Quick Transmigration: Yandere Male Leads? Hand 'Em Over! - Chapter 55

The school nurse instantly grew wary. She was, after all, a woman of principle—taking bribes? Absolutely not. And letting someone look at a patient’s medical records? Also a no-go.

But then again… boyfriend and girlfriend?

It wasn’t anything serious anyway—just a case of mild hypoglycemia and slight heatstroke. Hardly a breach of privacy. A boyfriend who paid attention might even help take better care of the patient.

Her professional ethics wrestled with her personal feelings, and in the end, the school nurse gave in and let Jin Ran take a look.

She also offered him some heartfelt advice: “Keep a close eye on your girlfriend. Girls her age love dieting and skincare, but they still need to eat properly. Healthier methods are better…”

Not only did Jin Ran listen attentively, he even borrowed pen and paper to jot down the meal plan. He was already planning to make sure his girlfriend ate properly starting the next morning—gotta nourish her well.

Seriously, that Lane 7 girl was way too skinny.

Su Ci—what a pretty name.

He had to fatten up his little porcelain doll. Otherwise, what if someone on the street bullied her again for no reason? His heart nearly broke today, and thankfully she hadn’t gotten hurt.

At dawn, Feng Yan was woken up right on schedule by his alarm. He reached for the glasses on his nightstand—only to come up empty.

The sixth mysterious glasses disappearance this month.

He didn’t bother looking. Instead, he went straight to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and came out toweling his hair dry while pulling a new pair of plano glasses from his drawer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a meal plan tacked to the headboard.

The handwriting was atrociously abstract.

Milk oatmeal porridge, veggie wontons, meat and vermicelli buns, blueberries, cherries, cherry tomatoes…

Could it be from that girl yesterday who shoved something into his pocket?

She was really confident. Thought a hug was enough to score a free delivery boy? He hated dealing with stuff like this.

Su Ci didn’t have many core courses. Since she had an art background, she had already submitted a waiver request and would likely get approval soon.

With her schedule opening up, she’d chosen electives from both the mathematics and computer science departments—courses notorious for driving people bald. The same ones Feng Yan was taking for his dual degree.

At 8 a.m., Su Ci took her usual seat slightly behind Feng Yan’s spot in the lecture hall. After setting down her bag, she stepped out to get some water.

When she returned, a neatly packed breakfast had mysteriously appeared on her desk: several juicy, thin-skinned soup dumplings, a boiled egg, and a box of yogurt.

“???”

It was only 7:40—a full twenty minutes before class. The massive lecture hall was completely empty.

Not sure who had left it, she moved the breakfast to the side and pulled out her tablet to preview the professor’s slides.

Through the crack in the back door, Feng Yan saw all of it. His brows furrowed, his expression turned dark, and he radiated a frigid aura that screamed do not approach.

Seriously? Skipping breakfast again?

Again?

Feng Yan wasn’t sure why that thought popped into his head. But based on her casual reaction, she clearly had a habit of skipping meals.

He took out his notebook and crossed out: mushroom beef dumplings, soft-boiled egg, blueberry banana yogurt… Why’d she write these down if she wasn’t going to eat them? To mess with him?

That morning lecture would last all the way to noon.

Su Ci didn’t touch the breakfast. At one point, she stepped out to use the restroom, and when she returned, a Swiss roll and a carton of milk had been added to her desk.

It was a twenty-minute break. To run from the Yifu Building to the supermarket and buy a Swiss roll would’ve taken at least fifteen minutes—even at a jog.

Noticing Feng Yan in front wiping sweat from his brow, Su Ci smiled faintly. She unwrapped the Swiss roll and, sipping the milk, ate it bite by bite.

Feng Yan sat upright with perfect posture, never turning around, but he could clearly hear the soft rustling of the wrapper, the faint sound of chewing and swallowing.

Just likes sweets, huh? Not healthy. What a pain.

Over the next few days, breakfast kept showing up on Su Ci’s desk—each time a different combination. Judging by the packaging, they weren’t cheap.

Knowing full well who sent them, Su Ci didn’t bother being polite. Following the “clean plate initiative,” she polished off every meal—no need to line up in the cafeteria.

Pretending to pass by to get water while actually checking if she was eating, Feng Yan finally relaxed. So she’s not picky after all. Easy to feed. Not too troublesome.

But every time Su Ci went to throw out the packaging, she saw several untouched breakfasts already in the bin.

With her campus popularity, it was obvious those were from admirers who had snuck them onto her desk.

Many boxes even had confession notes stuck on.

Before Su Ci could see those eyesores, Feng Yan always beat her to it and tossed them all. Who knew if the soy milk was laced with chemicals, or the fried dough came from gutter oil?

Solving unnecessary problems was one of his specialties.

As for the breakfasts he prepared himself, they were guaranteed to be healthy and nutritious. He had personally inspected the kitchens of each vendor for hygiene—no food safety risks whatsoever.

Usually, professors didn’t call on students during large lectures. But some professors were… unusual.

“Su Ci, come answer this question.”

In an instant, over two hundred pairs of eyes turned to her. Everyone mentally braced themselves—what bad luck. Picking an elective student from another major?

More than a few students were already planning to roast this professor in the end-of-semester evaluation. Avoid at all costs.

Su Ci stood up. Before she could speak, several classmates started shouting out answers, trying to help her skate by.

Then, a ball of paper flew toward her.

Su Ci caught it, clenched it in her hand without unfolding it, and calmly gave a clear, confident answer.

The professor’s wrinkled face bloomed into a smile. “Not bad! Even an art student understands. You math majors have no excuse. Don’t let the department down!”

Meanwhile, the freeloading students: “…We didn’t understand a word.”

Feng Yan held back a smirk. Smart girl. That made things even easier—and far less troublesome.

The guy next to him couldn’t take it anymore.

“What the hell are you smiling for? She answered the question herself. What, you think you’re special? Using some outdated flirting tactic like throwing notes—how basic can you get, country boy?”

Feng Yan’s face went cold in an instant. “It was scratch paper.”

The guy was fuming. He raised his fist, yelling loudly between classes: “Have some manners! Who just throws trash on someone else’s desk?!”

“Apologize! Hurry up and apologize to Su Ci!”

Plop—

The paper ball flew from Su Ci’s direction and landed on the guy’s desk.

He snatched it up and unfolded it—

One side had a neat outline of the solution; the other, elegant handwriting:

[Feng Yan, want to have lunch together?]

The guy clutched his chest, looking absolutely crushed.

What the hell?! Did she really say yes to that socially-inept weirdo? Su Ci was supposed to be every student’s dream girl!

Feng Yan took the paper back, turned to Su Ci, and gave her a subtle nod. “I had a project lined up, but if you want to go, I’ll find us a quiet restaurant.”

The guy beside him was about to explode. What an act. If you’re not interested, I’ll go in your place!

After class, Feng Yan waited for Su Ci at the door.

When she came out, backpack slung over one shoulder, he held out two leather-bound notebooks. His voice was flat and emotionless:

“These are notes for the core classes. Take a look.”

The second-year material was notoriously brutal for students outside the department. As head of the academic committee, Feng Yan saw it as his duty to help his peers.

After all, retaking failed classes was… bothersome.

But his slender, pale hand hovered in mid-air for two seconds, then hesitated. He pulled the notebooks back.

His tone was suspiciously defensive: “These notes are important. I’ll hang onto them for now. I’ll give them to you after lunch.”

Which was a lie.

The notebooks were heavy.

Who gets it? Hot-faced boy doing laundry vs. cold-faced boy doing laundry.