Men's Dormitory, Building Three, Room B206.
A sticker was plastered across the dorm door:
BROTHERHOOD TERRITORY. ENTER AND GET WRECKED.
Every time Ethan Moore came back and saw it, he felt a wave of secondhand embarrassment wash over him.
He had been firmly against putting that thing on the door.
Unfortunately, the dorm didn't run on his opinion alone. Besides him, the other three had all voted in favor.
Three roommates.
One was a muscle-bound guy named Mike Turner, also known as Big Mike.
One was a glasses-wearing guy who spent every day on voice calls with his online girlfriend, Chris Nolan, nicknamed Chris.
The last one was… a heavyweight presence. Sweet, oddly delicate in demeanor. Sam Reed, affectionately called Sister Sam.
Ethan couldn't help recalling move-in day. The first time he saw Sam, he genuinely wondered if he'd walked into the women's dorm by mistake.
"…Sigh."
Suppressing the urge to rip the sticker off the door, Ethan pushed it open.
The sharp clatter of a blue-switch mechanical keyboard filled the room.
Mike was shirtless, fingers flying across the keyboard as he shouted into his headset.
"What the hell are you doing, Hutao?! Swinging a greatsword from the back like that? I tanked three executions for you! You don't ult, you don't peel—what the hell are you even playing?!"
Simple trash talk. Maximum emotional release.
After venting, Mike's mood visibly improved. He turned around.
"Oh, Ethan. You're back."
"Where are the other two?" Ethan asked, glancing at the two upper bunks.
One set of bed curtains was pink and white, like a princess room.
The other was aggressively gold, with three bold words printed across it:
IMPERIAL PALACE.
"No need to look," Mike said. "They just went out. You eat yet?"
"Yeah."
Ethan climbed onto his bed and lay down.
"What was up with you this afternoon?" Mike asked. "You looked like you woke up from a nightmare."
"I'm fine."
Ethan pulled out his phone and sent Lena a message.
The message basically asked her to get Professor Vaughn's contact from Professor Harper.
Lena replied with a sticker and told him to wait.
Time passed quietly.
Two and a half hours later, Lena finally sent over Clara Vaughn's contact.
At the same moment, the class group chat notification popped up.
@Everyone: The schedule is out. Go take a look.
Ethan tapped it.
The instant he saw the name Clara Vaughn, his heart dropped halfway.
No wonder his eyelid had been twitching on the way back.
He rolled over and stared blankly at the ceiling.
"Hey, hey—Ethan! Ethan!" Mike slapped the underside of his bed excitedly. "Look at the group chat!"
"I don't have the energy," Ethan muttered. "I just want to be alone."
"What? It's not even that late and you're already depressed?" Mike rambled on. "They're saying our piano performance professor is a super hot woman!"
Ethan already knew who they were talking about.
First-year piano majors had group courses like sight-singing and music history.
But piano performance was different.
That course was one-on-one.
And Clara Vaughn was his instructor.
"Holy shit!" Mike suddenly shouted, nearly giving Ethan a heart attack.
"Someone posted her ID photo in the group! Name's Clara Vaughn! Piano performance professor!"
Ethan felt cold all over.
He didn't even feel like picking up his phone.
Mike, meanwhile, was bouncing around the dorm like he'd won the lottery.
"If she were my teacher, I swear I'd study like my life depended on it! No skipping, no being late! Academic excellence! Strive for greatness!"
If it were anyone else, Ethan knew he'd probably feel the same.
With a heavy heart, he copied the contact Lena sent and tapped Add Friend.
An apology first. Admit fault. Maybe she'd be lenient.
Due to the user's privacy settings, you cannot add this contact.
Ethan stared at the screen, speechless.
Another path just got cut off.
He switched screens in irritation.
In just two or three minutes, the class group chat hit 99+ messages.
- Holy shit, she's like a goddess.
- Better looking than celebrities.
- Take out "some," she's the best-looking woman I've ever seen.
- It's just an ID photo, could be photoshopped.
- Still probably gorgeous in real life.
Ethan glanced twice, then switched back to the messaging app.
That was when a heartbroken scream echoed from below.
"NO—WHY?! WHY IS MY PROFESSIONAL INSTRUCTOR AN OLD MAN?!"
Mike clutched his chest, staring at his phone in disbelief.
At the same time, the group chat exploded again.
- Why am I not Professor Vaughn's student?!
- Same here. I didn't get her either.
- LOL maybe she didn't want a bunch of guys distracted in class.
Mike took a deep breath and calmed down.
"Man… Ethan, we celebrated too early. With so many instructors, looks like Professor Vaughn is someone we can only admire from afar."
"Nice phrasing," Ethan said, giving him a thumbs-up.
Mike squinted at him. "Why do you look so dead today? Overdid it last night?"
Ethan sighed. "Actually… my professional instructor is Professor Vaughn."
"...What?"
"I said Professor Vaughn is my instructor."
Mike stared at him, stunned.
"Then why the hell are you sighing?! Are you flexing on me right now?! Do you know the group chat says no guys got assigned to her?! Are you humblebragging?!"
"Wait—what?" Ethan sat upright. "Isn't it randomly assigned?"
"It is!" Mike said. "But you're the first guy in our class. The rest are girls."
He slapped his thigh.
"Damn, Ethan. Did you step in dog shit on your way back or something?"
Ethan didn't answer.
Two days later.
Professor Clara Vaughn's name spread rapidly throughout Starfall Conservatory of Music.
For two consecutive days, the confession wall on the campus forum was flooded with photos of her.
Photos of her eating.
Shopping at the convenience store.
Walking across campus.
Most of them were clearly taken in secret, uploaded by students when she wasn't looking.
At first, people were simply trying to identify her, asking which department and class she belonged to.
Someone soon replied in the comments:
"She's Professor Vaughn. Piano department. Major-course instructor."
From there, discussion exploded.
Before long, it was revealed that Professor Vaughn had once been the campus beauty of Harmonia Conservatory back in her student days.
In just two days, everyone on campus knew the name Clara Vaughn.
Ethan Moore stared at his schedule, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
On the very first day of classes, he had a one-on-one major lesson with her.
2:00 p.m.
Piano Building, Room B401.
"Ethan!!" Mike wailed dramatically. "I've been thinking about this for two whole days and I still don't get it. WHY?!"
Ethan gave a dry laugh and spread his hands.
"Bro, you think I want to go? How about you go in my place? Just say your name is Ethan Moore."
"Damn it, you're still flexing at a time like this?!"
"I'm not flexing at all," Ethan said bitterly. He truly didn't know how to explain it. He would rather his instructor be an old man.
"I'm done talking. I'm heading to class."
Ethan stepped out onto the balcony and splashed water on his face.
The wind is bleak, the river cold.
The hero departs, never to return.
He casually shoved a small fruit knife from the dorm into his backpack. On top of that, he'd borrowed pepper spray and chili spray from Lena the night before.
Purely for self-defense.
After leaving the dormitory, Ethan didn't head straight to the piano building.
Instead, he went to the south gate of the campus.
Aside from preparing defensive tools, he had also clenched his teeth and spent thirty dollars at noon ordering a bouquet of white lilies for Clara Vaughn.
Her favorite flower.
Ethan felt his apology was sincere enough. If Professor Vaughn still refused to forgive him after this, then… he had nothing more to say.
He left the dorm at 1:30 p.m.
He reached the south gate at exactly 1:45.
Ethan walked up to the security office and asked the guard on duty.
The guard said he hadn't seen any flower delivery.
Confused, Ethan pulled out his phone and opened the delivery order, which had already been marked as completed.
He'd placed the order at noon. The flower shop was only five kilometers away.
The delivery time and location were clearly listed:
1:30 p.m.
South Gate, Starfall Conservatory.
The order had been completed fifteen minutes earlier.
"Wait—where are my flowers?" Ethan called the delivery driver directly.
"I left them with the security guard at your school," the driver replied.
"Are you sure?" Ethan frowned. "I don't see them."
"I'm sure I left them at the security office."
"…Are you sure you didn't leave them at the north gate?" Ethan asked slowly.
"I followed the GPS," the driver said.
Ethan reopened the order details.
Then his eyes widened.
He'd accidentally set the delivery location to the north gate.
He hung up immediately and checked the time.
1:48 p.m.
Ethan quickly told the south gate guard to keep an eye on his things, then took off running toward the north gate at a speed he'd rarely achieved in his life.
People used to joke that high school was the peak of intelligence, middle school the peak of physical strength, and college the peak of eating.
From the south gate to the north gate, even though Ethan felt like an Olympic sprinter possessed him, it still took ten full minutes.
1:58 p.m.
He finally retrieved the bouquet of white lilies at the north gate.
Then he turned around and ran back.
The piano building was closer to the south gate, which was why he'd chosen that location in the first place.
On the way back, Ethan was completely exhausted, sweat pouring down his face.
2:10 p.m.
Piano Building, Room B401.
Clara Vaughn stared expressionlessly at the clock hanging on the wall of the practice room.
Her very first official lesson as a teacher.
And her student hadn't shown up.
…Forget it.
She stood and sat down at the piano bench.
If the student wasn't coming, she would entertain herself for the duration of the class.
Ding—
The moment her fingers pressed the first key, the door was suddenly shoved open.
Bang—
The impact was so strong the door slammed against the wall.
Clara clicked her tongue in displeasure and turned her head.
Standing there was the gorgeous boy she'd seen two days earlier, looking as if he'd just been hauled out of water.
He wore a white T-shirt, the chest completely soaked through. Beads of sweat slid down his face, his bangs clumped together from moisture.
A backpack hung from his shoulders.
In his hands, he held a bouquet of white lilies.
Did he come straight from a date?
The thought crossed Clara's mind.
Ethan gasped for air.
Dear god, I almost met my great-grandmother.
Despite rushing as hard as he could, he was still over ten minutes late.
"Professor Vaughn."
Clara's outfit today was similar to last time.
White blouse.
Black midi skirt.
Flat shoes.
Simple office attire.
Ethan glanced once, then quickly looked away.
He placed the white lilies onto the piano lid.
"You're late," Clara said coldly. She glanced at the clock. "Twelve minutes."
"I—"
"Don't explain," Clara interrupted. She stood, picked up the ruler resting on the piano, then sat down on the chair beside the bench. "You have thirty-three minutes of class time left. Say whatever you need to say after the lesson."
"…Okay."
Ethan paused, then sat down at the piano bench. He pulled out his textbook and sheet music from his bag.
He placed his backpack at his feet.
If anything went wrong, he'd be ready to grab his defensive tools immediately.
"Play something," Clara said. "Your best piece."
"Yes, Professor."