025 On the Game Called "Senior, You're Amazing"

He thought it was nothing more than an illusion—an unreal image conjured by sunlight inadvertently striking his eyes. In truth, how could such an expression appear in reality?

As Mu Qingcheng gazed at him in confusion, the tall young man before her finally regained his composure. He cleared his throat, slipped one hand into his pocket, straightened his back, and extended the other hand, announcing in a clear voice, “Hello, I’m Qin Beichu, president of the student council.”

“Hello,” she replied.

Yet Mu Qingcheng merely nodded slightly, paying no attention whatsoever to Qin Beichu’s outstretched hand, offered in greeting. Her indifference was so unexpected that the young man withdrew his hand, awkward and at a loss.

Mu Qingcheng had met countless people and could easily discern Qin Beichu’s overflowing self-confidence. Whether it was his looks, his family background, or his status within the school, he took immense pride in it all. He was the very picture of the legendary golden boy, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, ever accustomed to being the center of attention.

Though she did not resent the wealthy, Mu Qingcheng naturally harbored little fondness for such scions of privilege. This boy had likely never truly grown up; he surely had never known genuine hardship. His eyes brimmed with a naive and blind confidence. Even if he was more mature than his peers, to Mu Qingcheng, he was still painfully immature.

But the tall young man before her clearly thought otherwise.

Faced with Mu Qingcheng’s disregard, Qin Beichu smiled with easy charm, exuding a warmth he believed mature and tolerant—the signature concern of an older, caring student. Yet this scene only made a group of girls watching from nearby roll their eyes and mutter in annoyance.

“He’s really clueless, isn’t he?”

“Exactly, she’s so plain but still puts on airs.”

“Why would someone as wonderful as Qin Beichu bother with such an ugly girl?”

Their voices, though not loud, were unmistakable.

“Don’t mind them. Those girls mean no real harm,” Qin Beichu said, still wearing his gentle smile. He turned, coughed lightly, and called out, “Let’s not be like that, everyone. Be a little kinder to the new student, all right?”

At once, the crowd fell silent, though their expressions remained sullen and indignant. Their gazes, sharp as blades, landed on Mu Qingcheng, stirring her irritation. She had no desire to play along with this childish “Senior is so wonderful” charade, but she understood all too well what those starry-eyed girls were thinking.

So she nodded perfunctorily and said offhandedly, “Fine, I understand. So, Qin Beichu, is there something you need from me?”

Qin Beichu hesitated, still unaccustomed to Mu Qingcheng’s distant and unenthusiastic demeanor.

“If there’s nothing else, please return to your group. Don’t hold me up while I choose a horse.”

When he did not respond, Mu Qingcheng’s patience vanished. She simply turned away, intent on examining the stables once more.

“No, I just wanted to—” Qin Beichu began.

But at that moment, a piercing and furious whinny erupted from the row of even larger stables behind the crowd. In its wake came a chorus of thundering hooves and frantic footsteps. The clamor of falling objects resounded, a series of dull thuds reverberating through the air.

Within seconds, the path strewn with bits of straw and stone was suddenly engulfed in swirling dust, a dry, suffocating haze sweeping toward the center of the arena. The crowd was unable to make out what was happening; they could only hear the rapid, fierce drum of hooves.

Yet Mu Qingcheng, who had been calmly choosing a horse, suddenly furrowed her brow. She raised her arm and, with force, shoved the still-dazed Qin Beichu aside, shouting loudly, “Why are you just standing there? Can’t you see the danger?”