Yandere
Su Zesui hesitated.
There was another important reason why he wanted to sign up for the competition: competition students had the perfect excuse to skip regular classes.
There were too many people in the classroom, and they were too close. He was afraid of attending class and going to school.
To avoid having to attend classes, he steeled himself and lightly poked his father’s sleeve before quickly pulling back.
Father Su snapped out of his thoughts and, catching on, gave his son a reassuring nod. He turned back to the phone and said calmly, “We’ve made our decision. You don’t need to worry about the rest.”
His voice had that distinct calm authority of an elder—something that could instill a surprising sense of trust and reliability.
If only it weren’t being used for something this utterly absurd.
The team leader of the competition program had a strong personality. “Mr. Su, if you’re just here to inform me, there’s nothing I can do. But if you actually want my advice, then I’ll be honest: I’m strongly against this. I’ve trained competition students for years, and I’ve never seen a case like this.”
“Mm. Understood.”
Given the gravity of the matter, Father Su exchanged a glance with a few others in the room and was just about to speak again—when voices unexpectedly came through the speaker:
“…You’re letting him in? That spoiled brat from their family is notorious. Always fighting, skipping school, bullying classmates, no respect for authority… We’ve called his parents so many times—it’s useless! I want to teach, not babysit some delinquent.”
“They’re not people we can afford to offend. Just let him in, then let him fend for himself. Problem solved,” came Director Jiang’s slightly distant voice, still audible enough to understand.
“You think it’s that simple? We only have a limited number of slots for the preliminaries. When he pulls strings to get a spot, are you going to say no? If he bombs the test, I’ll be the one embarrassed! I hate these second-generation rich kids. Just because they’ve got some power, they think they can do whatever they want.”
Apparently, the two assumed the call had already ended—and with no filters, they let slip exactly what they thought.
Father Su glanced at Su Zesui’s expression.
Su Zesui quickly covered his face.
…That’s not me. Don’t look at me.
Seeing his youngest son looking so aggrieved, Father Su felt a pang of heartache. He picked up his phone. “Badmouthing students behind their backs, slandering them with personal bias—this is the professional conduct your teachers pride themselves on? What the hell does ‘a little power makes you special’ even mean? Is that what your principal said when he was begging me for funding for the science building?”
“When the school was expanding, how much did our family donate? Without those donations, how would you have competition coaching at all? And now you’ve got the nerve to complain about second-generation rich kids? Screw that.”
On the other end of the line, the complaints ceased instantly. Dead silence.
. . . . .
In the end, it was Director Jiang who forced the team leader of the competition program to bow his head. The two of them ended up apologizing to Su Zesui together.
But the team leader of the competition program still sounded reluctant. “Mr. Su, our selection process for the preliminaries is open and transparent. I don’t believe Su Zesui can reach competition level in just one year, and I absolutely will not make an exception for him.”
Father Su frowned. “Make an exception? You really have the nerve to toss that kind of accusation around?”
Old ginger is spicier than young ones.
That single sentence left the team leader of the competition program speechless.
Director Jiang hurriedly stepped in to smooth things over, hesitating as he tried to phrase it delicately. “Mr. Su, we really do have the child’s best interests at heart. There will be media coverage on the day of the preliminaries, so if you could just consider—”
The team leader of the competition program cut straight to the point: “Our teaching resources are limited. A small temple can’t hold a great Buddha.”
He was one step away from yelling “Rejected!” through a megaphone. Director Jiang nearly lunged to cover his mouth.
Su Zesui, however, was listening very carefully. Hearing that, he poked his father—who looked like he was about to argue again—and said seriously, “I’ll self-study.”
“You want to self-study?” Father Su turned to him in surprise.
Su Zesui nodded.
He had self-studied using online courses in his previous life, after all.
“Great! Fantastic!” the team leader of the competition program suddenly clapped, as if afraid the boy might change his mind. “That’s the best option. Our rising Grade 11 students are already tackling wave optics and relativity this summer. Someone starting from scratch simply can’t keep up. You go ahead and self-study the basics. Who knows—maybe by next year, you’ll be able to match the level of our Grade 10 students.”
He thought Su Zesui was just throwing a tantrum, trying to use “self-study” as a way to threaten the adults or express dissatisfaction.
But he wasn’t the boy’s parent, and he certainly wasn’t about to coddle him.
He was sure he’d hit a nerve, because there was silence on the other end of the call. But instead of feeling nervous, he found it gratifying. Nothing pleased him more than putting arrogant, dim-witted rich kids in their place.
Meanwhile, Su Zesui was trying to organize his words.
It had been a long, long time since he last said something this lengthy, so he carefully lined up his subject, verb, and object in his mind before speaking.
Time ticked by. Just as Father Su was about to stand up for his son again, a clear young voice rang through the living room—soft in tone, but firm and steady:
“I’m not waiting until next year. I’m entering this September’s CPHO1.”
Better to rip the bandage off than let the pain linger. If being a monster was the only way to avoid going to school—so be it.
“What?!” All eyes in the living room snapped to him. Even the usually composed team leader of the competition program couldn’t help exclaiming in shock.
But a few seconds later, laughter crackled from the phone—scornful and amused, like he’d just heard the funniest joke of the year. “Sure. There’s a school test on 20th August. All competition students will be taking it. If you really think you can surpass students who’ve been preparing for years—in just over a month—then go ahead and try. I’ve got something to deal with. Hanging up now.”
The call ended with a cold click.
The entire Su family was still reeling from the shock of what Su Zesui had just said.
Only Su Zesui, relieved that the social interaction was finally over, let out a soft breath and obediently went to move the mountain of study materials piled on the table, planning to carry them to the bookshelf in his room.
Su Mingyu stood up and helped carry the stack of books—thicker than bricks. “If there’s anything you don’t understand, come ask your big brother. I studied this stuff too.”
Father Su and Mother Su finally snapped out of their daze.
Mother Su said, “Mom believes in you. I’ll support whatever decision you make.”
Father Su picked up his phone again. “I’ll schedule a gold-medal coach from the city to record lessons for you. You can self-study by watching the videos.”
Su Zesui froze mid-motion.
He had long erased the concept of “social interaction” from his personal dictionary, which meant his ability to perceive emotions was very, very dull.
So it wasn’t until now that he slowly realized—this is what it feels like to be loved. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through his chest, and his nose tingled with the urge to cry.
But while his family’s love was real, so were their busy schedules.
After spending a joyful birthday week with him and taking him to the hospital for a check-up—confirming that his mental health was improving—Father Su and Mother Su had to fly off again to different cities.
Su Mingyu, having taken over the family business right after college, was equally swamped.
And so, the big house was once again left with only Su Zesui.
Fortunately, since Father Su and Mother Su disliked noise, there were no live-in staff. Just part-time housekeepers who came at set times to clean and cook lunch and dinner.
Whenever the housekeepers came, Su Zesui would hide away in his room, only coming out to happily eat once they were gone.
Aside from missing his parents and brother, he had something even more troubling—
He couldn’t understand the competition questions.
Maxwell’s equations, Helmholtz decomposition, Schrödinger’s equation, Poisson’s equation… The names rang a bell, but the formulas looked like complete strangers.
With the school test at City No.1 High School just over a month away, he spent every waking moment—outside of eating and sleeping—cramming knowledge.
But competition problems seemed to come with built-in anti-self-study barriers. And the coach his father had asked to record lessons was still working overtime to finish the videos. So Su Zesui often found himself staring at a single difficult problem for hours, only to fall asleep at the desk while watching the explanations.
Once again, he found himself back in a nightmare—being chased by strange, shadowy figures. But this time, he felt oddly calm, not even bothering to run.
Sure enough, just as the villains were about to reach him, a radiant being of light descended from the sky, blasting them away with a beam of dazzling, righteous energy.
After vanquishing the evil, the light-bringer turned to look at him—revealing the handsome face that had left such an impression on him at the Speedsters Club. In a gentle voice, the man said, “God bless you.”
That was where the dream ended.
Su Zesui woke up, staring at the competition preparation book now soaked with drool, feeling like this nightmare… had actually ended too soon.
He picked up his pen—with a dangling cartoon bunny charm—and, on a clean part of the page, carefully wrote down the name of the man he’d seen before. Then, puffing up his cheeks, he sat there admiring it.
…He really should have asked for the man’s contact information back then.
In such a huge city like A, with a sea of people all around them, the chances of meeting again were slim to none.
He pouted in disappointment.
But dreams had to end eventually, and it was time to return to the harsh reality of problem sets—
He’d gathered a handful of competition questions with explanations he absolutely couldn’t understand and planned to ask his brother for help all at once.
That day, both his brother and his mother happened to be coming home.
Su Zesui sat cross-legged on the living room carpet, textbooks spread out on the coffee table, scribbling and solving problems as he waited for them to finish their conversation in the dining room so he could ask his brother the questions.
. . . . .
“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” Mother Su lowered her voice. “I came back today because of this.”
Su Mingyu replied calmly, “The engagement still stands. If we reject them outright without even meeting, it won’t reflect well on Su Zesui’s reputation.”
“I went to meet him in person. Isn’t that sincere enough? What more do you expect?”
Su Mingyu said, “And if people start saying we spoil the child, that Suisui is arrogant from being overly indulged—won’t that damage his reputation even more?”
Mother Su’s temper flared, and her voice rose involuntarily. “What’s more important, his reputation or his life? I looked into it again—everyone says the Gu family’s son is terrifying. Violent. A monster. Their house is covered with surveillance cameras. He doesn’t just control the Gu family’s side branches—he manipulates his own parents! Cold-blooded and shameless. His possessiveness is borderline pathological!”
Su Mingyu’s expression didn’t change. “He’s not like that.”
“You really know what he’s like in private?” Mother Su shot back. “Let me tell you what I heard—he once sneered and said he’d keep his future wife like a canary, locked in a room forever, never letting her step outside. That way, she’d be cut off from society and become a useless person who could only survive by depending on him! Those were his exact words. And you still want your already mentally fragile little brother to walk into that kind of nightmare?”
Su Mingyu fell silent.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Su Zesui.
The boy had apparently zoned out from solving problems and was absentmindedly fiddling with the little white bunny charm on his pen. He looked innocent and soft, like the kind of kid who’d get scared into hiding from even the slightest threat—shaking in fear and never daring to come out again.
Originally, Su Mingyu had wanted to use this arranged meeting to deflate his little brother’s arrogance a bit—to let the kid experience how cold and indifferent outsiders could be. Maybe knock the “I’m the fcking king of this world!” attitude out of him.
But now, for the first time, he hesitated.
Considering how fragile his brother had become after the trauma, maybe… this really wasn’t a good idea.
. . . . .
Actually, Su Zesui had been eavesdropping the whole time—ever since his brother first mentioned the word “engagement.”
At first, he was scared. Because an engagement meant meeting a stranger.
But then he heard what his mother said—
A canary in a cage, never leaving the house, completely cut off from society… no social interaction, only needing to deal with his fiance for the rest of his life.
Su Zesui was a little… tempted.
But he waited and waited, and still didn’t hear his brother say anything more.
Growing anxious, he grabbed the competition problems he’d prepared earlier and ran over to the two adults, tugging gently on his brother’s sleeve.
“Hmm? What is it?” After these past few days, Su Mingyu had already gotten into the habit of softening his voice when speaking to his little brother.
Su Zesui raised the competition preparation book with both hands as a signal. “Need something.”
Mother Su smiled gently and began heading toward the entryway. “Then go ahead and talk with your brother, sweetie. Mommy has something to take care of.”
Things were taking a turn he hadn’t expected. Su Zesui hurriedly set the book down and called out, “Mom!”
Mother Su instantly stopped in her tracks. Su Zesui did call her “Mom” from time to time, but very rarely with this kind of volume and clarity.
“En…gaged.”
Afraid his mother would leave before he could finish speaking, Su Zesui quickly pointed at himself and blurted out the first thing on his mind: “I want to go.”
Though his words were short and halting, each syllable was like a bombshell. Both Mother Su and Su Mingyu were frozen in shock.
“You were eavesdropping on me and Mom?” Su Mingyu frowned, staring at his little brother, who looked so pure and innocent it was like staring at a blank sheet of paper. “Let Mom handle this. I’ve thought it over again—Gu Yilan really isn’t someone you should meet. You—”
Hearing the beginning of that sentence, Su Zesui puffed out his pale cheeks in silent protest.
But then the name Gu Yilan dropped.
His body stiffened, as if someone had bonked him on the head. His heart thumped wildly, and a thought popped into his head—one so unbelievable it scared him just to consider it.
His palms were sweaty, and he suddenly felt too weak to hold anything. So he stuffed the book and pen straight into his brother’s hands.
“Brother…” Su Zesui’s eyes sparkled, “Name?”
Su Mingyu, confused, paused as he was about to write “Su Mingyu” on the blank page of the book.
In a small panic, Su Zesui tugged on his sleeve. “Him, what’s his name?”
Still puzzled, Su Mingyu followed his brother’s lead and wrote down the name “Gu Yilan.” He even read it aloud: “Gù Yì Lán. That’s his name. Why?”
The moment he saw that familiar name, Su Zesui didn’t hesitate: “I want to go.”
Worried they hadn’t heard him clearly, he repeated in a soft but firm voice, “Suisui wants to go.”
It took Mother Su a long moment to snap out of her stunned silence. “Sweetheart, you must be mistaken. Gu Yilan is your brother’s college classmate. He’s not a good person. We’re not meeting him, okay?”
But Su Zesui’s eyes lit up even more. He turned to his brother. “Classmate?”
Su Mingyu reluctantly admitted, “Our department at A University only had one class that year, so… yeah, we were in the same class.”
Su Zesui glanced down at the competition book in his brother’s hands.
If his brother studied the same subject as him, and Gu Yilan studied the same subject as his brother… then…!
Su Mingyu already had an appointment to meet Gu Yilan that weekend and didn’t want to break it. And Mother Su—usually a formidable figure in the business world—completely melted into mush when it came to her youngest son. All her principles went out the window.
Faced with a little parrot who kept repeating “I want to go, I want to go,” it wasn’t long before the two of them raised their hands in surrender and gave in with a sigh of helplessness.
Su Mingyu shook his head, exasperated. “Fine. You won’t give up until you hit a wall. Then go see him yourself this weekend.”
“Didn’t you come over with a question? Let’s hear it—what did you want from me?”
He flipped open the competition preparation book that had been shoved into his hands. The pages were a little crumpled, and scattered across the margins were doodles of cartoon characters. But beneath that, it was obvious the kid had genuinely been studying hard.
He noticed a few pages had their corners folded down—probably marking questions his little brother couldn’t figure out and wanted to ask about.
Just as he flipped to one of the folded corners and leaned in to look more closely, ready to help explain—
The book was suddenly snatched back.
“No need,” said Su Zesui.
And while grabbing the book, he also swiped his pen back while his brother was still dazed.
With a serious little face and both pen and book in hand, he ran straight back to his bedroom and gently closed the door behind him.
Staring at the tightly shut door… and at his now-empty hands…
Su Mingyu: “?”
Su Mingyu: “……”
- Chinese Physics Olympiad ↩︎