Chapter 18 Part 1
Taw’s note: From this chapter on, I’m going to use a dash to mark the inner monologue. (•‿•)
——Afraid of people? Afraid of which people? The man at the door… or just humans in general?
The butler was stunned. He had no idea how the boss came to that conclusion.
To him, it seemed far more reasonable that Su Zesui was just scared of being caught outside by his possessive master. That made way more sense!
Then again, he couldn’t really blame Gu Yilan for misunderstanding. Even he had only recently realized the boy was a full-blown masochist.
Everything happening at the door was clearly in Gu Yilan’s line of sight.
The young man outside looked confused and startled, fumbling for words. Everything else had momentarily left his mind—he only wanted to calm the frightened boy in front of him.
But he stepped forward with open arms—trying to be comforting.
To someone with social anxiety, that was like being chased by the Grim Reaper. How could he not panic?
“Su Zesui, please don’t be nervous,” the young man said gently. “Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. Listen to me—”
But as he moved closer step by step, Su Zesui’s eyes widened in terror. His soft lips opened and closed, unable to form a single word. He wanted to run, but his legs had gone weak beneath him.
“Listen to what?”
A deep, magnetic voice suddenly echoed from a short distance away.
Su Zesui instantly turned his head, like someone grabbing a lifeline.
In his line of sight, Gu Yilan was walking out from behind the foyer—tall, composed, his expression like frost. His dark gaze lowered to coldly assess the man blocking his doorway.
The butler, still hidden behind the corner, clenched his fists—then breathed a sigh of relief.
——Young Master Gu really knows how to play the dramatic entrance. A few seconds later, and the boy’s just-healed knees would be bruised again from collapsing.
But the team leader at the door was momentarily stunned, speechless.
He recognized Gu Yilan the instant he appeared.
How could he not? Gu Yilan was legendary at A City No. 1 High School. Even though he’d graduated years ago, his striking presence and achievements had never faded from memory.
Back then, at just fifteen, Gu Yilan was already tall and handsome, with a cold, withdrawn personality. He was a regular speaker beneath the national flag at school assemblies.
So many tried to pursue him—yet without exception, they were coldly rejected.
Of course, all that wasn’t enough to etch him so deeply into the team leader’s mind.
What really made Gu Yilan unforgettable was that he was the only true genius the man had ever met: self-taught in competitions, famous before adulthood, and one of the rare individuals to earn full marks in both theory and experiment at the IPhO. Not only did he win gold individually, he also led his team to overall first place.
Later, he was directly admitted to A University, where he founded a string theory society and achieved major academic success. His photo still hung at the center of the school’s honored alumni wall in the principal’s office.
No one knew why Gu Yilan later gained such a notorious reputation—but the man could understand. Researchers, after all, often weren’t the most… mentally stable people.
Though he was now the team leader of the best physics competition team in A City, his actual interactions with Gu Yilan were very few.
The school had granted Gu Yilan an enormous amount of freedom. He was rarely seen on campus. No one knew where he studied, how he trained, or how he consistently left everyone else in the dust.
The team leader had only met him a handful of times.
And even back then, Gu Yilan’s presence was like a thunderstorm cloaked in human form—far darker and more intense than anyone his age should have been. That impression had never left him.
He hadn’t expected that after so many years, that cold, joyless aura around Gu Yilan would remain completely unchanged—only now, it carried the added pressure of maturity.
Now faced with a man who wasn’t even technically his former student, the team leader found his thoughts spinning wildly and didn’t know how to address him.
——Mr. Gu? Gu Yilan? Or… President Gu?
Before he could decide, Su Zesui had already slipped behind Gu Yilan.
Like a child who’d finally found his protector, the boy stopped trembling and shyly peeked out from behind the man, watching the team leader with wide, wary eyes.
The team leader froze.
He looked at Su Zesui, then at Gu Yilan’s stoic face, and suddenly a dreadful realization struck him. His expression shifted with visible surprise and regret.
Gu Yilan looked at him and finally, with no trace of politeness, said flatly,
“If you’ve got nothing to say, get out.”
Only then did the team leader realize—while reaching out earlier to steady the shaking boy, he had inadvertently stepped inside the house.
“…Apologies.” His voice was noticeably weaker.
In their world of academic elitism, confidence was entirely built on personal achievement. But the moment someone more accomplished showed up, that confidence shattered instantly.
He stepped back half a pace and tentatively said, “Su Zesui, this integrity agreement for the school competition needs your in-person signature. Would you…?”
The boy, hiding behind Gu Yilan, immediately shrank back even further at the sound of his name.
Gu Yilan took the document from him, casually flipped through it, and raised an eyebrow: “To ensure fairness and order in the competition… all recorded surveillance data, including video and audio, will be stored for two years and subject to periodic review?”
His tone was calm and neutral, simply reading a clause—but it made the team leader feel suffocated.
“If I recall correctly,” Gu Yilan added, glancing up, “even high-stakes national competitions only retain surveillance data for a maximum of six months?”
Cold sweat instantly appeared on the team leader’s forehead. “Th-this…”
In all his years on the job, this was the first time he’d ever been so bluntly questioned—and he was left speechless.
People with real international competition experience were rare, and most students signed these integrity agreements without even reading them.
But someone who not only had that experience, but also scrutinized the terms?
Unbelievable.
Yes, the two-year data retention was indeed nonstandard, but it wasn’t a big deal. The issue was—this wasn’t a normal question. It felt like a deliberate challenge, and one he couldn’t refute.
Standing just out of sight behind the entryway, the butler was feeling a mix of satisfaction and guilt.
He was satisfied that the guy who upset their little master was finally being put in his place. But guilty—because the moment his boss mentioned surveillance, he couldn’t help but think of that never-ending, eight-year-long footage archive from last night…
Terrified that Gu Yilan would hit him with another “If you’ve got nothing to say, get out,” the team leader forced himself to speak: “That… that was our oversight. We’ll revise the agreement to make it more reasonable.”
“Then send it after you revise it.” Gu Yilan tossed the document back with a blank face.
The message was clear: Don’t come back.
The team leader’s face turned an awkward mix of red and green. “…Fine.”
As the team leader of A City No.1 High School’s competition program, he had planned to pressure Su Zesui using his gold-medal coach status. He never expected the boy to be involved with Gu Yilan—that explained why he insisted on self-studying over the phone.
He glanced at the delicate, seemingly innocent boy, then at the cold and overbearing Gu Yilan. Inwardly, he sighed: Looks can be deceiving.
“I feel reassured knowing you’ll be mentoring him,” he said stiffly, trying to save face. “I’m sure Su Zesui will perform well in the school competition. I’ll be going now.”
Only once the flustered young man left did the butler step out from behind the entryway.
Su Zesui took a few small steps forward, peeking out from behind Gu Yilan. He even politely waved at the team leader’s retreating figure.
Then he turned back around, eyes sparkling as he looked up at Gu Yilan and repeated a single word with enthusiasm: “Mentoring.”
Despite all the online classes he’d been taking, there were still some concepts he just couldn’t wrap his head around. How great would it be to have someone teach him directly?
Gu Yilan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down and asked, “When did you start studying for competitions?”
Su Zesui thought for a moment. He couldn’t remember clearly before he transmigrated, and anything without real-world proof could be exposed as a lie.
So he answered truthfully based on his current timeline: “One week.”
Gu Yilan: “…”
The butler, just arriving: “…………???”
——A once-in-a-century prodigy?!
Seeing their stunned silence, Su Zesui thought they hadn’t heard clearly and rephrased, “Seven days.”
Gu Yilan asked, “What did you study before?”
Su Zesui replied, “Chinese, math, English, politics, history, geography.”
Gu Yilan: “…”
The butler: “……………”
——Wait, he’s a liberal arts student switching to science?!
“I can teach you,” Gu Yilan finally said. Then added, “But—”
Su Zesui immediately looked up at him, eyes full of hopeful anticipation.
“But you’re not allowed to tell anyone I’m your tutor.”
Su Zesui nodded vigorously, like a bobblehead.
Although he didn’t quite understand the reason for all this secrecy, he guessed it might be like something out of a martial arts novel—secret techniques passed down by the sect, absolutely confidential, and never to be revealed to outsiders.
To express his gratitude, Su Zesui eagerly pulled out his voice recorder and handed it to the man.
Having learned from yesterday morning’s experience, this time Gu Yilan immediately set it to double speed and listened to the whole thing without a flicker of emotion.
Because—just like yesterday—it was utterly absurd.
It was the butler on the side who was truly stunned, jaw dropped and eyes wide the entire time.
“We’ll record again tonight,” Gu Yilan said, looking at him. “Include everything that happened just now, and why you started trembling the moment you saw him.”
Su Zesui met his dark eyes and thought aloud, “He… said something to me.”
After a pause, he added, “Before.”
Gu Yilan frowned slightly. His intimidating eyes darkened further, like bottomless black holes—impossible for outsiders to read, yet capable of completely overwhelming anyone in their gaze.
But the moment he looked up again, all those swirling emotions were gone without a trace, buried so deep not a single shadow remained.
The butler blinked, then finally caught on and asked on the boss’s behalf, “Did he bully you in the past?”
Su Zesui puffed out his cheeks and nodded. “Mhm.”
Even in the middle of airing his grievances, he still diligently copied and pasted a message to send to Gu Yilan.
The butler rested his chin on one hand, deep in thought.
——Looks like both he and the boss had guessed wrong. The boy was simply afraid of someone who had bullied him before.
While waiting for the butler to finish his dramatic chin-holding moment, Su Zesui looked toward Gu Yilan and pointed at his phone.
Gu Yilan took out his phone—
[(o^^o): Hahahahahahahaha you’re really the best. Love you~ Chu~ Mwah mwah.]
Gu Yilan: …
The message on the screen was bubbly and cheerful, practically radiating a playful tone.
But the boy in front of him wore a completely serious expression, blinking his long lashes as he tilted his head with great focus, like he was completing a mission—while Gu Yilan was the one who issued the question.
Gu Yilan said, “I have something to do today. I’m leaving now. Be good while I’m gone. There are study materials in the back study—you can check them out.”
Su Zesui nodded eagerly and gave him a well-behaved wave goodbye.
Gu Yilan strode across the villa’s threshold on his long legs and headed toward the parking area.
Once Gu Yilan was gone, the butler finally finished his chin-holding moment and figured he might as well take the little master—who had finally left the side bedroom—on a little tour.
Because Gu Yilan preferred peace and quiet and disliked being disturbed, the villa lacked much of a lived-in, bustling feel. Outside of TV-watching hours and mealtimes, servants rarely came and went.
Though the European-style villa looked luxuriously old-money from the outside, its interior was fitted with modern high-tech equipment and fully automated cleaning systems.
Any rare manual tasks were usually handled by Aunt Fan, who was also the one responsible for bringing fruit to the little master.
After that incident on the stairs where Su Zesui nearly fell and landed in Gu Yilan’s arms, he had at least “gotten to know” Aunt Fan.
With no more unfamiliar faces around, he agreed to the tour.
The first stop the butler took him to was the “back study” Gu Yilan had mentioned.
The moment he stepped inside, Su Zesui froze in place, unable to move.
His soft lips parted slightly as he stared in awe, wondering if he had somehow entered an academic paradise.
“This was Young Master Gu’s old study,” the butler explained. “It holds most of his competition prep materials from middle and high school, and also some books from his undergrad days.”
Su Zesui took a few steps forward and stopped in front of a display case.
He tilted his head up, staring in a daze at the cabinet full of medals, trophies, and certificates. The gold gleamed under the sunlight, radiant and almost out of reach.
He probably had a few medals before he crossed over into this world—but definitely not this many.
Noticing the starry-eyed expression on the boy’s face, the butler followed his gaze and instantly understood. “Those are all awards Young Master Gu won during middle and high school. He hasn’t been here in a long time, so they’ve gathered a bit of dust.”
Following his employer’s instructions, the butler gestured to another cabinet. “Little master, the study materials in here are all for physics competitions—some of them aren’t even available on the market. Feel free to take a look.”
At those words, Su Zesui immediately dashed over.
Like a kid discovering candy, or a pirate stumbling upon treasure, Su Zesui had found study materials he used to read before he crossed over.
There was an impressive array of guides and workbooks. The boy hesitated for a second, then pointed his finger at a book titled “Higher, Smarter Physics.” The butler smiled and handed it to him.
Su Zesui had seen this book at home before—it was one of the textbooks his brother had used.
It was exactly the same edition, down to every detail, but the copy he held now clearly belonged to someone whose performance far outshone his brother’s.
This “Higher, Smarter Physics” was filled with bold, free-flowing handwriting—each stroke brimming with confidence, every line radiating the mark of genius. The solutions revealed a kind of extraordinary thinking that stood out as completely unique.
Through these lines of thought, Su Zesui could almost glimpse what Gu Yilan had been like as a teenager—reckless, sharp, full of youthful arrogance.
He had casually scribbled notes in the margins, skipping over the easy, straightforward problems, and outright crossing out the tedious, formula-heavy explanations. Instead, he’d jot down his own methods—approaching the problem from its core essence, offering alternative solutions with ease.
Yet even these casually scrawled notes were enlightening. Just a glance would make someone slap the table in awe—This is what a genius looks like.
After only a few pages, Su Zesui was completely absorbed, diving headfirst into the way teenage Gu Yilan saw the world of physics.
And so, the grand “tour” of the villa effectively ended at the very first stop.