I'm not pretending anymore, I'm coming clean.

[System, please confirm that everything that happened during the mission in the small world, especially some of the less-than-ideal behavior, will not affect my final background check, right?]

In order to pass the extremely rigorous review, Yu Fuli suppressed his true temperament again and again, and forcibly honed himself into a pure, stable, and absolutely standard-compliant appearance.

He almost fooled himself.

But what's in your bones can't be hidden forever.

He is a fox.

A nine-tailed white fox born cunning and proud, with freedom and predatory instincts flowing in its blood.

A brief act of pretense might be bearable, but what about prolonged repression?

That is torture against one's nature.

[Please rest assured, host, to protect the rights and privacy of the executors, all experiences occurring within the mission world will be strictly confidential and will not be included in any real-world biographical records. However, the core principle remains unchanged: please ensure that the main storyline does not suffer irreversible damage.]

Upon receiving this confirmation, Yu Fuli's last remaining concerns melted away like thin ice under the sunlight.

He squinted slightly, then opened his eyes again.

The deliberately cultivated gentle and upright demeanor, even a hint of deliberate caution, that belonged to "Yu Fuli, the prospective civil servant," receded like the tide.

Instead, there is a sharpness that is tempered by time and cunning, almost languid.

The curve of his lips remained unchanged, but the meaning was completely different.

It's no longer a smile that conforms to standards, but rather like a beast finally freed from its chains, revealing a savoring and unrestrained joy as it licks its fangs.

well.

He decided to stop pretending.

Since everything here is just a mission, an illusion, why not treat it as a rare, publicly funded trip where we can fully unleash our true nature?

The presence of the hand at the side of the waist became incredibly clear at that moment.

Instead of avoiding it, Yu Fuli slowly turned her head at this extremely close distance.

His gaze, no longer averted, pierced straight into the depths of Jiang Yu's deep blue eyes, which were trying to conceal their aggressiveness, with a half-smile.

"An apology?" he asked, his voice softer than raindrops, yet carrying a fuzzy, alluring quality. "Jiang Yu, you're standing so close..."

He paused briefly, letting the silent ambiguity spread under the umbrella.

"Are you trying to apologize on behalf of someone else, or... is there something you want to say to me?"

Jiang Yu's movements suddenly stopped.

He clearly saw the change in Yu Fuli's eyes, right under the rain curtain, within arm's reach.

The teacher's previous calm, tinged with a sense of detachment, was quietly torn open, revealing a strange, almost eerie languor and sharpness that he had never anticipated.

Those slightly upturned eyes, that enigmatic smile, that gaze that seemed to see right through him...

If the previous Yu Fuli was like a collectible, mysterious work of art that piqued his interest.

The person before him at that moment was like a demon spirit that had suddenly come to life, exuding a dangerous yet extremely alluring aura, instantly igniting a more primal and savage impulse within his blood.

It's no longer an interest.

It is an intense desire to seize, to control, and to dismantle and consume.

"Teacher, I..." Jiang Yu's voice involuntarily lowered and became hoarse, his Adam's apple bobbing.

He was captivated by the sudden change in demeanor, his gaze uncontrollably drawn to the lips so close to his own. The color was a perfect, luscious red, which, against the backdrop of the gray rain and the dark umbrella, revealed a breathtakingly vibrant hue.

As if drawn by invisible threads, he forgot his initial verbal probing, forgot the carefully maintained facade of propriety, and, following his instincts, slowly lowered his head, moving closer to that vibrant color…

The cool rain streaked across his cheeks, but could not cool his suddenly rising body temperature.

however.

The anticipated contact failed to materialize.

Yu Fuli merely turned his head slightly, allowing the kiss, carrying burning intent, to barely brush past his cool lips and fall into the damp air.

Jiang Yu froze, raised her eyes, her gaze still filled with lingering infatuation and determination, mixed with a hint of unexpected surprise.

He looked at Yu Fuli, only to be met with a pair of completely different eyes.

The eerie allure I felt just now seemed to be nothing more than an illusion.

At this moment, Yu Fuli's face showed a deliberate, even exaggerated, look of doubt and confusion. His brows were slightly furrowed, as if he had really encountered something incomprehensible.

"Student," he began, his voice regaining its previous calmness, even carrying a perfectly measured air of teacherly distance and concern, "have you misunderstood something?"

As he spoke, his eyelids drooped slightly, but a slightly disdainful smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

The light, blurred by the rain and filtering through the umbrella, fell precisely on his lowered eyelashes, yet failed to penetrate the depths of his eyes.

"I'm not interested in men," he declared clearly, enunciating each word distinctly.

"Now," he said, his gaze shifting downwards to Jiang Yu's hand still wrapped around his waist, "could you please let go of my hand?"

Just a fleeting glance, a casual remark.

Jiang Yu felt as if something invisible had squeezed his heart tightly, causing it to leap suddenly.

A surge of embarrassment, annoyance at being mocked, and a sharper, more challenging excitement suddenly shot through my spine.

Even the fingertip that touched Yu Fuli's waist seemed to send a slight, tingling, sore sensation through it.

Instead of immediately loosening his grip, he subconsciously tightened his fingers, holding onto the slender, supple waistline beneath the uniform fabric.

Then Jiang Yu saw Yu Fuli smile brightly; this was the last thing he saw before losing consciousness.

……

The medical room of the Saint Laurent Royal College.

Calling it a medical clinic is far too modest.

This independent three-story building is comparable in size, facilities, and decor to any top-tier private medical center.

The marble floor is so smooth it reflects your image, and the air is filled with a faint, reassuring scent of disinfectant mixed with herbal essential oils. Each consultation room has a nameplate with an understated silver trim, and the corridors are lined with the latest medical monitoring equipment and soothing green walls.

Wen Qiaoan walked slowly down the quiet corridor, his fine white coat fluttering slightly with each step, making his figure appear even more upright and elegant.

He wore a pair of thin gold-rimmed glasses, and his gaze behind the lenses was calm and gentle. He exuded a unique aura that blended scholarly air with intellectual charm.

A nurse carrying a medical record folder walked towards him. Upon seeing him, she immediately stopped and bowed respectfully with a hint of nervousness, greeting him, "Dr. Wen."

Wen Qiaoan nodded slightly, a flawless, gentle smile playing on her lips: "Thank you for your hard work."

Only after he had walked away did the nurse quietly lift her flushed cheeks and subconsciously press her slightly rapid heartbeat. In Saint Laurent, everyone knows Wen Qiaoan.

Not only because he is one of the F4, but also because of the behemoth he represents: the Wen family.

The undisputed hegemon in the fields of medicine and biotechnology.

From cutting-edge gene therapy to a chain of hospitals across the mainland, from new agricultural breeding to ecological restoration projects, and so on.

The influence of Wens Group can be seen in almost every industry related to life.

Calling it a monopoly is no exaggeration.

Wen Qiaoan is one of the most outstanding heirs of the Wen family in this generation. At the same time, she is the nominal student assistant of the academy's infirmary, but in reality, the manager.

He arrived at the door of the quietest VIP ward at the end of the corridor and then pushed the door open and went inside.

The sight that came into view caused a flicker of surprise to cross his usually calm and composed eyes.

His good friend, Jiang Yu, was leaning against the spacious hospital bed, his expensive custom-made school uniform jacket casually draped over the armrest, with two buttons undone at the collar, revealing his beautifully shaped collarbone.

The sunlight streaming through the blinds cast dappled shadows on his face, which was hailed as a masterpiece sculpted by God.

In an era where entertainment reigns supreme, the Jiang family controls almost all of the empire's entertainment lifeline.

From glamorous film and television star-making factories to addictive virtual game empires, from daily news updates to every short video swiped on a fingertip...

The Jiang family's influence is behind almost every industry related to leisure and entertainment.

Even more talked about than this business empire is the stunning beauty that the Jiang family has passed down through generations.

The idea that the Jiang family produces beauties has become a widely accepted consensus.

If you were to meet a stunningly beautiful person on the street who claimed to be surnamed Jiang, no one would doubt their authenticity.

This is an unbreakable reputation built over generations with its good looks.

All of the direct descendants of the Jiang family possess stunningly beautiful faces that could easily ignite public opinion.

Jiang Yu, as the most beloved youngest son of this generation, has inherited the family's best genetic code. His appearance is so stunning that even in the Jiang family, which is full of beauties, he is among the best.

The face that was adored by countless fans and hailed as an angel on earth was now showing a silly, foolish smile in front of the glowing phone screen in her hand—a smile that should never have been seen in public.

His smile was so focused and absorbed that he didn't even notice Wen Qiaoan pushing the door open and coming in.

Long, thick, golden eyelashes drooped down, and the light from the screen reflected in her azure eyes. The curve of her lips was incredibly soft, as if her entire mind was firmly captured by something on the screen, and everything around her had faded away.

Wen Qiaoan stood to the side and glanced at it curiously.

The phone was playing footage of Jiang Yu being thrown over someone's shoulder.