Transaction Lover

“Mm.”

A soft, broken moan cut sharply through the quiet. There was nothing in this permanently unlit room save the low hum of electricity, and the sound shattered the stillness at once.

“I thought you’d stay silent the whole time. It was growing terribly dull.” The voice belonged to a man well past his thirties, somewhere around fifty.

…

“Not going to speak?” The middle-aged man chuckled. “No surprise. You never answer me.”

In the dark came the rustle of fabric. A chair scraped back. Footsteps, then a halt.

“I forgot to tell you. The Zhao men hunting you are taken care of. Report to Saint Cause in a week—you’ll be working there as a teacher. It warms my heart to think of you out there, bright and alive under the sun. I’ll see you next week, my dear son.”

The door swung open. Light from the hallway spilled into the black room. The drawn curtains had been pulled aside; moonlight tangled with the lamplight, laying bare the outlines of everything inside.

The chamber was vast, lavishly furnished, fitted with every comfort. The only jarring sight was the electric chair beside the bed—and the pale man strapped to it, the son of the man who had just left.

He struggled free of the chair and dragged himself to the window, bracing against the sill to keep from collapsing. His eyes held the glitter of the courtyard lights far below and the pale glow of the moonlit sky. A bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at his mouth.

“Failed again. I overestimated them, didn’t I? Just another pack of fools who bowed to the old man’s power. Hmph. I wonder when I’ll finally get to hell. Why is it the one who craves death can never die?”

He laughed shortly after the words left him. “Coward. You want to die, yet you keep dragging others into it. Shen Yilin, Shen Yilin. No wonder you cannot die. Not with a coward’s heart like yours.”

Shen Yilin shuffled back to the bed and sank down onto it, whispering to himself. “Mom. How much longer must I cling to this foolish promise and keep living?”

~~~~~~

Shen Yilin steered the latest BMW along the outer ring highway cutting through the suburbs.

As the Saint Cause Gymnasium loomed closer, its opulence rivalling any municipal stadium, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Saint Cause truly lived up to its reputation as the nation’s most extravagant private high school. He drove through the campus gates, where a young, attractive female teacher waited beside the parking lot.

“Mr. Shen, I expect you aren’t familiar with Saint Cause. Would you like to take a casual stroll while I show you around?” There was a faint, suggestive lilt in her tone, a quiet invitation.

Shen Yilin shrugged, neither agreeing nor refusing, and took the lead down a shaded path not far from the lot. The teacher did not take his indifference to heart. Wealthy heirs often had odd tempers, and the Shen family was far from an ordinary affluent household. Beyond his lineage, he was a striking man—possessing poise and looks unmatched by nearly everyone on campus, save for one student.

“What are you two doing here?”

A lazy, unhurried voice cut through the teacher’s admiring thoughts. She lifted her gaze, and her face paled at once.

Shen Yilin leaned casually against a tree, twirling his car keys between his fingers. Opposite him, two students were pressed up against another trunk, their clothes dishevelled. More precisely: a boy whose shirt hung completely unbuttoned, and a girl whose garments had slipped half off her shoulders. It was easy to guess what would have unfolded next.

“What are you doing here?” The boy spoke sharply, his tone hostile.

“Teaching. Do you know me?” Shen Yilin asked idly, ignoring the flicker of surprise that crossed the boy’s face. “It’s class time. Out here, in broad daylight… isn’t this a little too romantic?”

The female teacher fretted silently. Both were people she dared not cross. To see them clash the moment they met left her dreading what would come next. She was still scrambling to think of how to charm one of them into leaving, when the scene shifted abruptly.

“Which of your eyes saw me making a move?” The boy shoved the girl off him and turned to leave, lighting a cigarette as he walked.

Shen Yilin watched his retreating back. “I thought smoking was forbidden for high schoolers. And Saint Cause seems remarkably tolerant of such public displays of affection.”

“Well…” The teacher was at a loss for words.

“Take me to the Dean’s Office. The dean is waiting to speak with me.”

The campus was sprawling and labyrinthine. After winding through countless corridors, they finally reached the office. The female teacher watched Shen Yilin go, reluctant to part. He did not spare her a single glance, pushing straight through the door and leaving her heart shattered outside.

“What did you want to see me about?” Shen Yilin spoke without the slightest deference.

“Ah—class will end soon. You can look over the student files now, get a sense of the class. It’ll make managing them easier later.” The dean’s forehead glistened with sweat, perhaps from his thick clothing.

Shen Yilin glanced at the thick stack of papers on the desk, then met the dean’s eyes. “You know my rules. Hand me the file on the most exceptional one. I don’t need the rest.”

“I…” The dean’s gaze darted nervously toward the window, looking thoroughly guilty. The school bell rang just then, and for the first time, the dean thought the chime sounded wonderfully welcome.

Shen Yilin frowned. “I’ll come back after class. I hope you’ll have a satisfactory answer for me.” With that, he closed the door behind him and left.

The dean stood frozen. How could he have forgotten? This man, just like that student, was someone no one could afford to offend.

Shen Yilin was infamous across T City. He feared death less than anyone, and chased it more recklessly. Almost every prominent power player in the city, legitimate and otherwise, had incurred his wrath under the guise of “tough love education.” If he were not the supposedly most favoured young master of the Shen household, he would have died a hundred times over.

His notoriety spread. Whenever someone wanted a powerful family’s child taught a lesson, they sought him out. Of course, he was free to accept or decline. And that had become his rule.

Leaving the Dean’s Office, he stopped a student to guide him. After more twists and turns, he arrived at his assigned classroom: Senior Two, Class Four. The moment he appeared in the doorway, the noisy room fell dead silent.

Shen Yilin swept his eyes over the room. His gaze flickered when he spotted several empty seats. He thanked the student who had led him there, then sauntered inside.

He tossed his car keys onto the desk, glanced again at the vacant spots, and called the monitor over.

“Anyone absent today?”

“Uh… yes, sir.” The monitor had no idea who he was and answered hesitantly.

“Names.”

“Huh?” The monitor stared at him, trying to guess his identity.

“I’m your new homeroom teacher and English instructor. Give me the names.” Shen Yilin grew irritated at the boy’s hesitation.

The monitor snapped out of his daze and quickly recited four names, trying to recover from his clumsiness.

“That’s one short.”

The monitor blinked, realising what he meant. His expression turned troubled. After a long pause, pressed by Shen Yilin’s steady stare, he spoke.

“Sir… maybe skip that one. Just mark him present.”

Shen Yilin arched an eyebrow. So this must be the privileged student the dean had refused, or dared not openly, tell him about.

“We have a ghost student in this class, and the dean failed to mention it. That’s quite an oversight.” He shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “Alright. If any of you can reach him, pass this along: his new homeroom teacher is waiting for him here. If he is not in this room ten minutes after the bell rings, I will personally send him to the Disciplinary Office for a chat. If you understand, you may get word to him now.” His smile was warm, so warm it sent a chill down their spines.

The students were stunned. Their new homeroom teacher was clearly no pushover. After a beat, one student bowed his head and pulled out his phone. Moments later, Shen Yilin’s warning was relayed word for word.

Once the call ended, the classroom erupted.

“Sir, you’re so handsome! No one has ever spoken to Li Ang like that—not even the principal!” A delicate, doll-like girl was the first to crowd around him.

“Really, sir? Aren’t you scared he’ll get back at you?” A handsome boy of medium height stood beside her.

“Sir, what’s your name? How dare you provoke Li Ang? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Don’t even think about him. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Chen Aman! What did you say? Don’t slip me any more notes if you’ve got the guts.”

“Hahaha.”

“…”

The students laughed and teased one another. Shen Yilin merely watched, smiling without reply. When the class bell rang, he said quietly, “Class begins. Back to your seats.” He set an alarm on his phone and began his introduction.

“My name is Shen Yilin, your new homeroom teacher. You may call me Lynn, or by my given name. Don’t call me sir; I’m not used to it. Also, while I don’t have a girlfriend, I’m not interested in anyone your age, so don’t let your imaginations run wild. Let’s start the lesson.”