82: Chapter 82 An Unexpected Touch, The Perceptive Maid

"Old Wang is a guy you can get along with; if there's a class, he really doesn't teach it."

After a simple assembly and a couple of symbolic stretches for everyone, the middle-aged man clutching his thermos waved his hand.

"Alright, the rest of the time is for free activities."

"If you want to play, go grab a ball. If you don't, just rest on the sidelines, as long as you don't wander too far."

After saying this, Old Wang didn't even glance at the basketball hoop, turned around, and strolled toward the shade by the playground.

Judging by his demeanor, the air conditioning in his car was probably already on, and he was waiting to go back and continue his nap.

Following the teacher's order, the initially restrained group instantly dispersed.

Like kindergarteners just out of school, an irrepressible joy instantly spread.

The boys, as if injected with adrenaline, rubbed their hands and rushed toward the basketball court, terrified that they wouldn't grab a spot if they were even a second late.

The girls gathered in twos and threes, some finding shade to chat, others posing with balls on the sidelines.

The vibe was one of peaceful tranquility.

Huang Mao had originally planned to blend into the 'peaceful tranquility' group.

He had even planned his slacking route for today: slip away to the nearby convenience store to buy an iced cola, then find a corner where he could see the playground but not easily get hit by a ball.

Squat there, drink his cola, and watch these energetic college students sweat.

This was the correct way to experience a PE class.

However, the ideal is rich, but reality is always lean.

Before he could even take a step, he was surrounded by several male classmates.

The leader was the Sports Representative, a sturdy guy who was usually familiar with everyone.

"Brother Mao! Don't go!"

The Sports Representative threw an arm around Huang Mao's shoulder with enough force that it felt like a kidnapping.

"We're short on people, hurry up."

Huang Mao looked resistant, trying to pry that hand off his shoulder.

"Don't do this. My basketball skills are just for show; I'd just be feeding the other side stats."

"You guys find someone else. I see that guy with glasses over there really wants to play."

Huang Mao pointed in a direction, trying to shift the trouble elsewhere.

The Sports Representative didn't buy it at all and chuckled.

"Oh, that guy is extremely nearsighted; he can't even see where the basket is without his glasses."

"Besides, we're just playing for fun, not a real match."

"You just need to go up to make up the numbers; standing around is fine."

"Mainly because there are few boys in our class, and now that everyone has scattered, we really can't catch anyone else to draft."

Several boys around him chimed in.

"That's right, Brother Mao, give us some face."

"Just run a few steps; sweating is good for your health."

With things having reached this point, Huang Mao sighed helplessly, feeling his beautiful slacking plan go down the drain.

"Fine, fine, but I'll say this first."

"I'm just here to make up the numbers; don't expect any highlight performances from me."

"Don't blame me if we lose."

"Don't worry! If we lose, it's on me!" The Sports Representative patted his chest with a loud thud.

And so, Huang Mao was half-pushed, half-pulled onto the court by the group.

The game began.

The situation on the court was just as Huang Mao expected, full of the joy of 'amateurs clashing'.

Everyone's skill level was about the same; dribbling was basically luck, and shooting was basically a guess.

Occasionally, a goal would be scored, triggering a cheer as if it were a game-winning shot in the NBA Finals.

Huang Mao implemented his 'health basketball' philosophy.

He basically went for a stroll on the court.

When attacking, he slowly strolled to the corner with his hands on his hips, looking just like an old man.

When defending, he only reached out symbolically, his 'eye defense' practiced to perfection.

The main focus was that 'participation is key'.

Even when the ball was occasionally passed to him, he would pass it out like a hot potato at the first opportunity.

Never holding onto the ball, never greedy for credit.

He could be called the 'peace ambassador' of the court.

Just when Huang Mao thought he could muddle through this class, an accident happened.

At that time, a boy on the other side threw an airball.

The basketball hit the edge of the backboard, bounced high, and flew toward the out-of-bounds area on the sidelines.

This was originally a dead ball, and no one planned to save it.

But there was a guy in the opposing camp who had probably watched too much 'Slam Dunk,' his head filled with scenes of Sakuragi Hanamichi saving the ball.

He roared, "I'll do it!", then rushed out like an out-of-control locomotive.

The speed was so fast, the momentum so fierce, it made people wonder if he was going to knock over the guardrail on the sidelines.

And as luck would have it.

Huang Mao was standing near the baseline in that direction, hands in his pockets, thinking about what to eat for lunch.

Hearing the roar, he subconsciously looked up.

He saw that the boy had already rushed right in front of him; it was clear he couldn't brake and was about to collide with him.

If this collision were solid, it would at least result in a mild concussion.

The people around hadn't even reacted yet; not even a 'watch out' had been shouted.

Fortunately, Huang Mao's reactions were always relatively fast.

His body seemed to have predicted the danger long ago, without needing his brain to issue instructions.

His physical prowess was fully revealed at this moment.

He tapped his toes, and his body slid back extremely smoothly.

The movement was as light as a leaf caught in the wind.

The boy saving the ball brought a gust of wind, flying almost right past the tip of Huang Mao's nose.

"Phew—"

That was close.

Huang Mao secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

If he had been hit, it would have hurt for a day or two.

However.

Just when he thought the crisis was averted and was preparing to stand his ground.

His peripheral vision suddenly caught a glimpse of a familiar, light-colored figure.

Right behind him.

The distance was ridiculously close.

Su Muxue?

When did she get there?

Huang Mao's brain hadn't had time to process this information, but his body's inertia forced him to face a new problem.

His retreat just now had avoided the impact in front, but if he didn't adjust, that out-of-control boy would likely crash directly into Su Muxue behind him.

That boy was sprinting at full speed; if he hit a frail girl...

The consequences were unimaginable.

In that instant, time seemed to stretch.

Huang Mao could even see the panicked expression on that boy's face, and Su Muxue's slightly widened eyes.

Saving her was the priority.

Huang Mao's body forcibly made a twist in mid-air that defied the laws of physics.

He used his left foot as an axis, exerted force, and rotated one hundred and eighty degrees on the spot.

At the same time, he reached out his hands and grabbed the figure behind him.

"Careful!"

A low voice exploded in Su Muxue's ear.

The next second.

The two of them collided firmly.

"Bang."

A muffled sound.

But it wasn't the pain of a hard impact.

Instead.

Huang Mao felt like he had crashed into a huge mass of cotton.

That incredibly soft touch was instantly transmitted to his cerebral cortex through his chest.

Not only that.

To stabilize their center of gravity and prevent Su Muxue from being knocked down by the inertia, Huang Mao's hand instinctively reached out to grab something for leverage.

In the panic.

His right hand, unfortunately, pressed down on a place that absolutely should not have been pressed.

It was the peak of softness.

It was a holy place that countless men dreamed of.

And in that moment.

Huang Mao's fingers couldn't help but subconsciously contract.

"Boom—"

Huang Mao felt something explode in his brain.

If it were normal, given his focus, this kind of accident would be embarrassing, but it would just be a momentary flutter in his heart.

But the situation was special now!

The 'unfinished' battle last night meant the fire in his body hadn't dissipated.

The primitive restlessness that had been forcibly suppressed was like a dormant volcano.

At this moment.

This sudden, intense sensory stimulation was like a spark thrown directly into a gunpowder barrel.

Huang Mao's breathing hitched.

In that instant, a very dangerous light flashed in his eyes.

It was the instinct of a male, filled with aggression.

But he was, after all, Huang Mao.

It was only a momentary lapse.

He forcibly suppressed that restlessness.

He quickly let go and stepped back as if electrocuted.

The expression on his face switched back to that calm, expressionless mask in 0.1 seconds.

"Sorry."

His voice was steady, without a ripple.

"The situation was urgent just now; I didn't notice anyone behind me."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

This set of actions was fluid, fast enough to dazzle anyone.

The surrounding students had only just recovered.

The boy who saved the ball was lying on the lawn, grimacing as he rubbed his backside.

Everyone was paying attention to the unlucky guy who fell, and no one saw the details of what had happened between Huang Mao and Su Muxue in those few seconds.

In the eyes of others.

This was just an ordinary court accident.

Huang Mao had accidentally bumped into a passing female student while avoiding a collision, and then helped her up.

Very gentlemanly, very reasonable.

However.

As the person involved, Su Muxue felt completely differently.

She stood in place, holding the bottle of mineral water she hadn't yet given out, her cheeks slightly flushed.

In those eyes that were originally as calm as a deep pool, raging waves were surging at this moment.

She felt it.

Just in that moment.

When Huang Mao's hand pressed against her chest.

That wasn't just an accidental touch.

The strength of that grip in that moment.

The intensity that seemed to want to knead her into his body.

And...

The dangerous fire that flashed in his eyes.

That was the look of a predator.

Su Muxue's heart was beating violently.

An indescribable tremor crawled all over her body along her spine.

She didn't feel offended.

Instead.

A kind of morbid ecstasy and heartache surged into her heart.

Her brain raced, connecting all the clues in an instant.

Leng Qingxuan's abnormal state and the dark circles under Huang Mao's eyes this morning all indicated that something must have happened last night.

And Leng Qingxuan had just shown off her 'excellent' physical fitness before this.

Combined with her figure, which, while having perfect curves, was somewhat slender,

Did she, last night...

Really satisfy the Master well?

And the Master's look just now—one she had never seen before.

And that subconscious, venting-like grab.

Was it proof?

...

Master... He is enduring.

He is suffering from great pain.

And that action just now.

In Su Muxue's view, it wasn't an accident at all.

That was the Master sending her a signal!

That was his silent cry for help!

He was telling her: 'I can't take it anymore, I need you.'

This feeling of being needed made Su Muxue feel a burst of dizziness.

Her breathing became a little rapid, and in her eyes as she looked at Huang Mao, there was more obsession and fanaticism than usual.

"No... it's okay."

Su Muxue lowered her head, her voice as soft as a feather brushing against the tip of her heart.

"Thank you, Student Huang Mao... for protecting me."

She bit her lip lightly on the word 'protecting'.

That tone was like she was offering thanks, yet also hinting at something.

Huang Mao looked at her meek appearance, and his heart inexplicably skipped a beat.

This girl...

Why does it feel a bit off?

That look just now, no matter how you look at it, didn't look like panic from being bumped.

Instead, it looked like she was looking at a piece of... mouth-watering braised pork?

An illusion, it must be.

It must be an illusion.

Huang Mao shook his head, trying to throw this ridiculous idea out of his mind.

"It's fine as long as you're okay."

"Don't stand so close in the future; the court has no eyes, it's easy to get hurt."

He urged dryly, then turned to return to the court.

He had to stay away from her.

The feeling just now... was too fatal.

Looking at Huang Mao's slightly panicked back.

Su Muxue did not follow.

She stood in place, her fingers gently stroking the spot where Huang Mao had pressed.

His palm's warmth seemed to still linger there.

That burning sensation went all the way to her heart.

"Master..."

She murmured softly in a voice only she could hear.

The corners of her mouth curved into a meaningful arc.

It was a smile mixed with shyness, determination, and a certain morbid possessiveness.

"Since Sister Leng couldn't satisfy you..."

"Then as a maid, shouldn't I share your worries?"

Her gaze passed through the crowd, locking firmly onto the figure who was pretending to be busy on the court.

A light called 'enlightenment' flashed in the depths of her eyes.