Chapter 111 – Extra 3

The dormitory 407 expressed strong dissatisfaction with Luo Chenzhou’s constant radiant expression ever since he got his class schedule.

“Holding the class schedule like it’s the Bible, huh? What, are you finally ready to sacrifice yourself by jumping from the fourth floor for the noble cause of ‘canceling final exams’?” The dorm leader, picking at his toes, sneered with disdain.

“…Why did you circle the professor’s name in the ‘Marine Meteorology’ section with a black box? That’s so creepy.” The second roommate, Lu Jiajia, the academic ace, peeked over the shoulder of the black-haired young man who was scribbling away at the desk, tsking as he took over the mocking baton from the dorm leader. “The new professor isn’t dead, you know.”

“He’s not planning to sacrifice himself or write an epitaph,” the third roommate, Dong Ming, adjusted his glasses. “He’s clearly about to throw himself at the professor—Luo Chenzhou, stop looking so lovesick and behave yourself in public, or the dorm leader will throw you off the fourth floor—Lu Jiajia, don’t think I didn’t notice you stealing my ‘Three Brothers Potato Chips’ while I was talking, and you even opened your mouth so wide. Those are expensive, you know… Like, that bite you just took was worth twenty bucks.”

Lu Jiajia turned and casually stuffed the potato chips into Luo Chenzhou’s waiting mouth.

Lu Jiajia: “See? I’m taking care of my little brother.”

Dong Ming: “…Get lost.”

Dorm leader: “I’ve never seen a horny cat eating potato chips.”

All three roommates, with their six eyes, turned to the silent figure who was munching on potato chips, humming a tune, and sticking heart-shaped stickers onto certain grid lines of his class schedule.

Dong Ming: “…Now you have.”

Lu Jiajia: “Enlightening.”

Dorm leader: “Someone, get this maiden out of our bachelor pad.”

…

The night before the Marine Meteorology class, Luo Chenzhou hid under his blanket, repeatedly and quietly caressing his Ghost Slayer dagger, his fingers tracing the uneven surface of the blade, his heart racing, unable to sleep.

The next day, the roosters at the school’s farm started crowing before dawn. Luo Chenzhou, with dark circles under his eyes, leaped out of bed. By the time he finished his shower and walked out of the bathroom, the dorm leader’s snoring was still shaking the heavens. After a lap around the sports field to calm the wild light in his eyes, Luo Chenzhou arrived early to the classroom and secured the best seat in the front row—after analyzing the angles of “I can see him easily” and “He can see me easily,” he busily changed seats three times before finally settling down in the middle of the third row.

Then he neatly arranged his textbooks, notebooks, and pencil case on the seat next to him, reserving spots for the dorm leader, Lu Jiajia, and Dong Ming.

When time finally crawled close to the start of class, the rest of the class began trickling in. Some were yawning, some hadn’t even brought their books, and some girls were still applying makeup while walking—a sight that reminded Luo Chenzhou of his own few difficult experiences with makeup, making him deeply sigh at the wonder of women.

Then he thought of Zhizhi.

He wondered how that silly girl was doing.

After some thought, since he was bored anyway, he pulled out his phone and casually searched for images of black-scaled merfolk. But when the first result that popped up was a dried-up mummy of a merfolk with buckteeth, yellowed skin, and a pose that looked like a deformed baby with a fish tail doing the “Erkang pose,” Luo Chenzhou silently closed the browser.

After waiting a bit longer, the dorm’s esteemed members finally arrived.

As the academic ace, Lu Jiajia was very pleased with the seat Luo Chenzhou had chosen. Glancing at the neatly arranged study materials Luo Chenzhou had used to reserve the seats, he patted the youngest dormmate’s shoulder and said in a very satisfied tone, “Finally making progress.”

Then he turned and pulled out a notebook thicker than his palm, three or four colored markers, a black pen, and a Marine Meteorology textbook already covered with pre-class notes from his bag.

Dong Ming smirked and sat down next to Lu Jiajia, rummaging through his bag until he finally pulled out a brand-new, completely unused Marine Meteorology textbook, except for a few grease stains from breakfast.

The dorm leader was more straightforward. He plopped down next to Luo Chenzhou and didn’t move again. When Luo Chenzhou quietly asked him where his book was, the guy looked confused and innocent: “Book? What book?—Marine Meteorology has a textbook?”

Luo Chenzhou, Lu Jiajia, Dong Ming: “…”

The class bell rang.

Without anyone needing to tell him, Luo Chenzhou’s entire soul, along with every hair on his body, stood at attention—even though his body was seated properly at his desk, his expression blank, his black eyes fixed on the chipped brick below the blackboard.

The dorm leader tilted his head and watched him for a while, then laughed: “This is new. I haven’t seen such a posture since elementary school, and before that, only on the eye exercise charts.”

Lu Jiajia: “I’ll buy you a Red Scarf after class, Young Pioneer.”

Dong Ming was more direct. He jabbed Luo Chenzhou in the side with a karate chop: “Loosen up your back! Sitting so straight like a meerkat! How stupid!”

The students in the back were still telling dirty jokes, the smell of makeup wafted from the girl on the left, and the boys on the right were discussing last night’s DOTA match. The classroom was noisy until the ugly green curtain covering the door of the lecture hall was pushed aside by a tall figure. Luo Chenzhou’s gaze mechanically shifted to the man who stood backlit in the doorway.

Everything around him seemed to disappear.

All the noise, all the whispers, even the casual conversation between the dorm leader and Dong Ming—everything vanished.

The world seemed to shrink to just the man standing at the door. He held a brand-new textbook that looked comically small in his large hands. As he pushed open the lecture hall door and brushed aside the dusty curtain, he frowned slightly, letting out a soft, fastidious “tsk” at the dust that floated up.

Luo Chenzhou remembered that five hundred years ago, when he was still called Miguel, every time he ran barefoot across the deck and then tumbled onto the man’s pristine white bed, the man would make that same expression, let out that same sound of disgust, and then kick him off the bed with his foot.

Five hundred years later, his big dog walked toward him, dressed in a suit.

If the brief glimpse at the start of the semester and their sudden encounter hadn’t given Luo Chenzhou enough time to take a good look at him, now, he could finally openly study the man who seemed to have been gone for five hundred years.

If it weren’t for that familiar feeling, Luo Chenzhou might not have recognized him. As the man, dressed impeccably and with a stern expression, strode confidently to the podium and leaned on it with an aura of undeniable authority, surveying the noisy classroom, Luo Chenzhou’s heart hung in the air—

The lecture hall was dimly lit, and the students’ voices grew quieter.

As the man bent down to turn on the computer under the podium, a familiar white dog pendant slipped out from his collar.

Five hundred years ago, Luo Chenzhou had personally placed it in his hand.

When the light from the computer screen illuminated the man’s handsome face, Luo Chenzhou once again saw the faint but striking red mark running vertically over his right eye—as if someone had once slashed it with a saber. Luo Chenzhou guessed it was probably just a birthmark.

Five hundred years ago, in the same spot, Luo Chenzhou had personally bandaged and treated his wound.

Finally, the weight in Luo Chenzhou’s heart dropped.

It was him.

He hadn’t mistaken him.

The noisy classroom returned, and Luo Chenzhou finally remembered how to breathe for the second time in his twenty-some years of life. Behind him, the girl who had been busy with her makeup stopped and gasped softly when the new professor’s face was illuminated by the computer light, immediately turning to her dormmates to start an excited discussion.

Lu Jiajia muttered under his breath: “Damn, did you see that? Life’s winner.”

Dong Ming mumbled honestly: “Damn, as long as this professor is alive, we can forget about dating until graduation.”

The dorm leader snorted calmly: “Hmph, not as handsome as me.”

Then he turned and pinched Luo Chenzhou’s chin, forcing the young man’s face, which was practically staring holes into the professor, to look at his own oily, round face. He examined it carefully while muttering: “Not crying, are you?—Good, not crying this time—You were so pathetic on the first day of school, crying in public because a man was too handsome.”

The classroom had started to buzz, with the girls chattering and asking the professor to introduce himself and share all his contact information.

The roof was about to blow off.

It was a first. The meteorology department, known for its monotonous lectures and drowsy classes for three hundred years, had never been this lively, except for physical education.

It was too noisy. The man at the podium looked down at the chaotic mess in the classroom and felt his temper rising. And from somewhere in the crowd, a gaze so intense it felt like it was burning a hole through him was making him inexplicably irritable. Caesar tugged at his tie, which only caused another wave of excitement.

He felt something snap in his head.

Grabbing the textbook from the podium, he slammed it down with a loud thud. The computer screen flickered, and the wooden podium groaned under the force.

The world fell silent.

“What are you looking at? Being handsome doesn’t put food on the table. I’m here to teach, not to be a circus act for you losers.”

The classroom: “…”

Lu Jiajia: “Tsk tsk, so domineering.”

Dong Ming: “Damn, if anyone’s showing off, beat them to death. Who’s up for it? I’ll support you in spirit.”

Dorm leader: “Damn, that’s personal! I’m filing a complaint!”

Luo Chenzhou: “…I’d let him ‘beat’ me to death.”

Girls in the back: “Add me on WeChat: yao0086.”