From Quarrel to Reconciliation in an Instant

Morning, the last class of the day.

Unlike his usual focused demeanor, Su Cheng was visibly distracted today, especially after Li Guanqi flashed him a particularly forced smile—one she managed with sheer manual effort. He grew increasingly restless, his gaze repeatedly darting toward the window.

He knew all too well that Li Guanqi's expressionless face was due to neurological damage, something nearly impossible to recover from.

Why did he know this?

Because Li Guanqi came from a wealthy family.

If it could have been cured, it would have been long ago.

Pulling his attention back from the window, he glanced at the book tucked inside his desk: The Fundamental Laws of Web Novel Protagonists.

His mind swarmed with scenes of protagonists wielding "superpowers" to perform miracles.

"If only I had a system too," he muttered, staring out the window. "I’m a transmigrator, so why don’t I have one?"

Sometimes, he desperately wished for a system—something to rewrite his fate and the fates of those around him.

But alas, he didn’t have one.

Su Cheng lowered his eyes, a shadow of disappointment crossing his face.

……………………

Ding ling ling.

Morning classes ended.

Su Cheng pulled out an exquisitely crafted box from his desk—a gift he had prepared for the club president.

Inside were a wooden comb and hairpin.

But instead of heading straight to the Archery Club, he detoured to the parking lot to check on his bicycle.

The chances of it being stolen were practically zero, yet he couldn’t shake the unease and needed to confirm its safety one more time.

Assured, he finally made his way to the Archery Club.

But today, the clubroom was eerily empty. The usually solitary, striking figure was nowhere in sight. Even the tea set on the table had vanished.

Alarmed, Su Cheng hurried to the president’s office and knocked.

Thud—thud—

Only the echo of his knocks answered him.

"President? President?" He raised his voice, but still, no response.

"Where is everyone?" Anxiety crept in as he stepped into the adjacent dining room—only to find it deserted, with no sign of the usual prepared lunch.

The president always waited to share lunch with him.

Now, even the mass-produced maids were missing.

"What’s going on?" Frowning, Su Cheng pulled out his phone to message her—but then his eyes caught a photo on the coffee table.

A closer look revealed it was a shot of him pinning Li Guanqi against the wall in the parking lot earlier that morning.

He froze. His face flushed—not with shame, but fury.

He hadn’t expected to be under real-time surveillance even at school. They had promised to remove the monitoring.

Was he really so untrustworthy?!

His grip on the gift box tightened, knuckles whitening. With a sharp smack, he slammed the photo back onto the table and scanned the room, his voice thick with indignation.

"I admit fault for this morning. I broke our agreement, and I’ll own up to it—punishment included. But!" He took a deep breath, jabbing a finger at the photo, his tone rising. "This is a separate issue! What is this photo? Do you even respect me?!"

BANG!

The door burst open.

"Respect?" Ji Qingyi stood there, arms crossed, her icy gaze fixed on Su Cheng as she spoke coolly. "Do you still see me as your fiancée?"

Su Cheng pressed his lips together, meeting her eyes unflinchingly. "I’m addressing this matter objectively. If you want to discuss this morning, fine—I was wrong, and I’ll take responsibility."

Ji Qingyi strode to the coffee table and sat gracefully, picking up the photo between her fingers. She tapped it lightly before speaking.

"Liu Qingyue happened to run into you two and took this casually."

"President!" Su Cheng held her gaze, unwavering. "When have I ever lied to you? When have I hidden anything? Why treat me with such distrust?"

Ji Qingyi closed her eyes, as if deep in thought.

After a long pause, she opened them again—those dark, distant eyes tinged with detachment.

"What do you want to say?" she asked.

"I was in the wrong," Su Cheng conceded, his tone now deferential. "I’ll accept your punishment."

Ji Qingyi studied him silently before her expression softened slightly. "Sit down first."

"Okay." He sat but didn’t back down. "President, I know you’re angry. But so am I. I deserve an apology too, or I won’t accept this."

"Explain this first." She ignored his demand, pointing at the photo. "What exactly happened?"

"Apologize first!" Su Cheng shot a glance at the photo, his resolve unshaken.

The air grew thick with tension.

Ji Qingyi narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him for a long moment before speaking slowly. "Are you getting spoiled because I indulge you?"

"This is about principle." Su Cheng shook his head. "You promised to withdraw surveillance, yet this photo exists. Liu Qingyue is your subordinate, which means you never honored my request or kept your word. So, I want an apology."

His gaze never wavered.

Ji Qingyi’s brows knitted slightly. She stood, walked to her desk, and unlocked a drawer, retrieving a file. With a flick of her wrist, it sailed through the air and landed squarely on the coffee table before Su Cheng.

"Open it."

A sense of foreboding crept over him. He picked up the file—marked only with a handwritten date—and pulled out its contents.

Several photos and a printed document clipped together. His eyes skimmed the data—heart rate, blood pressure, blood oxygen levels—all fluctuating. The photos, taken from an overhead angle, unmistakably captured the moment he had Li Guanqi pinned.

"First," Ji Qingyi began, "if your memory weren’t so poor, you’d recall that I said I’d reduce surveillance, not remove it entirely. Even without Liu Qingyue, I’d have known about this."

"I… I must have misremembered. But I was going to tell you myself! You didn’t need evidence. And there’s nothing between us—we were just discussing a novel, that’s all!"

A cold sweat prickled his back. Even if he was cornered, he wouldn’t surrender. First, deflect.

But Ji Qingyi only looked at him—and laughed.

"Which brings me to my second point. If you two are just classmates, why chase her to this extent? Or do you treat everyone like this, thinking you can just apologize later and repeat the offense?"

"After all, it was my carelessness that led her astray. Shouldn’t I take responsibility and guide her back to the right path? Wouldn’t you do the same, Club President?"

Seizing the opportunity, Su Cheng quickly defended himself, trying to justify his stance: "I already owe her a favor."

But Ji Qingyi’s response caught him off guard.

"No, I wouldn’t. I only invest effort in those I care about. For people I don’t care for, whatever path they take or whatever outcome they face, I won’t waste my time on them."

"Why? Don’t you think the problems you cause should be resolved by you?"

Su Cheng was stunned. This wasn’t the answer he had expected. He had thought this argument would settle the matter, but Ji Qingyi seemed indifferent, looking at him with the condescending gaze of someone explaining things to a child.

"Let me give you an example. The orphanage you used to live in—under the Ji Family’s aid and investments—expanded significantly. It even started small businesses as side ventures to supplement daily expenses. Because of cost and policy advantages, it drew crowds away from surrounding areas, causing many local shops to close and workers to lose their jobs. By your logic, should I take responsibility, withdraw those investments, and compensate those affected so they can compete freely?"

"Here’s another example. To cure your condition and allow you to run, jump, and even engage in strenuous physical activities like a normal person, the Ji Family mobilized dozens of research teams worldwide, pursuing different approaches and procuring rare medicinal herbs. This saturation-style targeted treatment meant progress in other medical research slowed, and shortages of certain herbs left other patients without timely treatment. Do you think I should be held accountable for that? Should you be held accountable?"

Su Cheng fell silent. Just hearing Ji Qingyi’s description, he could imagine the astronomical resources and funds involved—far beyond anything he could ever take responsibility for. Compared to this, any anger he still harbored now felt hollow.

"It seems you understand now." Ji Qingyi stepped behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders, her tone low and dangerous. "Then let this be a small punishment to settle the matter."

Without warning, she dug her fingers into his shoulders, pressing down hard. Su Cheng instantly broke into a cold sweat, his entire body stiffening from the pain.

"How does it feel?" Ji Qingyi asked, her lips curling in faint amusement, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"President, did you skip lunch?" Su Cheng gritted his teeth, forcing out each word. "I deserve this. Press harder—make sure I remember it."

"Oh? Your tone..." Ji Qingyi paused for a second, her smile widening, her eyes narrowing into crescents. "Are you implying I’m deliberately making this difficult for you?"

"Whether you are or not, I was the one at fault first!" Su Cheng turned his head, meeting her gaze without flinching, his expression resolute. "So please, President, punish me properly!"

Hearing his stubborn defiance, Ji Qingyi arched a brow. Now wasn’t the time to hold back—better to make sure he wouldn’t dwell on this later.

So she doubled the pressure, making Su Cheng nearly cry out in pain. He clenched his jaw, refusing to give in, his stubbornness flaring up again.

Eventually, Ji Qingyi released his shoulders, instead taking hold of his arm, her tone softening slightly. "Your muscles are still sore from yesterday’s hike. Let me massage your shoulders and loosen them up."

"Thank you, President!" A flicker of surprise crossed Su Cheng’s eyes—he hadn’t expected Ji Qingyi to relent. But it didn’t change his determination.

Just then, Ji Qingyi noticed the band-aid on Su Cheng’s hand. Her brows furrowed. "What happened to your hand?"

"I... did some crafts at home last night. I’m not very skilled..." He hesitated, lowering his gaze, his voice subdued. "I accidentally hurt myself. It’ll be fine by tomorrow."

"You’re always giving people reasons to worry."

Ji Qingyi sighed helplessly, her fingers now gently kneading his shoulders to ease the tension.

A few minutes later, she withdrew her hands and walked to her desk, retrieving a rectangular gift box, which she handed to Su Cheng.

"A gift for you."

"What is it?"

Su Cheng opened the box to find a folding fan—the very one Ji Qingyi had bought during their previous outing.

"May I take it out to look?"

He asked politely.

"Go ahead." Ji Qingyi nodded.

Su Cheng carefully unfolded the fan. On its surface was a line of calligraphy in Ji Qingyi’s own hand:

"If others put in one ounce of effort, I’ll put in a hundred."

"President, did you write this yourself?"

He sounded surprised.

"Mhm." Ji Qingyi acknowledged.

Su Cheng was overjoyed. He immediately began fanning himself, murmuring, "If others put in one ounce of effort, I’ll put in a hundred..."

After a moment, he carefully folded the fan back into the box, tucked it into his pocket, and said with heartfelt gratitude, "Thank you for such a precious gift, President. But..."

His tone shifted, turning serious. "As the saying goes, courtesy demands reciprocity. I should return the gesture."

"What do you plan to do?"

Ji Qingyi frowned, studying him closely.

"First, sit down." Su Cheng gestured toward the tea table.

After a brief hesitation, Ji Qingyi complied.

Su Cheng stepped behind her, pulling out a gift box from his pocket. Inside were an ebony comb and an exquisitely carved wooden hairpin.

"This is my gift for you."

He presented it to her, eyes brimming with anticipation. "What do you think?"

Ji Qingyi glanced at the items. Though not flawlessly crafted, the polished surfaces and visible carving marks betrayed the immense effort poured into them.

She realized then—Su Cheng’s injured fingers were from making this.

"I’ll accept this gift." She gave a slight nod.

Just as she reached for it, Su Cheng pulled the box back.

"President, let me comb your hair for you once."