Is Your Type the Puppy-like Guy

Shen Nian's mood could be summed up in four words:

Utterly petrified.

His brain felt like it had been assaulted, completely thunderstruck.

After a long pause, he finally lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning close to Xia Yanchun's ear, his tone dripping with disbelief.

"Your type is cute younger guys? That’s… quite a unique taste."

"Shut up, shut up!" Xia Yanchun swatted at him repeatedly, her small hand hitting him under the table.

Shen Nian was used to it—this girl either bit or hit.

Xia Yanchun was half a year older than him and had always acted like an elder sister. When they were kids, she could overpower him thanks to girls developing earlier and her age advantage. But by middle school, his growth spurt hit.

Shen Nian, who had once been much shorter than Xia Yanchun, shot up during those two years of puberty. By their sophomore year physical exam, he had reached 179 cm and was still growing, while Xia Yanchun had plateaued at 161 cm.

That height wasn’t short for a girl, but next to Shen Nian, who was nearly 180 cm, she looked like a tiny speck.

The reversal of their physical advantage forced Xia Yanchun, who had once relied on brute force to keep him in line, to start using reason instead.

After all, she couldn’t beat him anymore.

When you can effortlessly overpower someone, you don’t waste words. But when the tables turn…

Well, suddenly, compromise sounds a lot more appealing.

Back then, Xia Yanchun had been the one subduing him. Now, it was Shen Nian’s turn—except there was the added complication of gender differences. He couldn’t just hit or touch her freely.

If Xia Yanchun bit Shen Nian, no one batted an eye. But if Shen Nian bit Xia Yanchun? Instant label: creep.

The injustice of it all made him tremble with rage. The world was so unfair to boys.

"So what’s your deal? All this ‘I can’t stand you’ and ‘emotional baggage’ nonsense—are you having a breakdown or something?"

"Ahem, never mind." Shen Nian cut himself off. "This emotional baggage of yours isn’t cutting it. Try another one."

"Since when is emotional baggage something you can just swap out like that?"

Xia Yanchun massaged her temples, utterly baffled by Shen Nian’s antics. "I don’t have any emotional baggage. Stop messing with me."

"Impossible!"

Damn it!

If she had no emotional baggage, what was he supposed to do about his 1,000 gold coins? Was she going to compensate him?

Unbelievable. She better remember some emotional baggage, or else!

He made up his mind: if Xia Yanchun truly had no unresolved issues, he’d risk death by giving her a beating—making himself the source of her emotional baggage. Then he’d buy her gifts, grovel, and resolve it himself. Emotional baggage resolved, system rewards secured.

Flawless plan.

"I’ve decided. You’re definitely sick in the head."

With that, Xia Yanchun snatched a pen from Shen Nian’s desk, flipped open her workbook, and started writing.

There were only about ten minutes left before class ended, so there was no point returning to her seat. Hers was right under the AC vent, and since she was on her period, sitting here meant less cold air.

With no leads to follow, Shen Nian was at a loss.

Whether he was sick or not was debatable, but the system definitely was.

Could it be that his childhood companion was someone else?

He racked his brain but came up empty. Was there really some hidden childhood friend in their class?

The side quests kept piling up, but the main quest was eerily silent.

——

Evening self-study.

The classroom was a bit noisy. Su Kexi had a rule: the class monitors on duty had to maintain discipline and, if necessary, record the names of troublemakers in the logbook.

Xia Yanchun, being the top student, had been appointed class monitor after the division into streams.

The class’s study atmosphere was generally good, with only a few troublemakers occasionally causing a ruckus.

"Quiet, quiet! If you keep talking, I’ll write your names down," Xia Yanchun called out. The chatterboxes immediately fell silent—but only for a moment before the whispers started up again.

The noise wasn’t too loud, so Xia Yanchun usually let it slide unless it disrupted the whole class.

The peaceful study environment was shattered when the late-arriving athlete made his entrance.

Huang Chen, his spiky hair still damp, let out a long "Whew!" as he walked in, followed by an imaginary dribble and a fadeaway jump shot—his sneakers screeching against the tile floor.

Shen Nian’s eye twitched.

Was this some kind of default programming for basketball-playing jocks?

The guy seemed like the type to post workout clips with hashtags like #WhiteSocks #Tanned #SixPack #PeakGrind #CoachAppreciation.

Stereotypes existed for a reason.

Huang Chen plopped into his seat and immediately started chatting with his neighbors. The noise level rose, and Xia Yanchun gave another warning. They quieted down briefly before resuming their chatter.

"Aren’t you going to log them?" Shen Nian nudged Xia Yanchun with his chin.

Xia Yanchun pouted, then quickly scribbled down the names of the noisiest offenders.

During the last period, Su Kexi asked Xia Yanchun for the logbook.

Su Kexi was a strict, no-nonsense teacher in class, but Shen Nian had heard from some girls that she was surprisingly warm and chatty during dorm inspections.

She knew how to separate duty from personal life.

Every so often, Su Kexi would summon the most frequent troublemakers for a scolding—like now.

After reviewing the logbook, she called three boys and one girl to the office, Huang Chen among them.

When the four returned, their expressions were grim.

Shen Nian propped his chin on his hand and yawned.

What happened to all that laughter? Don’t tell me they’ve suddenly lost their sense of humor.

He despised Huang Chen. The guy had no sense of boundaries, touching other people’s stuff without permission. One Sunday night during their sophomore year, Huang Chen had sat at Shen Nian’s desk, chatting with friends and leaving it a complete mess—without cleaning up afterward.

Shen Nian, who lived off-campus, usually didn’t come on Sunday nights. When he arrived Monday morning to find his desk trashed, it felt like the sky had fallen.

Anyone walking in might’ve thought he was being bullied.

He confronted Huang Chen, and things nearly came to blows. Huang Chen eventually apologized and cleaned up the mess, so Shen Nian let it go—no point hitting someone who’s already surrendered.

Besides, actually fighting would’ve put him in the wrong, and he wasn’t even sure he could win against a trained athlete.

Huang Chen had also badmouthed Shen Nian in the dorm. If not for Chen Dong secretly tipping him off, Shen Nian would’ve graduated none the wiser.

Seeing Huang Chen get chewed out? Pure satisfaction.

With the troublemakers chastened, the classroom fell into a hush so deep Shen Nian could even hear Chen Dong flipping his textbook pages.

Maximum study efficiency achieved—Shen Nian breezed through his vocabulary list.

The bell rang.

Shen Nian packed up at lightning speed, ready to bolt.

"Wow, not giving up after three minutes? I thought you’d quit by tonight," Xia Yanchun remarked, watching him stuff his vocab book into his bag with exaggerated shock.

"Don’t project your narrow-mindedness onto me."

Bro had a system now. Future monster-slaying hero material. Petty high school rivalries? Beneath him.

Way beneath him.

"Don’t stay up too late. I wrote your name down today."

"After over a decade of friendship, you’d actually snitch on me? Let’s break up."

"Fine, we’re broken up." Xia Yanchun snorted, slinging her bag over her shoulder and marching out ahead of him. Shen Nian followed close behind.

When you knew someone well enough, even "breaking up" could be a joke.

Breaking up was what happened when friendships between besties, pals, or classmates soured. But between sworn rivals? There was no friendship to break—only life-or-death stakes.

As Xia Yanchun walked to the stairwell entrance, a woman's voice called out to her.

"Xia Yanchun, did you just write down my name?"

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