball approached. Everyone was invited, but there were two strict requirements: attendees must wear masks and know how to ballroom dance.

The Arts Department was primarily responsible for organizing the event, arranging the venue, and maintaining order. Qi Yuan had been working himself ragged for weeks, practically dying on his feet.

No, that wasn’t right. Even a dog had it better than him.

As the Academy’s grand event drew near, the campus buzzed with anticipation.

For the wealthy elite, these events offered myriad benefits: deepening connections to foster commercial partnerships between families, or simply serving as excellent social mixers.

The ball also benefited impoverished students, who could apply to be servers. While servers were required to wear masks, knowledge of ballroom dancing wasn’t necessary.

Qi Yuan naturally signed up to be a server, eager to earn money. It was like free money being handed to him—why refuse it?

Leveraging his position in the Arts Department, he also introduced Yao Yu, who was equally short on funds, to the opportunity.

After Hu Xiang’s disastrous actions during the Lan Xun incident, Qi Yuan’s attitude toward him had cooled considerably. However, since they were still in the same department, he maintained a superficial friendship, weighing the pros and cons.

Qi Yuan knew Hu Xiang was terrified, which explained why he blurted out his name to a familiar face without thinking. While he respected Hu Xiang’s choice, he didn’t understand it. Their paths diverged, and it was only a matter of time before they parted ways—he had merely accelerated the inevitable.

In the classroom:

To express her gratitude to Qi Yuan, Yao Yu took it upon herself to procure his mask for the ball.

She pulled a pure white mask from her bag and handed it to him. The mask covered only the upper half of his face. Qi Yuan tried it on—it fit his face perfectly and didn’t seem out of place for a ball server.

Qi Yuan liked it a lot and tucked it into his backpack.

He thanked her earnestly, “You’ve really been a great help, thank you, Yao Yu.”

He had been wondering where to buy a suitable mask.

Yao Yu smiled shyly. “I should be thanking you, Qi Yuan, for giving me the opportunity to get a high-paying job.”

“Besides, you always help me with my studies. This mask was made by my grandfather. He’s a craftsman, and while his masks are beautiful, they’re not worth much—they could never repay your help.”

Qi Yuan shook his head, disagreeing. “That’s not how it works, Yao Yu.”

“I never expect anything in return for helping others.”

(Liar.)

“And I really love your grandfather’s masks. There aren’t many truly handmade things around anymore. In my opinion, anything you genuinely love is priceless. Someday, someone will recognize your grandfather’s true value.”

Yao Yu had probably never heard a classmate praise her grandfather so sincerely. Her eyes reddened with emotion, and she turned away, a little embarrassed.

Qi Yuan is such a genuinely good person, she thought.

Night fell.

The masked ball officially began.

Qi Yuan changed into a waiter’s uniform, donned his mask, and practiced a standard smile in the mirror before heading to the banquet hall, tray in hand.

A white grand piano stood center stage, its clear, melodious music filling the hall.

The waiters’ duties were surprisingly simple, leaving him plenty of time to slack off in a corner.

Soon, the center of the banquet hall cleared.

The first round of social dances was about to begin.

Qi Yuan surreptitiously slipped a biscuit into his mouth, with no intention of joining the revelry.

He only knew a smattering of social dances, learned back in his previous life when he was dragged to masked balls. His steps were far from elegant, but his one saving grace was that he never stepped on his dance partner’s shoes.

Having been reborn, he’d nearly forgotten everything. Perhaps a faint trace of muscle memory remained, but barely.

The music shifted, adding the deep, resonant tones of cellos.

The banquet hall came alive with dancers, their skirts swirling in joyful abandon.

While Qi Yuan was slacking off, a man in a white suit with perfect proportions approached him.

Slightly taller than Qi Yuan, he wore a tight-lipped, displeased expression.

Noticing Qi Yuan’s gaze, he turned his head, as if to challenge the boldness of being stared at so openly.

Discovering it was a waiter, he nearly snapped, “What are you staring at?”

But when his eyes met Qi Yuan’s, his mouth moved slightly, then clamped shut. This time, it wasn’t out of irritation, but because his heart was pounding.

Why do these eyes seem so familiar?

I feel like I’ve seen them somewhere before.

He recalled a dream he could barely remember, except for one detail: he had been in love with someone whose eyes were nearly identical to this waiter’s.

Cheng Huan clenched his fists, his usually brash demeanor suddenly subdued.

After several minutes of mental preparation, he finally asked, “What’s your name?”

Qi Yuan found his voice vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Before starting their shifts, all the waiters at the ball had been trained to conceal their identities.

He offered a practiced smile.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not allowed to give out our names.”

“Not even if I promise not to tell anyone else?” Cheng Huan pressed.

“No, sir,” Qi Yuan refused.

“Then can I get your number?”

“That’s not allowed either.”

“What is allowed?!” Cheng Huan snapped, his frustration growing. He’d never been so thoroughly rejected before.

Qi Yuan was immovable. “Anything against the rules is forbidden, sir.”

Cheng Huan fell silent. Just then, his friend came to find him, and the two began chatting.

Seeing this, Qi Yuan quietly slipped away.

After Cheng Huan finished talking with his friend and tried to find Qi Yuan, he couldn’t find him anywhere, leaving him feeling rather disappointed.

The first round of ballroom dancing ended. After a short break, the next round began.

Several rounds passed, leading to the final activity of the evening—a new addition this year. All the lights went out, giving everyone five minutes in the dark to grab someone’s hand. The two who paired up would dance the final round of ballroom dancing. After the dance, the masquerade ball would officially conclude, and participants could choose whether or not to remove their masks.

Qi Yuan deliberately retreated to an even more secluded corner, desperate to avoid being paired up. Dancing was the last thing he wanted to do.

But the more you try to avoid something, the more likely it is to happen.

The moment the lights went out, a figure resolutely approached him from nearby.

One minute left.

Qi Yuan counted down in his head.

Thirty seconds.

Just as he thought he’d successfully evaded it, a hand seized his arm, slid down, and firmly gripped his hand. It all happened too quickly for him to react.

Huh?

What?

What the—?!

What the hell?! Qi Yuan’s eyes widened.

By the time he reacted, it was too late; the lights were already on.

Blinded momentarily by the glare, Qi Yuan blinked until his eyes adjusted. The man holding his hand loomed into view—tall and imposing. His burning gaze seemed to strip away Qi Yuan’s mask, leaving him utterly exposed.

Qi Yuan retreated a step; the man advanced.

The music began.

Around them, everyone was vying for attention, showcasing their skills.

Qi Yuan tried to break free, but he was no match for the man’s strength.

He was swept into the first social dance of the night—and his last.

Qi Yuan had learned a little of both the male and female steps, but he was definitely more familiar with the male steps.

Yet, under the man’s guidance, his memory of the female steps flooded back. He had to admit, the man was an excellent dance instructor.

“You dance beautifully,” the man murmured in Qi Yuan’s ear.

Qi Yuan stared at him in surprise.

“Are you Yang Huaiyuan?”

The man chuckled, clearly pleased with Qi Yuan’s question.

“That’s me,” he admitted.

Then he added with mock grievance, “I’ve been looking for you for ages, Qi Yuan. You’re quite the elusive one.”

Qi Yuan was speechless, gritting his teeth as he snapped, “I wish you wouldn’t look for me.”

“And don’t say I can hide. No matter how well I hide, you’ll always find me.”

The two were classmates and had grown quite familiar, largely thanks to Yang Huaiyuan’s proactive efforts to build a connection. Otherwise, given Qi Yuan’s reserved nature, he would have kept his distance.

Their current relationship had evolved into one where they could tease and joke with each other.

“Don’t be angry. I’ll make it up to you,” Yang Huaiyuan said, completely unbothered by Qi Yuan’s attitude. In fact, he found Qi Yuan utterly endearing.

Hearing this, half of Qi Yuan’s anger dissipated.

He knew Yang Huaiyuan was generous, so whatever compensation he offered would likely be quite valuable.

Even so, seeing Yang Huaiyuan’s cheerful, spring-like demeanor, Qi Yuan still wanted to bite him hard. But in the end, he restrained himself.

Despite his reluctance to jump, now that he had started, Qi Yuan wouldn’t quit. He was determined to see it through to the end.

After it was over, Qi Yuan took a moment to catch his breath before finally asking the question that had been nagging at him: “How did you recognize me?”

He had barely recognized himself in the mirror.

Yang Huaiyuan leaned in close, whispering into Qi Yuan’s ear…

“Instinct. The moment I saw you, I knew you were Qi Yuan.”

Qi Yuan, taken aback, exclaimed, “That’s impressive!”

His remark somewhat disrupted the mood.

Yang Huaiyuan, with a hint of helplessness, led him out of the banquet hall.

They walked for a long time until they reached a deserted spot beneath a streetlight.

Yang Huaiyuan pulled a velvet-lined box from his pocket. It was exquisitely crafted.

He slowly opened it, revealing a silver bracelet—a minimalist design perfectly suited to Qi Yuan’s taste.

“Do you like it?”

Qi Yuan nodded. “Is this… compensation?”

Yang Huaiyuan hummed in agreement.

“Qi Yuan,” he said softly. “I’m truly sorry for forcing you to dance against your will.”

“Can you forgive me?”

Qi Yuan replied, “Considering how sincere you are, I’ll forgive you.”

“Put it on for me.”

His anger flared quickly but dissipated just as quickly.

Of course, part of this was because Yang Huaiyuan had danced with him in a secluded corner. Had they been at the center of the ballroom, Qi Yuan wouldn’t have cooled down so quickly, nor would he have been appeased by a mere bracelet.

Yang Huaiyuan understood Qi Yuan’s temperament perfectly. Everything he had done earlier had been calculated to tread just above Qi Yuan’s breaking point.

Qi Yuan’s wrist was slender, almost bony, yet the bracelet fit perfectly. He couldn’t help but mentally commend Yang Huaiyuan’s thoughtfulness.

“Thank you,” he said.

The bracelet’s icy touch didn’t linger long on his wrist.

The moon hung full and bright tonight, its silver light mirroring the bracelet’s luminous shimmer under the lamplight.

Yang Huaiyuan murmured gently, “No need to thank me. I’m just glad you like it.”