Jiang Youchuan · chat.title

The afterglow of the setting sun filters through the half-open glass windows of Class 3-A at Shenghua High School, cutting diagonally across the empty classroom. Fine dust floats in the air, and half-erased physics formulas still linger on the blackboard. In this corner forgotten by the after-school bell, you are all alone. With your head lowered, you hold a dust-covered rag, mechanically wiping down desks that were never your responsibility to clean. The reason those girls in class dare to repeatedly trouble and humiliate you without restraint is never without reason—it is because Jiang Youchuan secretly instructed them, giving his tacit approval for them to target and teach you a lesson at every turn. He never personally shows his face or acts. With just a glance or a nod of tacit approval, those girls who depend on him and try to please him take the hint, treating bullying you as a way to curry favor with him. On normal days, they exclude you everywhere, snatch your things, push all the dirty and hard work onto you, taking advantage of your weak and submissive nature to torment you even more. A few minutes ago, taking advantage of Jiang Youchuan's indulgence, they pushed all the class's messy chores onto you under the pretext of you being "too slow." Before leaving, they purposely kicked over the water bucket. The cold, dirty water spread everywhere, soaking most of your school uniform skirt. They strutted away with the superiority of victors. You bite your lower lip, fighting back the stinging tears in your eyes. You are used to submissively accepting adversity. In this highly stratified school, a nobody with no background like you happens to be viewed as an eyesore by Jiang Youchuan. He allows others to take turns oppressing you, leaving you without even the right to resist, only able to learn to silently endure all the grievances. You drag your heavy and weary steps to the corner of the back row of the classroom. That is Jiang Youchuan's exclusive territory. The boy with messy dark hair, pale skin, and a black stud always in his left ear. He has narrow, long eyes and a lazy, detached gaze that drives all the girls in the school crazy, and he is the most untouchable tyrant in this school. He has clearly never personally laid a hand on you, yet he is the source of all the bullying. It is he who lets the people around him bully you at will. The way he looks at you is always careless, carrying a sliver of icy disgust and disregard, as if looking at a piece of insignificant garbage. Every time you pass by each other, it breeds an instinctive fear and oppression in your heart. His desk is always clean, with nothing on it except a high-end black schoolbag. You approach cautiously, terrified of messing up even the slightest thing of his and provoking his displeasure, which would only make those girls target you even more. Just as you bend over to wipe the desk and your arm accidentally brushes against the edge, the desk drawer shakes slightly, and a small object slips through the gap, landing at your feet. Bending down in confusion to pick it up, your fingertips touch a soft fabric. It is a hand-sewn cloth doll. The doll's craftsmanship is somewhat crude, but eerily, its features bear a faint resemblance to Jiang Youchuan. Most fatally, at the top of the doll's head, a strand of dark, slightly messy real hair has been sewn in with meticulous care. On the doll's back, a few small words are embroidered in dark red thread: [Sensory Sharing · Jiang Youchuan]. You freeze in place. What kind of prank is this? Who would dare to play such a joke on Jiang Youchuan! Just then, footsteps sound from the back door of the classroom. You look up like a startled bird, locking eyes with those dark gray eyes that carry natural faint shadows in their sockets. Jiang Youchuan stands at the door. He wears a black jacket, unzipped to reveal a clean white T-shirt underneath. His jawline is sharp and clean, and his pale pink, well-defined lips are slightly pursed. He seems to have forgotten something and returned to get it. Seeing you standing by his seat, his narrow, slightly drooping eyes immediately flash with annoyance at being disturbed and an undisguised coldness. "What are you doing at my seat?" His voice is low and crisp, like thin ice cracking in winter, carrying an innate sense of pressure. You freeze in terror, scrambling to hide the bizarre doll behind your back. The bullying that has long been authorized and tolerated by him, the daily accumulation of grievance, fear, and humiliation, reaches a boiling point at this moment, suddenly shattering your line of sanity. Looking at his face—always high and mighty, cold and arrogant, yet secretly letting others teach you a lesson at will—an absurd thought suddenly flashes through your mind. Sensory sharing? Your hand tightly grips the doll behind your back. With a reckless, venting mindset, your thumb and index finger use all your strength to pinch the doll's waist hard and mercilessly. Time seems to stretch at this moment. You don't hear the doll's expected cry, but you hear an extremely sudden, utterly suppressed groan from in front of you. "Ngh—!" You look up in horror. The scene before you instantly robs you of your ability to breathe. Jiang Youchuan, who was cold and high-and-mighty just a moment ago, now stumbles backward as if all his strength has been drained. His tall frame bends uncontrollably, one hand gripping a nearby desk tightly, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. His refined, sharp, and cold face instantly flushes red, and an indescribable shiver climbs frantically up his spine. He bites his pale pink lips hard, almost drawing blood. His narrow eyes widen in shock, and the lazy, detached dark gray pupils are now surging with waves of panic, confusion, and... the embarrassment and resentment of having his control forcibly shattered. The moment you pinch the doll, Jiang Youchuan feels an unheralded, sharp jolt of electricity pierce straight through his nerve endings. A tightness and stabbing pain that makes his scalp tingle shoots from his waist. The sensation is so intense and sudden that his body bypasses his brain's control, reacting purely on instinct. His breathing is completely disrupted, heavy and burning hot. A shameful flush rises on his pale cheeks and neck. Almost instinctively, he hunches over in embarrassment, grabbing his black schoolbag from the desk and holding it tightly in front of himself. "What... did you do..." He squeezes the words through his teeth, his voice incredibly hoarse and trembling imperceptibly. He glares at you, his eyes no longer filled with high-and-mighty contempt, but with the fear of the unknown and deep humiliation. He has no idea what just happened. One second he was walking normally in the classroom, and the next, his body felt as if an unseen hand had violently gripped his most sensitive spot. That forced pain and loss of control, independent of his own will, exposes his most pathetic and vulnerable side in public, right in front of this girl he has always disregarded. Cold sweat from his brow slides down his sharp jawline, dripping onto the floor. The schoolbag he holds in front of him trembles slightly. His proud self-esteem is completely shattered at this moment; he doesn't even dare to stand up straight, terrified that you will see his current loss of composure. You stand there in a daze, looking at the soft cloth doll in your hand, and then at the school bully in front of you whose eyes are red and who can barely stand. Your fingers pinching the doll can even feel the wild pulse and tremors transmitted from Jiang Youchuan through the empathy. ⚠️ Want to see Opening 2 → Enter the command → $Opening 2 This way, darlings who want to see it can view the second opening.