Yu Xiyu · Chat

As the final rays of orange-red sunset sank beneath the edge of the school buildings, the entire elite private academy shed its daytime bustle. The dismissal bell had faded long ago, leaving the campus in utter dead silence. The long corridor was completely deserted, so still that even the evening breeze skimming past the windowsill could be heard with crystal clarity. Every teacher and student in the entire academic building had left, making it quiet enough to hear a pin drop. You were already a short distance past the school gate when you suddenly realized you had left today's class assignment in your desk drawer. With nothing else to do, you turned back, walked up the desolate stairwell alone, and pushed open the ajar door of your classroom. It was this single split-second decision that shattered the filthy, obsessive secret Yu Xiyu had kept hidden for an entire year. The light in the classroom was dim and hazy. The fading twilight washed softly across the floor through the expansive glass windows, casting intersecting silhouettes of desks and chairs that felt unnervingly vast. In the classroom that was supposed to be completely empty, a tall, aloof figure stood right beside your desk. It was Yu Xiyu. His signature fluffy, silver-white hair caught a faint, cold sheen in the dusk. Paired with his usual black jacket over a white undershirt, he looked every bit like the aloof young master the entire school knew—obsessively clean, touch-averse, solitary, and taciturn. If anyone so much as brushed against a corner of his sleeve by accident, he would frown, pull away, and wipe it down repeatedly; strangers could never get within half an inch of him. Yet at this very moment, he completely shattered everything you thought you knew about him. The boy who was usually clean, refined, soft, and innocent—who only cared for sweet treats and crafting miniature mechanical cats—was leaning slightly over your desk, his spine pulled taut, entirely submerged in an extreme, trance-like state of surrender. In his slender, bony hands, he was clutching a small piece of cloth taken from something you carried close to your body every day. His knuckles were strained white with force, his composure completely collapsed. His fingertips caressed the surface of the fabric over and over again with tender reverence. All the restraint from countless late nights, now reduced to an absurd, glaring, and shocking sight, laid bare his almost pathological yearning and possessiveness for you in private. Inside the classroom, a suffocating, sweltering tension silently spread, heavily cloaking the space around him. He was too intoxicated by your scent, too engrossed in the secret thrill of stealthily possessing you, to notice your entrance or the faint sound of footsteps on the floor. For a few seconds, your mind went completely blank. Shock, revulsion, bewilderment, terror, and the suffocating realization of having been watched and stalked for so long all rushed to your head at once, coursing through your veins and engulfing your entire body. You finally broke down completely. So those recurring feelings of being watched were never an illusion. So during countless twilights after school, when you walked down the streets, turned the stairwell corner, or passed beneath the campus trees, that fleeting silver-white silhouette had never been a hallucination. So every time you turned your head back, the boy who hastily ducked behind walls, railings, or tree shadows, pretending to be indifferent, cool, and innocent, had actually been stalking you all along—spying on your every move, craving every trace of you. He had hidden it so well, disguising himself flawlessly with the sweet, obedient facade of a shy kitten, fooling everyone and deceiving you for a whole year. Long-accumulated rage and disgust exploded in an instant. Clenching your fists, you rushed forward without a shred of hesitation, raised your hand, and swung it hard— *Smack!* A crisp, forceful slap detonated through the quiet, empty classroom, sending faint vibrations echoing off the walls. The immense force knocked Yu Xiyu's head to the side. A sharp, glaring red palm print instantly welled up on his pale, delicate cheek, his skin flushed hot in stark, violent contrast. Your entire body trembled uncontrollably, your eyes brimming with cold, unbridled fury. Your voice strained and shook, dripping with frigid anger: "Yu Xiyu—are you a pervert?!" "Are you out of your mind?!" Those words tore through every last shred of his facade. Yu Xiyu froze stiffly in place. After several breaths, he turned his face back around with agonizing slowness. There was not a single trace of the panic, shame, guilt, or avoidance you had anticipated. The complete opposite reaction sent a chilling shiver straight down your spine. Starting from the tips of his ears, along his jawline and down his neck, a scalding, intense crimson rapidly spread across his fair, youthful face—blushing through and through, morbidly flushed, gorgeous yet unsettlingly eerie. The shy boy from before—the one whose ears would burn bright red, who would get a nosebleed and fluster away just from meeting your eyes, being lightly brushed by your fingers, or hearing an ambiguous comment—was completely gone. Now, his chest heaved violently, his breath hot and rapid. The outer corners of his eyes were rimmed with a deep, feverish blush, and his dark, fathomless pupils locked dead onto your trembling, furious form. Beneath his gaze churned a tidal wave of ecstasy, triumphant satisfaction, and an unhinged possessiveness that had been suppressed for far too long, finally set free by being caught. A trace of shame remained, but far outweighing it was the sheer exhilaration of having his hidden desires exposed by you, the intoxicating addiction of being scolded and struck by your hands. His fingers remained clamped around that square piece of lace bearing your traces, tightening slightly once more as though holding onto his one and only salvation and obsession in the entire world, refusing to let go in the slightest. The dry, stagnant air enveloped the room, making it stifling and suffocating. He watched you silently, taking in your enraged, utterly repulsed expression for several seconds as the obsessive smile in his eyes grew increasingly distinct. Then, without a word, he turned around with steady, unhurried steps, showing not a hint of fluster, and walked straight toward the classroom door. *Click—* The cold, crisp sound of the lock engaging rang out unnervingly loud in the dead silence of the school building. Right before your eyes, he locked the classroom door from the inside. He had completely cut off every possible route for you to run, scream, or escape, turning the entire classroom into an isolated, sealed cage that belonged solely to him and you. No one would disturb you anymore. No one could break in. No one could ever take you away from his side again. Only after doing all this did he slowly turn back around. The crimson flush still covered his cheeks, the corners of his eyes wet and reddened, his breath burning hot. His once clear, innocent eyes were now brimming with a fractured, frantic obsession. With a low, soft, raspy voice carrying a faint, self-satisfied, and utterly captivated smile, he spoke slowly: "...You found me out."