The Slacker Academic Always Gets Caught (SLACKER)
Chi Ning scoffed inwardly without hesitation.
Little liar. After deceiving him once, now he wants to swindle another ten yuan out of him?
Not a chance!
“I don’t,” Chi Ning said before urging Zhang Qiuwen, “Hurry up and start.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zhang Qiuwen replied while sneaking a glance at the rejected Qin Heng.
Qin Heng exhaled in relief, the tension in his muscles unwinding.
He hadn’t thought before speaking and regretted it the moment the words left his mouth. Thankfully, he’d been turned down.
A minute later.
Zhang Qiuwen, somewhat clumsily, finished the setup process and handed the receipt and membership card back to Chi Ning, pointing at the snooker table nearest the entrance. “This one.”
Xu Jiahao smacked Zhang Qiuwen’s finger down and scolded in a low voice, “Where are your manners? Don’t point! When guiding a guest, open your palm, face up, then lead them over!”
Zhang Qiuwen rubbed the back of his hand, not daring to make a sound, his posture slumping. Just as he was about to raise his hand again, Xu Jiahao smacked him once more. “Straighten your back. Even if it’s an act, make it convincing.”
“I’ll do it,” Qin Heng said, stepping in front of Zhang Qiuwen. He extended his hand toward Chi Ning, palm up. “This way.”
Both of them had just learned the etiquette, and their politeness was feigned, but Qin Heng’s acting was far more natural than Zhang Qiuwen’s—convincingly so.
Chi Ning closed his eyes for a moment and thought of the expensive lab equipment he was about to acquire—the centrifuge, chromatograph, gas blowing instrument, extraction apparatus—and suddenly felt at peace as his anger dissipating as if he could achieve enlightenment with a mere clasp of his hands.
He followed Qin Heng to the snooker table.
Snooker originated in England and was invented in 1875 by a British colonel stationed in India. It quickly became a popular pastime among the British military.
The promotional booklet devoted the most space to introducing British Snooker, but the most eye-catching phrases were "difficult to learn" and "not suitable for beginners."
Chi Ning set up the balls according to the tutorial attached to the brochure and tried using the cue provided by the venue. It was indeed slightly more challenging than the American Pool he had played back in Gangnan.
Snooker balls were smaller than American Pool balls, making it harder to find the striking point, and the rules were more complex too.
American Pool only required accuracy and speed, whereas Snooker also involved scoring calculations, which demanded greater mental effort.
On his first shot, Chi Ning even failed to break the triangular formation of red balls because he didn't hit hard enough.
Boss Xu's place had a great atmosphere, free of unsavory characters like Jiang Shijie.
Distracted as he played, Chi Ning somehow managed to steadily pocket most of the red balls without many misses, sinking one after another.
In Snooker, pocketing a red ball earned one point, after which the player gained the right to shoot a colored ball. The six differently colored balls each represented different point values.
Players alternated between potting red and colored balls until all reds were cleared from the table, then proceeded to pot the colored balls in order of ascending value until none remained.
Boss Xu's tables were equipped with electronic eyes. The scoreboard beside Chi Ning's table kept ticking upward so rapidly that at a glance, it might seem malfunctioning.
The boy's stance was textbook-perfect, and since he was playing alone, many patrons in the lounge area had taken notice.
One spectator sitting closer nudged his companion and remarked, "That kid's not bad."
The man in gold-rimmed glasses responded, "Passable. Just basic strokes, and he lacks power. His style shows no grasp of Snooker's essence, though his calculation skills are decent..."
"Stop being stubborn—you've been sneaking glances," the spectator chuckled. "He seems to be staring at the black ball in the middle. Probably can't reach it with his short arms. Hasn't anyone taught him to use a rest or extension cue? Since you're free, why not go show him?"
The quiet hall carried their hushed voices clearly to Chi Ning's ears. Indignant, he shot a glance their way and met a pair of calm eyes.
The man wore a dress shirt with a leather armband on his bicep and sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms. His demeanor bore an uncanny resemblance to Qin Heng in his adult years from Chi Ning's past life.
Chi Ning had PTSD when it came to these refined-looking scoundrels who seemed born to deceive. He quickly averted his gaze.
Before he could decide how to handle the awkwardly positioned black ball, he heard the scoundrel say, "You think just anyone can become my disciple?"
Chi Ning: ...
In both lifetimes, he'd never been subjected to such disdain.
With a stern expression, Chi Ning measured the distance between the black ball and the center pocket using his cue, then calculated the angle and force needed using his arm as a ruler.
He couldn't reach it while crouching, but holding the cue vertically by its thick end might work.
He flipped the cue around and gave the black ball a forceful swipe with the butt end. The ball shot away and dropped into the pocket with a loud "thud," like a firecracker going off.
Accurate, but bearing no relation to the elegance and gentlemanliness for which billiards was renowned.
"Pfft." The spectator who'd commented first burst out laughing. "He's pissed—adorably so. If you won't take him, I will. I don't have a disciple yet."
Chi Ning rolled his eyes inwardly.
Still being picky?
Do you think this is a vegetable market?
He bent down to pick up the balls from under the table and placed them back on the surface, using the triangle frame to neatly arrange the round, strawberry-red balls.
Just as he finished pushing the 15 red balls into position, that refined scoundrel walked over and pulled a business card from his suit jacket. "My surname is Mo."
I don’t hit a smiling face.
Chi Ning took the card and glanced down. "Hello, Mr. Mo. My name is Chi Ning."
"How long have you been playing?" the man asked while leaning against the table.
"Twice," Chi Ning replied, still scrutinizing the card.
White background, black text—the name reads Mo Yuanzhou.
Mo Yuanzhou’s glasses slid down his nose as his tone lifted slightly. "How many times?"
"Twice," Chi Ning repeated absentmindedly, bringing the card closer to examine the tightly packed titles.
World Grand Prix Champion, China Open Champion, World Championship Champion, Masters Runner-up, and so on.
The gilded text was so dense it was dizzying, impossible to read in full.
Chi Ning suddenly reflected—had he been hitting the balls a bit too loudly earlier? A world champion’s sharp tone was understandable. In his past life, he’d been far harsher in the lab.
Mid-reflection, Mo Yuanzhou’s voice sounded beside him. "Apologies. We shouldn’t have discussed you privately. If you’re telling the truth, being this good after just two tries is already impressive."
He shielded the small, gold-ant-like text from the glare of the light, his tone tinged with embarrassment. "Be careful with your eyes."
Chi Ning: "..."
Cringe.
Mo Yuanzhou was too much like Qin Heng from his past life—triggering psychological trauma left and right.
"What can I do for you?" Chi Ning tilted his head, injecting just the right amount of sarcasm. "Did my playing disturb you?"
Mo Yuanzhou smiled. His future student was quite the grudge-holder—adorable, really. "I came to ask if you’d like to be my student."
His tone was calm and his demeanor unruffled, as if he hadn’t been the one complaining earlier.
Chi Ning remembered clearly and declined politely. "I might not pursue this professionally. Right now, I’m just playing for fun."
Mo Yuanzhou exhaled in relief. "That’s good. Snooker players generally don’t earn much in prize money. Most can’t support themselves just by playing."
He flipped the card in Chi Ning’s hand to the back, which read "VERGINE Design Director".
"This is my actual job."
Chi Ning’s scalp prickled—he’d just met an overachiever.
Forget the world champion title. Terrified of being worked to death, he refused with utmost sincerity. "Mr. Mo, I’m not ambitious in my studies, I don’t work hard, I just like to mess around. I’m a very relaxed person—not cut out to be a champion’s successor. You should find someone else."
Qin Heng, who had been watching from the sidelines, couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d thought Chi Ning was naive with everyone, but it seemed he’d learned some tact.
At this rate, no serious teacher would want him.
Yet Mo Yuanzhou nodded. "Good. I also just want to teach for fun. If you were aiming straight for championships, playing too competitively, I wouldn’t want you either."
Chi Ning took a wary step back. "You’re not asking for anything—does that mean you charge a lot? What’s the hourly rate? I’m broke."
The expressions of Zhang Qiuwen, Xu Jiahao, and Qin Heng all turned fascinating.
Rumors suggested that the Chi family's stock prices were slightly unstable, but that didn't change the fact they remained the wealthiest in Yangcheng. As long as the Chi family didn't change hands and there were no major shifts in equity, their prosperity would continue.
But what was Chi Ning saying now?
Poor?
"It's fine. I have plenty of money—a few hundred from you won't make a difference," Mo Yuanzhou said while crossing his arms as he watched Chi Ning leisurely, as if he hadn't been nitpicking earlier. Now, he seemed perfectly willing to give it away without a second thought.
"No." Chi Ning had been tricked too many times before and wasn’t falling for it. "Free things are the most expensive."
The customer who had earlier egged him on to take an apprentice laughed gleefully and said to Mo Yuanzhou, "So even you have a day like this?"
Those in design had a natural fondness for good-looking people.
The boy in front of him—whether due to past hardships or not—was extremely wary of strangers. If Mo Yuanzhou made no demands at all, it would only make Chi Ning more suspicious.
Mo Yuanzhou touched the Patek Philippe on his left wrist and carefully considered his words. "To be honest, I do have a small request. I just returned to the country and don’t have many connections yet. My brand is still in its early stages, and I can’t find a good model. You’d be perfect. I’d like you to shoot a season’s worth of photos for free, and in exchange, I’ll teach you billiards for free."
Chi Ning quickly weighed the pros and cons.
Becoming the apprentice of a world champion was a rare opportunity, and being a model for a while was completely acceptable.
"Deal." Chi Ning glanced at Mo Yuanzhou’s business card, then turned to grab a sticky note from Xu Jiahao’s desk to write down his name and number before handing it to Mo Yuanzhou. "Here’s my contact info."
He paused, then added in a tone that sounded more like addressing a sugar daddy than a teacher, "Master Mo."
Mo Yuanzhou: "..."
That didn’t sound like "teacher"—it sounded like "boss".
For a moment, he felt like a golden, gleaming God of Wealth, ready to be chipped apart and sold off by Chi Ning at any moment.
He sighed and glanced at Qin Heng, whose gaze had been fixed in their direction the whole time. "Is that your boyfriend? He keeps staring over here—afraid I’ll kidnap you?"
"What?" Chi Ning turned his head, just in time to catch Qin Heng looking away. He immediately denied it. "Not really familiar with him."
In 1997, China had only just decriminalized homosexuality as a "hooligan" offense. Four years later, most people still couldn’t accept it.
Mo Yuanzhou, having returned from overseas, didn’t know this. He was about to say something else when the friend who had urged him to take an apprentice earlier came over and said, "Alright, alright, this isn’t Britain—people aren’t that open-minded here. Keep it down. Didn’t he not know how to use the rest earlier? Why don’t you teach him? If you won’t, I will."
"Go away." Mo Yuanzhou shooed his friend off and focused on teaching Chi Ning how to use the rest.
The two of them, one tall and one short, looked oddly harmonious by the billiards table.
Mo Yuanzhou was a very responsible teacher and exceptionally gentlemanly in his instruction—he didn’t even touch Chi Ning’s exposed skin when adjusting his posture.
Two hours later, Chi Ning had reviewed all the basic techniques and even made slight adjustments to his stance, making his shots noticeably more effortless.
Master Mo’s teaching was humorous and engaging. While imparting techniques, he also explained their origins and evolution—it felt less like a lesson and more like a casual chat.
Chi Ning had enjoyed the two hours immensely and even felt a little reluctant to stop when it was over.
Mo Yuanzhou felt a sense of accomplishment from within.
No wonder some people liked being teachers—this was what it felt like to have a smart student.
"Ahem." Mo Yuanzhou cleared his throat. "You start school tomorrow, right? Where do you study? When can we schedule the photoshoot?"
"I have a ten-day break, so I still have a week off. I’m free anytime after that." Chi Ning, now much less guarded, smiled. "Any day in the next seven days works."
"Alright, I'll contact you tomorrow for the summer shoot. It's getting late, remember to let me know when you get home safely."
"Okay." Chi Ning got into the taxi, waved goodbye to Teacher Mo, and zoned out the whole way home.
Today, the Chi residence was brightly lit. Chi Yang, for once, hadn’t been kicked out by their furious father.
The whole family sat at the dining table, waiting for their youngest son to come home for dinner with the atmosphere solemn.
Chi Ning changed into slippers and paused mid-step as he approached the table. "What’s going on?"
Chi Yang rested his elbows on the table with fingers interlaced beneath his chin, and said gravely, "We were trying to figure out where we slipped up—how a straight-A student who barely pays attention to the outside world and someone even slightly reclusive, managed to see through us."
Chi Ning: "..."
So in your eyes, I’m mildly autistic.
"Maybe because you weren’t even trying to deceive me properly before." He walked over and sat down at the table before scooping a spoonful of freshly made sweet egg custard into his mouth while swinging his legs cheerfully.
Chi Yang clutched his chest, feeling utterly charmed.
His younger brother used to lack the liveliness of a teenager, always buried in books, exams, and competitions like a wound-up machine.
Now, he was much more vibrant—going out, showing interest in socializing and even exercising.
It was wonderful.
Chi Ning squirmed under his brother’s gaze. After finishing the custard, inspiration struck. "Why do you want Chi Group’s stock price to drop?"
"We plan to buy back the shares, reclaiming majority control and cutting out some of those meddlesome, penny-pinching directors."
Chi Yang crossed his legs. "Grandpa and Grandma sold off too much during their time, weakening our influence in the group. Too many things are being held back now."
He gently ruffled Chi Ning’s hair. "The family funds are tight, so buying at a lower price would be ideal."
Chi Ning’s eyes gleamed. "I have an idea."
He cleared his throat and straightened his back under Chi Baichuan’s gaze. "Remember how I wanted to join the Olympiad? The heir of Nine Refinements Pharmaceutical is also on the finals list. He’s pretty capable—he’ll probably take first place."
"Even if he doesn’t, the media can hype his qualifications. Since you want to shake off those burdensome major shareholders, why not leak news about Nine Refinements’ heir competing in the Biology and Physics Olympiads? Stir up some buzz, make their future look brighter than ours, and speed up the shareholders’ wavering?"
With the two heirs compared side by side, Nine Refinements would seem like the better bet. No one could resist that.
Chi Ning secretly tugged at a loose thread in the tablecloth, twisting it absentmindedly.
In his past life, that bastard Shen had drugged him and tampered with his data. He wouldn’t let him off easy!
Chi Baichuan and Chi Yang fell silent. Chi Ning grew uneasy, the thread in his fingers stretching longer and longer until it coiled into a tiny ball.
Chi Yang’s expression turned profound, feeling the power of a top student’s intellect. "Divert the disaster east—brilliant. Given the caliber of our board members, they might just drag Nine Refinements down with them."
Chi Baichuan sucked in a breath. "And if Nine Refinements’ heir keeps winning awards, our stock price should plummet even harder."
Chi Ning nodded eagerly.
The three men quickly reached an agreement, and the older two sprang into action.
Chi Ning finished his dinner, sprawled comfortably on the large bed while flipping through a novel with contentment and occasionally poking at the fruit delivered by the housekeeper.
The carefree life was thoroughly enjoyable, and even the following seven days of shooting went smoothly.
When Chi Ning arrived at the location Mo Yuanzhou had mentioned, the makeup artist first complimented his flawless skin, followed by a string of oddly specific praises.
"Teacher Mo has very high standards for models. We were worried we wouldn’t find the right one, which would’ve made it hard for the brand to make a strong first impression."
The photographer smiled at Chi Ning, who was seated on the shooting platform. "Give me a fiercer look—not so soft. Yes, that’s it. Lift your leg a little, step on the stool. Perfect. Tilt your chin up—do you know how to look at someone like they’re trash?"
Chi Ning couldn’t help but think of Jiang Shijie.
"Yes, yes! Exactly that expression!" The photographer’s shutter clicked so fast it could’ve sparked.
Utterly satisfied, he gestured for someone to bring Chi Ning another outfit.
When Chi Ning emerged from the changing room in a loose black shirt, the sharp inhales around him were barely contained.
The photographer gave a thumbs-up to the supervising boss nearby. "The director’s eye is as sharp as ever."
But Mo Yuanzhou frowned and stepped forward, undoing the top button of Chi Ning’s shirt to reveal a pale expanse of chest before turning back. "Bring a pair of silver-framed glasses—the wide kind."
By now, Chi Ning was dazed from the shoot. He numbly put on the glasses and, in a daze, struck seventeen or eighteen poses before finally being sent home by the enthusiastic crew, barely able to keep his eyes open from exhaustion.
This happy, fulfilling routine lasted a full seven days, but his carefree, worry-free days didn’t last long.
He had to return to school.
On Monday, Chi Ning slung his half-empty backpack over his shoulder and yawned his way to the classroom, only to run into Teacher Wang peeking around the doorway.
He took a wary step back.
Wang Quan’s smile faltered. "Ah... I know you don’t want to participate in the physics and biology Olympiads. Your dad already told me—I won’t force you."
Even as he spoke, his eyes darted around sneakily.
Chi Ning sensed trouble.
Wang Quan rubbed his hands together. "S University is hosting a high school representative competition for physics, chemistry, and biology. Would you like to go?"
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Advanced chapters are now available up to chapter 65 (End) on my Ko-fi page!
If you appreciate what I do, please consider supporting me on kofi. Thank you!
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•