The Fallen, Stubborn Prince - Chapter 8
Why did she ever mistake Su Qian and Sheng’s words for a love confession? Talking about love between them didn’t make sense at all. Taking his blunt, serious tone as some kind of affection was like wounding her own heart. He was as innocent as a child — while she, too sensitive for her own good, mistook kindness for affection and ended up hurting herself.
Sighing over her brief moment of foolishness, Fang Xian straightened up, pretending to be stern.
“Let me ask you—what happened with your math and science scores this time? Weren’t all those problems ones we’ve already practiced before?”
“They were,” Su Qian replied, sounding deflated. “And I filled in all the answers…”
“I saw that!” she said, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. “But you didn’t show your work! Without the steps, I can’t give you points. This isn’t like our regular practice quizzes—you can’t just give the right answer and expect to pass. How will we know if you understand the concept?”
Su Qian stayed silent. She could tell he knew what she meant. He had been through this problem before—he always got the answer right, but no one knew how.
“It’s not that you can’t do it,” she added gently.
“I can…” He hesitated. Every time he saw a question, his brain automatically ran through the process and produced the answer instantly. Writing it down felt slow and frustrating. And whenever he tried to write, people couldn’t even understand his scribbles. They would ask him to explain, which only made him more irritable. Over time, he simply gave up on showing his work.
What he really wanted was someone who could understand him—and help him fix this problem—instead of teachers who simply ignored it.
After much effort, Fang Xian finally pieced together the issue. “Wait—you’re solving everything in your head?”
Su Qian nodded and pulled out his test paper, showing her how he worked out the answers mentally.
Even though Fang Xian was one of the top three students in school, it still took her a while to fully understand how Su Qian thought. When she finally did, she was both amazed and exhausted.
“No wonder…” she muttered. “But still—when the classroom is quiet, you can’t focus?”
He nodded, almost embarrassed. “When it’s too quiet, I can’t calm down. Especially when you’re sitting next to me… the breeze carries your scent, and when I look up and see you concentrating—smiling a little when you get something right—it’s… distracting.”
Fang Xian was speechless.
What kind of reason was that? Because it’s too quiet?
“The exam room has to be quiet!” she scolded. “But if it really affects you, we need to find a way to fix it.”
She thought about it for a while, then sighed. “Don’t rush. Practice writing out every step slowly. Don’t skip ahead in your head. Not everyone’s a genius like you.”
After weeks of practice and countless frustrations, Fang Xian and Su Qian eventually developed a new method—one he could use more easily. It took him time to adjust, but it helped him understand how other people thought, not just himself.
Sometimes Fang Xian accompanied him; sometimes Ling Huanchen did.
For Fang Xian, it was like reviewing for exams. For Ling Huanchen, it was free tutoring from a math prodigy—and he benefited a lot.
In the last half-year of high school, Ling Huanchen’s grades improved dramatically.
But Fang Xian still had one unsolved problem—Su Qian couldn’t stay focused unless the environment was lively. Since he transferred to their class, the area around their seats had never been quiet. Ling Huanchen’s gang of chatty friends were always nearby, and because Ling told them to bring colorful receipts that Su Qian liked collecting, he was constantly surrounded by a rainbow mess.
Then one day, Fang Xian suddenly had an idea—something simple but maybe effective.
When the next exam came, her plan went into action.
As the invigilator walked past Su Qian’s desk, he froze in disbelief. “Are those… stickers?”
Colorful fluorescent stickers were plastered across Su Qian’s desk, practically glowing.
“What are you, a child?” the invigilator barked. “You think exams are playtime?”
Fang Xian broke out in a cold sweat—she had suggested it. But Su Qian didn’t even look up. He was completely focused on the test paper, writing one problem after another.
The teacher bent down, curious, and noticed something surprising—Su Qian wasn’t actually looking at the stickers. The light from them just reflected softly into his eyes, making his surroundings feel lively without distracting him.
It worked.
Su Qian’s grades rose.
He started speaking more naturally.
He no longer seemed trapped in his own little world.
For the first time, he didn’t need special treatment from teachers. He was just another student—bright, hardworking, and happy.
When this reached the Su family, it caused a stir. The boy who had always been “different” had suddenly become their hope.
“Miss Fang, the young master isn’t home yet,” said Ye Feng, the housekeeper, opening the door politely. “Would you like to come in and wait?”
Fang Xian shook her head. “Thank you, but please just give this to Su Qian.” She handed over his math notebook—filled with exercises and her comments, like a shared diary between them.
But Ye Feng didn’t take it. He smiled gently. “Actually, Miss Fang, someone inside has been waiting to see you.”
She froze.
“The young master’s mother,” Ye Feng continued. “She’s not the easiest person to get along with, but everything she does is for him. When she heard that his condition improved because of you, she wanted to meet you herself—to thank you in person.”
Thank her?
Fang Xian’s heart trembled. “Not a good person”? That warning sounded strange back then, but thinking about it now… Ye Feng had simply been too polite.