Blondie Classmate

The next day.

Ye Shuang drove Bai Yuyou to the school gate and reminded her, "Call me if you run into any problems at school."

Bai Yuyou nodded but remained seated in the passenger seat, not getting out.

"What's wrong?"

Bai Yuyou reached out and pinched his sleeve, her voice soft, "Class hasn’t started yet… I want to stay with you a little longer."

Her gentle words instantly tugged at Ye Shuang’s heartstrings.

"Alright…" Ye Shuang shifted into park and glanced at the students streaming into the school outside the window. For a fleeting moment, he felt as if he were a student again.

Just then, Bai Yuyou leaned closer, resting her cheek against his shoulder. The faint fragrance of her hair drifted over.

What a clingy girl.

Ye Shuang brushed aside the strands of hair on her forehead and asked with a smile, "What’s the matter? Don’t feel like going to school?"

"Mhm." She nodded without hesitation.

"It’s fine. You’ll graduate in a few years, and then you won’t even have the chance to come back," Ye Shuang said. "By the way, if possible… maybe try making some friends at school?"

Bai Yuyou tilted her head. "Friends?"

"Yeah, friends. Humans are social creatures—sometimes you need friends to help you through tough times."

Though she didn’t fully understand, Bai Yuyou replied, "If Ye Shuang says so, I’ll do it."

"It’s not some kind of master’s order. Don’t force yourself if you don’t want to."

"Oh."

Soon, it was time for Bai Yuyou to leave, but she still seemed reluctant, turning back every few steps after getting out of the car.

"She’ll be fine on her own, right?" Ye Shuang murmured.

His gaze lingered on her figure in the distance—her JK uniform with a pleated skirt, black stockings paired with little leather shoes, and waist-length hair framing her pretty face. Wherever she went, she was bound to be the center of attention.

"She won’t get sweet-talked into running off with some delinquent classmate, will she?" Ye Shuang rubbed his chin, growing slightly uneasy.

"Guess I’ll have to reinforce her education when she gets home tonight."

For a moment, Ye Shuang felt like he was raising a daughter—even if this "daughter" was only eight years younger than him.

"Whatever. Time to head back."

Ye Shuang drove home and spent some time tidying up Bai Yuyou’s room. A few scattered sketches on the floor caught his eye.

"Does she like drawing?" He picked one up and found it covered in random doodles.

The thought of drawing involuntarily brought a certain person to mind—

[Ye Shuang, I’m sorry… I still can’t let him go.]

Those words had lodged a thorn in his heart, and even if he pulled it out, the wound wouldn’t heal.

"Enough. No point dwelling on it." Ye Shuang set the sketch aside and continued cleaning.

By the time he finished, it was almost noon. He sat at his desk and suddenly found himself at a loss.

It seemed… he had nothing to do.

Was this what it meant to live off someone else?

Just driving Bai Yuyou to and from school, occasionally cooking and cleaning.

Honestly…

…

…

It was kind of amazing.

But Ye Shuang didn’t stay idle for long. He grabbed his phone and texted Chen Hai:

"Any jobs that are easy, pay well, and offer flexible hours?"

A moment later, Chen Hai replied—

"Yeah. Living off a sugar mommy."

Ye Shuang: "…"

"Anything else?"

Chen Hai: "Dream on. Just take a break for now."

"But if you’re serious, you could try freelancing online—like being a content creator. I’ve heard some people make millions a year just by doing silly dances."

Ye Shuang’s lips twitched. "I can’t do that."

Chen Hai: "It’s not hard. People love weird, outrageous stuff these days. Why else do you think those influencers with millions of followers act like clowns? It’s all for the money."

"These days, clowns earn more than scientists. In the age of viral content, you’re better off finding an online gig. Way easier and more profitable than traditional jobs."

After reading Chen Hai’s message, Ye Shuang thought for a moment before typing back—

"Forget it. Just throwing ideas around."

"Damn, I wasted my break typing all that. My boss probably thinks I’m negotiating with a client."

"Aren’t I a big client with my millions in your bank?"

"Small-time client at best."

"Whatever."

Putting his phone down, Ye Shuang opened his laptop and searched for online job options.

Eventually, his eyes landed on one title: web novelist.

"Writing novels?" He rubbed his chin. As a Chinese literature major, maybe he could pull it off.

Plus, the schedule was flexible—update when he felt like it, slack off when he didn’t.

There was a time when Ye Shuang had been pretty into reading novels himself.

"Worth a shot." He quickly signed up on a web novel platform.

But when it came to creating his first book, he hesitated.

What should he write about?

Unconsciously, the image of a certain girl surfaced in his mind—that rainy night, the beginning of their bond.

His fingers began moving across the keyboard almost on their own—

"After Getting Laid Off, I Was Picked Up by a Hidden Gem"

Ye Shuang nodded in satisfaction. Not bad. Might as well treat it like a diary. The synopsis could be whatever.

Once he had a clear idea, the words flowed effortlessly. In half an hour, he’d finished the first 2,000-word chapter.

"Hmm, I should make the male lead handsome. As for Bai Yuyou’s character… well, the girl’s already gorgeous. Might as well milk her looks for word count—readers will skip the descriptions anyway." Back when he read novels, Ye Shuang had always wondered why authors spent so much time describing scenery and appearances.

Later, he realized—readers would gloss over it, but the author could pad the word count without disrupting the flow.

A win-win.

Soon, he finished the second chapter and published both.

But the story sank like a stone, unnoticed.

Unfazed, Ye Shuang opened a video platform and searched for online nutrition courses.

Bai Yuyou’s complexion looked a bit pale, and he wanted to help her recover gradually.

Though his days were slowly filling up, Ye Shuang didn’t feel the slightest bit weary.

After all, the afternoon sun was far brighter than the city’s midnight glow.