Chapter 29 Trapped in the Corner by Ji Xian

On Monday, it was Ji Xian’s birthday.

In university, seats were usually not assigned, but for the first three periods of the Securities Investment course, students had to sit according to their student numbers. Many people had already found out his exact seat through campus social media.

At this very moment, a mountain of love letters and gifts was piled high on his desk, with no more room left, and even the floor was covered in flowers. It was a spectacle of excess.

The boys in his class all looked on with envy: “Impressive, Young Master Ji really lives up to his reputation as the untouchable beauty of Jing University—the cool, aloof campus heartthrob.”

Yet Ji Xian approached his desk with an impassive expression, unwrapping each exquisitely packaged gift one by one. Whenever he saw the sender’s name, his brow furrowed slightly.

None of them.

Not a single one.

Not her card nor her scarf.

Ji Xian’s face turned abruptly cold as he glanced at Yu Wenjian nearby, his voice low and heavy: “Return all of these.”

As always, he refused to accept anything.

Yu Wenjian, ever eager to please, bustled over to gather and sort through the gifts, searching here and there, but still found nothing from Qiao Zhen.

What the hell—how could she be so indifferent?

As he tidied up, he looked up and asked, “What about the ones without a name?”

Ji Xian replied calmly, “Throw them away.”

A few boys gathered around him, craning their necks to peer at his desk, a trace of surprise in their voices: “Where’s Qiao Zhen’s scarf? Hasn’t she brought it yet?”

Oblivious to the tension, another boy continued, “Wait, wasn’t last year’s gift from Qiao Zhen a watch? Seriously, an eight or nine hundred yuan cheap watch—can’t believe she had the nerve to give that!”

The next second, he felt the air around him grow cold, a chill sweeping over everything.

Ji Xian’s pale eyes flashed with frost, his face visibly darkening as he stared at the boy.

The boy shivered under his gaze.

“…What did I say wrong?”

The Securities Investment class ended, and students began to pack up.

A pretty girl from their class took a deep breath, smoothed her parted bangs, and mustered her courage to step forward, cheeks flushed as she confessed, “Ji Xian, I like—”

But before she could finish, Ji Xian walked away, face like cold marble, as if he couldn’t bear to stay another second.

The girl’s heart shattered on the spot.

Yu Wenjian hurried after him, following his brisk pace. “Young Master Ji, where are we going?”

This wasn’t the way to the cafeteria—and judging by his expression, he looked as if…

He was off to demand an explanation.

The classroom was empty and silent.

Qiao Zhen sat at her desk, preparing for the university English competition. All her classmates from the same major had already left; she was the only one left in the room.

After finishing a set of practice questions, she packed her bag, taking advantage of the empty halls to leave at a leisurely pace, debating what to have for lunch.

Rounding a corner, several looming shadows suddenly fell over her, like storm clouds swiftly gathering.

Sensing something off, Qiao Zhen’s lashes trembled. She looked up sharply.

Ji Xian and three or four others were striding toward her.

Qiao Zhen froze, instinctively taking a step back and lowering her head, hoping they wouldn’t notice her.

But it was clear they’d come for her. They nearly surrounded her, forming an impenetrable wall.

She kept retreating until her back hit the cold tiles, cornered, her face wary and resistant.

It was this guarded resistance that stung Ji Xian’s eyes the most.

The boys, all tall, stared down at her, closing in with a silent, suffocating pressure. Even the air felt thin, hard to breathe.

Qiao Zhen tried to leave, but they blocked her path—completely.

There were security cameras in the teaching building; they probably wouldn’t actually do anything. Still, Qiao Zhen’s heart pounded with unease.

Ji Xian stood before her, his skin cold and fair, nose straight, features elegant, exuding a natural, frosty arrogance.

He said nothing, as if waiting for a reasonable explanation.

Qiao Zhen felt a chill run through her.

He was always like this.

Whether in this life or the last, he always stood apart, aloof and untouchable, never willing to speak first, always expecting others to chase after him for the slightest hint of warmth.

She no longer liked him, no longer carried a secret crush, yet he kept appearing before her.

Qiao Zhen tilted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze with calm equanimity, her voice steady and composed, neither humble nor arrogant: “Move.”

She would never make the same mistake again, would never trail after him in humiliation as she had in her previous life.

Seven years before; two years now; it was all just a farce…

But Ji Xian didn’t move, still blocking her, his gaze sharp, his handsome face colder than before.

The two stood locked in a silent standoff, neither speaking.

Yu Wenjian couldn’t hold back any longer, his tone cocky and disdainful: “Qiao Zhen, why did you block us, huh? Not answering our calls—what’s your deal?!”

Leaning against the cold tiles, Qiao Zhen lowered her eyes, her voice quiet yet resolute:

“I told you, we have nothing to do with each other anymore.”

Not now, and not ever.

Yu Wenjian opened his mouth to retort, but one look from Ji Xian silenced him.

Ji Xian took a step forward, closing the distance until he was almost touching her.

A cold, menacing aura radiated from him; his eyes, sharp as blades, glinted with silver as he enunciated each word: “Tell me, who do you have nothing to do with?”

Ji Xian was always perfectly in control of his emotions, a calm surface hiding unfathomable depths.

But now, his mood was unmistakably foul.

Qiao Zhen had never seen him like this; it sent a shiver down her spine.

She tried to slip away through a gap between the other boys.

Without Ji Xian’s order, none of them dared lay a hand on her.

She broke through their “human wall” and dashed for the stairs.

The next moment, her wrist was seized in a vice-like grip.

Ji Xian, who had always hated physical contact—every time they’d held hands in the past, it had been Qiao Zhen who initiated, and he’d never once reached for her himself—now gripped her slender, pale wrist, pinning her in place.

“Ah—” Qiao Zhen sucked in a breath. The harder she struggled, the tighter his hold became.

The difference in strength between men and women was stark; it felt as though her bones were about to be crushed. Her mind went blank, and a wave of revulsion swept over her. “Let go!”

Ji Xian stared at her intently. The girl’s eyes were still beautiful and clear, but gone was the joy and hope they once held. Now they were calm, still, like the surface of a tranquil lake—utterly unmoved.

It shouldn’t be like this… She shouldn’t be so calm, so indifferent, so devoid of any lingering attachment!

Unseen, something was slipping from Ji Xian’s grasp, and he didn’t even realize it.

He drew a deep breath, his voice dropping to a frosty whisper, every word squeezed out between clenched teeth: “Qiao Zhen, stop being unreasonable.”

Smack—

In the next instant, someone rushed over, forcefully knocking Ji Xian’s hand away.

Qin Yichi pulled Qiao Zhen into his arms, his eyes on Ji Xian fierce and thunderous, his tone dark and threatening: “Get lost. Don’t touch her.”