Chapter 13: Tabloids Are the Best Snack
“You’re still experiencing frequent insomnia at night?”
“More or less.”
“What do you think is causing it at this stage?”
“Didn’t you just ask me that last time?”
“Yes. So it’s still because of your mother?”
Silence.
“Your mother’s death had a very significant impact on you, and you still haven’t been able to let go, is that right?”
Silence again.
“I actually think that’s a very normal emotional response. You don’t need to feel pressured because of it.”
“It’s fine.”
“But from what you’ve described, I feel the reason isn’t just that. It’s probably more complex, more intertwined.”
“Maybe.”
“Are you close with your father? Do you remember how he reacted after your mother passed away?”
“No reaction. My dad died earlier.”
“…I see. Then how was your parents’ relationship?”
“Pretty good.” After a pause, he added casually, “Very lovey-dovey. It was a whirlwind marriage.”
“There’s something I’d like to confirm. Would your father’s death have had any impact on your mother?”
After another long silence—just when the counselor was about to change the subject—the boy lazily replied:
“What does that have to do with you?”
Counselor: “?”
He was so bewildered he forgot the next question he’d planned to ask.
What does that have to do with me? In all his years of practice, this was the first time a client had asked him that.
No matter how he tried to continue, the boy remained silent. The session couldn’t proceed, but the hefty consultation fee had already been paid. Upholding the principle that the customer is king, the counselor politely smoothed things over and personally saw him out.
—
“I recommended that counselor to you. Did you try him? Did he touch your soul?” Yu Bai leaned over, fishing for praise.
Gu Yang paused while pulling out a book, then replied lazily, “What could he possibly do? Talks in circles. One question takes three detours. The last one was more interesting.”
“At least he swung a pocket watch in front of me to make me laugh. And told me to imagine a big rock in my mind and use my thoughts to push it away.”
“Oh? Which clinic was that? I’ve never met a quack like that. Send me his contact—I want to try,” Ye Chen’s eyes lit up.
“I have his contact. I’ll forward it to you,” He Ming’an said helplessly. “A’Yang laughed too hard at the time and got blocked on the spot. The counselor refused to take his case.”
“And he wasn’t a quack. He practices psychoanalysis. Has a solid professional reputation.”
“Class monitor, are you in therapy too?” Yu Bai asked curiously.
“Mm.” He Ming’an smiled. “It’s basically just paying someone to listen to you vent. No harm in that.”
“That’s true. Who doesn’t have some crap they can’t figure out?” Yu Bai slapped his thigh. “The counselor I recommended to Gu Yang is amazing. Just a few sentences and he pinpoints your problem. Every time I leave, I feel refreshed—like I’ve been reborn.”
“That exaggerated?” Gu Yang snorted. “Aren’t they all the same?”
“I think the problem isn’t the counselor—it’s you two,” Yu Bai sighed, mimicking Gu Yang’s tone. “No matter what he asks, you’d just say ‘more or less,’ ‘maybe,’ or ‘what does that have to do with you.’”
Gu Yang: “…”
“Shut up,” Gu Yang muttered, burying his face in his arms. “There’s not that much to talk about.”
“But A’Yang,” He Ming’an said softly, low enough that only he could hear, “you can’t keep everything locked inside forever. Those things will trap you. Keep you stuck.”
“If there’s even the slightest desire for freedom, deep down you’ll secretly hope someone can know your past. Understand why you’re in pain.”
His gaze shifted slightly. “Even if the process is humiliating.”
A ringtone cut him off completely.
“Almost forgot!” Ye Chen turned off his alarm. “Cheng Zishi is releasing a new album today.”
“Do you really need to set an alarm for that? Are you secretly obsessed with him?” Xie Wu teased.
“Don’t entertainers care about sales? First-hour stats, 24-hour numbers.” Ye Chen grinned, opening Weibo. “Just imagining him with that deadpan face refreshing the numbers over and over is hilarious.”
Xie Wu rolled his eyes—but before he could reply, Ye Chen suddenly exclaimed:
“Gu Yang, why are you trending too?”
“What?” Yu Bai grabbed his phone. Ye Chen had already sent the link to their group chat.
The trending topic was simply: [Guanli High School].
The top post was from a marketing account exposing “a wealthy family’s hidden secrets.”
It used initials. A certain wealthy G-family had two brothers who turned against each other over a woman.
According to the post:
The older brother met a woman while studying abroad and confirmed their relationship. After returning home, the younger brother also fell for her at first sight. Conflict followed. Before the wedding, the older brother died in a car accident. The woman became a widow. Later she was found to be pregnant and, under the younger brother’s care, gave birth to a son.
The timing of the pregnancy was awkward. Several elders in the G family demanded a DNA test—but for unknown reasons, it was dropped. The child’s identity became suspicious.
Scandal was always irresistible.
Comments flooded in:
“Sister-in-law, open the door, I’m my brother (dog emoji).”
“Where’s the rest? Don’t drop half the gossip!”
“So whose kid is it? The brother? The younger brother? The neighbor?”
“How is this linked to Guanli High School? Isn’t that a famous private school?”
“I’m from Guanli. I think I’ve heard this. G is just the initial? Anyone want to compare notes?”
Yu Bai stared at Gu Yang, who was quietly scrolling.
He quickly tried to smooth things over. “Haha, these trash media accounts. Just make stuff up, buy a trending tag, make dirty money. Who knows if it’s even real…”
“It is. That’s me,” Gu Yang said calmly.
“…Huh?” Yu Bai’s mouth fell open. “Is that something you can just say?”
“They all know. It’s been gossip for years,” Gu Yang said evenly, pointing at each of them in turn. Every person he pointed at avoided his gaze.
“Oh. So… is it true?” Yu Bai asked stupidly, then wished he could slap himself.
“Didn’t the post say it? I was an embryo at the time. If you’re asking me, who am I supposed to ask?”
Yu Bai hurriedly lowered his head to his phone—only to see someone posting a blurry photo in Moments.
In the photo, a boy in Guanli’s autumn uniform—silver-gray shirt, navy sweater vest. The ordinary outfit looked striking on him. His pale side profile was delicate, but his eyes were hidden beneath his hair.
Even without a full face, anyone who knew him could tell—it was Gu Yang. The angle clearly came from someone in their own class.
“Oh wow. Could someone in our class have leaked this?” Ye Chen said, delighted by the chaos.
He glanced at Shen Mingjun, who was still reading quietly. “Doesn’t your family run a PR firm? You know this stuff.”
Shen Mingjun’s pen paused. His hand under the desk tightened until his knuckles whitened.
“What does that have to do with me? I haven’t taken over the company. And I’m not interested in that crap.”
He’d had enough trouble lately. His mother’s sister had moved in with her son. He’d objected, but his mother was soft-hearted, and his father unusually welcoming.
He remembered clearly—Gu Yang’s inner voice had once said he and Yu Zhou were half-brothers.
There was only one implication.
He didn’t dare think about it.
“Don’t know? Or pretending not to know?” Ye Chen’s smile turned sharp.
Shen Mingjun sneered. “Why play word games? If you don’t want people talking, maybe behave yourself.”
He aimed at Ye Chen—but the blade pointed at Gu Yang.
“How should I behave?” Gu Yang’s tone sharpened, cutting through his usual detached haze. “Like you and your mother?”
Shen Mingjun’s expression changed drastically.
Before he could respond, a thought echoed in the classroom:
[Later in the plot, Zhou Qinqin still occasionally ends up in bed with Shen Shan. What a legend.]
The final self-deception shattered.
Shen Mingjun’s mind exploded with a roar. He lost all strength.
“You’re still experiencing frequent insomnia at night?”
“More or less.”
“What do you think is causing it at this stage?”
“Didn’t you just ask me that last time?”
“Yes. So it’s still because of your mother?”
Silence.
“Your mother’s death had a very significant impact on you, and you still haven’t been able to let go, is that right?”
Silence again.
“I actually think that’s a very normal emotional response. You don’t need to feel pressured because of it.”
“It’s fine.”
“But from what you’ve described, I feel the reason isn’t just that. It’s probably more complex, more intertwined.”
“Maybe.”
“Are you close with your father? Do you remember how he reacted after your mother passed away?”
“No reaction. My dad died earlier.”
“…I see. Then how was your parents’ relationship?”
“Pretty good.” After a pause, he added casually, “Very lovey-dovey. It was a whirlwind marriage.”
“There’s something I’d like to confirm. Would your father’s death have had any impact on your mother?”
After another long silence—just when the counselor was about to change the subject—the boy lazily replied:
“What does that have to do with you?”
Counselor: “?”
He was so bewildered he forgot the next question he’d planned to ask.
What does that have to do with me? In all his years of practice, this was the first time a client had asked him that.
No matter how he tried to continue, the boy remained silent. The session couldn’t proceed, but the hefty consultation fee had already been paid. Upholding the principle that the customer is king, the counselor politely smoothed things over and personally saw him out.
—
“I recommended that counselor to you. Did you try him? Did he touch your soul?” Yu Bai leaned over, fishing for praise.
Gu Yang paused while pulling out a book, then replied lazily, “What could he possibly do? Talks in circles. One question takes three detours. The last one was more interesting.”
“At least he swung a pocket watch in front of me to make me laugh. And told me to imagine a big rock in my mind and use my thoughts to push it away.”
“Oh? Which clinic was that? I’ve never met a quack like that. Send me his contact—I want to try,” Ye Chen’s eyes lit up.
“I have his contact. I’ll forward it to you,” He Ming’an said helplessly. “A’Yang laughed too hard at the time and got blocked on the spot. The counselor refused to take his case.”
“And he wasn’t a quack. He practices psychoanalysis. Has a solid professional reputation.”
“Class monitor, are you in therapy too?” Yu Bai asked curiously.
“Mm.” He Ming’an smiled. “It’s basically just paying someone to listen to you vent. No harm in that.”
“That’s true. Who doesn’t have some crap they can’t figure out?” Yu Bai slapped his thigh. “The counselor I recommended to Gu Yang is amazing. Just a few sentences and he pinpoints your problem. Every time I leave, I feel refreshed—like I’ve been reborn.”
“That exaggerated?” Gu Yang snorted. “Aren’t they all the same?”
“I think the problem isn’t the counselor—it’s you two,” Yu Bai sighed, mimicking Gu Yang’s tone. “No matter what he asks, you’d just say ‘more or less,’ ‘maybe,’ or ‘what does that have to do with you.’”
Gu Yang: “…”
“Shut up,” Gu Yang muttered, burying his face in his arms. “There’s not that much to talk about.”
“But A’Yang,” He Ming’an said softly, low enough that only he could hear, “you can’t keep everything locked inside forever. Those things will trap you. Keep you stuck.”
“If there’s even the slightest desire for freedom, deep down you’ll secretly hope someone can know your past. Understand why you’re in pain.”
His gaze shifted slightly. “Even if the process is humiliating.”
A ringtone cut him off completely.
“Almost forgot!” Ye Chen turned off his alarm. “Cheng Zishi is releasing a new album today.”
“Do you really need to set an alarm for that? Are you secretly obsessed with him?” Xie Wu teased.
“Don’t entertainers care about sales? First-hour stats, 24-hour numbers.” Ye Chen grinned, opening Weibo. “Just imagining him with that deadpan face refreshing the numbers over and over is hilarious.”
Xie Wu rolled his eyes—but before he could reply, Ye Chen suddenly exclaimed:
“Gu Yang, why are you trending too?”
“What?” Yu Bai grabbed his phone. Ye Chen had already sent the link to their group chat.
The trending topic was simply: [Guanli High School].
The top post was from a marketing account exposing “a wealthy family’s hidden secrets.”
It used initials. A certain wealthy G-family had two brothers who turned against each other over a woman.
According to the post:
The older brother met a woman while studying abroad and confirmed their relationship. After returning home, the younger brother also fell for her at first sight. Conflict followed. Before the wedding, the older brother died in a car accident. The woman became a widow. Later she was found to be pregnant and, under the younger brother’s care, gave birth to a son.
The timing of the pregnancy was awkward. Several elders in the G family demanded a DNA test—but for unknown reasons, it was dropped. The child’s identity became suspicious.
Scandal was always irresistible.
Comments flooded in:
“Sister-in-law, open the door, I’m my brother (dog emoji).”
“Where’s the rest? Don’t drop half the gossip!”
“So whose kid is it? The brother? The younger brother? The neighbor?”
“How is this linked to Guanli High School? Isn’t that a famous private school?”
“I’m from Guanli. I think I’ve heard this. G is just the initial? Anyone want to compare notes?”
Yu Bai stared at Gu Yang, who was quietly scrolling.
He quickly tried to smooth things over. “Haha, these trash media accounts. Just make stuff up, buy a trending tag, make dirty money. Who knows if it’s even real…”
“It is. That’s me,” Gu Yang said calmly.
“…Huh?” Yu Bai’s mouth fell open. “Is that something you can just say?”
“They all know. It’s been gossip for years,” Gu Yang said evenly, pointing at each of them in turn. Every person he pointed at avoided his gaze.
“Oh. So… is it true?” Yu Bai asked stupidly, then wished he could slap himself.
“Didn’t the post say it? I was an embryo at the time. If you’re asking me, who am I supposed to ask?”
Yu Bai hurriedly lowered his head to his phone—only to see someone posting a blurry photo in Moments.
In the photo, a boy in Guanli’s autumn uniform—silver-gray shirt, navy sweater vest. The ordinary outfit looked striking on him. His pale side profile was delicate, but his eyes were hidden beneath his hair.
Even without a full face, anyone who knew him could tell—it was Gu Yang. The angle clearly came from someone in their own class.
“Oh wow. Could someone in our class have leaked this?” Ye Chen said, delighted by the chaos.
He glanced at Shen Mingjun, who was still reading quietly. “Doesn’t your family run a PR firm? You know this stuff.”
Shen Mingjun’s pen paused. His hand under the desk tightened until his knuckles whitened.
“What does that have to do with me? I haven’t taken over the company. And I’m not interested in that crap.”
He’d had enough trouble lately. His mother’s sister had moved in with her son. He’d objected, but his mother was soft-hearted, and his father unusually welcoming.
He remembered clearly—Gu Yang’s inner voice had once said he and Yu Zhou were half-brothers.
There was only one implication.
He didn’t dare think about it.
“Don’t know? Or pretending not to know?” Ye Chen’s smile turned sharp.
Shen Mingjun sneered. “Why play word games? If you don’t want people talking, maybe behave yourself.”
He aimed at Ye Chen—but the blade pointed at Gu Yang.
“How should I behave?” Gu Yang’s tone sharpened, cutting through his usual detached haze. “Like you and your mother?”
Shen Mingjun’s expression changed drastically.
Before he could respond, a thought echoed in the classroom:
[Later in the plot, Zhou Qinqin still occasionally ends up in bed with Shen Shan. What a legend.]
The final self-deception shattered.
Shen Mingjun’s mind exploded with a roar. He lost all strength.
