Thousands Of People Thought Of Him - Chapter 13
“What are you pretending for?”
Qi Xingwen seemed to have noticed Ying Fusang’s gaze. He lowered his head slightly, and the next moment, his entire body seemed to lose strength and fell toward the other.
Ying Fusang: !
Even if he couldn’t physically touch him, he couldn’t just watch him fall to the ground. In a flash, Ying Fusang quickly reached out—one hand grabbing Qi Xingwen’s sleeve, the other tugging at the fabric at his lower back—barely managing to keep him upright.
The distance between the two instantly closed.
“This wound…” Ying Fusang could tell it was serious, but didn’t know how to help.
Actually, Qi Xingwen was the one deliberately controlling the distance. Taking advantage of this posture, he lowered his head and subtly sniffed the side of Ying Fusang’s neck.
Smelling that familiar scent, and knowing Ying Fusang couldn’t see it, a satisfied smile curled at Qi Xingwen’s lips.
“Just a small injury, nothing serious. Don’t worry,” he said casually, but he made no effort to stand up straight.
The rule punishment—he had long gotten used to it like drinking water.
Well… though this time, perhaps it was a bit too much.
To Ying Fusang, seeing him not getting up for so long obviously meant he was in too much pain to move.
“Really?” he asked, clearly unconvinced.
Not wanting him to worry, Qi Xingwen finally stood up slowly and explained, “It just looks bad. But because of this, I probably won’t be able to come tomorrow. Sorry.”
As soon as he finished, he was bombarded by Jiang Tan’s voice in his sea of consciousness.
[Qi Xingwen, are you trying to die?! Get back here now!!!]
Worried he might collapse again, Ying Fusang stepped forward to lightly support his arm, saying, “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me. Just go back and get treated.”
In fact, every time the other apologized, Ying Fusang felt a strange discomfort—he couldn’t quite explain it.
Qi Xingwen chuckled. “Alright then, I’ll head out first.”
Just before he vanished, he didn’t forget to add, “Sangsang, your health isn’t good. In the future, don’t go alone to haunted houses or other…”
—stimulating places.
Mid-sentence, he suddenly realized: For Ying Fusang, haunted houses didn’t seem all that stimulating?
“…Places that make you feel uncomfortable,” he corrected himself.
Ying Fusang: “Okay.”
“And also,” as if still worried, Qi Xingwen added, “if you ever run into people who hold ill intentions toward you again—do you know what to do now?”
Remembering his instructions from earlier in the day, Ying Fusang nodded.
Even if he didn’t fully understand the meaning behind them yet, he had memorized everything he’d been told.
…
“What are you pretending for?”
“?”
Ying Chenglang couldn’t believe his ears. More than that, he couldn’t believe that this person standing in front of him was the one who had said it.
Ying Fusang, following the immortal Qi’s instructions to the letter, spoke that line with a blank expression, calmly and evenly, his eyes fixed lightly on the other.
Half an hour earlier—
Ying Chenglang had no interest in the “ridiculous” school celebration activity. He stayed in the classroom until school ended, planning to go home with Fang Baiyu. But after searching everywhere and failing to find him—his calls even going unanswered—he became increasingly frustrated.
Just as he was feeling annoyed, a few people suddenly came running toward him from the plaza.
They were staggering, stumbling like madmen. Ying Chenglang impatiently stepped aside, fearing they’d crash into him.
Unexpectedly, they skidded to a stop right in front of him.
“Second Young Master!!”
Leading the group, Sun Wenhao, snot and tears streaming, grabbed his sleeve like a man who had just escaped from hell.
Seeing their faces, Ying Chenglang let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Worried they’d dirty his clothes, he shook off Sun Wenhao’s hand in disgust. Seeing all of them looking like they’d seen a ghost, he scoffed:
“What, you got that scared from a haunted house? What a bunch of cowards.”
But Sun Wenhao frantically shook his head like a rattle drum, muttering, “We… we’ll never bully Ying Fusang again. Please, Second Young Master, ask him to spare us…”
Zhu Rui also cried, nodding hard: “We really won’t ever do it again!!”
Liu Yizhuo didn’t speak, his eyes vacant, body trembling—like he’d been scared half to death.
Ying Chenglang stepped back, finding them more disgusting than anything. His tone turned skeptical and uneasy:
“What the hell are you all talking about? Did you see a ghost or something?”
That triggered something. Sun Wenhao’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. Crawling over like a drowning man clinging to driftwood, he clutched Ying Chenglang’s leg and trembled violently:
“We were taken to the 18th level of hell! They were going to chop us up and eat us alive!!”
“Please, Second Young Master, say something nice to Ying Fusang for us—I swear! I’ll never mess with him again!”
“What the hell are you even talking about.”
Ying Chenglang tried to shake him off with his foot, but the guy wouldn’t let go no matter what. There weren’t even any students around to help.
“Damn it,” he muttered, pulling out his phone to call the driver.
He didn’t even remember how he managed to shake them off—just that he gave up on finding Fang Baiyu and rushed straight home like he was running for his life.
…
“Chenglang’s back? Why so late today?”
When he got home, he couldn’t even respond to Shi Suying’s concern. His fear and frustration boiled over into pure rage. He stormed up to the attic and banged hard on Ying Fusang’s door.
The door opened quickly. The person inside looked calm and collected, while he stood there like a lunatic, completely disheveled.
That contrast only made him angrier. He raised his voice and yelled:
“What the hell did you do to them?!”
“Them?”
Noticing his word choice, Ying Fusang realized—for once—it wasn’t about Fang Baiyu.
Sure he was faking ignorance, Ying Chenglang pressed on:
“Who are you acting for? They all came to me! I swear, I never realized you were this vicious before.”
Not wanting to argue with someone unreasonable, Ying Fusang simply raised his hand to shut the door.
Ying Chenglang, sensing it, shoved the door wide open—bang! It slammed into the wall.
…
Seeing the confrontation about to escalate, Ying Fusang suddenly remembered what Qi Xingwen had told him.
Applying it to the current situation—an easy formula—he concluded: Ying Chenglang was showing malicious intent.
In that case…
Ying Fusang crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, a sarcastic smile tugging at his lips.
“What are you pretending for?”
Caught completely off guard, Ying Chenglang stared at him, dumbfounded, questioning whether he heard correctly.
“…What did you just say?”
He had to have misheard.
To be honest, Ying Fusang wasn’t totally confident himself. But since the words were already out, he quickly searched his mental “response library.”
“Didn’t get it? Then shake your brain around and try again.”
He had spent five minutes between classes studying “100 Ways to Clap Back”, so his internal arsenal was fully loaded.
Ying Chenglang’s eyes went wide, his face shifting between red and green.
“You little sh—”
Had he just been insulted by that spineless loser?!
He clenched his fists, ready to teach Ying Fusang a lesson—but something felt… off. Too many weird things had happened today, and now he wondered if he just hadn’t gotten enough sleep.
“You just wait!”
He glared fiercely, threw out a threat, then stormed downstairs in anger.
This time, he left faster than usual—by at least a minute.
Ying Fusang was intrigued. It seemed Qi Xingwen really did know what he was talking about.
The next day was the weekly quiz. Since they didn’t have evening study, they were dismissed early—6 p.m.
At this time, he could still catch a bus, so Ying Fusang skipped the shared bikes and walked to the station.
Only a grandmother and a little girl were there. Ying Fusang found a spot to sit and started listening to an English listening exercise with his earphones.
Next to him, the ponytailed girl fidgeted nervously with her fingers. After a while, seeing even the old lady had left on a bus, she finally mustered up the courage to poke him.
“Big brother…”
Ying Fusang took off one earbud and looked at her, silently signaling her to speak.
She looked oddly familiar.
This thought had come up far too often lately—it wasn’t logical. But then again, all kids looked the same to him, so he didn’t think too hard about it.
The girl pouted, blinking up at him:
“I… I’m lost. Can you take me home?”
…
Ying Fusang began wondering what kind of scam this might be.
Maybe his mistrust was written too plainly on his face, because the girl looked like she was about to burst into tears. To avoid unnecessary drama, he added,
“I can take you to the police station.”
The word “police” made her eyes go wide in panic.
“B-but Yaoyao didn’t do anything bad! Why would the police take me away?”
Ying Fusang: “I didn’t say you did anything bad.”
Girl: “Then why are you taking me to the police if I didn’t do anything wrong?”
Ying Fusang: “They can help you find your parents.”
Girl: “But my mommy and daddy didn’t do anything bad either!”
…”
This was getting impossible to explain.
His bus was approaching, and seeing the conversation going nowhere, Ying Fusang decided to try one last approach:
“Then tell me your parents’ phone number. I can call them for you.”
She looked about six or seven, so she should’ve known it. But she shook her head in confusion, chewing her finger.
“Phone number? Yaoyao doesn’t know it.”
Ying Fusang nodded.
“Then there’s nothing I can do.”
Sensing his rejection, the girl panicked and quickly said,
“Wait, wait! I can tell you my mommy’s name!”
These days, people shared names all the time—he wasn’t a government database, so it wouldn’t help.
Still, he humored her:
“Go ahead.”
She perked up proudly, brows raised:
“Hmph! My mommy is super famous! Her name is—
Qin Muci!”