Chapter 86: Not Very Familiar |
Liu Changqing’s fingers flew across the keyboard.
It had been a while since he’d written any new chapters for his novel. Although he had accumulated a decent backlog during his month working at the bookstore, the high-frequency updates after the novel's launch had drained his reserves. The recent flurry of events left him with little time to write, and his original stockpile of over 200 chapters was nearly exhausted. On top of that, he’d been busy drafting the first generation of Pokémon sketches, leaving even less time for writing.
Liu Zhiyue returned home, opening the door to find the living room empty. The faint sound of keyboard clicks drifted from his father’s room.
Dad was writing his novel.
This was something Liu Zhiyue had only learned two days ago.
After his exams, Liu Changqing had set up the computer he’d brought home from the bookstore and called Liu Zhiyue into his room to explain the novel-writing project. That’s when Liu Zhiyue finally understood why his father hadn’t been worried about paying tuition fees.
Curious, Liu Zhiyue read his father’s work.
It was a genre he’d never encountered before. The plot was captivating, and he was amazed his father could write something so engaging. While the writing wasn’t particularly poetic, it was smooth and clear—far beyond the capabilities of someone with only a high school education.
Over the course of two days, Liu Zhiyue finished all the chapters of Battle Through the Heavens. His conclusion: it was an interesting book, one that kept readers hooked.
Liu Changqing sat at the desk, typing away.
“I noticed the tea on the coffee table cooled down,” Liu Zhiyue said softly.
“Ah, just set it here,” Liu Changqing replied without turning around. “I forgot to bring it in earlier.”
Obediently, Liu Zhiyue placed the tea on the desk and stood behind his father, watching the screen. One by one, the words appeared seamlessly on the monitor.
A sense of admiration welled up inside him.
Why hadn’t he noticed this before?
The clacking of keys stopped.
Liu Changqing turned to look at his son and asked thoughtfully, “I just remembered—didn’t you attend your homeroom teacher’s tutoring class in the first year of middle school?”
“Yes, I did. Why?”
“You’ve been reassigned to a new class this year, right? Is your homeroom teacher still leading the Rocket Class?”
“Hmm... I think she’s switching to the Experimental Class. My new homeroom teacher for the third year won’t be her,” Liu Zhiyue explained, unsure why his father was suddenly asking about this.
Liu Changqing fell silent, deep in thought.
His son’s homeroom teacher, Pan Huihui, left a vivid impression on Liu Changqing’s memory. When Liu Zhiyue first started middle school, he had told the old Liu Changqing that his teacher was running a tutoring class. Although it wasn’t mandatory, almost all the students in the class had signed up.
At the time, the old Liu Changqing didn’t take it seriously and ignored the situation. Soon after, however, he was frequently called to the school, eventually giving in and signing his son up for the class just to stop the harassment. This went on until the second semester of the second year.
During that period, Liu Changqing’s personal life was a mess—his failing marriage and frequent drunkenness left him broke. He couldn’t afford the tutoring fees, which was why, during a fight involving his son, only he was called to the school, and the punishment was a one-week suspension.
Even now, Pan Huihui’s actions still grated on him. When his son’s exam results were invalidated without clear evidence of cheating, Liu Changqing knew it wasn’t just petty favoritism—it was targeted harassment.
Pan Huihui had claimed that multiple teachers had agreed to cancel his son’s grades. But in the school office, none of the other teachers seemed to harbor any grudges against Liu Zhiyue. It was clear she was singling him out, likely because he hadn’t joined her summer tutoring class.
If Liu Changqing didn’t act now, even he felt he couldn’t stomach the situation any longer.
“I thought private tutoring by teachers was already banned,” Liu Changqing said, leaning back in his chair. “How does your homeroom teacher get away with running such an obvious scam?”
“She doesn’t call it a tutoring class. It’s labeled as a ‘study interest group,’ and the fees are listed as ‘material costs.’ Though the materials are ridiculously expensive...”
“Just a rebranded scam.”
“Yeah, but her husband works at the education bureau.”
“What about Zhou Shiyan? Did she join the tutoring class too?”
“No, she just transferred to our school this semester and hasn’t experienced it yet.”
Liu Changqing frowned.
His son’s knowledge was mostly hearsay, so the details were vague. Even though the class reassignment was imminent, almost everyone except for Zhou Shiyan and Liu Zhiyue had signed up for the so-called “study interest group.” Adding to the mix, Liu Zhiyue had been nursing an injury before the exams yet managed to score within the top ten in the school—a result that even Liu Changqing found hard to believe.
After asking a few more questions, Liu Changqing let his son return to his room.
As the door clicked shut, the room fell silent once more.
Liu Changqing tapped his fingers against the desk, thinking.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number. Holding the phone to his ear, he waited for the call to connect.
An Yuanyao sat expressionless, staring at the person seated across from her as if looking at a stranger.
She lifted her cup with one hand, took a small sip, and gently set it down.
“It’s been a while,” she said calmly.
Li Wanran’s face showed no visible emotion, but under the table, her hand clenched tightly before slowly relaxing.
She felt deeply guilty toward An Yuanyao.
In high school, they had been inseparable best friends. Although An Yuanyao’s family wasn’t as wealthy as hers, it was far from ordinary. In Li Wanran’s memory, An Yuanyao had never looked at her with such a cold expression or such distant eyes.
Familiar face, unfamiliar person.
“Yuanyao...”
“Call me by my full name,” An Yuanyao interrupted, her voice firm.
Her face betrayed no emotion as she stared directly at Li Wanran.
Her gaze carried complexity, determination, and a trace of relief.
Parting her lips, she spoke softly.
“After all, we’re not that close anymore.”