FSGOR Ch12

Ever since they spoke on the phone, Jiang Tian started experiencing insomnia. In all his 18 years of life, he had never known this kind of mental torment.

As someone who had been single since birth, he’d never dated—not even had a single ambiguous interaction with anyone.

But everything with that scumbag lately had made him irritable and uneasy, completely out of his depth.

Later, after even his friends concluded the scumbag had totally fallen for him, Jiang Tian began practicing a “time zone” style of chatting—deliberately delaying his replies for hours with the excuse that he was busy.

But realistically, what could a high school student be busy with?

After thinking it over, he came up with the perfect excuse: he and his family were fighting. He wanted to take the domestic college entrance exams, but his family insisted on sending him abroad.

With that kind of family drama, it was only natural he wouldn’t be in the mood for casual chatting.

Surprisingly, the scumbag was unusually understanding.

Days passed.

Despite the staggered conversations, their online relationship continued to grow. The man called him “sweetheart” more frequently now.

And as for the third nickname, Jiang Tian kept dodging it—and yet the man never pressured him about it again.

***

One day, Jiang Tian called his sister and heard she was finally about to return to the country. He let out a sigh of relief.

“So, once you’re back, we’ll set up a meeting with him?”

“Maybe not so fast.”

Jiang Jing sighed. “This project’s a bit complicated. Handover with my colleague is going to take time, and the boss has some personal stuff to deal with.”

“Alright then, just focus on work for now.”

Though his tone was calm, Jiang Jing could hear something was off—some hesitation buried in his voice.

“He’s not rushing to meet you, is he?”

“No.”

Jiang Tian’s answer was quite the opposite.

“He’s not in a hurry to meet up. Instead, he’s been talking to me a lot online.”

“……?”

Jiang Jing paused mid-typing, clearly puzzled. After racking her brain, she came to a conclusion:

“Looks like he’s really fallen for you.”

After all, the guy’s usual approach to hookups was ridiculously straightforward—swap some photos and meet up. Even his online flings were just spicy pics and flirty lines—never this much actual conversation.

Jiang Tian was stunned. He began to doubt whether the man his sister had warned him about was really the same person he’d been chatting with.

But before he could ask, his sister said the CEO needed her for something, and hung up.

Eventually, Jiang Tian forgot about it. His sister was always too busy abroad, and time differences made it hard for them to catch up.

When he brought it up again later, she told him the scumbag’s uncle had fallen and injured himself, and the whole family had returned to their hometown.
Which was exactly what “Afternoon Tea” had told him too:

Afternoon Tea: A family member’s sick.

Afternoon Tea: Replies may be delayed.

Afternoon Tea: Leave me a message if it’s urgent.

The wording was nearly identical. And he even sent Jiang Tian another large transfer—so big, Jiang Tian didn’t dare count the digits. As usual, he didn’t accept it, but at least it made him feel a little more secure.

‘Maybe their busy lives would finally slow down this whirlwind romance.’

Still, following Lu Qiao’s advice, Jiang Tian would occasionally check in and ask about his “family situation” to keep things smooth.

That said, some of the man’s photos often seemed off—the lighting didn’t match the time of day. For instance, it’d be daytime in Ning City, but his photos looked like they were taken at night.

He had mentioned he didn’t like taking pictures in real time.

Jiang Tian found it odd, but brushed it off. After all, this was someone recommended by his sister—what could possibly go wrong?

***

As for Chu Xuyu, he really had gone back to his hometown. Though he grew up in L.A., he’d returned to China as an adult.

This trip home was for his grandfather, who was gravely ill.

The Chu family wasn’t as tangled or messy as other rich families—except for his father, who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

Because of that, Chu Xuyu had nothing but disdain for the man’s constant “when will you get married” pestering.

Still, blood ties were tricky. He couldn’t completely cut them off. Some obligations had to be fulfilled.

This trip home meant sorting out a lot of family affairs.

Sitting in a bedroom he hadn’t lived in for years, he felt increasingly empty—and increasingly wanted to hear his little sweetheart’s voice.

Afternoon Tea: What are you doing?

But the other side didn’t reply right away—not even a huge transfer helped.

As a mature, wealthy CEO, he was supposed to be used to that. But tonight, he just couldn’t help himself.

The little scammer often skipped class anyway, so Chu Xuyu didn’t bother asking—he just sent a voice call.

***

Meanwhile.

Back in Ning City, the weather was clear and sunny. In the auditorium of No. 3 High School…

Jiang Tian stood tall in his crisp white shirt, standing at the podium, microphone in hand—giving a presentation on academic success to the senior students.

“…That’s the summary of my personal experience. Thank you.”

Suddenly—his phone vibrated. Loudly.

The sound, picked up by the microphone, echoed through the entire hall.

BZZZ, BZZZ—

Jiang Tian tried to stay calm. He turned off the mic, bowed slightly, and walked briskly off stage.

But in truth, his forehead was drenched in sweat, and his phone was buzzing like a bomb in his pocket. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear.

This presentation was a big deal. The students in the audience were elite students from across the province.

To them, Jiang Tian was a legend—a model student, the stuff of academic myth.

But today… he seemed more human.

To be honest, most people didn’t even mind. The buzz had been brief, a tiny imperfection. If anything, it made him feel more real.

But Jiang Tian didn’t see it that way.

He’d always been the model student. For him, this was unacceptable. It made him want to vanish off the face of the earth.

Even after he returned to his seat, he didn’t dare take out his phone in front of everyone to put it on silent.

It was all because of that stupid decision—to switch off silent mode just so he wouldn’t miss a message from the scammer.

The lecture finally ended, but sweat still clung to his back, dampening his shirt.

After greeting a few teachers, Jiang Tian avoided the crowd, rushed downstairs, and ducked into the locker room next to the gym.

The weather was getting hotter.

But the locker room always stayed cool. Jiang Tian shut the door behind him, inhaling sharply at the chill, and pulled out his phone—only to see that the scumbag had called him several times.

Of course, he wasn’t going to call back. He just pretended he had just seen the messages and replied with a flat question:

Afternoon Tea: Pick up the phone.

Afternoon Tea: I want to hear your voice.

There was no way Jiang Tian was going to play along. Still, not wanting to provoke the guy too much, he decided to send a voice message instead.

“I’m in class.”

His voice was low and clean, calm and pleasant—he pressed and held the voice input button and added,

“Don’t just call me out of the blue like that again.”

He was actually holding back his temper—not too obviously, but just enough that Chu Xuyu, on the other end, picked up on it. Raising an eyebrow, he guessed he must have disturbed the boy during school.

Afternoon Tea: Are you mad?

KIRA: No.

Afternoon Tea: Don’t be mad.

Afternoon Tea: Sweetheart.

Jiang Tian: “…………”

He didn’t want to reply anymore. But the other guy wouldn’t let it go—instead, he changed the subject and asked how Jiang Tian’s studies were going.

Jiang Tian hadn’t forgotten his fake persona: a hot-headed, playboy rich kid who used to slack off and only recently decided to take school seriously. So he answered vaguely, saying he didn’t understand much and would probably just “leave the exam results up to fate.”

Afternoon Tea: If you have questions, send them to me.

Afternoon Tea: I’ll teach you.

Jiang Tian narrowed his eyes. No one had ever offered to help him with schoolwork like that. He even had the wicked urge to make the guy embarrass himself.

He remembered his sister saying that the scumbag came from a decent family but was terrible at math—so bad that he had to study abroad after flunking the college entrance exam.

So Jiang Tian opened his photo album and casually picked a question—from the Putnam Math Competition he’d joined last year. The question was notoriously difficult, emphasizing creativity and problem-solving, something even Stanford mathletes would struggle with.

KIRA: [shared image]

KIRA: It might be a little tough.

After sending it, he leaned lazily against a locker, fully expecting the guy to go online and search for a generic, formulaic answer—something completely uninspired.

Afternoon Tea: [voice message: 58s]

Afternoon Tea: Here’s the basic idea. Listen to this first.

Jiang Tian: “……?”

Frowning, he suspiciously tapped the audio.

And then… his dark eyes lit up with disbelief.

In under a minute, the guy had not only grasped the problem at a glance—he’d also proposed the exact same innovative approach Jiang Tian had come up with after discussing it with his equally gifted classmates. An approach that ordinary contestants would never think of.

Afternoon Tea: Did that make sense?

Afternoon Tea: Want to call and go over it together?

Jiang Tian tried to calm himself, but he was clearly rattled. With no better option, he brushed off the overly clingy “boyfriend”:

KIRA: Thanks, but no need.

KIRA: I have P.E. class now.

KIRA: We’ll talk later.

Afternoon Tea: ……

After sending it, Jiang Tian glanced briefly at the ellipsis, not quite sure what the guy was thinking.

Then, he quickly turned off his data and retreated back into the real world—avoiding further intimacy as usual.

***

But over in Los Angeles, in the Chu family’s old mansion, Chu Xuyu was absently rubbing his thumb over the phone screen, his gaze fixed on the competition-style math problem Jiang Tian had sent.

Something was off.

A supposed failing student wouldn’t even know what this kind of question looks like.

“……”

Chu Xuyu let out a cold, annoyed laugh. He was genuinely irritated now by the boy’s hot-and-cold attitude.

But instead of acting out, he made a call.

“Bigshot actor.”

“Get your programmer friend to come to L.A.”

“Preferably tomorrow.”