Then You Treat Me to Coffee

Turning in exams early happens every year.

Everyone here knows how to solve the problems; whoever finishes ahead of time is a big shot.

But someone as fast as Lin Mo? Basically unheard of.

The foreign judges on the proctoring panel exchanged glances, and one Korean judge even flipped through the participant list to confirm which team this kid was on.

After all, going by looks alone, he could easily be mistaken.

Fortunately, the team uniform with the five-star red flag on Lin Mo was conspicuous enough.

Only after the answer sheet was collected did Lin Mo get up lazily.

His movement was casual—he tossed his pen onto the desk and sauntered out, loose and unhurried.

The vibe was like he'd just finished a set of elementary school exercises.

Teacher Bai sat in the observation area on the inside of the venue, watching Lin Mo's retreating figure from a distance. His brow twitched slightly, but he said nothing.

Beside him, several team leaders from other countries had already started whispering among themselves.

Turning in the paper this early—either a genius or a lunatic.

Teacher Bai wasn't worried about the score; after all, Lin Mo had always been this fast and never changed his pace for any reason.

But he was also concerned that the judges might think Lin Mo had leaked the questions.

As soon as Lin Mo walked out, Oriental Leaf immediately stood up, nodded to Teacher Bai, and followed.

Teacher Bai knew exactly who this person was—the higher-ups had given a heads-up: an internal staff member responsible for the team's safety.

But anyone could tell that eighty percent of Oriental Leaf's attention was fixed on Lin Mo.

No choice—that kid was too special. His ability was one thing, but more critically, they couldn't let anyone poach him.

Lin Mo stepped out of the venue's main gate. As soon as his foot hit the steps, the sound of footsteps caught up from behind.

Not Oriental Leaf.

He knew Oriental Leaf's footsteps well—light and steady. The one behind him was impatient, with a heavy center of gravity; clearly someone who'd bottled up a lot and rushed over.

Of course, he'd already seen it with his spiritual sense.

Lin Mo stopped and turned to look at Han Junhao.

He didn't speak, just studied the man calmly.

From their very first meeting, Han Junhao gave Lin Mo a subtle feeling—not danger, but instability.

Like a firecracker whose fuse was already lit: you didn't know when it would go off, but you knew it would bang.

"What's your real purpose for coming to Korea?"

Han Junhao spoke in Chinese, with quite standard pronunciation. Clearly, he'd practiced a lot.

Lin Mo sized him up for two seconds.

"That's it?"

Han Junhao frowned.

"I thought you'd come up with something more impressive."

Lin Mo shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm here to compete. What's there to ask?"

"I don't believe you."

Han Junhao took a step forward, not lowering his voice at all. "Someone who wiped out the Chai family to the roots wouldn't come here just for a competition..."

Lin Mo raised his hand.

Just a simple gesture, and Han Junhao's words were cut off mid-sentence.

"Believe it or not, that's your problem. Don't bother me if there's nothing important."

Lin Mo's tone carried a hint of irritation—that was his default attitude toward these people.

With that, he turned and left. No extra words, no explanation.

Han Junhao clearly wasn't going to let it go. He shifted his feet and lunged forward.

"Bang."

Another invisible wall of air.

"Aish, do you Koreans just love picking fights for no reason?"

Oriental Leaf's voice rang out from behind.

Han Junhao's expression flickered, but he didn't make a move.

Oriental Leaf walked around to the side, blocking the space between Han Junhao and Lin Mo. He was a good half-head taller than Han Junhao, looking down at him with a slightly condescending angle.

"If you're that bored, go back and deal with that YJJ company of yours, alright? They're causing trouble every day, making the whole world cringe for you guys."

"My mission is to keep an eye on you." Han Junhao said each word deliberately.

"Then keep an eye on us—who's stopping you?"

Oriental Leaf stepped back two paces and spread his hands. "But stand farther away when you watch. Don't get so close. We're not acquainted, and you're acting like a stalker. It makes me uncomfortable all over."

Han Junhao tried to say something else, but Oriental Leaf had already turned and went after Lin Mo.

"Hey, wait for me."

"Nope."

"Come on, just wait a sec."

"Then you buy me coffee."

"Why!"

"Because you're the young master of the Dongfang family, and I'm broke."

"But I don't speak Korean."

"No problem. I speak English—the father tongue of the Koreans."

"Fair enough."

The two of them walked off, bantering the whole way.

Han Junhao stood in place, clenching his fist, then slowly loosening it.

He stared at the two backs, his expression complicated.

This Lin Mo was even harder to deal with than the intelligence suggested.

Not because of his strength, but because this guy didn't play by any script. You talk to him seriously, he ignores you.

You try to pressure him into speaking, he doesn't even lift an eyelid.

Trouble.

Extremely troublesome.

Across from the venue was a Starbucks. It was the afternoon slump, and the shop was nearly empty.

Before pushing the door open, Lin Mo already saw through the glass the guy called Smiling Face sitting inside.

He was by the window, chatting away with a female barista, who was laughing hard at whatever he said. Smiling Face himself wore a bright, sunny grin.

No matter the occasion, that layer of smile on his face was like skin—you couldn't peel it off.

The door swung open, and the welcome bell chimed.

Smiling Face looked up immediately. Seeing Lin Mo, his eyes lit up. He put down his cup, stood, and walked over eagerly.

"Lin..."

Before he could even say the second syllable...

Lin Mo had already reached the counter.

"Two Frappuccinos—one mocha, one matcha." He glanced back at Oriental Leaf. "You want matcha or mocha?"

"Matcha for me."

"Alright."

Lin Mo turned, pointed a finger behind him, aiming directly at Smiling Face.

"He's paying."

Oriental Leaf added another jab: "Venti size, thanks."

Smiling Face's feet froze to the ground.

His mouth hung open. He looked at Lin Mo, then at Oriental Leaf, and that professional smile cracked at the seams.

The barista behind the counter had already started making the drinks, kindly asking if they wanted whipped cream.

"Yes." Lin Mo and Oriental Leaf said in unison.

Smiling Face's mouth twitched.

Wow. Smiling Face was completely stiff. He should've just stayed glued to his chair instead of coming over.

"No way, no way." Lin Mo turned to look at Smiling Face. "The Super Youth Corps, on their own turf, can't even treat two foreign guests to coffee? Imagine how embarrassing that'd be if word got out."

Smiling Face's face was harder than ever.

For once, he almost couldn't even force a smile.

Smiling Face took a deep breath, then paid anyway.

It was just two coffees—about ten thousand won, no big deal.

But the feeling was wrong.

Like you'd carefully set a trap to lure someone in, and they didn't step into it—and instead casually swiped two candies from your pocket.

Did he lose much? Not really.

But was it irritating? Absolutely.

Han Junhao, who had followed them in, saw Smiling Face wearing a bitter smile.

He was still wondering who could possibly have put that shameless bastard in his place.

The moment Smiling Face caught sight of Han Junhao, a grin slowly spread across his face, and he scurried over in quick little steps.

“Bro! You’ve gotta reimburse me for this!”

Han Junhao: “?”