What's Wrong with This Alpha? - Chapter 95

Chapter 95 – Sleeping Beauty Duan!

After Sheng Yunze declared, “Duan Yi and I are really together,” he fell silent.

Old He’s face gradually turned livid. Duan Yi, seizing the microphone in a moment of panic, mustered an extraordinary performance, surpassing even his best efforts on Chinese language exams. He immediately patched things up, shouting, “It’s true—”

He nearly cracked his voice, “It’s true that we know we were wrong!”

Old He let out a sigh of relief.

Duan Yi had barely managed to salvage his precarious “school beauty” image.

The rest of the proceedings followed standard protocol. Having no actual apology letter prepared, he rambled through a series of apologies, addressing everyone from the Homeroom Teacher to the Grade Director, stopping just short of kowtowing to each one in repentance.

It felt as if falling in love had made him an enemy of the world.

Old He cleared his throat, signaling Duan Yi to bring Sheng Yunze down from the stage.

He slowly approached the podium. “I hope that after this morning’s reflection and apologies, these students will seriously recognize the dangers of early romance. At your age, early romance can only harm yourselves and others, dragging down your academic performance. There are no exceptions!”

After warning the students, Old He prepared to announce the competition winners. He began confidently, “Next, I’ll announce the national awards for last semester’s physics competition. Three students from our school achieved outstanding results. Among them—”

He paused, his voice faltering.

The entire school listened in silence.

Forcing himself to continue, Old He stammered, “Um, the national gold medal also went to our school. Sheng Yunze, uh, come up here, come up here, quickly!”

A roar of laughter erupted from the crowd.

Embarrassed by the laughter, Old He snapped, “What’s so funny?! Quiet! Teachers, maintain order in your classes!”

“Wow… amazing, New Mother! Can I touch your gold medal certificate? Just a touch, I won’t do anything else.”

As soon as Hao Shanshan entered the classroom, she sashayed over, her hips swaying.

After the revelations during yesterday’s evening self-study and today’s flag-raising ceremony, the students had grown remarkably calm about their Class President dating their League Branch Secretary.

At least it’s an internal affair, not someone from another class. And it’s not like they’re dating me. Plus, they look good together…

Of course, the most important factor was that the other person was Duan Yi. Duan Yi’s popularity in the class was sky-high, and his classmates were remarkably tolerant of his eccentric behavior. They genuinely admired him for having won over the “High Mountain Flower” of Second High School.

Sheng Yunze’s certificate lay on the desk. After Hao Shanshan had her fill of touching it, Pingtou leaned in to soak up some of Sheng Yunze’s good luck.

As he rubbed against the certificate, he couldn’t help but ask, “President Duan, are you and Secretary Sheng really dating?”

Duan Yi, feeling drowsy and wanting to sleep as soon as he got back to the classroom, snapped at Pingtou’s question. He tossed his test paper onto the desk and boasted, “What kind of stupid question is that? Didn’t you see? Secretary Sheng and I even made it official during the flag-raising ceremony! Old He officiated the ‘wedding’—were you blind?”

Pingtou choked. “It just doesn’t feel real.”

“What doesn’t feel real?” Duan Yi retorted. “We’re practically a match made in heaven!”

Sheng Yunze remained preoccupied, organizing his desk with a heavy heart.

“But you two don’t even act like a couple in class,” Pingtou persisted. “You just do your own things.”

Duan Yi bristled. “What more do you want? Haven’t you noticed I’m always the first to copy Sheng Yunze’s homework? Can you say the same?”

Pingtou: ……

“You get special treatment because you’re always closest to Secretary Sheng and grab things the fastest, right?”

“Sheng Yunze, tell them! It’s not just because I’m quick that I got the test paper. Didn’t you save it for me on purpose?” Duan Yi insisted on settling the matter once and for all.

Abbot cut to the chase with a single question, “President Duan, do you two not have any nicknames for each other?”

A crowd of eavesdropping students swarmed closer, abandoning any pretense of discretion as they fixed their gossipy gazes on Duan Yi.

It was true—no one had ever heard them use any special terms of endearment.

Duan Yi usually called Sheng Yunze by his full name, sometimes referring to him as “Secretary Sheng” like the rest of the class, and occasionally calling him “school beauty” after Jiang Wangshu.

Sheng Yunze was the same, only ever addressing Duan Yi by his full name.

Feeling self-conscious under the scrutiny, Duan Yi adopted his “tyrannical official” persona, waving his hand with mock authority. “Shoo, shoo! We have an opening exam tonight. Have you all memorized your material? Don’t bother me, the Class President of Class One!”

The crowd sighed in disappointment and dispersed.

Sheng Yunze: “You still remember about the opening exam?”

“Of course,” Duan Yi replied. “I scored over 500 points last semester. This time, I’m going to work even harder, study diligently, and turn over a new leaf. I’m aiming for the Tsinghua Academy of Fine Arts. Hey, forget Peking University—apply to Tsinghua instead! If we both get in, we can study together.”

Sheng Yunze seemed distracted, not even bothering to open his exam paper like the other students. Instead, he stared intently at Duan Yi.

Under that gaze, Duan Yi suddenly realized something and clutched his arms in mock horror. “Oh my god, you’re not actually thinking of giving me a pet name, are you? Please don’t call me ‘baby’—it’s way too cheesy! I can’t handle it!”

Sheng Yunze chuckled. “You’re overthinking things.”

Duan Yi’s mood soured again.

Even though hearing the word “baby” from Sheng Yunze would have shocked him to his core, like being struck by lightning, he was still annoyed by his boyfriend’s blunt rejection.

“Hey,” Duan Yi muttered, secretly kicking Sheng Yunze under the table.

He’d noticed Sheng Yunze had become unusually clingy lately. Before, he’d barely acknowledge Duan Yi even after being called ten times, but now he responded faster than the Tmall Genie.

This discovery filled Duan Yi with secret delight.

Sure enough, the moment Duan Yi nudged him, Sheng Yunze put down his pen and looked at him.

It was as if Sheng Yunze had never focused on the exam paper, instead constantly watching Duan Yi out of the corner of his eye.

“Why don’t you just say it?”

Sheng Yunze straightened up. “Say what?”

Still embarrassed, Duan Yi glanced around the classroom. Everyone was absorbed in their exams. He leaned over his desk, buried his face in his arms, then turned his head and mouthed the word: “Baby!”

He chuckled, burying his face deeper into his arms, his eyes sparkling with shy amusement. “Heh heh.”

Sheng Yunze paused, then replied, “Okay.”

Duan Yi pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “Wait, wait, wait! I’ve changed my mind again. I still think saying it out loud would ruin my image. Let me think about it some more.”

Without waiting for him to decide, Sheng Yunze pointed to Duan Yi’s desk—specifically, his own notebook of mistakes—and said, “Hand over my precious mistake notebook, you pig.”

Duan Yi: ……

With the start of the second semester of their third year, the countdown to the National College Entrance Examination had dropped from three digits to two.

And it was ticking down relentlessly, day by day, instantly ratcheting up the tension in the classroom to its peak.

Their class was a Competition Class, and with no competitions this semester, their academic workload had become even more grueling than usual.

The occasional outings and holidays from the previous semester were all canceled this term.

Weekends were reduced to half a day off on Sunday afternoons. After adjustments, Evening Self-Study now ended at 10:40 PM, leaving students twenty minutes to wash up, brush their teeth, and get to bed by 11:00 PM sharp. The next morning, Early Self-Study began at 6:30 AM, followed by classes starting at 7:00 AM.

All subjects were now taught in double-period blocks.

After reviewing the semester’s schedule, Duan Yi noticed that physical education classes had been canceled since the end of the physical fitness exams.

From morning till Evening Self-Study, the day consisted of two periods each of mathematics, physics, and chemistry.

There were two small quizzes per week and a major exam every two weeks.

The first mock exam was scheduled for late March to early April, the second for late April to early May, and the third for mid-May, essentially concluding all minor and major assessments.

Finally, there might be two weeks of comprehensive review to cover all key concepts and exam content before the final showdown: the National College Entrance Examination.

Duan Yi hadn’t studied much in his first and second years of high school, only making a concerted effort in his third year.

Even with this limited effort, he still considered himself a naturally gifted student. However, the opening exam of the semester revealed the consequences of his excessive holiday indulgence.

Duan Yi’s score plummeted back to its original form: a perfect 400, not a single point more. This left him depressed for an entire week.

Jiang Wangshu scored over 670, while Fang Yun scored slightly lower.

The class’s overall performance was decent, with no scores falling below 600. In Zhejiang Province, the total possible score was 750, and anyone scoring below 600 would be unceremoniously kicked down to the next class.

Sheng Yunze still led the pack, his score of over 700 dazzlingly high.

Duan Yi stood before the bulletin board for a long time, his heart swelling with pride.

He knew Sheng Yunze had always excelled academically, boasting a high IQ. People used to call him a genius.

Given his potential, Sheng Yunze should have been recruited into the Youth Science Class during middle school. Duan Yi wondered why he hadn’t gone, speculating it might be due to his father’s job.

“Look at President Duan, grinning like a fool over his 400,” Jiang Wangshu teased. “You’re practically toothless from all that smiling.”

Duan Yi shot him a glare. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Seeing Sheng Yunze enter the classroom, Duan Yi abandoned Jiang Wangshu and rushed over to him. “Hey, have you seen your score yet?”

“Yeah,” Sheng Yunze replied.

“Any thoughts, Secretary Sheng? Let’s get an interview!”

He rolled his textbook into a scroll. Every book of Duan Yi’s was either brand new, as if never opened, or looked like it had been deep-fried. Their primary purpose wasn’t reading, but twirling.

His full name was scrawled in marker along the side of the book, the edge where the pages turned. When the book was open, his name disappeared; it only became visible when closed.

No scientist or historian within the pages of his books escaped Duan Yi’s artistic “poison,” their portraits adorned with flamboyant doodles.

Even Du Fu, the renowned poet from his Guangyuwen textbook, had been transformed into a Gundam-piloting warrior.

Sheng Yunze smiled at him and asked, “Aren’t you going to the Art Studio today?”

From the first day of school, Duan Yi had informed the Old Class Teacher that he would be studying art in the school’s Art Studio alongside students who had remained from the Art Class.

He hadn’t chosen to study art outside of school. Duan Yi was quite confident in his artistic abilities, believing he could easily handle the National College Entrance Examination. He even boasted with mock humility, “I’m just worried I’ll score too high and scare the junior students.”

But there was some truth to his confidence. Duan Yi vaguely remembered having taken the National College Entrance Examination once before, though he couldn’t recall if it was in this parallel world or another. He also remembered being the top scorer in the China Academy of Art’s integrated admission exam.

In the end, he didn’t go to the China Academy of Art or the Tsinghua Academy of Fine Arts. Instead, he attended the Central Academy of Fine Arts as a special admissions student—the only one that year. During his first semester as a freshman, he was the subject of constant scrutiny from seniors for an entire week.

Duan Yi’s art style leaned toward the ornate and surreal. At first glance, most people assumed the artist was a mysterious, aloof, and unapproachable young man, someone enigmatic and aloof. But when Duan Yi arrived on campus with his backpack, his mischievous demeanor was anything but painterly. He quickly befriended his classmates, his smile as radiant as a small sun, leaving everyone utterly astonished.

In art, age is irrelevant. Some talents are simply gifts from the heavens; ordinary people could toil a lifetime and never reach the starting line of such prodigies. Duan Yi’s talent belonged to this divine category, yet he also worked tirelessly, never stopping since elementary school.

Duan Yi lay sprawled across the table, sketching a miniature watch on Sheng Yunze’s wrist—the latest Vacheron Constantin model.

Sheng Yunze rested his left hand on Duan Yi’s desk, letting him fuss over it while his right hand continued writing his exam.

“I got back so late last night,” Duan Yi said as he drew. “It was already two in the morning by the time I reached the dorm. And I left the Art Studio key inside. They haven’t gone yet today, so I’ll head over later to paint.”

“Staying in the classroom this morning?” Sheng Yunze asked.

“Mm,” Duan Yi said, blowing a puff of air and proudly showing off his watch. “Not bad, right?”

Sheng Yunze offered a perfunctory compliment, unable to see anything particularly impressive about the timepiece.

Duan Yi rested his fist under his chin. “You don’t need to come with me today. The Art Studio is a mess.”

The Second High School art students occupied the corridor on the fourth floor, with the Art Studio separated from the Music Classroom by a staircase.

While the Music Classroom was clean and bright, the Art Studio was a disaster. It was so filthy there was barely room to walk.

Mountains of paint tubes, broken easels with missing legs and arms, a floor covered in pencil shavings and eraser crumbs, and sketches scattered everywhere.

You couldn’t find a single intact sketchbook in the Art Studio; almost all the pages had been torn out and haphazardly plastered on the walls. When they needed references, they’d just pick up watercolor paintings from the floor.

Sheng Yunze was a neat freak, Duan Yi remembered. It was pointless to make him sit in the Art Studio with all that pencil dust.

Besides, Duan Yi liked listening to music while painting and couldn’t be bothered to chat.

When Sheng Yunze did come, he’d just find a corner, pull up a stool, and work on his practice exams, keeping him company.

“Let’s go,” Sheng Yunze said, packing up his bag.

“Hey, wait!” Duan Yi called out. “Are you serious about going? Maybe we should grab lunch first?”

“We’ll order takeout later,” Sheng Yunze replied.

Duan Yi chased after him. “Damn, you’ve gone bad! You never used to order takeout. Have you ever picked up takeout near the basketball court? If you’re new to it, I can order for you. I’ve been getting takeout for three years and only got caught ten times…”

With a creak, the Art Studio door swung open.

Sheng Yunze had been here countless times, but every time he opened the door, he was still struck by the musty smell of paint and strange wood mingling together.

Duan Yi tossed his backpack onto a clean table and immediately opened the window, letting sunlight flood into the room.

“The Art Class didn’t clean up after their lesson yesterday,” Duan Yi grumbled, using an easel to block the induction cooker in the corner. “Who the hell eats hotpot in the Art Studio?!”

His easel occupied the studio’s best-lit spot, conveniently located near the sink.

Although Sheng Yunze had never formally studied art—his artistic skills were limited to drawing stick-figure doves in kindergarten—he had absorbed a surprising amount of knowledge from Duan Yi’s constant chatter.

For instance, he learned that erasers weren’t always hard; soft ones could also work. And that erasers could even be used for drawing!

He also learned that white paint was more precious than life itself: I’ll lend you money, but never my white paint.

In the art studio, allowing a friend to scoop white paint with their own brush was a sign of a life-or-death bond—especially if the brush was still stained with other colors.

Sheng Yunze conscientiously took Duan Yi’s palette to the sink, washed it clean, and poured out the dirty paint water from yesterday, replacing it with fresh water.

When he returned, Duan Yi had already taped a sheet of paper to the easel. Sheng Yunze didn’t know what he planned to paint today, but seeing him sitting there sharpening pencils, he knew Duan Yi wasn’t in the mood to paint.

Whenever Duan Yi wasn’t feeling like painting, he would either dawdle over sharpening pencils or fuss with his watercolor paints.

Duan Yi’s pencils and erasers disappeared faster than he could buy them. Sheng Yunze never knew whose pencil he was sharpening.

Whenever Duan Yi sketched or painted portraits, he would spend ages scavenging the studio floor for pencils and erasers—a shockingly casual approach.

After sharpening pencils for a while, Duan Yi dragged his small stool over and sat beside Sheng Yunze.

“I have a question for you,” he said.

They were the only two in the studio. Sheng Yunze looked at him. “What is it?”

Duan Yi hesitated for a long moment before finally asking, “Have you been… preoccupied lately?”

It had been a week since he’d seen Sheng Yunze genuinely happy.

Could it be the pressure of the National College Entrance Examination?

Even academic prodigies get stressed sometimes?

“No.”

Sheng Yunze recalled Dr. He’s warning: he couldn’t directly reveal the secrets of this world to Duan Yi.

Still weighing Dr. He’s words, a faint, almost imperceptible sadness flickered in his eyes as he gazed at Duan Yi.

Under his gaze, Duan Yi stretched lazily, yawned, and assumed Sheng Yunze was just stressed about the National College Entrance Examination. “Don’t feel too pressured,” he said. “Everyone’s in the same boat. Besides, your grades are amazing! Just relax and you’ll definitely get into Peking University.”

Sheng Yunze barely registered Duan Yi’s words. His mind was consumed by a single thought: Duan Yi has been sleeping more and more lately.

Ever since last winter, Duan Yi had been listless, as if he could drift off to sleep forever at any moment.

Sheng Yunze couldn’t tell if this was a sign that Duan Yi’s mental world was collapsing, but every time he saw Duan Yi close his eyes, his heart clenched with dread.

“Duan Yi…” Sheng Yunze steadied him.

Duan Yi startled awake, blinking in confusion. “Whoa, how did I fall asleep mid-sentence? Damn, it must be from staying up until 2 AM drawing last night. I’m such a hard worker, I’m moved by my own dedication!“

He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, and casually rested his head on Sheng Yunze’s shoulder. “I’m so tired. I’m going to bed early tonight.”

As Duan Yi closed his eyes, he heard Sheng Yunze’s unsteady voice, “Duan Yi, don’t fall asleep.”