It was him.
He was still holding his phone—clearly, he had been the one calling her.
Now, he had pulled her into the dimly lit school hallway, the two of them alone.
Celia shook off his hand at once. "Professor Fu, did you want to speak with me?"
Nathaniel pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing in the faint light. "Why did you make a bet with the Rocket Class? Are you really planning to run naked?"
Celia raised a brow, her voice teasing. "Professor Fu, why are you so certain that's the bet?"
"What else could it be?" His tone was sharp, almost mocking. "This year's advanced math exam is written by Headmaster Zhu herself. She designs it for my genius junior schoolmate. The questions will be brutal, and your Class 28 has a terrible foundation. You—who can't even solve an equation—think you can work a miracle?"
His genius junior schoolmate?
Amused, Celia tilted up on her toes, her small, delicate face suddenly very close to his. "Professor Fu, do you even know who your genius junior schoolmate is?"
Her sudden closeness made Nathaniel's chest tighten. The faint sweetness of her scent drifted up to him. Unlike Yara Lu, who always wore bold perfume, Celia carried a soft, milky fragrance that had always drawn him in.
He lowered his lashes, gazing at her. "What's this? Are you jealous?"
Jealous? Of him?
Celia's fox-like eyes curved in sly amusement, shimmering with playful light. "Why would I be jealous? Could it be that your genius junior schoolmate has a crush on you, Senior Fu?"
Her tone lingered on the word Senior— coy, almost coquettish.
Back in Yecheng, she had sometimes addressed him that way.
Nathaniel's throat bobbed, his Adam's apple shifting as he swallowed hard. His voice came low and rough. "Who told you to call me Senior?"
"I did, Senior Fu." She tossed the words at him, then turned to leave.
But a sharp tug stopped her.
Her ponytail had been caught.
Startled, she turned back to see the tall, commanding figure of Nathaniel Fu. The cuff of his tailored black coat revealed a glimpse of crisp white shirt; his strong wrist gleamed with the cold sheen of an expensive steel watch. His large hand was wrapped around her ponytail, gently but firmly pulling it.
He was actually tugging her hair.
Celia's cheeks flushed crimson. She slapped at his hand. "What are you doing? Stop pulling my hair!"
Nathaniel drew her closer with that grip, a faintly wicked smile curving his lips. "Weren't you the one who wanted to play the senior-and-junior game with me?"
"…."
She wasn't playing. She really was his junior. She just hadn't imagined he would take it this way.
Wrenching her ponytail free, Celia shot him a glare. "I only called you Senior. Why are you overreacting?"
His gaze turned cold, mocking. "Don't call me that. Only my genius junior deserves the title. You—just a pretty little vase—don't."
"…."
Celia's heart fluttered, half anticipating the day he discovered the truth—that she was his so-called genius junior. His expression would be priceless.
Nathaniel's lips curved again. "A vase has its purpose. Just focus on doing your job."
Her brows furrowed. "And what's a vase's job?"
He leaned closer, his eyes darkening with unspoken meaning. "Isn't it just to—"
Before he could finish, Celia's hand shot up, covering his mouth in panic.
Her clear eyes trembled, pupils rippling like water as fear and anger mingled in her gaze. She bit her lip hard and hissed, "Professor Fu, how can you say something so indecent—especially when you have a fiancée?"
At the mention of Yara Lu, Nathaniel's expression shifted, his eyes growing even darker. If he had behaved this way with Yara, she would never have protested.