33: Chapter 33 Suicide Preview

10:00 AM, lecture hall.

On the podium, the Old Professor was chanting from his PPT, his voice having an excellent hypnotic effect.

Sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating every speck of dust in the air.

Huang Mao sat in the "King's Hometown" by the window in the last row, twirling a gel pen in his hand, his gaze passing through layers of heads to land on the figure sitting in the very center of the first row.

Leng Qingxuan sat bolt upright, her back lines seemingly calibrated by the most precise instruments, every strand of hair falling smoothly behind her shoulders, radiating a holy aura that screamed "Keep Away."

She occasionally lowered her head to take notes, her movements as elegant as if she were signing a multi-million dollar contract.

The boys around her pretended to look at the blackboard from time to time, but their gazes kept drifting toward her.

Who would have thought that just a few hours ago, this goddess, whose posture was impeccable, was still lying naked in bed, wrapped in a quilt?

"No matter how many times I see it, it still feels exaggerated..."

Huang Mao applauded this "Best Actress" in his heart.

This kind of high-intensity disguise was exhausting just to watch.

It was like someone walking a tightrope while wearing heavy armor; outsiders saw the splendor, but only she knew the sweat and suffocation inside.

Or perhaps... she was already used to it? Had she treated the disguise as her second skin?

The bell rang, breaking the drowsy atmosphere in the classroom.

Leng Qingxuan closed her book and stood up, seemingly preparing to go out—perhaps to the restroom or for a walk. The surrounding air seemed to flow with her movements.

She didn't leave immediately, but instead adjusted her skirt slightly before walking toward the back door.

Huang Mao lay on the desk pretending to be dead, but caught a glimpse of some commotion in the hallway out of the corner of his eye.

"Here it comes! Is that Wang Hao from the Economics and Management Department?"

"He's not holding any flowers; what is he doing?"

"This guy has been chasing the campus belle for half a year, right? He still hasn't given up?"

The whispers buzzed like flies.

Just as Leng Qingxuan stepped out of the classroom, a figure blocked her path.

It was a boy wearing trendy designer clothes, his hair styled high, dark circles under his eyes, and a look of almost paranoid fanaticism in his gaze.

"Qingxuan!"

Wang Hao shouted with full force, instantly drawing everyone's attention in the hallway. Even people from the neighboring classroom poked their heads out.

Leng Qingxuan stopped, her expression devoid of any ripples, a standard "social coldness."

"Something the matter?" Her voice was cold and clear, like a glass of iced lemonade—polite, but bone-chilling.

"Why didn't you reply to the WeChat messages I sent you? And you even returned the gifts I gave you!" Wang Hao said emotionally, taking a step forward as if to grab Leng Qingxuan's hand.

Leng Qingxuan turned slightly, precisely avoiding his touch, her brows furrowing for a split second before smoothing out again.

"I don't like them, and I don't need them. Please move."

The rejection was crisp and clean, leaving no room for fantasy.

A low snicker sounded from the surroundings. This kind of drama wasn't rare at this university, especially when it involved Leng Qingxuan; everyone was used to seeing pursuers retreat in defeat.

But this laughter seemed to provoke Wang Hao.

His face instantly turned the color of a pig's liver, the veins on his neck bulging; his original courtship turned into anger and embarrassment.

"Leng Qingxuan! Don't be ungrateful! I've been chasing you for so long, have you ever even looked at me properly? Stop acting so high and mighty!"

Wang Hao suddenly raised his volume, roaring hysterically: "I'm telling you, I won't give up!"

"Today at 12:00 PM, I'll be waiting for you on the rooftop of the General Building! If you don't come..."

He took a deep breath, pointed at Leng Qingxuan's nose with crazy eyes: "I'll jump off! I'll let the whole school know that you forced me to my death!"

As soon as these words were spoken, the noisy hallway instantly went quiet.

Everyone widened their eyes, looking at Wang Hao in disbelief.

Everyone had seen moral blackmail before, but playing it this big and this ruthlessly was a first.

"Holy sh*t, is he for real?"

"Is this guy sick? He's going to blame the girl for this?"

"Quick, record it! Big news!"

Countless phone lenses were aimed at the two people at the center of the storm.

As the target of the threat, Leng Qingxuan's reaction exceeded everyone's expectations.

She wasn't panicked, wasn't angry, and her eyes didn't even flicker.

She just looked at Wang Hao quietly; that gaze didn't look like she was looking at a pursuer threatening suicide, but rather like looking at a Teddy dog barking wildly at a tire on the side of the road.

"Are you done?" Leng Qingxuan asked indifferently.

Wang Hao was stunned.

"You..."

"If you're done, move. You're blocking the way."

Leng Qingxuan directly ignored him, turned to the side, and stepped forward, her shoes tapping a crisp rhythm on the floor tiles.

She walked straight past Wang Hao as if passing through a puff of air, without even turning her head.

Wang Hao froze in place like a broken clown. The muscles at the corners of his eyes twitched crazily, and his fists clenched, making cracking sounds.

"You just wait! 12:00 PM! I'll be there! You'll regret this!" He roared at Leng Qingxuan's back.

Leng Qingxuan's figure disappeared around the stairwell corner, leaving only a cool, detached silhouette.

...Five minutes later.

Huang Mao's phone vibrated. On the social app, an account with a two-dimensional character as its avatar sent a message: "The abandoned small art studio at the end of the fourth floor, come quickly."

Huang Mao raised an eyebrow and typed back: "Received."

Although he hadn't gone out in the classroom earlier, he had heard the gist of it. This girl's mental fortitude was even stronger than he had imagined.

He arrived at the fourth floor and pushed open the dusty wooden door. The classroom was piled with abandoned easels and plaster statues. Leng Qingxuan was leaning against an old desk, holding a bottle of Oolong tea she had just bought from a vending machine.

Seeing Huang Mao enter, her originally tense shoulders instantly slumped, and the "ice-cold goddess" mask on her face shattered along with it.

"I'm exhausted..." Leng Qingxuan unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp, complaining without any regard for her image.

"Are the boys nowadays all filled with paste in their brains? Can't get a girl, so they jump off a building? Where did they learn this logic?"

Huang Mao pulled over a chair and sat down, watching her with great interest: "That scene earlier was quite big; I even thought you were going to call the police."

"Call the police for what? The police would have to take a statement, it's such a hassle." Leng Qingxuan rolled her eyes, "I've encountered people like this since middle school."

"The one back then was even more ridiculous; he stood at the school gate with a fruit knife, saying he'd slit his wrists if I didn't say yes. But before the knife even touched his skin, the security guard took him down with a sweep kick."

She played with the bottle cap in her hand, the corners of her mouth curling into a mocking arc: "People who use their lives as chips to blackmail for affection are the most cowardly."

"Those who really want to die would have quietly found a place to end it long ago; why would they hold a press conference?"

"Indeed." Huang Mao nodded, his fingertips tapping lightly on the desk, "So, are you going at noon?"

"I'm going, why wouldn't I?"

Leng Qingxuan shrugged, a glimmer of cunning flashing in her eyes—the excitement that only appeared when discussing game strategies, "Anyway, I have nothing to do at noon, so I'll just treat it as watching a monkey show. And..."

She stretched out her foot, wearing a small leather shoe, and kicked into the air, "If he really dares to stand on the edge and shiver, I'll give him a helping hand and kick him straight off—just kidding."

Although she said it was a joke, Huang Mao clearly saw a flash of violence in her eyes. It was a destructive desire born from long-term suppression.

"Don't overdo it." Huang Mao put away his smile, his tone becoming slightly more serious, "Although this kind of person is likely bluffing, if their brain short-circuits, they might do anything."

He paused and added: "Besides, the fact that he dares to shout like that in front of everyone shows that he doesn't care about his face. Such shameless people are often the most difficult to deal with."

"Don't worry, I have a sense of propriety." Leng Qingxuan waved her hand, looking confident, "I've already thought about how to roast him. I guarantee I'll make him never dare to go to a rooftop again in his life."

"Do you need my help?"

"No need." Leng Qingxuan refused very crisply, "This is my dungeon, I want to solo it. If I can't even handle this kind of mob, how am I supposed to clear..."

Her words suddenly caught, a flash of red quickly flitted across her face, and then she stiffly changed the subject: "Anyway, just watch."

Huang Mao looked at her "I'm terrifyingly strong" expression and didn't say anything more.

"Alright, then I'll silently wish you success from behind the scenes."

...12:00 PM. The sun hung fiercely overhead.

Below the General Building, it was already crowded with onlookers, and some even had binoculars.

This was the dullness of university life; the slightest disturbance could trigger a tsunami-like crowd.

Leng Qingxuan refused a few girls who hypocritically wanted to accompany her, walked into the elevator alone, and pressed the button for the top floor.

And in every corner of the campus, countless eyes were staring at phone screens.

Huang Mao sat in the corner of the cafeteria, a bowl of beef noodles in front of him.

He held chopsticks in his left hand, swiped open his phone screen with his right, and clicked into a post titled "Charging for Love or Moral Blackmail? Rooftop Showdown Livestream!"

This was organized by those guys in the News Department who feared the world wouldn't be chaotic enough; it was said they specifically used a drone for high-definition streaming.

The popularity of the livestream room had exploded, and the comments were flying by fast.

"Bet 50 cents, that guy won't jump."

"Will the campus belle really come?"

"This guy is disgusting, if he can't get her, he destroys her?"

"Does anyone need to order takeout? Enter 114514 on Taobao to get a big coupon!"

"Is that really a coupon, bro?"

In the video, the wind on the rooftop was strong, blowing the clothes of the boy named Wang Hao, making them flap loudly.

He stood on the concrete railing at the edge of the rooftop, swaying, looking truly creepy.

Just then, the heavy iron door of the rooftop was pushed open.

The camera zoomed in.

Leng Qingxuan's figure appeared on the screen.

The wind messed up her long hair, but it couldn't disturb the almost cruel calmness on her face.

She didn't stop at a safe distance and shout "Don't" like in TV dramas, but instead walked step by step, unhurriedly, toward the person standing on the edge of the cliff.

It was like she was walking toward a prisoner waiting to be executed.

In front of the screen, Huang Mao slurped a mouthful of noodles, his eyes narrowing slightly.