Quick Transmigration: Yandere Male Leads? Hand 'Em Over! - Chapter 117

Su Ci replied to his message first, then patiently scrolled through the 99+ unread chat notifications.

No wonder Professor Wen, despite being so picky and demanding, was voted students’ favorite teacher year after year.

Even when dealing with a disrespectful “bad student” like her, Professor Wen Yuli was still endlessly patient and tolerant, thoughtful and thorough in every detail.

He was even worried she might do something drastic over a failed confession—so he planned to sacrifice his own dignity, at least temporarily, to fulfill her one-sided fantasy. Selfless. Noble. Magnanimous.

She had just read the message: “Su, I’m willing to give it a try.”

Then more messages started popping up one after another.

Wen Yuli: Su, you didn’t see my earlier message, did you?
Wen Yuli: Sorry, that was my little cousin messing with my phone. He’s in high school—you know how brats are, always playing pranks pretending to be teachers.

Su Ci, left hanging: “…?”

Right. Of course. Professor Wen still had to save face. Say one thing and do another—that’s the grounded, realistic version of him, right?

Playing along, Su Ci replied:
[Didn’t see it. I thought you were agreeing to let me audit the class. But if it’s not possible, that’s totally fine.]

In the deathly silent conference room, the project lead stood trembling, bracing himself for his proposal—already revised multiple times—to get ripped to shreds by the president.

The executive assistant had warned them before the meeting: President Wen was in a bad mood today. He rushed from Jiangcheng University without even grabbing lunch after a packed morning schedule.

Fifteen minutes had passed since the meeting began, and President Wen was still looking down at his phone.

Though he hadn’t spoken a word, the slight crease between his brows radiated a chilly, oppressive displeasure.

Everyone at the table kept their heads down, pretending to be invisible. No one was stupid enough to interrupt President Wen—surely he was dealing with some urgent matter.

No one knew that the cold, decisive President Wen they remembered now looked like a young man experiencing his first crush—hovering over the chat screen, desperate for a reply.

His sharp gaze was locked on her last message.

“If it’s not possible, that’s totally fine?”

Didn’t she say she’d admired him for a long time?

His fingers gripped the phone so tightly the joints went white.

She hadn’t even noticed that he’d accepted her relationship request? Was she serious about this, or was it all a joke?

Su Ci’s so-called admiration felt so casual, so cheap, so fake, so half-hearted—and now, so fleeting.

Snapping the phone off and setting it on the table, Wen Yuli, feeling thoroughly toyed with, decided not to waste another second on her. He began skimming the project proposal at lightning speed.

“Bang!”

The proposal slammed against the table and skidded across to land in front of a department director.

“Are you fresh grads here for an internship? Do I really need to teach you how to write a proposal step by step?”

The project lead was on the verge of tears and timidly responded,
“Professor Wen… I’m the finance grad student you did teach step by step…”

God, someone kill me now. Criticized as a student by Professor Wen, criticized at work by President Wen—is this his cursed fate?

Wen Yuli’s handsome face was dark and ice-cold.

“Next time, don’t go around saying I taught you. It’s embarrassing.”

Just then, the phone on the table lit up.

Pinned, specially marked, and tagged with a custom name: “AAA Blue-and-White Porcelain.”

“Too bad I can’t audit your lectures, Professor. Even if you’re not interested in me, I’ll keep liking you anyway.”
“Little Soybean Heart.jpg”

The project lead watched in disbelief as President Wen’s scowl softened. After he typed a reply, it was as if the frost had melted into a spring breeze.

Wen Yuli casually reached out and pulled the proposal back. His refined, elegant features took on an air of uncharacteristic gentleness.

“Alright. Meeting’s over. Everyone get back to work.”

He gave the dazed project lead a brief glance.

“You. Come to my office in two hours. I’ll help you revise the proposal.”

The project lead was stunned—was the boss… helping him?

Really? Really!? Really!?

The sun must be rising in the west—President Wen was acting like a real human being today!

Outside the conference room, the assistant stared wide-eyed. He’d just finished digging into the Su family background. Now that he had some idea of the situation, this was giving serious “future boss’s wife” energy.

Wen Yuli didn’t say anything too outrageous in his reply.

“Stop sending those kinds of emojis. They can be easily misinterpreted.”
“You’re a student. I’m a professor. If word gets out, it could affect your reputation.”

Su Ci was busy studying and didn’t respond for two days.

After all, he wasn’t wrong—it could affect her.

And what about him?

For two days straight, Professor Wen didn’t eat or sleep properly. His chat app was practically worn out. Screen time surged to seventeen hours a day.

Up 1100% from last week.

Other than sleeping and washing up, his phone screen was never off.

Still, no “good morning,” no “good night,” no meal updates from a certain someone. Just plenty of posts on her feed.

Today, grilled meat with Student A. Tomorrow, shopping and nails with Student B. Day after, dorm dinner with the girls.

So that was the depth of her admiration?

On Monday, Wen Yuli brought his lecture materials to teach his 8 a.m. at Jiangcheng University. He specifically asked his assistant to deliver a custom folding desk and chair set—18,000 yuan.

In the faculty lounge, another lecturer teased him,
“Professor Wen really knows how to live well. Can’t even sit in the school’s regular furniture?”

Wen Yuli adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and replied in his usual composed, methodical tone—flawless and impossible to fault.

“Just props for classroom demonstration. Personal wealth always finds its way back into the market. If a more comfortable learning environment helps students absorb knowledge better, then even 1.8 million would be worth it.”

Then he carried the table and chair to the classroom.

Lecturer A: “What a poser. Mr. High-and-Mighty.”
Lecturer B: “If I had his money, I’d be posin’ too.”

Half an hour later, they got an official notice from the university administration:

Comprehensive Halls A, B, and C will soon undergo renovations to add four new multifunctional tiered lecture rooms, expanding max capacity to 600 students.

Hengguang Group has donated 180 million yuan.

Special thanks to Mr. Wen Yuli for his continued dedication and support toward the advancement of Jiangcheng University.

Lecturer A: “…So he just thought the classroom was too small?”
Lecturer B: “Go take a look and see for yourself.”

The 300-seat auditorium was packed ten minutes before class. Not a single open seat. Students crowded near the back door, hoping to sneak a peek.

Everyone knew about Professor Wen’s strict standards—no one dared barge in to audit. They just peeked through the door, crammed into the narrow gap.

Some weren’t even from Jiangcheng University.

Wen Yuli stepped onto the podium. The giant auditorium fell silent. All that remained was wave after wave of burning gazes.

Jiangcheng had high expectations for its faculty. Unless you were a senior professor with mobility issues, you taught standing. So Wen Yuli, of course, had no official chair.

Which is why he brought his own—and no one dared complain.

A benefactor who donates buildings and funding? He could lie down while teaching, and no one would bat an eye.

But Wen Yuli didn’t sit. Instead, he placed the chair at the front of the lecture hall, just below the stage, while he called roll and scanned the crowd.

From the first row to the very back.

His brow twitched imperceptibly.

Not here?

She didn’t get into the class, so she didn’t show up? And here he thought she admired him.

Three days of showing up, two days of skipping—if she really wanted to attend, she would’ve found a way.

Unlike a certain “Blue-and-White Porcelain” student.

Talks the talk but doesn’t walk the walk.

Suddenly, his eyes lifted slightly toward the half-open back door. It was too far away, too many heads in the way—he couldn’t tell if she was there or not.