ICFF4CN - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Delivering the Jacket

Wen Xiao truly hadn't expected to find such a "private exclusive zone" in the school's public gymnasium.

But he quickly realized—the person before him was most likely one of the childhood F4.

And in his memory, only one person had this hair and eye color—Leng Shucheng.

As a cannon fodder character from the original story, he was all too familiar with the F4's so-called "exclusive privileges." After all, the families behind the F4 were the school's biggest "sponsors." For all he knew, this entire gymnasium might have been donated by the Leng family.

Moreover, the prestige of the four great families wasn't built in a single generation. Their wealth and influence, accumulated over decades or even centuries, far surpassed that of ordinary families.

Leng Shucheng draped a towel over his shoulder and was about to head to the locker room.

Despite his short stature, he walked with an arrogant swagger, as if he were attending a royal ball rather than just crossing a gym.

Even as a child, he carried such an overwhelming sense of self-importance... Truly, the F4 were in a league of their own.

Once Wen Xiao figured out his identity, he had no interest in staying. He glanced down at his damp clothes, feeling a pang of irritation.

Had he known he'd run into Leng Shucheng, he would never have stepped inside.

Having crouched for too long, his legs were slightly numb. He took a moment to steady himself, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Leng Shucheng—who had just passed by—suddenly slip and lurch straight toward him.

His eyes widened. There was no time to react. Only one thought flashed through his mind:

If Leng Shucheng crashed into him and they both hit the ground, he might end up with a fracture...

For that split second, time seemed to slow.

Wen Xiao could almost see the same shock and disbelief reflected in Leng Shucheng's eyes.

Then, helplessly, he watched as Leng Shucheng twisted his body at the last moment, landing heavily beside him with a pained grunt.

Leng Shucheng had fallen sideways, curling up like a boiled shrimp after impact.

It was clear—if Leng Shucheng hadn't forced himself to veer off course, Wen Xiao would have been the one smashed into the floor. And Leng Shucheng wouldn't have been hurt this badly.

Wen Xiao stared at the golden-haired boy's pained, clenched-jaw expression, his own face turning even paler than if he'd been the one who fell.

Why had Leng Shucheng done that?

The boy's damp blond hair clung messily to his face, making him look as disheveled as a fish gasping for water.

Fragmented images suddenly flickered through Wen Xiao's mind—unbidden associations triggered by the face before him.

In his past life, he had been a malicious cannon fodder character in the novel. Recalling those memories now, they felt both familiar and distant.

Familiar, because every experience was vividly preserved in his mind—he remembered every sensation.

Distant, because according to the original plot, he had been jealous of the protagonist, resorting to petty schemes for attention, like a puppet controlled by unseen strings.

But now that he had "awakened," why wasn't he happy?

The shadows of his past life still haunted him. Perhaps rebirth wasn't truly an "escape."

He remembered when his family went bankrupt, leaving his parents unable to afford his tuition. He had been forced to withdraw from St. Laurent Academy, with only one thought in mind—he couldn't let himself be expelled in disgrace.

Just then, he had spotted a black car parked by the roadside, surrounded by noise.

Wen Xiao turned around and saw Leng Shucheng, who always drew attention wherever he went, descending the steps with the grace and elegance of a classical gentleman. Yet his expression remained as cold as the depths of winter.

His gaze never wavered, as if no one else was worthy of even a glance.

But back then, Wen Xiao had seemed blind to Leng Shucheng's icy arrogance.

All he could think was that the Leng family were school trustees. They were classmates, and if Leng Shucheng, as the heir of the Leng family, wanted him to stay, it would take just one word.

He stepped forward and pressed his hands against the car window, pleading in a voice so unfamiliar to himself, begging Leng Shucheng to help him out of their shared bond as classmates.

The person inside the car didn't even spare him a glance.

Leng Shucheng had a book resting on his lap, his arm casually propped on the window ledge, his hand idly supporting his cheek. After a long silence, he finally uttered his first words: "Drive."

The car pulled away, and Wen Xiao, caught off balance by the motion, fell to the ground, injuring his leg and getting a face full of exhaust fumes. Then came the rain, followed by a high fever. Left untreated, even a minor illness could spiral into something serious.

Wen Xiao snapped out of these harrowing memories to the sound of the young Leng Shucheng's quiet, labored breathing.

The boy lay on the ground, his emerald-green eyes wide open. Despite the obvious pain, he stubbornly refused to cry for help.

Wen Xiao abruptly stood up, took several steps back, then turned and ran outside.

He ran faster than he ever had before, as if leaving the past far behind him.

Only by emptying his mind like this did he feel truly alive—not as a puppet, not as cannon fodder, but as himself.

And he could make his own choices, even if it meant turning a blind eye...

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he happened to run into the gym teacher. Wen Xiao immediately grabbed his sleeve, gasping for breath, and said, "Leng Shucheng... he fell in the swimming pool."

If Leng Shucheng was injured, especially with a possible fracture, he shouldn't be moved carelessly. Improper handling could lead to misalignment and malunion. This was best left to the teachers and the school medical staff.

The blond boy lying on the ground watched Wen Xiao's retreating figure before closing his eyes again, as if that would dull the pain.

He had just told him to leave immediately.

But he didn't keep his eyes shut for long before hearing hurried footsteps.

The next moment, the teacher rushed in with the school nurse in tow. They carefully lifted him onto a stretcher and performed emergency first aid.

Leng Shucheng didn't fully process what was happening until he was carried into the infirmary. He listened as the nurse examined him: "Mild fracture in the right arm, sprained right foot. Thankfully, it was discovered in time and he wasn't moved recklessly, or it could've been much worse."

Wen Xiao leaned against the wall outside the infirmary, watching the teachers and nurse bustling around Leng Shucheng, before turning to leave.

If Leng Shucheng hadn't dodged at the last moment, more than one person would have been hurt.

He didn't want to owe anyone a favor, especially not one of the F4.

***

As expected, Leng Shucheng didn't return to class afterward. Rumor had it he had been taken home to recuperate.

Wen Xiao stared at the two empty desks in front of him, guessing one belonged to Leng Shucheng and the other to the last member of the group he hadn't met yet. Strangely, Song Jingbai was also absent.

He turned his head and saw Huo Zhanyan glaring at him from two tables away.

Wen Xiao was instantly irritated by the sight of his face and chose to ignore him, focusing instead on the history teacher who had just entered the classroom.

She was a middle-aged woman with glasses, her long hair pinned up high, wearing a classic dark green dress.

"Huo Zhanyan, pay attention to the blackboard, not your classmates." Huo Zhanyan was tall and stood out even in the back row, making him an immediate target for the teacher's reprimand. "Come up and answer this question."

Huo Zhanyan reluctantly stood up. Wen Xiao had assumed someone who looked like a troublemaker like Huo Zhanyan wouldn't be able to answer anything, but surprisingly, he responded coherently.

After finishing, Huo Zhanyan even flashed Wen Xiao a triumphant grin, looking unbearably smug.

Wen Xiao didn't get it—what was so impressive about answering a single question?

Still, the question had been about modern history, and though it was elementary, the fact that Huo Zhanyan knew the answer at all was unexpected.

It was like suddenly seeing a pig climb a tree—not only climbing it but then giving him a victory sign from the branches.

But when he thought about the Huo family, Wen Xiao had to attribute it to inherited knowledge.

His gaze drifted to the empty desk beside him, and he couldn't help but recall how Song Jingbai had reminded him before class not to be late—only for him to end up tardy instead.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Wen Xiao saw Song Jingbai appear at the door. "Sorry, teacher, I'm late."

His face always carried a sunny smile, making it hard for anyone to stay angry at him for being late.

The teacher glanced at him. "Take your seat. Come to my office after class."

As soon as Song Jingbai sat down, he handed Wen Xiao a brand-new school jacket. "Your uniform—it's wet."

Wen Xiao looked down at his own jacket. Though damp, the wet spot wasn't large, and it was still wearable. Most people wouldn't even notice.

"No need..." He averted his eyes but couldn't stop himself from wondering.

Earlier, everyone had been bustling around because of Leng Shucheng's fall, and all the chatter had been about him—so why had Song Jingbai still noticed Wen Xiao?

"This one's new, never worn." Seeing Wen Xiao's hesitation, Song Jingbai added, "If you don't want to catch a cold, you should wear it."

Wen Xiao swallowed his refusal. He really didn't want to get sick.

His body had just recovered from a serious illness and was still weak, with low immunity. What if he actually caught a cold?

There was another reason—he didn't want to risk his family being called if he got a fever. Or maybe, deep down, he didn't want to trouble those unfamiliar relatives of his.

Wen Xiao blinked, realizing that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't clearly recall his family's faces. Though they were blood relatives, in his memory, they felt like strangers.

Restrained, distant—he had never felt any warmth from them.

Not wanting to fall ill was just his way of avoiding the pain of being ignored by them, of refusing to face their indifference.

So, as long as he didn't get sick, everything would be fine.

Song Jingbai's smile deepened slightly as Wen Xiao took the jacket, silently confirming his earlier suspicion. Back in the gymnasium, he had seen Wen Xiao and Huo Zhanyan locked in a standoff from afar.

He thought Wen Xiao wanted to throw the ball back, just like how he'd fight with Huo Zhanyan.

Regardless of why Wen Xiao disliked him, they both shared the same sore spot neither wanted touched.

That being—family.

Wen Xiao turned his head away, silently removing his soaked jacket and putting on a new one.

"Why do you have a spare jacket?"

Wen Xiao found it strange—indescribably so—how Song Jingbai sat beside him watching intently as he changed clothes. His smile seemed warmer than usual too, so Wen Xiao casually changed the subject.

"I'm a boarding student, so I keep spare clothes in my dorm."

Song Jingbai said it lightly, his smile unchanged, but Wen Xiao was surprised. Song Jingbai had just started elementary school—why was he already boarding? It wasn't like the Song family lacked people.

"Students in the back row? I never noticed our class was so united and friendly," the teacher remarked.

During class, Huo Zhanyan's eyes might as well have been glued to someone else instead of the blackboard. Now two more students were huddled together—changing clothes and whispering without even opening their books.

Harmony among classmates was important, but classroom discipline mattered more.

"After class, all three of you—come to the office."

Finally, school ended. Wen Xiao followed the crowd out of the building but lingered near the entrance, worried he'd run into that nuisance Huo Zhanyan again. So he headed toward the flower beds by the square.

He didn't know how to get home or if anyone would come to pick him up.

Memories from his past life only covered the three years of high school mentioned in the book—everything before that was blank.

After all, as a cannon fodder character, his "life" only lasted those three years.

"Meow~"

A soft cat sound reached his ears. Wen Xiao looked down to see a small orange kitten peeking out from the flower bed. The moment it noticed him watching, it quickly ducked back in.

It looked like a kitten, barely weaned. The nearby bushes rustled slightly as the orange blur darted away behind the flower bed.

Curious and a little charmed by the kitten, Wen Xiao hesitated before deciding to investigate.

Circling the flower bed, he found neatly trimmed decorative shrubs forming a low green wall, about chest-height.

The meowing came from behind this "green wall."

Taking a few steps forward, Wen Xiao spotted someone crouched there.

The figure was small and thin, easily hidden behind the bushes. Their black hair was slightly long, partially obscuring their eyes, giving off a gloomy, reclusive vibe.

In their palm lay a handful of cat food, with several kittens gathered around licking it.

Noticing Wen Xiao's approach, a pair of dark eyes peered through the strands of hair—silent but unmistakably warning him to leave.

Leave? Because of these kittens?

Wen Xiao stared at the kittens on the ground, then at the glaring child, before a ridiculous thought struck him.

Afraid he'd steal the kittens' food? Did this kid think he was some overprotective mother cat?

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