Author Archives: sandy

Several contestants who didn’t achieve their expected rankings began shouting on the field, their voices filled with frustration and unwillingness. Although it was a display of poor sportsmanship, the results were just too hard for them to accept.

The contestants from M Nation, who had a bet with the Hua Nation team, looked particularly grim. They never anticipated that the Hua Nation contestants would use a new programming language. Without even being able to interface with their opponents’ data, how could they possibly launch any successful attacks? It felt like they were being utterly crushed.

The judges remained silent, clearly deep in thought.

Seeing this, Fang Ziyang stood up calmly and asked, “Dear judges, is there a rule that prohibits the use of new programming languages in this competition?”

Of course, there wasn’t. Who could have predicted that someone would use a new programming language in the competition? Developing a new programming language isn’t something that happens as easily as picking cabbages.

However, the contestants who were deeply frustrated couldn’t accept this and shouted, “This is cheating! Even if you use a new programming language, it should still connect with our data. If your data isn’t compatible with ours, what kind of competition is this?”

They were so agitated that they couldn’t see their own technical shortcomings. They believed Fang Ziyang and his team were taking advantage of loopholes.

“Not connecting? Then who was it that hacked into your computers just now?” Fang Ziyang’s strikingly handsome face no longer bore the innocent and cute smile from before. His gaze turned sharp and piercing.

“Being outmatched isn’t scary; what’s scary is the inability to tolerate others. There’s no pinnacle in technology—only continuous progress. The story of the tortoise and the hare is known worldwide. Who’s to say that the person you look down on today won’t be standing above you tomorrow?”

“If the so-called rules of this competition require sticking to outdated frameworks without allowing any innovation, what’s the point of even holding this competition?”

Fang Ziyang’s youthful face was marked by unparalleled seriousness and confidence.

The once proud young man now radiated his light to the entire world, like the sun in the galaxy, becoming the center of attention and drawing everyone’s gaze.

His words rang true, and the competition did not prohibit the use of new programming languages. Whether others were convinced or not, the results were final.

After a brief discussion among the judges, despite the displeased expressions of a few, the results were announced: “In the first round of the tech competition, in the individual event, Hua Nation takes first place, B Nation takes second place, and C Nation takes third place…”

As the results were announced, the audiences from the winning nations erupted into joyful cheers and tears.

The unexpected victories sparked lively celebrations in the live streams of these nations:

“Well done! That Hua Nation contestant said it well: there’s no pinnacle in technology, only continuous progress. Who’s to say the person you look down on today won’t be above you tomorrow?”

“I knew we didn’t have much chance of making it to the finals, but getting a top ten spot in the individual competition is still something to be happy about…”

“Did you see the faces of those contestants who were furious? Their expressions were so twisted. It’s just a loss in an individual event; can’t they handle it?”

“Exactly. Every time we compete, we’re out in the first round, and we don’t get this upset. If you’re not as good, just work harder to catch up. What’s the point of being a sore loser?”

“…”

In every competition, there are those who rejoice and those who lament, but overall, there were more smiles than frowns. After all, some countries’ long-standing practices have never been particularly well-received, and people are more than happy to kick them when they’re down.

With the results firmly established, Fang Ziyang finally breathed a sigh of relief. He had been worried that some might shamelessly defend and protect their own in front of the entire world—such things have happened before. Fortunately, under the watchful eyes of everyone, the judges didn’t dare to provoke public outrage, especially since the outcome of this competition was so clear-cut.

In the stands, Xie Zheng couldn’t help but smile as he watched his lover shine at the center of the stage. He took out his phone, zoomed in, and captured a few photos of the dazzling figure at the center of the arena. Then, he posted on Weibo, resuming his daily routine of showing off his husband.

Xie Zheng v: My hubby. [Picture] [Picture]

All the senior executives of New World Tech: …

All the fans: …

Here we go again, the boss is showing off his husband.

Following the individual competition, there would be a team competition scheduled for the day after tomorrow. With today’s events concluded, the contestants left to rest and prepare.

When Fang Ziyang returned to the lounge, he immediately spotted Xie Zheng and Rick waiting by the door with water in hand. A smile spread across his face, and without a second thought, he rushed over, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around Xie Zheng’s neck and pulling him in for a passionate kiss, completely unconcerned about the suggestive looks from those around them. After all, people abroad are generally more open-minded.

Although Xie Zheng was somewhat old-fashioned, he couldn’t resist his little lover’s enthusiasm. Naturally, he wrapped his arms around Fang Ziyang’s slender waist and enjoyed the passionate kiss.

“Honey, wasn’t I amazing just now?”

After the kiss ended, Fang Ziyang couldn’t help but seek some praise. He didn’t quite understand it himself, but ever since he got together with Xie Zheng, his personality seemed to have regressed. He had become adept at acting cute, rolling around, and seeking praise, often forgetting that his soul was far from young.

Perhaps this was the result of being spoiled? After all, look at how well Jin Yu has mastered the art of being pampered!

In truth, Xie Zheng also preferred his little lover to be more reliant on him.

Although seeing his lover shine so brightly was indeed captivating, it left Xie Zheng feeling like he had no room to dote on Fang Ziyang, making him question his own value in their relationship.

“Amazing, absolutely amazing,” Xie Zheng said, gently tapping Fang Ziyang’s nose, not holding back his praise.

Fang Ziyang’s eyes curved into joyful crescents as he smiled.

The two of them continued to bask in each other’s affection, while nearby, Tang Xun looked on helplessly. Seeing Rick’s hopeful eyes beside him, Tang Xun couldn’t help but blush… His brother was so lively and passionate, which made him, as the elder, seem a bit too reserved with his own affection.

However, Tang Xun was too shy to kiss in public. Being naturally reserved, he could only muster the courage to hold Rick’s hand, their fingers intertwined, his ears turning a deep shade of red.

This gesture delighted Rick, who was overjoyed.

The four didn’t linger in the lounge for too long, as it was a public space. After drinking some water and taking a short break, they gathered their things and returned to the hotel with the rest of the team to begin strategizing for the upcoming group competition.

Given the overwhelming advantage they had shown today, the team anticipated that the competition organizers would likely adjust the rules to make the group match more challenging. They needed to prepare accordingly.

Professor Yu, with a serious expression, addressed everyone, “Our insider in the judging panel has informed us that they are already discussing rule changes. It’s unlikely we’ll be able to use the new programming language in the group competition the day after tomorrow. I know you’re confident even without it, but I want to remind you not to let your guard down—give it your all.”

Confidence is good, but overconfidence leads to arrogance. Even a lion uses all its strength when hunting a rabbit. The teams that lost today weren’t lacking in skill; they were simply too arrogant and let their guard down, which is why they lost so badly. Otherwise, they could have at least fought for a better ranking.

“Don’t worry, Professor Yu, we’ll stay vigilant!” everyone responded seriously. They were determined to win the championship and secure their country’s position and development on the international stage for the next decade.

Professor Yu was pleased with their response and continued, “Good, I’m glad you understand. Not only did we win the individual competition, but we also earned the highest points. As long as we place in the top three in the team competition, our position for the next round’s exhibition is secured.”

After the first round focused on information and security, the subsequent rounds were primarily about showcasing scientific achievements. The top ten teams would be assigned exhibition spaces, and in addition to the judges’ evaluations, visitor turnout and satisfaction would play a crucial role in determining the outcome.

While it’s true that quality stands out even in obscurity, having a prime exhibition space could significantly influence the results. The allocation of these spaces depended on the previous round’s performance, which was why they made such a strong showing in the first round.

“However, based on past experience, since we’ve made a splash today, some people might not take it well. So, before the team competition, none of you should leave your rooms, and don’t touch anything in the hotel. Our support team will handle all your meals and supplies,” Professor Yu cautioned them.

In the last competition, G country made a small mistake and lost the championship because of it.

This time, they made a splash, and with the bet hanging over them, they really couldn’t afford to let their guard down.

“Especially you two, Tang Xun and Ziyang—you’ll definitely be their primary targets, so be extra cautious,” Professor Yu said with a stern and worried expression.

The Tang brothers nodded solemnly. Their excellence was a blessing, but it was also a cause for concern. If it weren’t necessary for them to participate in the competition, the country would have preferred to keep them hidden.

“Don’t worry, Professor, we understand,” they assured him.

Meanwhile, just as Professor Yu predicted, the team leaders from M Country, A Country, H Country, R Country, and others, along with some government officials, were gathered together. The atmosphere was heavy, with everyone seated in silence.

Moore’s expression was especially dark. The wine glass in his hand was on the verge of being crushed as he spoke in a cold tone, “Share your thoughts. We can’t afford to lose this bet, and the Hua Country team cannot advance. This tech competition is our stage, not a stepping stone for others.”

Originally, Moore had been confident about this competition. Even though he was aware that Hua Country’s technological level had improved, he didn’t take it too seriously. But now, they’d pulled out a new programming language, and his confidence had started to waver.

According to Yan Tong, the information that the Tang brothers possessed had been stolen from the Lu family’s relics by the Fang family. It was possible that the Tang brothers had other valuable data as well.

The atmosphere grew more tense among the group.

“This competition is being broadcast live, and after what happened last time, the Hua Country team will be on guard. It’s not going to be easy to make a move,” one person remarked.

It was because some people had been too obvious last time that this year, all the countries were united on the issue of fairness. They had to tread carefully; they couldn’t afford to alienate everyone else.

“If overt actions won’t work, what about subtle ones? If we can’t attack them directly, how about we manipulate the rules?” Shi Liangchen suggested.

The group turned to him for clarification. They knew of Shi Liangchen, despite him being from Hua Country, as he had defected and was now Moore’s right-hand man, highly valued by him.

Moore’s tension eased, and a smile appeared as he relaxed his grip on the wine glass, his voice finally carrying a note of satisfaction. “Shi, show them what you’re capable of.”

“Yes, esteemed Mr. Moore, but I’ll need an assistant,” Shi Liangchen responded with a slight smile, standing tall and composed.

“Take him,” Moore said offhandedly, pointing to someone in the room. Being in a position of power meant he didn’t need to ask for anyone’s permission.

TOC

After arriving at the base, the teacher in charge handed over the new students to the drill instructors. This was followed by a military training orientation meeting that lasted until 7 PM, after which they lined up to go to the cafeteria for dinner.

The drill instructors all acted cold and intimidating, clearly intending to establish discipline among the newly arrived students.

Some students had initially arrived at the base full of excitement, with unrealistic expectations about military training and a sense of novelty about the upcoming group life. However, they were quickly hit with the harsh reality, leaving them feeling dejected and mournful about not being able to return home at night.

But they were no longer children. They understood the basic rules, and those with any sense knew better than to attract attention and risk being the first to be made an example of.

In the cafeteria, the only sounds were of chewing and the occasional clatter of utensils.

After dinner, they lined up again by class to form training groups and held another discipline meeting.

It was late at night by the time everything finally ended, and the students were sent back to their assigned ten-person dormitories.

The base was in the suburbs, built into the mountains, and the place was full of mosquitoes. Although mosquito coils were already burning in the dormitories, the buzzing continued unabated.

Bo Ren and Zou Ji were assigned to the same mosquito-infested dormitory. As soon as they returned, the group of boys rushed to fetch hot water, gathering together to cook the most delicious instant noodles, too hungry to even speak.

“The cafeteria food, I swear, even pigs wouldn’t take an extra bite,” complained the pampered young master Zou Ji, who was already on the verge of a breakdown after just a few hours at the base.

Slurping his noodles with a sob, he said, “I miss home so much, I miss my mom.”

His phone had been confiscated as soon as they arrived at the base.

“There’s a public phone you can use,” Bo Ren, who didn’t have a phone of his own, said. “Do you want to go?”

Zou Ji replied, “No, there must be a long line.”

He then asked Bo Ren, “Are you going? If you go, I’ll wait in line with you and make a call too.”

Bo Ren said, “No, there’s no one at home. My mom’s working the night shift, and my dad’s in Haijin helping my brother settle into university.”

Zou Ji remembered that Bo Ren had mentioned before that his mom worked at a hospital as a nurse. He asked, “So your brother got into a university in Haijin? Which one?”

“Haijin University of Technology,” Bo Ren replied with a hint of pride in his voice as he spoke about his brother, who had been accepted into a prestigious university. “He’s studying mechanical engineering, the best major at the university.”

Zou Ji made an appropriately envious sound and said, “If I could get into Haijin University of Technology, my parents would be burning incense in gratitude.”

Bo Ren said, “My parents did that. The day the college entrance exam results came out, my dad rushed back to our hometown to burn incense at our ancestors’ graves, sincerely thanking the eighteen generations of our ancestors for blessing us with such a brilliant scholar. When the university’s acceptance letter arrived, he threw a three-day banquet, hung banners in our neighborhood, set off fireworks, and even hired a lion dance and yangko team to perform.”

“…” Zou Ji almost snorted noodles out of his nose and said, “Was it really that exaggerated?”

Bo Ren said, “Not exaggerated at all. If I hadn’t been so embarrassed and adamantly refused, my dad was planning to rent the fattest, strongest chestnut horse and have my brother ride it, dressed in traditional top scholar attire with a red flower sash, parading through the busiest commercial district in Yunzhou.”

Zou Ji laughed so hard he couldn’t eat anymore, and another classmate nearby, catching on to the key detail, asked, “Wait, shouldn’t your brother have been the one embarrassed? Why were you the one embarrassed and refusing?”

Bo Ren sighed and said, “Because a key part of my dad’s plan was for me to dress up as a bookboy and lead the horse for my brother.”

This time, not only did Zou Ji spit out his noodles, but the other roommates also burst into laughter.

The laughter from their dorm spread to the surrounding rooms, causing students from other dorms to peek out in curiosity.

In the dorm next door, Yang Qiao, who had just hung up his mosquito net and was getting ready to sleep, also heard the laughter. He guessed that Bo Ren was telling one of his 108 amusing stories again… and found himself missing Bo Ren’s playful antics just a little bit.

Being with Bo Ren was never boring.

But right now, Yang Qiao was having a small crisis. How is there still a mosquito inside the net?! he thought in despair. Resigned, he put his glasses back on and began searching for the sneaky mosquito that had somehow slipped through.

Overall, the conditions at the base were much better than the last time they had been there for military training during middle school. At least now the dorms had air conditioning, the shower rooms had plenty of showerheads installed, and there were even a few not-so-great but still somewhat useful cooling fans by the training grounds. Compared to the facilities three years ago, there had been significant improvements.

However, with these improved conditions came much harsher training. High school military training was more than ten times tougher than it had been in middle school. They had to wake up earlier, go to bed later, and endure a much more intense training regimen.

The wake-up call was at 5:50 AM, followed by morning exercises at 6:00. After that, they returned to their dorms to tidy up, had breakfast at 7:30, and began military drills at 8:00. Lunch was at noon, but not before they had to line up and sing military songs.

During the precious one-hour lunch break, the boys’ dormitory was filled with the sight of exhausted students sprawled out like dead dogs, sleeping as if they had been knocked out.

Training resumed in the afternoon, and in the evening, there were meetings and study sessions that lasted until 9:30 PM.

After a long 24 hours, the first official day of military training finally came to an end.

Zou Ji, who was too tired even to cry, sat dazed on a small stool and accurately described his condition: “I feel like I’ve been sun-dried into a human jerky.”

The other nine “human jerkies” in the dorm agreed.

Bo Ren had also been thoroughly sunburned, but his physical and mental endurance was better than Zou Ji’s. The day’s training was still within his tolerable range, so he had enough energy left to maintain some semblance of normal life.

After taking a shower, he returned with a basin and went to the communal washroom to clean the dirty clothes he had just changed out of.

As soon as he entered the washroom, he spotted Yang Qiao.

The boys were staying in a group dormitory, and since it was summer, most of them were shirtless during their pre-bedtime routines. Some even roamed the halls wearing only their underwear.

Bo Ren was wearing just his athletic shorts, his upper body bare.

Yang Qiao, however, was more conservative. He was neatly dressed in a camouflage tank top, having likely already showered, and was wearing his own pajama pants. He stood at the sink brushing his teeth, but he was so sleepy that his eyelids were drooping, and the toothpaste foam was dangerously close to dripping onto his tank top.

Bo Ren walked over to another sink, turned on the faucet, and after a moment’s thought, scooped up some water with his hand and flicked it at Yang Qiao.

“!” Yang Qiao jerked upright, hurriedly wiping the foam from his chin with the back of his hand. He looked around to see what had happened.

Bo Ren pretended as if nothing had happened, nonchalantly washing his clothes.

Yang Qiao, without his glasses on, couldn’t clearly see Bo Ren. There were also other people in the washroom, so he wasn’t sure where the water had come from. He blinked his big, dazed eyes, full of question marks, and then turned back to continue brushing his teeth, still puzzled.

Bo Ren sneaked several glances at him, feeling a familiar sense of closeness. Despite the long time they hadn’t seen each other, Yang Qiao’s behavior hadn’t changed at all—he was still the same as before, as if he had never left.

Since he was very young, Yang Qiao had always been slow-paced, as if nothing could rush him. He spoke and acted slowly, always deep in thought, and though he was very smart, he was physically uncoordinated. This was evident in how his actions often lagged a few seconds behind his thoughts.

Bo Ren thought of him as a cartoon character with a lagging frame rate.

Starting around fourth grade, Yang Qiao’s vision had gradually worsened. It wasn’t surprising—he was not only diligent in his studies but also loved reading extracurricular books. He would read while eating, before bed, even while walking, and by the time he reached middle school, his myopia had reached 500 degrees.

With his poor eyesight, possibly because his ability to receive information through his eyes had slowed down, his reactions also became slower. It got to the point where, sometimes when Bo Ren talked to him, Yang Qiao would first respond with a confused “Huh?” before finally processing what was said.

In the past, Bo Ren really liked this aspect of Yang Qiao’s personality. To him, back then, Yang Qiao had no flaws, and being slow-paced was just another good trait.

But now, things were different. Bo Ren almost wished that Yang Qiao would become a bit more irritable. If Yang Qiao could get angry and argue with him when being ignored, perhaps things would be better.

On the fourth day of military training, the squads were reorganized.

This time, Bo Ren and Yang Qiao were placed in the same squad, even ending up in the same row.

Bo Ren was the second tallest in the squad, with the tallest boy standing as the first in the front row, while Bo Ren was assigned by the instructor to stand as the first in the second row.

“You,” the instructor pointed to someone else, “you stand second in the second row.”

Bo Ren, maintaining a strict military posture, only slightly turned his head to see who was standing next to him after the person had taken their place.

Yang Qiao, who had taken the spot next to him, also turned his head to look at Bo Ren. When he saw Bo Ren glancing at him, Yang Qiao hurriedly offered a small smile.

Bo Ren: “…”

Bo Ren immediately stiffened his neck, looking straight ahead, not willing to spare even a sliver of his attention on Yang Qiao.

However, the instructor soon realized he had misjudged the heights and moved Yang Qiao to the third position in the second row, replacing him with another boy who was taller than Yang Qiao but shorter than Bo Ren. Bo Ren didn’t recognize this boy, but since they were in the same squad, he was likely also a classmate.

After that, they began drill practice. It was another scorching day, and Bo Ren, having not slept well the night before, gradually felt dizzy and lightheaded during the training. He suspected he might be suffering from heatstroke and should have raised his hand to request a break, but his pride wouldn’t let him give in. He gritted his teeth and persevered until the mid-session break when he finally rushed to a cooling fan and gulped down more than half a cup of water, slowly starting to feel better.

The squad members stood under the large poplar trees lining the edge of the field, enjoying the cooling fans and temporarily escaping the scorching sun.

“Hey, are you Bo Ren?” A boy suddenly walked up to Bo Ren and said, “You’re Bo Ren, right?”

Bo Ren nodded. This was the same boy who had been standing next to him during the drill.

The boy, who had been annoyed for a while, got straight to the point, “Did I accidentally step on your foot or something? Why have you been glaring at me during the whole training?”

Bo Ren, just starting to recover from his dizziness, felt a surge of anger and snapped, “Who was glaring at you? Stop flattering yourself.”

As their voices grew louder, the surrounding students began to quiet down. Sensing something was off, they paused their conversations and turned to watch.

Yang Qiao had been sitting alone at the base of a tree, cleaning his glasses on his camouflage uniform while resting cross-legged in a daze. Hearing the commotion nearby and recognizing Bo Ren’s voice in the argument, he hesitated before standing up. In his rush, he didn’t notice that the glasses he had just cleaned slipped from his lap onto the sandy ground. He didn’t even bother to dust off his pants before pushing through the crowd of students to reach the center of the conflict.

“Hey, we’re all classmates. Don’t fight. Let’s talk this out calmly,” Yang Qiao said as he approached, trying to mediate.

Bo Ren and the other boy were both on edge, and when Bo Ren saw Yang Qiao coming over, his first instinct was to keep him out of it. In a harsh tone, he barked, “This has nothing to do with you. Get lost!”

But the other boy, seeing this, was indignant. “What’s your problem? Why are you so aggressive? Are you trying to bully your classmates?”

With that, he even stepped in front of Yang Qiao, physically blocking the space between him and Bo Ren.

Bo Ren was at a loss for words, thinking, You’re the one with the problem!

The boy was shorter than Bo Ren but more solidly built. He scolded Bo Ren, “I won’t hold it against you for those glares, but I advise you not to go looking for trouble. Military training is tough, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on your classmates.”

This guy really seems righteous… Bo Ren suddenly felt like he was in the wrong. He definitely didn’t intend to glare at an innocent classmate for no reason. During training, he had glared at Yang Qiao several times over this guy’s shoulder, so it was understandable that the boy standing between them misunderstood. The other guy probably wasn’t even trying to start a fight; he just wanted to clear up the misunderstanding. Bo Ren realized he shouldn’t have let his emotions get the better of him and had overreacted a bit.

After thinking it over, he decided to apologize and end this pointless argument.

But just then, Yang Qiao, with his poor eyesight that couldn’t catch subtle expressions, didn’t notice the change in Bo Ren’s demeanor. He didn’t realize that Bo Ren was about to take the high road. All Yang Qiao heard was their conversation, and he was worried the conflict might escalate. But knowing that Bo Ren had strong feelings against him, he thought intervening might make things worse.

So, Yang Qiao said to the other boy, “Um… Luo Lin, calm down. Don’t take it out on him.”

“!” Bo Ren’s anger flared up again, and he snapped, “Hey, what do you mean by that? Are you taking sides?”

Yang Qiao, confused, responded, “Huh? No, I’m not.”

The boy named Luo Lin also got angry and said to Bo Ren, “Why are you picking on someone weaker? Come at me instead, don’t bully my roommate.”

Oh, great. Just great. Bo Ren finally understood—they were roommates, close buddies in the same dorm.

Bo Ren exploded with frustration. He pointed angrily at Yang Qiao, thinking, Just wait, Yang Qiao. Just you wait.

Yang Qiao tried to explain, “I really didn’t mean it like that.”

But Bo Ren turned and ran off.

Huh? Luo Lin, who had been ready for a full-on confrontation, was left completely bewildered when his opponent just walked away.

All the other students’ eyes followed Bo Ren as he ran over to the drill instructor.

“Is he a little kid?” Luo Lin said, exasperated. “Is he seriously going to tattle?”

Yang Qiao: “…”

Bo Ren wasn’t going to tattle, of course. He earnestly told the instructor that he urgently needed to switch places for the rest of the training. If he could be moved to another squad altogether, that would be even better.

The instructor, who had already noticed Bo Ren bickering with a classmate from a distance, asked coldly, “Why? Give me a reason.”

Bo Ren, fuming, said, “I don’t want to train with certain people! I need to stay far away from him!”

By “him,” Bo Ren was obviously referring to Yang Qiao.

But the instructor clearly misunderstood.

Ten minutes later.

Bo Ren and Luo Lin stood side by side on the edge of the training field, holding hands while maintaining a military posture.

The expressions on their faces were a colorful mix of emotions, twisted with discomfort.

As the squads continued their training, students passing by them struggled to suppress their laughter while marching in step.

Poor Luo Lin couldn’t stop muttering his complaints, “You’re nuts, seriously. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“…” Bo Ren was overwhelmed with guilt and said, “I’m sorry. I’ve already apologized to you several times. I didn’t know it would turn out like this. I’m really, really sorry.”

Zou Ji, observing the situation and trying to ease Bo Ren’s tension, said, “Isn’t it possible that it’s just someone with the same name?”

Bo Ren’s expression changed drastically upon hearing this, and the anger he felt toward Yang Qiao instantly transferred 1% to Zou Ji.

Zou Ji, who hadn’t yet experienced the intense mix of love and hate that can come with such deep friendship, didn’t fully understand, but he had good instincts. He quickly backtracked, saying, “I was just talking nonsense, don’t take it to heart.”

But Bo Ren was already taking it very much to heart.

Was it just someone with the same name? He didn’t know. The thought that this “Yang Qiao” might not be his childhood friend only made him angrier.

As time passed, the moment of truth quickly approached, and by the end of the morning, all the new students were expected to have completed their registration.

When Yang Qiao walked into the classroom with his backpack, Bo Ren, who had been intently watching the door, immediately sat up straight.

Compared to a year and two months ago, Yang Qiao had grown a bit taller and thinner. His black hair was cut short, and he wore a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

After entering the room, Yang Qiao glanced around, looking from left to right, and then back again, with a slightly puzzled expression.

Bo Ren noticed this and suspected that Yang Qiao’s nearsightedness had worsened after the entrance exams.

Instead of heading deeper into the classroom, Yang Qiao went straight to the first row right under the podium, a spot that wasn’t particularly desirable, which was why it was still vacant.

The classroom was already buzzing with chatter and laughter as many of the new students were actively socializing and making new friends.

Yang Qiao ignored the noise around him and calmly took out a wet wipe from his backpack, carefully cleaned the chair—including the backrest—hung his bag on the back of the chair, and then proceeded to wipe down the desk. After throwing the wet wipe into the trash can beside the podium, he returned to his seat, pulled out a water bottle from the side pocket of his backpack, took a drink, and then accurately placed it back in the pocket.

He appeared completely at ease, quickly adapting to his new seat, new classroom, and new environment.

In this entire classroom, the only thing that seemed old and familiar to him was perhaps the childhood friend he had abandoned for a year—the very same friend who was now sitting in the back, staring at Yang Qiao’s back and imagining a little animation where Yang Qiao was packing him into a trash bag and tossing him out. This thought made him both sad and angry.

Yang Qiao’s calm demeanor made Bo Ren extremely uncomfortable. If looks could kill, Bo Ren thought his eyes would be blazing with fiery anger.

“You’re not going to cry, are you?” Zou Ji asked in surprise, noticing that Bo Ren’s eyes were a bit red.

Bo Ren replied, “This is rage! Look closely—these are two flames of rage!”

“Oh, I see,” Zou Ji said, still thinking Bo Ren was just sad. Showing empathy, he gently offered a way out, “Why don’t you go say hello? You’ve missed him so much.”

Bo Ren gave him a look of incredulity. Him, actively going to greet someone who had betrayed him like that? Absolutely not.

Zou Ji said, “Fair enough. Then how about… beating him up?”

This suggestion left Bo Ren slightly stunned.

Zou Ji had just said it off the cuff, but seeing Bo Ren’s surprise made him realize it was a bit outrageous. He added, “Weren’t you just saying you hate him to death? He’s right in front of you—don’t you want to punch him?”

Bo Ren hadn’t seriously considered this approach, but he quickly responded, “That doesn’t mean I can’t think about it now.”

Zou Ji, seeing through him, tentatively suggested, “How about after school? We could find a quiet spot off-campus, and I’ll keep watch for you.”

Bo Ren, now uninterested, said, “Let’s talk about it later. It needs careful planning.”

By eleven o’clock, the registration process was finally winding down. In the last class of the morning, the homeroom teacher held a class meeting.

The first activity was roll call. The teacher started calling names in order of the student numbers, with the first name being “Yang Qiao.” Yang Qiao responded with a “Here,” followed by several more names and corresponding responses.

When the teacher reached the twentieth name on the list, they called out, “Bo Ren.”

Yang Qiao, sitting in the first row, was startled when he heard the name and immediately turned around to look. In the very back row, in the center, a hand was raised as a voice responded, “Here.”

Bo Ren was slouched over his desk, hiding behind the back of the student in front of him, raising his hand as he answered.

The homeroom teacher on the podium noticed the small actions of the students but said nothing and continued with the roll call. After all, they would soon have military training to instill some discipline.

Zou Ji, who was keeping an eye on the situation for Bo Ren, reported Yang Qiao’s reaction in real-time: “He looked back at you, seemed to smile a little, and then turned back around.”

Bo Ren sat up straight, frowning. “How could he smile? What kind of smile was it?”

“Uh…” Zou Ji, trying to gauge Bo Ren’s mood, carefully responded, “A mocking smile, a sneering one, the kind of smile you’d expect from someone who’s pleased with themselves.”

Bo Ren, feeling a surge of anger, exclaimed impulsively, “I can’t take it anymore! I have to punch him, I must!”

At the end of the class meeting, the homeroom teacher reminded the students to check their military training supply lists when they got home at noon, ensuring they had everything they needed. The students were instructed to return to school on time in the afternoon, ready to depart for the training base in the suburbs, where the new student military training would begin the next day.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the first class meeting, the homeroom teacher gave a cheerful parting message: “Good luck with military training, everyone. See you next week,” and then left the room in high spirits.

Several students in the classroom let out small cries of despair. Those who had moved up from the school’s middle school division wailed the loudest, having already experienced the same military training in middle school, at that same dreadful base with its horrendous conditions. The coming week was not something they looked forward to—it was hell, pure hell!

This didn’t include Bo Ren, though. He had been so angry during the class meeting that it made him drowsy, and he had unknowingly fallen asleep at his desk.

Zou Ji, looking resigned to his fate, had no enthusiasm for the upcoming training. He pulled out his Nokia Lumia, read a message he had just received, and nudged Bo Ren awake with his elbow, saying, “I have to go now. My parents know I’m going to jail this afternoon, so they’re treating me to a good meal before I go. They’re waiting for me at the school gate. Want to join? We’re having roast goose.”

“No,” Bo Ren replied, half of his face red from sleeping. He stood up, stretched his arms, and loosened his shoulders, saying, “I need to go home and get my stuff for military training.”

“So, is Operation Hunt One on hold for now?” Zou Ji asked.

It took Bo Ren a moment to remember what the “operation” was, and he replied, “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Then I’ll take my leave,” Zou Ji said as he was about to go, but then he looked up and warned, “Your Majesty, be careful—the target of our hunt seems to be coming over.”

Bo Ren looked up and saw Yang Qiao leaving his seat in the first row and heading toward them.

Bo Ren gasped and immediately ducked down, almost lying flat on the desk again.

Zou Ji: “…”

As soon as Bo Ren ducked down, he realized: Why am I hiding? I’m not the one who wronged Yang Qiao!

Yang Qiao had already reached their table, and now it would be even more awkward for Bo Ren to get up. So, he slightly adjusted his position, pretending to be searching for something under the desk.

Yang Qiao looked at the busy Bo Ren with a face that said, “…”

Being somewhat familiar with him from their school days, Zou Ji offered a polite smile.

Yang Qiao then looked at the smiling Zou Ji with the same expression, “…”

“Hello, Yang Qiao,” Zou Ji greeted him. “Don’t remember me? I was also in Class Three.” He was referring to the class number from their middle school days, where he and Bo Ren had been classmates.

Yang Qiao clearly didn’t remember, saying, “You seem… a bit familiar.”

Zou Ji didn’t take it too seriously and introduced himself, “I’m Zou Ji. Didn’t you transfer schools? How come you’re back?”

“Yeah. Oh, yes,” Yang Qiao responded absentmindedly, his gaze constantly drifting toward Bo Ren, who seemed to be busy with something under the desk. Yang Qiao’s expression was full of confusion.

Zou Ji reached over and ruffled Bo Ren’s hair, saying, “Your Majesty, stop fussing. Your dear childhood friend has come to see you.”

His words carried a bit of a sarcastic tone, aimed at Yang Qiao, who had left without a word.

It seemed Yang Qiao either didn’t catch the tone or wasn’t paying attention at all to what Zou Ji was saying. He asked in a puzzled voice, “Who is he? … Who is this person?”

“?” Zou Ji, confused, replied, “Little Biscuit.”

“…” Yang Qiao looked utterly bewildered. “Huh?”

Zou Ji asked, “Have you lost your memory?”

“I… haven’t,” Yang Qiao seemed plunged into deep doubt about everything around him, stumbling over his words, “Who is he? No, I mean, who did you say he is? Can you… say that again? Who is he?”

Suddenly, Zou Ji realized—when Yang Qiao had left, Bo Ren hadn’t looked like this.

Even though Zou Ji and Bo Ren were in the same class, he was often shocked by how much Bo Ren had changed over the past year. For Yang Qiao, who hadn’t seen Bo Ren in such a long time, the transformation must have been overwhelming, enough to shatter his perception.

Zou Ji couldn’t help but laugh, “It really is him, I’m not joking! He’s really Little Biscuit!”

Unable to bear it any longer, Bo Ren shot up from his seat, first snapping at Zou Ji, “Zou Ji, shut up!”

Then, turning to Yang Qiao, he said, “Do I know you well? Why do you care who I am? I’m your father.”

Yang Qiao was left utterly speechless: “………………”

Before Zou Ji could say anything, his Lumia phone vibrated. His dad was calling from the school gate, urging him to hurry up since they couldn’t park there for too long. Although Zou Ji wanted to stay and watch the drama unfold, he had to reluctantly say a quick goodbye to the two and dashed off to join his dad for the roast goose.

With Zou Ji gone, Bo Ren deflated like a punctured football, losing all his earlier bravado.

He blamed this sudden loss of confidence on his earlier use of foul language. He wasn’t sure if his words had embarrassed Yang Qiao, but he himself was already feeling a bit uncomfortable and regretted saying it.

Yang Qiao, however, seemed to understand that Bo Ren had spoken in the heat of the moment. He didn’t show any displeasure or resentment. Instead, his gaze was still full of astonishment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

Bo Ren reconsidered—wait, why was he still worrying about Yang Qiao’s feelings now? Who had cared about his feelings over the past year?

He glared at Yang Qiao again.

Yang Qiao, seeing the glare, grew visibly nervous, blinking rapidly behind his silver-rimmed glasses before saying, “You… Bo Ren, you… what have you been eating every day? In just over a year, you’ve… you’ve grown so much!”

Bo Ren: “…”

He kept a blank expression, but internally, that single sentence had shattered his composure.

A year—Yang Qiao, you actually know it’s been more than a year.

Without saying a word, Bo Ren stood up, slung his shoulder bag over his back, and walked briskly past Yang Qiao, heading straight out.

Yang Qiao looked bewildered for a moment, then quickly followed.

Out of the classroom, through the hallway, Bo Ren hurriedly descended the stairs with Yang Qiao jogging behind him.

“Wait for me,” Yang Qiao called out anxiously, his tone cautious, “Bo Ren, wait for me.”

Their classroom was on the third floor, and Bo Ren, with quick strides, was already nearly down to the first floor. Suddenly, he stopped abruptly and whipped around. Yang Qiao, still running after him, couldn’t stop in time and crashed right into Bo Ren, almost knocking his glasses off. He hurriedly grabbed his glasses with one hand and the stair railing with the other to steady himself.

Bo Ren looked at him coldly.

Standing on the steps, Yang Qiao’s face slowly turned bright red—whether from the rush of running or the embarrassment of nearly losing his glasses. He adjusted his glasses again and quietly said, “I told you to wait for me. Why did you walk so fast?”

Bo Ren, incredulous that Yang Qiao dared to reprimand him, shot back, “You think I’ll wait just because you tell me to? Who do you think you are?”

It was dismissal time, and several students were walking by.

Yang Qiao grew even more embarrassed and said, “Don’t be mad. Can we just talk calmly?”

“Talk calmly, my ass,” Bo Ren retorted. “You think I have to listen to you just because you want to talk? Why should I? You leave when you want, come back when you want—what do you take me for? If you cared about me even a little, you wouldn’t have treated me like this.”

Yang Qiao: “…”

The passing students: “…”

Bo Ren didn’t think there was anything ambiguous about what he said. He was genuinely upset, and after saying his piece, he turned and walked away even faster.

He went to the student parking lot, grabbed his electric bike, and sped home, the wind blowing so hard it made his eyes uncomfortable.

That afternoon, the new students gathered with their belongings and boarded the school-arranged buses, heading to the training base for a week of military training.

Yang Qiao got on the bus early and took a seat right by the door.

When Bo Ren boarded and their eyes met, Yang Qiao hesitated for a moment, then quickly moved to the window seat, looking at Bo Ren with a hopeful expression, wanting him to sit beside him.

But Bo Ren, without even glancing his way, walked straight to the back of the bus.

Yang Qiao’s gaze followed him until Bo Ren sat in the last row. Resigned, Yang Qiao turned back, sat quietly for a moment, and then lowered his head to fasten his seatbelt.

Downstairs, in the guest room, Zou Ji was still lost in a melancholic sleep, unaware that his friends upstairs had finally shattered the fragile pretense that had long been obvious to everyone.

When he eventually found out, he would certainly be happy for them.

Today, Zou Ji and Yang Qiao had a close relationship, but it hadn’t always been that way.

Their friendship dated back over a decade.

They attended the same middle school, with Zou Ji and Bo Ren in the same class, while Yang Qiao was in a different class.

During that time, Zou Ji had almost no interaction with Yang Qiao, other than knowing that Yang Qiao was the top student in their grade and often seeing him at the door of their classroom—always there to find Bo Ren, and that was the extent of it.

Later, after the high school entrance exams, Zou Ji just barely made it into the high school department of their school, and as fate would have it, he ended up in the same class as Bo Ren again.

At the end of August that year, on the first day of high school, Zou Ji ran into Bo Ren, who had also just registered, at the door of their new classroom. Encountering an old classmate in a new environment, the two embraced, laughing and crying, and quickly decided to become desk mates before the official seating arrangement was announced. They even chose a desk in the middle of the back row together.

Zou Ji then went out to visit some friends who had been placed in other classes, played around for a bit, and returned about ten minutes later, only to find that his previously cheerful new desk mate had turned sullen.

Zou Ji was a carefree child, with harmonious parents, a well-off family, and a head start in adolescence, evidenced by his impressive height that delighted his elders and the acne that troubled him.

Bo Ren, his old classmate, was different. He had a completely different growth pace.

When they first became classmates in seventh grade, Bo Ren had a mushroom haircut, big eyes, and a small round face, the epitome of a cute boy. By the time they reached middle school, the boys were all hitting growth spurts, racing to get taller. Although Bo Ren quickly realized that his childish haircut didn’t fit in and changed it within a few days, his height wasn’t something he could control, so he remained short.

For the first two years of middle school, Bo Ren was always assigned a seat in the front rows during seating changes, which left him dispirited.

Fortunately, his height didn’t hinder his popularity among his classmates. On the contrary, his harmlessly cute appearance, combined with his cheerful and open personality and impressive soccer skills that weren’t limited by his height, made him well-liked by both boys and girls.

Given his name, which sounds like “crispy yet resilient,” someone, though Zou Ji couldn’t remember who, gave him the nickname “Little Biscuit.” The nickname quickly gained unanimous approval and spread among his classmates, eventually even being used by the teachers.

Bo Ren himself offered weak resistance to the nickname, but he didn’t actually get upset with his classmates. After hearing it so many times, he had no choice but to accept it, just as he had to accept his lack of height.

This situation continued until the third year of middle school. With consistent sports training and proper nutrition, Bo Ren experienced a growth spurt that year, growing over ten centimeters in a single year.

At fifteen, Bo Ren made a stunning transformation, experiencing the first major change of his life.

Of course, at this point, he still had the frame of a teenager, but among his peers, he now stood out, his once-boyish features becoming more defined and handsome.

Zou Ji had witnessed this transformation day by day, and as teenage boys are prone to comparing themselves with their peers, he couldn’t help but feel a bit envious and jealous of Bo Ren.

Now, as he observed Bo Ren’s sudden scowl, he thought to himself, “Even with a poker face, he looks so handsome. It’s enough to make anyone eat a bucket of lemons out of jealousy.”

Zou Ji couldn’t resist teasing, “Little Biscuit, what’s got you so upset? Don’t start crying now, or you’ll get soggy and won’t be crispy anymore—not as tasty.”

“Do you really have to call me that?” Bo Ren, feeling down, grumbled back at his old classmate, “You’re the real ‘Little Biscuit,’ your whole family is ‘Little Biscuit.'”

New students were still trickling in. A girl who had just arrived sat down at the desk in front of them. Hearing their conversation, she turned around with a smile, curiously sizing them up. She couldn’t quite understand how someone like Bo Ren could end up with such a nickname.

After the girl turned back, Bo Ren leaned in close to Zou Ji’s ear and issued a deadly threat, “Don’t push me. Be careful, or I’ll shout out your nickname.”

Zou Ji’s face turned pale instantly, and he quickly begged for mercy. Back in middle school, he also had a nickname, a playful repetition of the last syllable of his name. It was one thing to joke around during the nine years of compulsory education when everyone was immature, but in high school, where they were practically adults, being called that would be utterly embarrassing.

“So, what exactly are you upset about? Who annoyed you?” Zou Ji asked again.

In the ten minutes that Zou Ji had been away, Bo Ren, bored and looking around, had noticed the new student list posted next to the blackboard. There, he saw a name he knew all too well.

“He’s back,” Bo Ren said, crossing his arms and speaking with a deep tone. “He’s been assigned to this class.”

“Who?” Zou Ji thought for a moment, then realized that only one person could shake Bo Ren up like this. “Your runaway childhood friend?”

Bo Ren’s emotions were clearly complicated as he stared at the classroom door. “He’s now my sworn enemy… No, my nemesis. I hate him so much.”

The girl sitting in front of them turned around again, her face full of curiosity.

“You have such big eyes,” Zou Ji noticed the scholarly and pretty girl and took the opportunity to start a clumsy conversation. “Even bigger than my goldfish’s eyes at home.”

“… Are you stupid?” the girl responded.

Zou Ji, with starry eyes, replied, “How did you figure that out?”

The girl was speechless.

Zou Ji asked, “What’s your name? I’m Zou Ji, like ‘Zou Ji advises King Qi to accept criticism’ from the classics, and ‘Ji’ as in ‘hope.'”

“Gu Yao, ‘Yao’ as in ‘far away,'” the girl introduced herself, then looked at Bo Ren with a teasing tone, though clearly joking, “How does ‘Little Biscuit’ have a nemesis? Is it Sachima?”

Bo Ren was silent.

Zou Ji burst into laughter.

Bo Ren reached out and grabbed Zou Ji by the neck, threatening, “Don’t ever call me that name again, got it?”

Gu Yao, standing up for what was right, said, “He’s just dumb. Cut him some slack.”

Bo Ren released Zou Ji and retreated into his own gloomy thoughts.

Zou Ji, having narrowly escaped Bo Ren’s grip, was filled with gratitude towards Gu Yao, whom he now considered a goddess, and he began to passionately recount the story of Bo Ren and his “Sachima” nemesis.

Bo Ren and his childhood friend Yang Qiao had been inseparable since they were four years old, bound together by the red thread of fate. They spent three years in kindergarten, six years in elementary school, always in the same class, never apart. Even in middle school, although they were placed in different classes, they remained glued to each other every day.

Zou Ji explained, “From what I’ve heard, over the years, they were like shadows to each other, always there for one another, sharing everything, from moonlit walks to sworn oaths of eternal friendship…”

Gu Yao was laughing so hard her shoulders were shaking.

Bo Ren couldn’t take it anymore and started to say, “Zou Ji, you…”

“Don’t interrupt!” Zou Ji quickly wrapped up, sensing he was pushing his luck. “They had a bond stronger than gold, promised to walk through life together, but then, one day before the final exams in their second year of middle school, Yang Qiao suddenly disappeared without a word. And just like that, our poor Bo Ren was abandoned by his childhood friend.”

This was a well-known event in their middle school class, a significant incident. Everyone in the class got along well with Bo Ren, and they all knew how much he cherished his childhood friend, who was the top student in their grade. Then, suddenly, this friend, Yang Qiao, transferred to another school without any prior notice, and Bo Ren had no idea. When other classmates told him about Yang Qiao’s transfer, he refused to believe it, insisting that it was impossible.

But reality hit him hard—Yang Qiao had indeed left, silently and completely.

Bo Ren went to ask the teacher and learned that Yang Qiao had already transferred, supposedly due to family matters.

He then rushed to Yang Qiao’s house, knocking on the door frantically, but there was no response. A neighbor from across the street came out and told him, “Stop knocking; there’s no one home. They’ve left for a long trip.”

Bo Ren asked, “Where did they go?”

The neighbor said, “Wenhe.”

Wenhe was a border city, a thousand miles away from Yunzhou, a place Bo Ren had only seen in geography textbooks.

Bo Ren asked again, “Did they say when they’d be back?”

The neighbor, who had seen Bo Ren visit many times and knew he was good friends with the Yang family’s child, patiently replied, “They didn’t say. Yang Qiao’s father has been transferred to work there, and they might not come back until he retires.”

“Really?” Gu Yao, the female classmate, hadn’t expected the story to take such a turn. “So suddenly?”

Zou Ji replied, “Yes, it was very sudden.”

A year-old wound that had never healed continued to fester in Bo Ren’s heart. As Zou Ji recounted the story, it brought back a flood of memories, and Bo Ren’s mood grew darker.

Gu Yao seemed like she wanted to say something but held back when she saw the look of anger and frustration on Bo Ren’s face. She exchanged a sympathetic glance with Zou Ji.

Over the past year, Bo Ren had been continually burdened by this sadness.

For more than a decade, Bo Ren and Yang Qiao had been inseparable. Before middle school, they were practically together every day. Even after being placed in different classes, they would always seek each other out whenever they had free time. Even on weekends and school holidays, when they didn’t go to school, they would call each other to share any interesting experiences.

For Bo Ren, Yang Qiao was an indispensable part of his entire childhood and the first half of his adolescence. If his life were a jigsaw puzzle, Yang Qiao would be the piece right in the center, the one that had been placed there from the very beginning.

They had been best friends since kindergarten. After starting first grade, Bo Ren’s house was very close to the elementary school, while Yang Qiao’s family was often too busy to pick him up after school. So little Bo Ren would invite little Yang Qiao over to his house, where they would do homework together, eat together, and even share Bo Ren’s bed.

Later, to make it easier for Yang Qiao to come over and avoid being left alone when no one could pick him up, Bo Ren had a copy of his house key made and solemnly gave it to Yang Qiao. Although Yang Qiao never actually used the key to enter Bo Ren’s house on his own, this level of closeness and trust left no doubt in anyone’s mind that their bond was stronger than that of actual brothers.

No matter what, Bo Ren never expected that one day Yang Qiao would leave his life so quietly and without warning.

He wasn’t used to Yang Qiao not being by his side. Right after Yang Qiao left, it felt to Bo Ren like the air had become half as breathable, as if the oxygen itself had thinned out because of Yang Qiao’s departure.

This brotherly love—perhaps it had been misplaced from the start.

At first, Bo Ren stubbornly waited, convinced that Yang Qiao would call him, write to him. He thought that maybe Yang Qiao had to leave in a hurry due to his father’s sudden job transfer, leaving no time to inform him. He believed that once Yang Qiao settled down in Wenhe, he would surely make up for the missed farewell and offer an explanation.

But he never received either.

For the first time, Bo Ren experienced what it meant for love to turn into hate. For a while, just thinking about Yang Qiao made him so angry that his teeth would grind.

Yet, amidst the hate, there was also worry. In such a distant place, would Yang Qiao be able to adjust to his new life? Would he also think of Bo Ren every day?

And so, Bo Ren found himself oscillating between hating Yang Qiao and missing him. On odd days, he would be furious, grinding his teeth in anger, and on even days, he would long for him deeply. For over a year, he was unable to let go.

Today, on his first day as a high school student, from the moment he left home in the morning, Bo Ren made a vow: from this day forward, he would get used to the thin air, open his heart, make new friends. He was determined to slowly move on. He would always remember that he once had a childhood friend named Yang Qiao, but he would let go of the pain Yang Qiao had caused him. He would become a happy, renewed high school student, and he was sure he could do it.

But just at this critical moment, when he least expected it, the same Yang Qiao who had left without warning suddenly returned just as unexpectedly.

When Bo Ren saw that familiar name on the class roster, it felt like his heart stopped beating.

The student list was arranged by entrance exam scores, and “Yang Qiao” was listed as number one, the top scorer. This meant that all of Bo Ren’s worries were in vain. Yang Qiao had not only adjusted well to his new life and studies elsewhere but had also maintained his status as a top student, returning to their high school with great success.

A flood of emotions overwhelmed Bo Ren. He forgot all about the new school year and his plans for a fresh start. Only one thought remained in his mind: He’s back? Good. It’s time to settle the score.

Bo Ren casually closed the door to the private room and then said, “I must have been bullied by those old-timers in the maintenance team.”

“Why are you only mentioning this now?” Zou Ji replied nonchalantly, “Come on, spill the details. Let’s see who I should side with.”

Yang Qiao commented, “It’s surprising enough that he isn’t the one bullying others.”

Bo Ren walked in and took off his jacket, revealing a khaki shirt underneath. If you didn’t look closely at the State Grid embroidered logo on his chest, you might think he was wearing some high-end brand.

He hung his jacket on the nearby coat rack and, turning around, ended up standing right behind Yang Qiao, seemingly to make it easier to talk to Zou Ji, who was sitting further inside.

Yang Qiao didn’t look back at him, holding his teacup and sipping his tea.

“How am I talking nonsense? You two gentlemen of leisure,” Bo Ren said. “I spent an entire afternoon working alone on a high-voltage tower while the senior technician and his apprentice were down below drinking soda and snacking on mixed nuts. I called down and asked them to throw me a pack out of kindness, but they refused, saying it was too dry up there and they were afraid I’d get heat rash from eating them. If that’s not workplace bullying, what is? Not even a pack of nuts for me.”

Zou Ji burst out laughing.

Yang Qiao rubbed his brow with his fingers, unable to even look at Bo Ren anymore.

Bo Ren continued behind him, “Finally, when it was time to clock out, I got caught in traffic, so I rented a shared electric bike to come meet you two. Barely five minutes after getting on, it started raining and blowing wind, freezing me to the bone. I was shivering all the way here—anyone who saw me might have thought the bike was leaking electricity. But that’s not the worst part. The most infuriating thing? Just as I parked the bike nearby, the wind stopped and the rain ceased. I was so mad, I couldn’t help but laugh. The heavens must be messing with me.”

After finishing his story, he naturally slipped his hands into the collar of Yang Qiao’s shirt to warm them.

Yang Qiao shivered from the cold and hissed, “Fine, fine, you win. Get your hands out of there, quick!”

Bo Ren laughed, withdrew his hands, and rested one on Yang Qiao’s shoulder, then casually sat down next to him.

Zou Ji propped his chin on one hand, glancing back and forth between the two with a knowing smile.

Bo Ren chatted idly with Zou Ji across Yang Qiao, asking a few trivial questions. When the server arrived to take their order, both of them left the decision to Zou Ji, who flipped through the menu and discussed options with the server.

Only then did Bo Ren turn his attention back to Yang Qiao.

Yang Qiao was replying to someone on WeChat, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

Bo Ren lazily draped one arm over Yang Qiao’s arm and asked, “What have you been up to these past few days?”

“Nothing much, just staying home and playing on my phone,” Yang Qiao replied.

“What’s so fun about your phone?” Bo Ren asked. “Why didn’t you call me to hang out?”

Yang Qiao replied, “Because I’m heartless.”

Bo Ren said, “Your memory is really sharp.”

Yang Qiao glanced at him briefly before returning to his messages.

Bo Ren began fidgeting, grabbing Yang Qiao’s wrist to check his watch, tugging at the elastic strap on Yang Qiao’s phone, then reaching into Yang Qiao’s jacket pocket to fish out a box of throat lozenges. He opened it, popped one into his mouth, and then stuffed the box back into Yang Qiao’s pocket—acting like someone with ADHD, trying to fully capture Yang Qiao’s attention.

Yang Qiao, however, just continued replying to his messages, ignoring Bo Ren’s playful antics.

After the server left, Zou Ji, with a mischievous tone, said, “Stop messing around. Mu Tou is busy with a blind date right now, don’t get in the way.”

A colleague had just asked Yang Qiao something important online, and as he was focused on figuring out how to respond, he tuned out Zou Ji’s voice.

But Bo Ren heard it loud and clear.

Zou Ji continued, “Someone introduced Mu Tou to a potential partner—a male college student, young and handsome. He even showed me a photo earlier, and they’ve been getting along pretty well on WeChat.”

Bo Ren looked surprised and quickly leaned in to see the screen of Yang Qiao’s phone, but the screen had a privacy filter on it, so he couldn’t see anything.

Yang Qiao finally heard the nonsense Zou Ji was spouting, and with a head full of frustration, he pointed at Zou Ji and said, “If you keep making stuff up, your parcel stations will go out of business tomorrow.”

Zou Ji immediately raised both hands in surrender, insisting he’d stop and begged for the curses to end.

They opened the bottle of Tianzhilan that Zou Ji had brought from home. The three of them didn’t play any games but casually chatted and evenly drank the entire bottle.

Since it was supposed to be a housewarming, Yang Qiao took the initiative to pay the bill after dinner. Then, both Zou Ji and Bo Ren, with different thoughts but the same words, said they wanted to go hang out at Yang Qiao’s new place.

The spring rain had only drizzled a few drops, barely wetting Bo Ren, and it had long since stopped, leaving the ground dry.

It was Zou Ji’s first time at Yang Qiao’s house. As soon as he entered, the beautiful three-story house struck a nerve. After touring it inside and out, he clicked his tongue in admiration. When he emerged, his expression was crestfallen, and he collapsed onto the living room sofa, suddenly bursting into tears like a weak willow in the wind.

He had a baby face and was a very emotional and endearing person. Whenever he was moved, he would cry without hesitation, even in front of his friends. This wasn’t the first time he had sadly reminisced about the past:

He, Zou Ji, the young master of a once-wealthy family, was supposed to live the life of a pampered second-generation rich kid. But alas, his father was incompetent, and the family business collapsed halfway through his life. Now, instead of living a life of luxury, he was reduced to delivering packages, and his beloved goddess had left him to go to Shanghai—Shanghai, of all places…

“Give it a rest,” Bo Ren said with no sympathy, cutting through the sentimentality. “Your goddess barely paid attention to you even before your family’s business collapsed.”

“Don’t say that!” Zou Ji couldn’t bear to hear the truth and, mumbling to himself, fell asleep right there on the spot.

Yang Qiao and Bo Ren exchanged a glance, both feeling helpless.

Together, they lifted Zou Ji and carried him to the guest bed to make sure he would sleep comfortably and avoid stumbling around in the unfamiliar surroundings if he woke up in the middle of the night. The living room was still cluttered with things Yang Qiao hadn’t finished unpacking.

After carefully closing the guest room door, Yang Qiao and Bo Ren stood in the hallway and exchanged another glance. Suddenly, Bo Ren burst out laughing, finding the situation amusing.

“His alcohol tolerance is so bad, and yet he’s always the one bringing the drinks,” Yang Qiao said without a trace of humor. “Has he gained weight since the last time? When we carried him at your place during the Lunar New Year, he didn’t seem this heavy.”

Bo Ren replied, “He hasn’t gained weight; you’ve just gotten weaker. Carrying a pig makes you this winded. Have you been staying home all month without exercising even once?”

He reached out to squeeze Yang Qiao’s shoulder, but Yang Qiao turned away before he could touch him.

Yang Qiao walked over to the island counter to get some water.

Bo Ren casually followed, hands behind his back. Just as Yang Qiao filled a cup halfway and was about to drink it himself, Bo Ren snatched it from him and drank it instead. Yang Qiao grabbed another cup to fill for himself.

Bo Ren placed the empty cup aside and bluntly asked, “So, what’s the deal with you and that college student? Is it really going somewhere?”

Yang Qiao replied, “Mind your own business.”

Bo Ren said, “Then at least show me the photo.”

Yang Qiao tried to dismiss him, “You should go home. Don’t you have work tomorrow? My place is pretty remote; you’ll end up being late.”

“Yunzhou isn’t Beijing,” Bo Ren retorted. “It’s only about ten kilometers from the south to the north end of the city. I could crawl to work and still not be late.” He continued, “You let Zou Ji sleep at your place but not me? Why are you playing favorites?”

He tapped the marble surface of the island counter with his knuckles and added, “I oversaw the renovations for this house, and now you’re kicking me out? Doesn’t that make you feel guilty?”

Yang Qiao reluctantly said, “Fine, fine, you can stay too. The room across from Zou Ji’s is just as nice. Go ahead.”

He finished his water and casually set the cup aside.

Bo Ren didn’t leave. Instead, he aligned the two slender glass cups side by side, pressing their edges together.

Both of them stared at the pair of touching cups.

“The age difference is too big; it’s hard to be truly happy like that,” Bo Ren said in the most earnest tone while spouting the most nonsensical argument. “You should find someone your own age. A college student isn’t right for you.”

Yang Qiao replied, “Thank you for your concern, but I’m only twenty-six. That kid is in his third year of grad school, just one year younger than me.”

Bo Ren said, “That’s still not good. You’re a powerful CEO; what’s it going to look like if you get involved with a student? Are you trying to show off your wealth? People will just say you’re keeping a young boy.”

Yang Qiao responded, “Then I should keep a few more, really show off. If you’ve got money and don’t flaunt it, you’re a fool.”

Bo Ren added, “The person who introduced you doesn’t have good intentions. Why would they suddenly want to set you up? Sounds like a scam from someone you know.”

Yang Qiao said, “It’s fine. My life’s been too smooth anyway; it’s about time I hit some bumps and got some life experience.”

Bo Ren was completely speechless, his expression showing he was about to burst with frustration.

Yang Qiao was doing it on purpose. He kept thinking about Zou Ji’s earlier encouragement.

This time, when he returned to Yunzhou, he vaguely felt that Bo Ren was treating him a little differently than before, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly how. Was it just his imagination? If not, what exactly had changed?

After pondering for a moment, Yang Qiao said, “Why does it matter to you whether or not I’m going on a date? What’s it to you?”

“How could you say something like that?” Bo Ren protested, “Do you think I wouldn’t be hurt? I’m the person in the world who cares about you the most.”

Yang Qiao replied, “Are you? I thought that title went to my parents.”

Bo Ren clearly wanted to argue back, but in the end, he just said, “Fine, then I’m in third place.”

“Alright.” Yang Qiao thought for a moment, then pulled a round, egg-yellow coaster from a pile of miscellaneous items next to the island counter and handed it over, saying, “Here, take your bronze medal and go to bed.”

Bo Ren took a deep breath but still accepted the coaster, looking down at his clothes as if he was seriously preparing to wear the “bronze medal” with pride.

Yang Qiao’s phone rang, and he picked it up to reply to a message. Throughout the evening, he kept having to respond to one or two messages, either about work or work-related social interactions.

His colleagues and peers were all night owls, and nighttime was the busiest and most active time for many in the self-media industry.

Bo Ren fiddled with the coaster in his hands, spinning it around, and asked, “Who are you chatting with on WeChat?”

“You don’t know them,” Yang Qiao replied. “You sure ask a lot of questions. How about this—I’ve set up paid consultations on multiple platforms. You have a Zhihu account, right? You can go there and ask me questions. Two thousand yuan gets you six questions.”

“…” Bo Ren, now furious, tossed the “bronze medal” aside.

That day at the home goods store, they had both tried out and liked the same sofa. Bo Ren had felt it was a very happy day.

But why, on such a happy day, did a random male grad student have to appear? And in his third year of grad school, no less! Isn’t that too much? Going out on a date on the weekend—what if he can’t graduate, you reckless kid!

The more Bo Ren observed Yang Qiao, the more he felt that Yang Qiao was probably chatting with that third-year grad student, just trying to hide it from him. Otherwise, why would he be blushing if it were just work?

“Stop talking to him, will you!” Bo Ren decided to throw a fit. After twenty-two years of friendship, he knew this tactic always worked with Yang Qiao.

Bo Ren said, “Stop talking to him. I’m upset. I don’t like it when you act like this.”

“Like what?” Yang Qiao, startled by Bo Ren’s sudden outburst, asked, “Have you had too much to drink?”

Bo Ren replied, “No, I haven’t.”

But then he quickly changed his tune, saying, “Actually, yes, I’ve had too much. Ah, my head is spinning.”

He skillfully played the role of a drunk, grabbing Yang Qiao’s arm and leaning on his shoulder like a baby koala… This enormous “baby,” standing at 1.85 meters tall, tried to snatch the phone from Yang Qiao’s hand, intending to stop him from chatting with anyone else. It didn’t matter who he was talking to.

Yang Qiao’s face was a bit flushed, but it wasn’t because of the guy he went on a date with—it was because of the Tianzhilan they had at dinner.

Now, his face turned even redder.

He quickly dodged Bo Ren’s hand, avoiding having his phone snatched. He pushed Bo Ren’s face away with one hand to keep him at a distance and held his phone to his ear with the other, saying seriously, “Hello?”

Bo Ren froze—was he actually taking a call now?

Yang Qiao spoke into the phone with a straight face, “Is this 95598? I have an engineer here at my house who’s causing a drunken disturbance. Are you going to do something about it? His employee number is…” He skillfully recited Bo Ren’s employee number.

Bo Ren burst out laughing, and Yang Qiao joined in, finally bringing an end to their usual childhood-friend antics.

Bo Ren stopped laughing and, with a somewhat serious expression, said, “I’m not trying to interfere. I just hope you’ll be careful when choosing a partner.”

This was essentially saying, “I’m doing this for your own good.”

“I know,” Yang Qiao suddenly lost interest and said, “I’m done playing around. I’m going to bed.”

The greatest illusion in life—one that he had fallen for countless times—was always thinking, always assuming.

Without paying Bo Ren any more attention, Yang Qiao went upstairs alone.

In Yang Qiao’s home, Bo Ren was never one to be polite. He would certainly find the most comfortable way to spend the night, and the next morning, he would rummage through the house for food, fully using his initiative to solve the breakfast problem. But before leaving, he would also make sure to clean up the kitchen thoroughly. If time allowed, Bo Ren would likely even help organize the clutter in the living room.

Bo Ren had good living habits, and these habits were consistent whether he was at home or elsewhere. Although his personality seemed carefree, he was actually very reliable at his core.

During the years when Yang Qiao wasn’t in Yunzhou, whenever something came up at home, Bo Ren handled it with more care than Yang Qiao himself.

Bo Ren was undoubtedly the best of friends, and anyone who had a friend like him should cherish them deeply.

Yang Qiao returned to the second-floor bedroom and didn’t turn on the light. He sprawled out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to think about something, but his mind was flooded with countless thoughts—some about money, others about emotions. Each thought was important, but he couldn’t focus on any of them right now.

In the end, he decided not to make things difficult for himself. He exhaled a relaxed breath and thought he would tackle it after a good night’s sleep.

Money and emotions are, in essence, objective realities—they exist whether you think about them or not, unchanging, without joy or sorrow.

At some point, Bo Ren came upstairs too and appeared at Yang Qiao’s door.

“Perfect timing, close the door for me,” Yang Qiao said, eyes closed. “I’m too lazy to get up.”

Even in a home where he was the only one living, Yang Qiao had the habit of closing the bedroom door before sleeping. It made him feel safe.

Shortly after, he heard the sound of the door closing.

As he was drifting off to sleep, Yang Qiao felt the mattress dip slightly and knew that Bo Ren had sat down on the edge of the bed. Without opening his eyes, he said, “Stop messing around, enough is enough. Go to sleep.”

Bo Ren didn’t say anything; the room was very quiet.

Yang Qiao fell asleep. But just a moment later, he woke up again. He opened his eyes, and sure enough, Bo Ren was still sitting there, seemingly watching him, though Yang Qiao couldn’t see clearly.

“You’re crazy,” Yang Qiao said, “You scared me.”

He thought about it and decided to seriously explain to Bo Ren that there was nothing going on between him and the grad student. He had simply played host, showing the guy around Yunzhou for a day, and then they amicably agreed to part ways, never contacting each other again.

Given Bo Ren’s stubborn nature, if this wasn’t clarified, he would definitely keep harping on it.

Just as Yang Qiao was about to get up, Bo Ren suddenly moved. He leaned in close, and just as Yang Qiao was about to say something, Bo Ren’s kiss landed on his lips.

The curtains were half-drawn, the inner layer of new off-white sheer curtains fluttered slightly, and outside, a light spring rain had begun to fall again.

Bo Ren had no experience kissing anyone and was relying entirely on instinct as he kissed Yang Qiao. He was very nervous, but Yang Qiao was even more tense than he was. One acted with awkward initiative, and the other with stunned passivity, which somehow created a balanced understanding between them.

When Bo Ren attempted to part Yang Qiao’s lips with his tongue, Yang Qiao felt intense anxiety but couldn’t bring himself to react in any way. He simply accepted the deep kiss mechanically and submissively.

After a moment, Bo Ren tried to wrap his arms around Yang Qiao’s body, and the thin shirt couldn’t block the searing heat of their skin.

At this point, Yang Qiao finally realized what they were doing, and his body began to respond reflexively. He wanted to push Bo Ren away, his hand already raised and resting against Bo Ren’s shoulder.

Bo Ren’s movements halted, as if waiting, a bit anxious, wanting to confirm whether Yang Qiao would reject him.

But this was Bo Ren—the one person in Yang Qiao’s twenty-six years of life that he couldn’t refuse.

Instead of pushing him away, Yang Qiao’s hand moved around Bo Ren’s shoulder, resting on the back of his neck. Gently but firmly, he pulled Bo Ren closer.

The moment he felt Yang Qiao’s acceptance, Bo Ren seemed to be completely liberated. His kisses became more fervent, more assertive.

Because Yang Qiao didn’t reject him, it meant that Bo Ren could completely, and fully, claim Yang Qiao as his own.

Trial Project (only 5 chapters)

Translator: If many readers like it and have good rating on NU, I’ll continue. If not, I’ll move on to a different project and hopefully another translator can pick it up.

xxx

Yang Qiao left Beijing and returned to his hometown, Yunzhou, where he has been living for over three months now, gradually adjusting to his slow-paced and healthy new life.

This year’s spring has been particularly long, neither too cold nor too hot, with pleasant humidity—very comfortable.

The winds in Yunzhou have become much gentler compared to Yang Qiao’s past memories, and even the flowers seem to bloom more lavishly than he remembered. Occasionally, when he has nothing to do, he would go out for a walk or a bike ride, passing through streets that feel both familiar and unfamiliar, often feeling a small but rare happiness that’s hard to find quickly in a big city.

At the beginning of his return, it was only natural for him to live with his parents, spending a brief “honeymoon” period with them. However, as soon as the three-month mark arrived, and before his parents could show any signs of getting tired of him, Yang Qiao proactively suggested moving out.

Two years ago, his parents had taken a liking to a townhouse in a newly developed area of Yunzhou. Having already made his first significant fortune, Yang Qiao volunteered to cover the cost of the house and the renovation, intending to help his parents realize their dream of living in a villa in their middle age. However, after the renovations were completed, his parents, who had just entered their fifties, felt that the current development in the area didn’t suit their lifestyle needs—mainly because the supporting facilities weren’t lively enough, making life rather inconvenient. As a result, the new house was left unused.

Now, Yang Qiao moved there alone, giving his parents the space for their world of two while also gaining a more suitable environment for his home office. He agreed with his parents to return home two or three times a week, believing that adult children should accompany their parents but also maintain an appropriate amount of space and distance.

Yang Qiao declined his mother’s offer to help him organize his new home, so he could completely design this dual-purpose living and working space according to his own preferences.

It’s been almost a week since he moved in, and he has been so busy organizing his new home that he has hardly gone out.

Coincidentally, a friend invited him out for dinner and a chat, so he immediately put aside the seemingly endless task of tidying up. When his friend heard that he had moved to the new area, they thoughtfully chose a dinner spot near his new home.

Yang Qiao wasn’t yet familiar with the surroundings. Following the navigation on his phone, he walked out of the southern gate of the neighborhood, went straight, turned left, then left again, and yet another left… He began to suspect that the untrustworthy map was messing with him. He had clearly checked from home, and the destination was only a little over 200 meters away, so how had he already walked more than 3,000 steps and still not arrived?

As someone who has achieved significant success in the traditional sense as a self-media personality, one of Yang Qiao’s keys to success is having an exceptional, almost obsessive sense of time.

For example, whenever providing services to a valued client, no matter how challenging the situation or how tight the deadline, Yang Qiao and his team would always complete the scheduled content or deliver the business proposal before the deadline.

This habit is ingrained in his bones, and it applies to meeting friends as well.

The possibility of being late made Yang Qiao extremely anxious.

Fortunately, after circling the neighborhood a full 360 degrees, he successfully found the food court shown on the map before the appointed time.

“Yang Qiao! Over here!”

Yang Qiao let out a long sigh of relief and smiled brightly in the direction of the voice.

The young man standing at the entrance of the restaurant was exactly who had invited Yang Qiao out—Zou Ji, who was waving at him.

“The navigation wasn’t accurate; I almost got lost,” Yang Qiao said as he walked over, smiling. “Did you get here early?”

“I just arrived too,” Zhou Ji replied, holding a bottle of Tianzhilan in one hand. Since he planned to drink tonight, he didn’t drive himself over.

Tonight’s dinner was a gathering initiated by Zou Ji, who had invited Yang Qiao and another close friend they shared.

Yang Qiao looked around.

“Bo Ren hasn’t arrived yet, and he’s not hiding somewhere waiting to scare you,” Zou Ji, understanding his friend’s glance, said. “He mentioned he had something to do and would be half an hour late.”

Yang Qiao only responded with a simple “hmm.”

Zou Ji raised an eyebrow and, in a teasing tone, said, “Strange, you didn’t know he’d be late? He informed me but didn’t tell you first?”

Yang Qiao replied, “He really didn’t.”

Zou Ji exaggerated his surprise and asked, “No way, you two haven’t patched things up yet?”

Yang Qiao didn’t say anything, just showed a slightly troubled expression in cooperation.

He knew Zou Ji was going to make fun of them, and the more he played along, the less fun the joke would be.

Sure enough, Zou Ji’s joke stopped there. He had been in good spirits lately, with everything going smoothly, so he placed his arm around Yang Qiao’s shoulder and led him into the restaurant’s private room.

“Mu Tou,” Zou Ji said, “you’re making a fortune, and every time we ask you out, you’re always on time. Bo Ren, just a mere electrician, never shows up on time for a meal.”

Back in his student days, Yang Qiao had been nicknamed “Mu Tou” by his friends. He had no objections to this nickname and even used it as his ID when registering on social media platforms. Later, when he started working in the self-media industry, it became his widely recognized alias.

The friend who was late, named Bo Ren, was an electrical engineer at the Yunzhou Power Supply Company under the State Grid. This month, he was on rotation at the substation maintenance division.

Yang Qiao said, “His job is really busy; cut him some slack.”

The two of them entered the private room Zou Ji had reserved, chatting over tea while waiting for the latecomer Bo Ren to arrive before ordering food.

Zou Ji rolled up his sleeves to make tea, revealing a wealth-bringing bracelet with a beeswax Pixiu on his wrist. He asked Yang Qiao, “Is your new place all set up? When are we coming over for a housewarming?”

Before Yang Qiao could answer, Zou Ji continued, “How about today? When Bo Ren gets here, you two can make up quickly, and this dinner can count as your housewarming party.”

Yang Qiao replied, “We didn’t fight; he was just looking for trouble and throwing a tantrum.”

Three months ago, just before the Lunar New Year, Yang Qiao returned from Beijing to celebrate. For the past few years, due to circumstances beyond his control, this was his first time returning to Yunzhou for the New Year since he graduated from university four years ago. He even expressed his intention to stay in Yunzhou more in the future to spend more time with his family.

He was the most successful young talent among his peers, and his decision to settle in Yunzhou was big news within the family, quickly spreading among relatives and their acquaintances.

There was a distant relative, a cousin many times removed, who was passionate about matchmaking for young men and women of marriageable age. She was known as the top matchmaker in Yunzhou, with a reputation for having successfully paired over a hundred couples.

Out of the goodness of her heart, this cousin unilaterally decided to help her cousin Yang Qiao with his love life. She advertised him in several Yunzhou matchmaking groups with the slogan “Handsome, wealthy, single since birth, and a top-quality 26-year-old excellent young man,” inviting all eligible girls in Yunzhou to come forward for a match.

This led to various farcical situations, turning the entire Lunar New Year into a chaotic mess—details of which need not be elaborated here.

As a result, after careful consideration, Yang Qiao posted an update on his social media that was not hidden from his relatives and elders in Yunzhou:

“I just wanted to let everyone know—I am the so-called ‘legendary gay man.'”

—Officially coming out.

His work revolves around the internet, and his social connections since university were mostly outside Yunzhou. His parents had accepted his orientation years ago, and his close friends were already aware of everything.

The people he truly cared about were treating him with a very normal attitude.

Moreover, with his career thriving and without any bad habits or reckless investments, the 26-year-old excellent gay man, Yang Qiao, had already accumulated enough capital to withstand life’s risks and outpace inflation. This gave him the utmost confidence to not care about outside opinions.

What this excellent gay man didn’t anticipate was that by coming out, he fended off the well-meaning matchmakers in Yunzhou but attracted another wave of enthusiastic individuals on his social media.

Just a couple of days after he posted his coming-out announcement and after the Lantern Festival, a former client representative reached out to Yang Qiao. They first congratulated him on his bravery in facing his true self, then eagerly offered to introduce him to a male relative. They insisted that when Yang Qiao had time to return to Beijing, he must meet this boy and see where things might go.

—Being gay doesn’t automatically grant immunity from being pressured to get married.

Yang Qiao didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so he planned to employ a strategy of delay. He had already decided to work from home in Yunzhou and, unless absolutely necessary, had no intention of returning to Beijing in the near future.

After more than a month of stalling, spring had arrived, and when the boy couldn’t wait for Yang Qiao to return to Beijing, he decided to take the initiative and visit during a weekend. The high-speed train from Beijing to Yunzhou took just over forty minutes, allowing him to both see the so-called “top-quality” Mu Tou and take a short trip to Yunzhou.

That day, Yang Qiao happened to be out with his friend Bo Ren, shopping for items to furnish his new home.

The two of them were lying side by side on a beanbag sofa, thinking it was quite nice, and discussing where it would best fit in Yang Qiao’s new house.

Noticing that Bo Ren also liked it, Yang Qiao suggested that they buy two sets, one to send to Bo Ren’s place.

Just then, a message came in from the person who made the introduction. Both of them felt the vibration of Yang Qiao’s phone in his pocket at the same time, and when Yang Qiao took it out to check, Bo Ren, sitting beside him, also saw the message.

The matchmaker texted on WeChat, saying that her nephew was about ten minutes away from arriving at Yunzhou High-Speed Railway Station. He was traveling alone, and since this was the first time the young boy had left Beijing on his own, she entrusted him to Yang Qiao.

After a brief moment of consideration, Yang Qiao decided to go to the station to pick him up. No matter what, he couldn’t just leave the boy stranded.

Because of this, Bo Ren and Yang Qiao had a fight. Bo Ren’s reasoning was that he had gone through great trouble to switch shifts with a colleague just to get the day off to accompany Yang Qiao, only for Yang Qiao to prioritize someone else over their friendship. He accused Yang Qiao of being heartless and stormed off, refusing to buy the sofa.

In the restaurant’s private room, after Yang Qiao finished recounting the entire story to Zou Ji, he concluded with an exasperated question: “Do you think he’s crazy?”

Zou Ji gave his opinion: “He must be jealous; there’s no other explanation. If he’s not jealous, I’ll chop off my head and let you roast my brains.”

Yang Qiao picked up a tea knife from the table, handed it to Zou Ji with the handle facing him, and said, “Go ahead, cut it off, so I can hurry up and send it to the kitchen to add to the menu.”

Zou Ji quickly laughed and pushed the tea knife aside, pouring tea for Yang Qiao as he said with schadenfreude, “If he’s already this upset just from you meeting the boy, he’ll definitely lose his mind if you actually start dating him. He’d go mad at any moment.”

“I believe that,” Yang Qiao didn’t deny the speculation, saying, “He’s been like this since he was three or four years old. If I played with other kids for five minutes without paying attention to him, he’d start crying, throwing a fit, and even threatening to hang himself with his shoelaces. He hasn’t changed as he’s grown up. Sometimes, if I contact you more often than him, he even gets jealous of you… A straight guy with so many little tricks—sometimes it really drives me crazy.”

Zou Ji didn’t believe for a second that Yang Qiao actually found the situation annoying, but he didn’t call him out on it. Instead, he said, “We should look at this with a forward-thinking perspective. For example, this time when you came back, I really feel like he’s treating you differently than before. Don’t you think so? Be brave—there’s nothing to lose, even if it doesn’t work out. Even if he doesn’t want to date, he still won’t be able to stay away from you. At worst, things will stay as they are now, and you’ll continue being friends.”

“I didn’t notice anything different,” Yang Qiao didn’t want to continue the topic, so he countered, “If you have time to egg me on to a suicide mission, why aren’t you going after your goddess? Shanghai isn’t that far.”

Despite being a self-proclaimed love guru when advising others, Zou Ji turned into a self-professed loser in his own love life. He quickly tried to brush off the subject, saying, “I… I’ve been busy expanding my business. I just took over two new streets, and I’m swamped with work. I don’t have the time or energy to chase after my goddess.”

Yang Qiao casually replied, “We just signed a few new talents, and I’ve been busy with account promotion. I’m so swamped that I don’t even have time to think about men.”

They silently drank their tea.

“For something as minor as account promotion,” Zou Ji said in confusion, “does Mu Tou really have to get involved personally?”

Yang Qiao replied, “I still need to keep an eye on things. Otherwise, the younger team members tend to get out of hand.”

Coming from a completely different industry, Zou Ji, a seasoned logistics professional with control over four streets in one district and eight community parcel stations, didn’t know much about the new media industry. He said, “At that New Year’s dinner, didn’t you say you wanted to quit and come back to Yunzhou to take it easy? I noticed you haven’t gone back to Beijing, so I thought you really meant to take it easy. You’ve already achieved financial freedom—don’t push yourself so hard, brother.”

Yang Qiao said, “It’s not that easy to just lie down, brother.”

At that moment, the door to the private room opened, and they paused their conversation.

Bo Ren, who had finally arrived, entered from outside. He was tall, with a healthy tan, and a fine layer of water droplets covered his short hair. There were also traces of wetness on the shoulders of his black jacket.

“Master Bo has arrived,” Zou Ji said with a smile. “Is it raining outside?”

“Yeah, I braved the wind and rain just to have this meal with you two,” Bo Ren replied.

Author’s Note:

This time, we’re telling the story of two childhood friends who finally become a couple. The narrative will be told in reverse order, starting from high school and continuing into their adult lives. It’s likely to be a medium to long-length story.

The audience watching the live broadcast was scratching their heads, puzzled by the commentators who had suddenly gone silent. They were internally criticizing, thinking that this batch of commentators might not be up to par. Could it be that the event’s budget was so low that they had to hire such unprofessional staff?

However, inside the broadcast, the commentators in each competition area were mentally overwhelmed. They swore that it wasn’t because they were unprofessional! The real issue was that the Hua Nation competitors were too cunning. The commentators couldn’t understand the system being used; it wasn’t any commercially available firewall, and they were genuinely at a loss.

This group of professional commentators was facing the biggest challenge of their careers, potentially heading for a serious downfall. Eventually, one quick-thinking commentator had a bright idea and decided to pass the problem on to the global audience. Handing over the microphone, they asked:

“Dear Hua Nation competitor, your firewall construction is very innovative. This isn’t any firewall available on the market, and I sincerely apologize that my professional knowledge falls short here. Would it be possible for us to broadcast a portion of your construction process live for the global audience to observe and evaluate?”

The commentator was quite clever. Since they couldn’t explain it themselves, they decided to let the audience take a look, thinking that people would be curious. Although it might be a bit intrusive, broadcasting a non-critical part of the construction process, which wouldn’t reveal core secrets, was generally acceptable. After all, this tech competition was being broadcast live, so some exposure of data was to be expected.

The Hua Nation team members were already prepared for this.

With a smile, one of them nodded and said, “Of course.”

With the go-ahead, the camera quickly zoomed in.

And then…

Everyone watching the live stream suddenly held their breath.

Several judges from the United Nations, who were sitting comfortably in the stands, were so shocked that they suddenly stood up, exclaiming, “Impossible!”

The commentators understood the reaction, as their own momentary silence had been due to their astonishment.

Because… the firewall being constructed by the Hua Nation competitor was using a brand-new programming language! And this new programming language was none other than Chinese!

The audience and judges were in an uproar.

The live stream chat exploded with comments, led by the Hua Nation’s chat:

“Holy crap, is that Chinese? Am I seeing things? Is the Hua Nation competitor really programming in Chinese?”

“I must be dreaming; how else could something I’ve always wished for become reality?”

“Does this mean… that in the future, we won’t need to worry about passing English exams to learn computer science? Has the barrier to entry just gotten lower?”

“How on earth did they manage to do this?”

“Hahaha, this is real! Even if it’s a dream, I believe it’s true. Let’s praise our motherland!”

While the other countries’ live streams were filled with shock, the Hua Nation’s chat was buzzing with disbelief and excitement.

Why have foreign countries always been ahead in research, science, and technology? Why have they developed more rapidly? One of the key reasons is the programming language. Without going into too much detail, let’s focus on one point: people in foreign countries can dive straight into learning computer science, while non-English speaking countries? If they want to delve deep into computer science, they first have to overcome the language barrier.

Although English is considered one of the easiest and most straightforward languages to learn, mastering it is still a challenge. Do you think passing the English proficiency tests at level six or eight is easy? You’d be surprised to know how many students lose their hair each year just trying to get through it! The language barrier alone eliminates countless people who are genuinely interested in computer programming.

Moreover, foreign countries had an earlier start in computer development. Falling behind once means falling behind at every step, so it’s no wonder that foreign countries are so far ahead in technology. But now, what the Hua Nation team has revealed breaks this inherent advantage that foreign countries have had.

If Hua Nation’s technological advancements surpass those of foreign countries in the future, then it will be Hua Nation that dominates the world of computers. It’s the era of the internet, and controlling the world of computers signifies something monumental—something even the average person should understand.

At this moment, most Hua Nation netizens might be thinking, “Does this mean we no longer need to worry about language barriers when learning computer science?” But those with deeper insights have already started considering the far-reaching implications.

In the judges’ panel, the expressions of several foreign judges turned sour, especially those from leading tech countries. They looked at the Hua Nation judge seated at the far end with an expression that seemed like they wanted to tear him apart.

“Mr. Wu, it seems your country is going to be in the spotlight this time…”

The voices of the judges were filled with gritted teeth.

And why wouldn’t they be? Hua Nation has developed an entirely new programming language, signaling that they came prepared for this competition. Everyone knew Hua Nation might bring some impressive innovations, but no one anticipated it would be to this extent. The competition had only just begun, and it was already evident that Hua Nation had more surprises up their sleeve.

They had all made a mistake. They had underestimated Hua Nation!

Faced with the disgruntled attitudes of the other judges, the Hua Nation judge, who had been sitting quietly on the sidelines, finally broke into a smile.

Departing from the previously conciliatory tone, his voice was filled with confidence and pride, “Thank you, thank you. We’ve indeed produced a few good talents in recent years…”

In recent years, the country had endured enough humiliation. If they didn’t seize this moment to assert themselves, then when would they?

Why were certain countries so arrogant and self-centered? Naturally, it was because they had the power to back it up. This was an unfortunate reality.

Hearing the unspoken meaning in Mr. Wu’s words, the expressions of the judges, except for those from countries friendly with Hua Nation, grew even darker.

Regardless of the undercurrents among the judges, the live broadcast was buzzing with activity. After the initial shock, people began to question whether this new programming language was truly viable and whether it could interface with the old programming languages. After all, once the firewalls were built, the contestants would begin attacking each other. How could two different programming languages coexist on the same network? This was a serious concern.

However, this concern was unwarranted. The research team had obviously considered these issues before daring to use a new programming language. When translating the information from the “golden finger” (a special ability or resource in some contexts), Fang Ziyang had been inspired.

If alien languages could be translated into current programming languages, couldn’t he create a new programming language himself? After all, translating into English or into Chinese was still translation, and the alien language in the “golden finger” bore a strong resemblance to Chinese.

According to the information from the materials, in the future interstellar era, language barriers between species had already been resolved. People no longer had to go to great lengths to learn other species’ languages, as these obstacles were overcome by advanced technology. Network technology was no different.

Although Hua Nation’s contestants were currently using Chinese to build their firewalls, once connected to the network, it would automatically translate into the universal English language, allowing them to attack other contestants’ firewalls. However, when other contestants tried to invade their systems, they would find it impossible due to the language difference!

This naturally put them in an unbeatable position.

This was one of the reasons why Fang Ziyang insisted on assembling the team’s computers himself; all their computers were custom-made.

The thirty-minute preparation time quickly passed. All the contestants completed their firewall construction, and after a brief rest, the invasion attacks officially began!

Although many were initially shocked by the Hua Nation contestants using Chinese to code, their astonishment soon turned into skepticism about its effectiveness.

After all, if new programming languages were that easy to develop, it wouldn’t have taken until now to see one. Even if the new programming language was well-developed, it didn’t necessarily mean the final result would be superior.

Because it was so unbelievable, many people assumed that the Hua Nation contestants were simply trying to grab attention.

“Clowns, just wait; you’ll be knocked out soon!”

On the battlefield, many contestants scoffed and began typing rapidly on their keyboards. They weren’t so arrogant as to overlook everything, but when something was too unbelievable, the human mind tended to ignore or underestimate it, leading them to overlook crucial details.

Since the Hua Nation contestants dared to do this in such a high-stakes competition, it was certainly not a reckless decision. Without a confidence level of at least ninety percent, neither the official team nor Fang Ziyang himself would have taken such a risk.

Unsurprisingly, ten minutes after the invasion attacks began, some contestants in the various regional arenas started to experience a deep sense of fear.

They were horrified to discover that not only were their attack commands facing serious obstacles, but it also seemed that some hidden data was sneaking into their computers through the channels they had opened. As a result, they felt as though they were losing control of their computers!

Meanwhile, a few other contestants were utterly confused.

They suddenly found that their attacks seemed much easier than expected.

“What’s going on? Why is O Nation’s firewall so weak? That shouldn’t be the case…”

“Did my skills suddenly improve overnight? I was prepared to be knocked out within the first three minutes, but it’s been over ten minutes, and I’m still in the game?”

“Is this really the L Nation contestant’s firewall? Are they just going easy on me, or are they pretending to be weak, waiting for me to fall into their trap? Damn it, this is too sneaky! If you’re going to kick me out, just do it directly; don’t treat me like a fool!”

These contestants had no idea what was happening.

Some were bewildered, fantasizing that they must have somehow unlocked their full potential overnight, giving them an unshakable confidence. Others assumed that their opponents were intentionally luring them in, waiting to crush them once they were fully committed. They typed even more cautiously, cursing their opponents for being overly cunning.

It wasn’t until half an hour later that these confused contestants realized something was wrong.

By then, however, the match was almost over.

In a daze, Abbas heard a voice beside him, clear and almost devilish.

“P Nation contestant, out.”

“U Nation contestant, offline.”

“W Nation contestant, you’re out.”

“R Nation contestant, goodbye…”

As this voice echoed, Abbas watched as the dots representing contestants on his screen disappeared one by one, the rankings continuously shifting.

Then, almost without realizing it, his rank climbed up to second place.

When the electronic timer stopped and the broadcast announced the results from each region, Abbas felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned around in a daze, only to see the young Hua Nation contestant next to him giving an apologetic smile.

“Abbas, sorry, but we need to win the championship, so you’ll have to settle for second place~”

Abbas: …

Abbas felt like he must still be dreaming.

The entire arena fell into silence.

Only a few contestants from other countries, who hadn’t achieved the rankings they expected, stood up in shock and disbelief, their emotions running so high that they almost lost control.

“No, this is impossible! They cheated! They used a new programming language that didn’t interface with our data. We couldn’t even approach their firewalls to launch an attack. This is unfair!”

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In the rest area, the atmosphere among the members of the various national teams, which had been tense due to their competitive nature, unexpectedly became oddly harmonious after Fang Ziyang’s performance. The power of his “white lotus” act, especially when combined with a touch of “green tea essence,” was not to be underestimated. Fang Ziyang had perfectly demonstrated what it meant to say, “Don’t mess with me, or I’ll cry in front of everyone!”

These days, it’s not the tough ones you fear—it’s the soft ones. Before you even make a move, the other side starts crying. What can you do in front of a global audience? You can’t exactly lose your temper on such a public stage.

Fang Ziyang might not care about losing face, but the others did. For a moment, the looks directed at Fang Ziyang by the other contestants were filled with mixed emotions. Regardless of anything else, his courage to cry in front of the entire world without worrying about his image was something worth acknowledging!

The surrounding gazes were intense, yet the Hua Nation team remained as calm as ever, as if nothing had happened. Fang Ziyang, in particular, seemed completely unfazed by his earlier crying episode. He cheerfully popped a mint into his mouth, tilted his head, and began eating with a smile.

Naturally, the interview was broadcast live to the networks of various countries.

The reaction from international viewers was surprisingly uniform: everyone found it hilarious.

“Haha, is he really a member of the Hua Nation team? He looks so young—has he even come of age yet? And what he said was so funny. Was that on purpose? The reporters looked so confused, haha.”

“Of course it was on purpose! That reporter probably saw how young he was and tried to trap him, since the other Hua Nation members were too careful in their answers and didn’t give any juicy news. But this guy didn’t take the bait at all.”

“Is this the so-called ‘white lotus’?”

“I even got a strong ‘green tea’ vibe, haha, perfect representation…”

“But what did he say earlier? It seemed like an ancient Hua Nation text; even the live translators couldn’t keep up.”

“While I do think Hua Nation is still behind the leading tech countries, the way these reporters were clearly targeting them is a bit embarrassing. It’s not very gentlemanly at all…”

“There’s a lot of misinformation in the media reports. Some people I know, who don’t go online much, still think Hua Nation is full of pigtails, mud huts, and filth. But when I visited, the place was full of skyscrapers!”

“Being overly arrogant just blinds you. I think this competition will give us all a more accurate understanding of the world’s countries, instead of being manipulated by the media.”

The live streams from various countries were filled with different comments, but the general sentiment was positive.

Everyone could see that Fang Ziyang was intentionally dealing with reporters who were trying to trap him. No one thought much of it, and in fact, in many countries, using one’s own language in such interviews is seen as a matter of pride and identity.

The public can be very discerning, and there are plenty of rational people out there.

However, this discussion didn’t last long because the opening ceremony quickly concluded, and the event organizers began their speeches and announced the competition rules.

The first round of the technology competition was called “Battle of Offense and Defense.” In simple terms, this round was focused on information security, or more bluntly, a hacker battle. After all, if a scientific achievement cannot ensure its security, how could it be confidently showcased? The security of scientific research results is crucial and must be tested.

Of course, the term “hacker” isn’t exactly a positive one, so it couldn’t be openly used. Although the competition was essentially a test of hacking skills, the name was certainly changed for the sake of appearances.

The “Battle of Offense and Defense” was divided into two parts. The first part was a one-on-one match, and the second was a team battle. Both competitions were conducted in a free-for-all mode, with participants from nearly 200 countries. In the end, only the top 10 would advance. So, without absolute strength, it would be nearly impossible to break through.

In such a scenario, even if some participants wanted to manipulate the results, it would be very difficult. Of course, if some participants reached an agreement during the competition and decided to jointly target someone, this kind of open conspiracy couldn’t be fully prevented. After all, nothing can guarantee absolute fairness.

“… Those are the rules for the first round, first match. Now, we ask the main participants from each team to bring their computers and enter the designated areas according to their numbers.”

With the announcer’s declaration, the contestants from each country quickly composed themselves, grabbed their computers, and moved into their respective zones.

To ensure fairness and to thoroughly test each person’s capabilities, the battle zones were divided by strength, starting with the strongest and gradually decreasing. The participants in the No. 1 zone were all team leaders, the No. 2 zone had the second strongest members, and so on.

In the Hua Nation team, Fang Ziyang was ranked second, so he was placed in the No. 2 battle zone.

Previously, most people didn’t take Fang Ziyang seriously, assuming he was someone with connections, put on the team for the sake of gaining some prestige—a typical underperformer. After all, Fang Ziyang’s youthful appearance led most people from Hua Nation to think he was around seventeen or eighteen years old.

For foreigners, who often struggle with distinguishing Asian faces and are used to more mature-looking peers, he appeared even younger. No matter how talented a young person is, how skilled could they possibly be? Talent is certainly a gift, but experience is also crucial for technical experts.

However, when they saw him actually entering the No. 2 zone, everyone became unsettled.

At this moment, no one would think Fang Ziyang was just there to coast along or for the sake of prestige, because no country would joke around in such a serious setting. This seemingly just-of-age young man was in the No. 2 zone? He was ranked second in his team? Were the talents in Hua Nation’s team really so lacking, or was this young man truly exceptional?

Even the Hua Nation viewers were equally shocked.

“Although I’ve accepted that Fang Ziyang is participating, is he really ranked second in the team? Why do I feel like I’m dreaming?”

“You’re not alone; I’m also feeling bewildered…”

“Actually, it’s not impossible. You guys might have forgotten that Fang Ziyang is Tang Xun’s younger brother. Tang Xun became famous in his teens, remember?”

“Like brother, like brother. It’s said that the Lu family’s talents are particularly strong in heredity. Several generations have been scientists, so it’s not surprising that Fang Ziyang is just as extraordinary as his brother.”

“That’s not necessarily true. The saying goes, ‘Dragons give birth to nine sons, each different from the others.’ Look at Lu Yan… Well…”

“Come on, I had almost forgotten about that, until you brought it up. After Fang Ziyang’s ungrateful dad and ungrateful big brother, now we have an ungrateful uncle too. Fang Ziyang seems to have a knack for dealing with ungrateful family members…”

“Let’s not mention these people. Please don’t insult my favorite char siu bun, thanks!”

“…”

The discussion gradually veered off-topic.

As Fang Ziyang and Tang Xun continued to shine, Fang Yandong and others were regularly dragged out for a public shaming. Sometimes, netizens have excellent memories and relish gossip about celebrities and powerful families. When in a bad mood, bashing scumbags brings them no small amount of joy.

The live chat was lively with discussion.

In the No. 2 competition zone, the other participants were equally shocked to see Fang Ziyang, all with expressions that seemed to ask, “Little brother, are you sure you’re in the right place?”

Abbas was from Country B, and his spot was right next to Fang Ziyang.

Country B and Hua Nation had always maintained a good relationship, even earning the nickname “iron brothers” in private. So compared to participants from countries like A and G, Abbas’s attitude towards Fang Ziyang was relatively friendly. Seeing Fang Ziyang’s youthful appearance, Abbas couldn’t help but kindly and tactfully ask,

“Little brother, are you really ranked second in your team at such a young age?”

The underlying message was: “Little brother, are you sure you didn’t grab the wrong badge? Better check!”

Fang Ziyang, not as young as he appeared, naturally picked up on Abbas’s subtle hint, so he responded with a friendly smile.

“Of course. My brother is Tang Xun, who is known as one of the world’s most outstanding geniuses. Have you heard of him?”

Fang Ziyang smiled brightly, “I’m definitely not any worse than my brother. Do you think you have a shot at the top 10? If you’re worried, I can help you.”

“Your brother is Tang Xun?!”

Abbas didn’t pay much attention to Fang Ziyang’s last words, thinking he was just joking. His focus was entirely on the mention of Tang Xun’s name.

Anyone in the tech world would be familiar with Tang Xun. Outsiders might only know that Tang Xun was remarkable, but they didn’t grasp the full extent of his achievements and what his intellect represented. When Tang Xun graduated from HF, several leading tech countries tried to recruit him, and even the president of HF stepped in to persuade him, offering countless benefits. This highlighted Tang Xun’s importance.

But in the end, Tang Xun declined all the offers and chose to return to Hua Nation to continue his work, much to the regret of many prestigious research institutions.

Everyone had initially thought that Tang Xun’s development would be hampered by the limitations of Hua Nation’s tech environment. But no one expected that, just a few years later, Tang Xun would collaborate with the Hua Nation government to develop the chip-based ID, a technology so ahead of its time that it shocked the entire scientific community and made other nations feel threatened.

Abbas wasn’t familiar with Fang Ziyang’s reputation in his own country, but hearing that he was Tang Xun’s younger brother was shocking enough.

The other competitors around them, hearing this, also became more alert. Their attitudes towards Fang Ziyang shifted from casual to serious.

Everyone sitting in this competition wasn’t foolish. After all, those with negative emotional intelligence like Jin Yu were rare.

Fang Ziyang had a good impression of Abbas. While he didn’t need friends during the competition, he didn’t mind helping Abbas. After all, he knew that some people would likely team up to attack him later, and having Abbas as an ally would make things easier for him.

Ignoring the stares from those around him, Fang Ziyang gave Abbas a sweet smile.

“Big brother, my name is Fang Ziyang. What’s your name? Which country are you from? How about we team up later?”

The suggestion was quite sudden, especially since their respective strengths were still unknown. Plus, his youthful appearance didn’t inspire much confidence.

Moreover, with the prior bet, it was almost certain that the M Nation competitors would gang up on him during the competition. Teaming up with him didn’t seem like a wise choice.

But Abbas didn’t mind.

His team had come to this competition without any real expectations of advancing, taking a “it’s the participation that counts” approach. After all, technology isn’t something you can win by effort alone; absolute skill is required to achieve a good ranking.

In reality, everyone pretty much knew which countries had a real shot at making it to the top 10.

So, even if Fang Ziyang wasn’t that capable, Abbas didn’t mind. After all, his team was just there for the experience.

“My name is Abbas, from Country B. We’re like iron brothers. Good luck.”

Abbas smiled and extended a fist towards Fang Ziyang as a sign of agreement and friendship.

“Good luck!”

Fang Ziyang responded with a bright smile.

The two, having just met, formed a tentative partnership.

The other competitors around them couldn’t help but shake their heads.

At first, they thought that since Fang Ziyang was Tang Xun’s brother, he must have some serious skills. But seeing him team up with Abbas, they assumed he was just there to coast.

They were familiar with Abbas’s level, which was average at best. Teaming up with him was a sure way to drag yourself down. Unless Fang Ziyang’s abilities were truly extraordinary, there was no way he’d stand a chance.

With that in mind, the competitors in the No. 2 zone became more confident. Even if they couldn’t advance, having one less strong competitor made their own rankings look better, saving them some face back home.

Although these exchanges seemed to take a while, they actually happened very quickly.

Ten minutes later, with all the competitors in their designated areas, the host announced the start of the competition:

“You have 30 minutes to build your firewalls. After 30 minutes, the attacks will begin. Competitors, carry the expectations of your countrymen and the honor of your homeland. Good luck!”

With the host’s words, the competition officially began.

The competitors, who had been casually chatting just moments before, instantly switched into high gear. They became like machines, their fingers flying over the keyboards, creating afterimages as they typed at lightning speed.

Although most of the audience on-site and in the live stream didn’t fully understand the technical aspects, it didn’t stop them from marveling at the competitors’ impressive speed.

To ensure that the viewers, even those unfamiliar with the technology, could still enjoy the competition, each competitor was accompanied by a commentator to explain and enhance the excitement of the event.

Of course, to maintain the confidentiality of the technology, these commentators could only see the names of the firewalls the competitors were building. They would then explain to the audience how amazing these firewalls were, but the core content remained hidden.

Because of the earlier wager, the M Nation and Hua Nation competitors were particularly under the spotlight, with the live stream focusing heavily on them.

The M Nation competitors had a reason to be proud. In every area, when the commentators learned the names of the firewalls the M Nation competitors were constructing, they were shocked and then became overly excited, almost yelling into the camera:

“Oh my God! Do you know what firewall the M Nation competitor next to me is building? It’s the KIO Ultimate Defense! Most of the viewers might not have a direct understanding of this, so let me put it this way: this firewall is as its name suggests, the ultimate defense. It is currently the world’s number one defense system…”

“Even a simplified version built by one person is extremely difficult to break through… and it has anti-tracking capabilities. Once you’re caught in a counterattack, there’s no escape!”

The commentator went on and on, summarizing the main point: This is incredibly impressive! This is super amazing! This is absolutely the most powerful system out there!

After introducing the M Nation competitor, the camera naturally shifted to the Hua Nation competitor, given the wager between the two teams. A comparison was inevitable.

And then…

Then, the commentators, who had been so excited just moments ago, suddenly fell silent.

Because…

They couldn’t understand it…

They had never heard of the firewall’s name…

In the live broadcast, each area’s commentator suddenly froze.

Audience: This year’s commentators seem to be a bit off their game, huh?

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The events that took place in the hotel lobby quickly spread, and the bet between the Huaguo and M Nation teams naturally became known to the public. Although the bet was made on a whim, it wasn’t a reckless decision by Tang Xun. Even if Moore’s side hadn’t contacted the official media, the Huaguo team would have pushed for coverage.

As expected, once the media announced the bet, it caused not just an uproar among the people of Huaguo and M Nation but also excitement worldwide. With several days left before the official start of the competition, the global audience, already intrigued by the tech competition, was eager for some pre-match excitement. The live broadcasts of the arrival of contestants from various countries weren’t enough to satisfy the audience’s anticipation. They craved something more thrilling.

Unsurprisingly, when news of the bet broke, the forums and live chatrooms set up for the global audience by the tech competition organizers became incredibly lively.

Naturally, the citizens of Huaguo and M Nation were the most excited about the bet.

On the M Nation side:

“Oh, the Huaguo team is being way too cocky! Do they not remember that they were eliminated in the first round last time?”

“So arrogant. Sure, Huaguo’s tech has improved over the years, but they still have a long way to go. They’re good at making parts, but their core tech and chips are still a mess. Where do they get the confidence to make such a bold statement? The facts are clear.”

“Actually, this bet is a good thing. If they lose, they’ll exit the competition, which would save the organizers time and resources. Isn’t that great? Haha.”

“Okay, don’t get too excited just yet. Use your brain before you speak. This is a global forum; the whole world is watching. Don’t embarrass yourself if you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The fact that the Huaguo team is willing to make such a heavy bet suggests they must be at least 80% confident in their chances. Otherwise, are you calling them idiots?”

“This comment is spot on. Those who are dismissive probably don’t follow international news. Do you guys know about the chip ID card that Huaguo introduced last year? Do you understand the technology behind it and how advanced it is?”

“And that beauty serum… The introduction of these two products signifies a qualitative leap in Huaguo’s tech and medical fields. Laughing at others without understanding the situation is why people on international sites often say our country is arrogant and self-centered.”

“This bet is not to be underestimated. Everyone should be cautious and not too optimistic.”

On the Huaguo side:

“Wow, Tang Xun is so bold! That was badass!”

“What’s this about rooms being allocated on a first-come, first-served basis? It’s obviously a deliberate move to give our team a hard time. Hah, as if we can’t see through it. The organizers are really ‘considerate.'”

“As satisfying as this is, isn’t the bet a bit too rash? What if we lose? Wouldn’t that mean we really have to exit the competition?”

“They say a real man can adapt to circumstances. Even though it’s infuriating, this seems too risky. It might be better to swallow our pride for now and strike back after we’ve won the competition. Wouldn’t that be more stable and effective?”

“Are you sure that holding back would be better? Did you watch the full video? The M Nation team was clearly provoking us. If we backed down now, how could we maintain our dignity on the international stage? This isn’t just some internal squabble; it’s being broadcast to the entire world!”

“The bet may have been impulsive, but we absolutely can’t just take this lying down. And since Tang Xun had the guts to say what he did, he must be confident.”

“Exactly. Even if we lose, so what? We can take the loss. Isn’t science and technology all about constant effort and climbing higher? As long as we keep trying, there will be a day when we stand at the forefront of the world. What do a couple of competitions matter in the grand scheme?”

“Yes, our nation has a heritage spanning thousands of years. The one thing we’re not short on is patience and perseverance. No matter what decisions our team makes, I’ll support them!”

“We support this! If we don’t even have this much backbone, how will the world see us?”

“Even if we lose, it will be an honorable defeat!”

Both sides, in M Nation and Hua Nation, were highly energized.

There were both pessimistic and optimistic voices in the discussions. In today’s era of widespread education, people in different countries are no longer as ignorant as they were during the feudal period. While many people still follow official narratives, a significant portion can think critically and make their own judgments. These people won’t blindly boast; they analyze and express their opinions from a more balanced perspective.

After all, those who post on this forum, which gathers people from over two hundred countries worldwide, tend to be well-educated.

While many in Hua Nation felt the bet was impulsive and the stakes too high, criticizing their own country in front of the world was out of the question.

So, most comments were supportive and positive.

Whatever the case, it was crucial to show strength first. If too many people were pessimistic, it might add pressure on the team and cause them to make mistakes. Things had already reached this point, so why not rally behind them? They needed to trust their team. Worst case scenario, they lose and get mocked—nothing new. Hua Nation’s technology has long lagged behind other countries; that’s a reality they’ve always faced.

And anyway, after becoming the butt of the joke in the first round of the inaugural tech competition, they didn’t have any reputation left to lose.

“Failure is the mother of success; if we lose, we’ll just try harder next time!”

With this mindset, many citizens of Hua Nation became much more relaxed. It’s like the saying goes: “barefooted people have nothing to lose.”

The online discussion about this bet was lively, and people from other countries were also buzzing with excitement. Things escalated to the point where various official and unofficial platforms started setting up betting pools, drawing in countless participants eager to place their wagers.

Of course, judging by the odds, it was clear that most people still favored the M Nation team.

The odds for the M Nation team were set at 1:2, while the odds for the Hua Nation team were 1:5.

When Fang Ziyang and the others heard about this, they couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bet, bet, bet! As the participants, how can we not have confidence in ourselves? 100,000! I’m betting 100,000!”

“Hahaha, 100,000 is too stingy. I’m betting 200,000! With 5:1 odds, that’s a million! I can buy a small apartment to rent out when I get back.”

“You’re all too cautious. I’m betting 500,000! After this, not only can I buy a large apartment, but I can also propose to my boyfriend.”

Everyone started calculating their savings and spending money. Those who were more cautious bet 100,000 or 200,000, while the bolder ones went all-in, wagering most of their savings. After over a year of training and guidance from Fang Ziyang and Tang Xun, their confidence was sky-high.

Given that the techniques Fang Ziyang and Tang Xun had taught were groundbreaking, even mastering just a fraction of them was enough to outshine many in the industry. The odds of winning this bet were very high.

Since everyone else was getting involved, Fang Ziyang naturally didn’t want to miss out either.

“I heard that these major platforms have big backers with plenty of funds, so they won’t renege on their payouts. I’ll just bet a casual 10 million. I’ll spread it across five platforms, 2 million each. That shouldn’t make the bookies too nervous, right?”

Fang Ziyang mused.

Tang Xun nodded. “That amount should fly under the radar. I’ll do the same.”

“Count me in too, but I’ll bet a bit less—half as much, 1 million on each platform…”

Jin Yu didn’t want to be left out, eagerly pulling out her bank card. She couldn’t miss out on such a great opportunity to make some spending money!

Xie Zheng and Rick exchanged glances: if their spouses were in, how could they lag behind? This was about supporting their partners’ “careers,” after all.

So, collectively, their bets amounted to 9 million per platform!

Everyone else: …And you call that flying under the radar?

Indeed, the world of the wealthy is something ordinary people can’t quite grasp; being friends with the rich often makes one feel rather inadequate.

Originally planning to casually bet a few hundred thousand, Professor Yu cleared his throat and quietly pulled out a card filled with his life savings.

“Since everyone is so confident, how can your professor miss out? With me cheering you on, I believe the championship is definitely ours. Now, tell me, do you all have confidence?”

His voice boomed with authority.

Everyone: …You’ve put your life savings on the line, how could we dare to lose?

Although the total amount of bets placed by everyone was quite substantial, let’s not forget that this bet was known worldwide, and the betting pools were open to people from all over the world. So in the grand scheme of things, their contributions weren’t particularly conspicuous.

Even though there were fewer people betting on the Hua Nation team, the amount of money they wagered was certainly significant.

Seeing the situation, the platforms accepting bets started to worry about potentially massive payouts. As a result, the odds for the Hua Nation team’s victory were soon adjusted from 1:5 to 1:3, causing quite a stir among the global audience.

It’s true, people often mock Hua Nation, but Hua Nation genuinely has a large population, and there’s no shortage of wealthy individuals! Hua Nation citizens are also famously thrifty, so in crucial moments like this, they really come through!

Fortunately, these were legitimate betting platforms with set limits on the amount one could wager; otherwise, the total sum would have reached an astronomical figure.

…

Amidst this lively atmosphere, the days leading up to the competition passed quickly, and before anyone knew it, the official opening day of the International Technology Competition had arrived.

The competition venue was reminiscent of an Olympic stadium, with architecture modeled after the ancient Roman Colosseum, capable of seating a full 100,000 spectators.

The first round of the competition focused on intrusion defense technology, with computers as the primary tools. The vast open area was filled with cables and outlets, resembling an outdoor, multifunctional classroom. (The competition venue would be reconfigured for each round based on the theme.)

Each section of the grandstand was equipped with large screens broadcasting the action, ensuring that spectators had a great viewing experience.

On the day of the competition, the opening ceremony was scheduled for 10 a.m., but spectators from various countries began arriving more than an hour early, reflecting their excitement and anticipation.

This enthusiasm was hardly surprising.

The technology competition had an age limit of 30 years for participants, and given the high stakes, all of the competitors were the crème de la crème of their respective countries.

Although tech experts are often stereotyped as balding, overweight, or plain, there are always exceptions, aren’t there? Every field has its stars, right?

As a result, it wasn’t surprising that there were quite a few highly capable, good-looking young talents among the participants, leading to something of a “tech star” effect.

The opening ceremony was set to begin at 10 a.m., but the live broadcast of the entire competition started well in advance. Once all the spectators were seated, the participating teams from various countries began to enter the arena in order.

This time, the event organizers didn’t dare pull any tricks. After all, with the whole world watching, even though Hua Nation is often ridiculed internationally, its standing in the global rankings is still quite high. If they placed Hua Nation too far back in the procession, it would be seen as a significant slight and would undoubtedly spark public outrage.

However, whether intentional or not, when it was Hua Nation’s turn to enter, the host’s introduction was particularly telling:

“Next to enter is the Hua Nation team, oh, this is one of the most closely watched teams in this competition… According to videos circulating online and official announcements, the Hua Nation team has made a bet with the M Nation team. The stakes of this bet are incredibly high. If the Hua Nation team fails to fulfill the terms of the bet, they will have to withdraw from the rest of the competition.”

“What a bold and brave wager! It seems the Hua Nation team is very confident this time. Let’s hope their abilities match their courage—let’s all stay tuned.”

Unlike the serious and formal style of domestic hosts in such official settings, the host here, hailing from a culture that values freedom and creativity, was more casual and humorous. However, while the host’s words and demeanor seemed light-hearted and amusing, it was not difficult to detect an undertone of condescension.

Except for the Hua Nation spectators, many people from other countries in the audience burst out laughing.

“These jerks are too much!” Jin Yu, who had a fiery temper, couldn’t help but express her anger out loud in the procession. The other team members clenched their fists tightly as well.

Meanwhile, Hua Nation’s online community, quick to pick up on the tone, was also buzzing with indignation:

“What does this host mean? Why does it feel like there’s a sarcastic undertone?”

“He’s speaking in reverse, putting our team on the spot and setting them up for failure.”

“Let them laugh now, but they seriously think our team is just a pushover? Tang Xun was part of the team that worked on the chip ID project—let them underestimate us at their peril.”

“To those who always say the grass is greener abroad, take a good look at this. See what kind of attitude you’re met with when you step outside your own country. Go ahead, keep kissing up to them…”

Hua Nation’s online community was fired up. When it comes to understanding the nuances of language, Hua Nation, known for having one of the most complex languages in the world, is second to none. The so-called “humor” of the competition’s host wasn’t lost on anyone.

Both the online and on-site Hua Nation audience, as well as the team members, were in a foul mood. However, in such a setting, they had to hold back and were determined to stay composed, silently steeling themselves for a strong performance in the competition.

So when reporters came forward with microphones to ask about the bet, the team members didn’t say much, maintaining an air of calm and detachment:

“As the beautiful host said, let’s all stay tuned.”

This seemingly calm statement was actually quite sharp, effectively shutting down the reporters who had prepared a series of probing questions. If the reporters continued to press the issue, it would come across as overly aggressive and would make the event organizers appear petty and mean-spirited in front of a global audience.

However, if they chose not to pursue it…

It would feel like a missed opportunity, leaving a sense of frustration!

One reporter, unwilling to let it go, scanned the crowd and, upon spotting Fang Ziyang, immediately brightened up and thrust the microphone in front of him:

“Young man, what do you think of the bet between your team and the M Nation team? How confident are you in your chances of winning? You’ve stated that the M Nation team will only advance as the tenth-place finisher—do you think this might be overly confident? Or do you believe your team has the ability to dominate all other teams with absolute strength?”

The questions were full of traps, designed to trip them up at every turn.

They didn’t know about Fang Ziyang’s reputation as a rich playboy back home. Seeing his youthful, harmless appearance, and estimating his age to be just in his teens, they assumed he was an easy target. A young participant like him probably had little experience dealing with the media and might easily say the wrong thing—perfect for manipulating!

What these reporters didn’t notice was the look of pity that the other members of the Hua Nation team directed at them when they handed the microphone to Fang Ziyang.

Fang Ziyang tilted his head. “You want my opinion?”

The reporters eagerly nodded, waiting for his response.

Then, they saw the young, pretty boy in front of them break into a smile, his eyes curving into crescent moons.

“Well, of course… He can be as strong as he likes; a breeze will still caress the hills. He can be as fierce as he likes; the bright moon will still shine over the river. No matter how vicious or evil he may be, my righteousness will remain unshaken. Just give it your best shot.“

The reporters looked puzzled: What did that mean?

“You don’t understand?” Fang Ziyang asked, feigning innocence, blinking his eyes as if he were completely unaware of what was wrong. “Or do I have to answer in English? But my English is really bad. The people you interviewed before didn’t seem to be speaking in English…”

By the end of his sentence, his tone was tinged with a bit of uncertainty and confusion, like a little bunny scared by a big bad wolf, looking pitifully vulnerable.

The reporters’ faces froze. Although English is the universal language, the rules of such a global event do not mandate the use of any specific language for communication. To show respect to all participating nations, interviewees are allowed to speak in their native languages, with the event organizers providing professional translators for live broadcasts.

Since Fang Ziyang had already said that his English wasn’t good—whether that was true or not—if they insisted on making him explain in English, it would clearly seem like they were deliberately making things difficult for him. But if they didn’t get to the bottom of what he meant… how could they continue with their questions when they didn’t even understand his initial response?

The reporters suddenly realized that the seemingly weak and harmless “soft little bunny” they had cornered might actually have some sharp teeth!

Meanwhile, Fang Ziyang, not giving the reporters a chance to recover, continued in a soft voice, “Well, let me explain… I think the English word for it is… um…”

He looked genuinely puzzled, like a student struggling with a difficult problem.

Tang Xun, seeing this, sighed and knocked on his brother’s head, chiding, “Not studying is terrible. See, now you’re embarrassing yourself!”

After reprimanding him, Tang Xun turned to the reporters with an apologetic smile, politely saying, “Sorry, but we need to prepare for the competition. Could we continue this interview after the event?”

With that, he signaled the team members to start getting ready. Everyone immediately complied, closing their eyes to rest.

Fang Ziyang, on the other hand, put on a look of deep sadness. Playing the youngest card, he began to sniffle dramatically in front of the reporters who had asked the question.

“I’m sorry, big brothers and sisters. I shouldn’t have answered your question with something you couldn’t understand. Next time you interview me, I’ll make sure to use English.”

“I really didn’t mean to say something you couldn’t understand. My English just isn’t that good, and I didn’t know how to express myself. I thought you had translators, but I didn’t expect that even they wouldn’t understand. I really, really didn’t do it on purpose. I’ll make sure to study hard when I get back and become a super smart person who can cooperate well in interviews, and I won’t be such a poor student anymore…”

The young man cried pitifully, with tears brimming in his eyes, looking utterly remorseful and guilty.

The reporters: …

What a pure, innocent act! They felt a shiver run down their spines and retreated hastily.

The other participants from various countries in the rest area looked at Fang Ziyang with weird expressions.

Fang Ziyang turned around, meeting their gazes, and blinked his eyes innocently.

“Hello, big brothers and sisters!”

Everyone shuddered and, in unison, scooted their seats a step away.

It seemed that the Hua Nation team had brought along… a rather peculiar little oddball.

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The two people who arrived were none other than Moore James and Shi Liangchen. Pushing a wheelchair, Shi Liangchen was accompanied by a familiar face—Shi Meijing, who had become a helpless invalid, unable to move or speak.

Fang Ziyang’s lips curled slightly upon seeing them.

Shi Meijing, seated in the wheelchair, looked even more haggard, and upon seeing Fang Ziyang, her face immediately filled with terror and deep resentment. She kept making “mmm mmm” sounds, glaring at Fang Ziyang with a look that could have devoured him whole.

It was all Fang Ziyang’s fault; he was the one who caused her to end up like this! If it weren’t for Fang Ziyang, she wouldn’t have gotten involved in Yan Tong’s mess, wouldn’t have deceived her brother, and wouldn’t have ended up hated by him!

Clearly, it was all Yan Tong’s fault as the mastermind, but she had only helped a little, and yet Fang Ziyang had been so ruthless, turning her into a cripple! What was worse, she didn’t know what Fang Ziyang had said to her brother, making him hate her so much that every day felt like living hell.

Shi Meijing was filled with pain and hatred, yet even now, she couldn’t see her own mistakes and didn’t think she was at fault.

Fang Ziyang wasn’t surprised to see Shi Meijing still like this. If these people had any conscience, they wouldn’t have tried to destroy him in the previous life.

The worse off these people were now, the happier he was; it filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction.

After a brief, secret exchange of glances with Shi Liangchen, Fang Ziyang continued to keep a low profile in the group.

On Shi Liangchen’s side, Moore James spoke with a tone of interest, “I’ve heard that Mr. Tang Xun is a leading figure among the younger generation in the scientific community. Seeing you today, you truly live up to your reputation, and your boldness is impressive. But I wonder if Mr. Tang Xun can really make decisions on behalf of the Huaguo team. If you lose the bet, will the Huaguo team really withdraw from the competition?”

Compared to the arrogant members of the M Nation team earlier, Moore’s words were equally unkind, but there was an unmistakable sense of confidence behind them.

He had the appearance of an elegant and gentlemanly aristocrat, yet anyone with even a bit of sensitivity could sense a cold and sinister threat, like a snake lying in wait.

Moore James was the epitome of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Rick clenched his fists tightly as he glared at his ruthless cousin.

Tang Xun held Rick back, smiling gently. His demeanor was calm, not sharp, but it had a soothing effect that dispelled the chill from the other side.

“Of course. Since I proposed the bet, I naturally have the authority to make decisions. But I wonder if Mr. Moore, who agreed so readily, can make decisions on behalf of your team?”

“Of course. It’s always more exciting to have a wager alongside the competition. Since your team is willing to add some excitement to the event, as the host team, we’re more than happy to oblige. I hope Mr. Tang Xun’s performance won’t disappoint me, especially considering the potential partnership with the James family.”

Moore finished speaking and then looked at Rick, who was standing beside Tang Xun. “Cousin, it’s been a while. You have good taste.”

His gentlemanly tone and smile should have made people feel close, but instead, everyone felt uncomfortable.

Rick’s expression turned even darker.

“Moore, I’m no longer part of the James family. I don’t care about your affairs, and you’d better not target me anymore. Tang is my lover, not the James family’s partner, so drop your schemes unless you want to give our other brothers an easy opportunity.”

As someone who had long competed against More within the family, Rick knew all too well the meaning behind every word and expression his cousin used.

More was a natural-born schemer, and Tang Xun’s abilities were clearly something he wanted to claim. But Rick would never let that happen.

“Cousin, you’re still as hot-tempered as ever. I merely appreciate my cousin-in-law’s abilities. There’s no need to be so hasty.”

Moore shrugged. “Alright, since you’re so eager to be rid of me, I won’t keep you any longer. I’ll contact the competition officials to make our wager public online. Mr. Tang Xun, see you at the competition.”

With that, Moore signaled the troublesome M Nation team members to leave.

As he passed by the Huaguo team, Moore glanced at Fang Ziyang, narrowing his eyes slightly, smiling as if he had found a new prey.

Their eyes met, and Fang Ziyang responded with a bright, innocent smile.

A conflict that began with intensity ended swiftly and quietly. However, everyone could sense the undercurrents of tension beneath this calm surface.

When Moore returned to the hotel room with the M Nation team, the gentlemanly smile on his face vanished instantly. Without a word, he slapped each of the members in front of him. Afterward, he took out a high-end handkerchief from his suit pocket, wiping his hands with disdain before speaking in a harsh tone.

“Useless fools. I sent you to probe them, and instead, you let them suppress you. You embarrassed me in front of so many people, and I had to step in to save the situation. It was just a bet, and yet none of you dared to respond, making us the laughingstock…”

“S-sorry, Mr. Moore. We just didn’t expect the Huaguo team to be so tough today, and we were caught off guard. We really didn’t mean it,” stammered the slapped members, clutching their faces, too frightened to even show any anger. Facing Moore’s harsh tone, they shrank back in fear.

Although many of them had backgrounds and connections, in front of the James family, displeasing Moore would leave them unprotected by their own backers or families.

Especially after the James family produced those research results, their influence in M Nation’s political arena had risen to an unparalleled level.

The once arrogant and haughty group now cowered like frightened chicks.

Moore had no interest in wasting his precious time on these cowards. He impatiently waved his hand, dismissing them with a curt “Get out.” Once they were gone, his expression softened, and he turned to Shi Liangchen, who had been silently observing.

“Shi, what do you think? It seems the Huaguo team came prepared this time. Do you have confidence in the bet?”

“I certainly do, but I can’t vouch for the others. After all, the first round of the attack-defense competition is divided into individual and team categories…” Shi Liangchen’s tone was calm, stating the facts without any emotion.

Moore was not satisfied with this response, but he understood the reality. The quality of the Huaguo team this time was exceptionally high. Besides Tang Xun, there was also the unpredictable Fang Ziyang. The Lu family, who left behind those research materials, was not to be underestimated.

However, Moore’s expression turned into a dangerous smile. “It doesn’t matter if we lose the bet. It’s an opportunity to gauge the true strength of the Huaguo team. I want to see if Fang Ziyang is really as formidable as Yan Tong claims, even more so than his brother.”

“Don’t mention that person to me!” Shi Liangchen’s usually calm demeanor instantly shifted, his voice filled with intense disgust and hatred.

But Moore wasn’t angry. In fact, he seemed to be in a very good mood. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and the more Shi Liangchen loathed Fang Ziyang, the harder he would work for Moore.

Initially, when Moore first met Shi Liangchen, he didn’t trust or think highly of him. But later, Shi Liangchen proved his worth through his actions and results. Among the entire research team of the James family, not a single one could compare to this young man. The professors and experts painstakingly recruited by the family were all useless compared to Shi. It was hard to believe that Huaguo had produced such a genius.

As for Yan Tong… Though he seemed appealing, he was nothing more than a broken toy played out on the Caesar cruise. Moore had no interest in such a thing. Moreover, Yan Tong was incredibly foolish, harming himself while trying to harm others and offending the more valuable Shi Liangchen.

Still, Yan Tong was not without use, so his life would be spared for now.

“Alright, alright, I won’t mention him. Once I’ve extracted all the information from him, you can have him and do whatever you want,” Moore generously offered, changing the subject.

“Earlier, I couldn’t quite understand why you were all so afraid of Fang Ziyang, especially Yan Tong. He seems to view Fang Ziyang as an inevitable enemy that he must eliminate. Looking at the photos, he appears to be a beautiful Oriental angel, but… today, I understand.”

“What do you understand?”

Moore’s eyes gleamed with a predatory light. “This Fang Ziyang is indeed intriguing. In him, I see a kindred spirit. I think we’re a match, don’t you, Shi?”

“A kindred spirit? I think that’s playing with fire…” Shi Liangchen spoke bluntly, smiling as he continued, “He’s Xiè Zhēng’s partner. You should know who was behind Rick leaving the James family.”

“Xiè Zhēng, what an annoying name,” Moore’s smile vanished at the mention of the name, but he quickly regained his composure, his expression returning to that of a refined and noble gentleman.

Moore’s face lit up with interest again. “But that makes it even more fun, doesn’t it? Stolen things always taste sweeter, especially when the previous owner is someone as irritating as Xiè Zhēng. Shi, I think I’ve found the perfect canary. Aren’t you happy for me?”

Shi Liangchen remained silent, his expression darkening.

Seeing this, Moore patted his shoulder, his tone both comforting and imperious.

“Shi, I know your sister’s current state is all Fang Ziyang’s doing, but there are many ways to get revenge. Such a beautiful and intelligent canary—how could you bear to clip its wings? Isn’t it better to keep him for your amusement? Trust my judgment; you’ll come to appreciate his taste…”

“Prepare well. I don’t want the technology competition’s championship to fall into someone else’s hands.”

With that, Moore left with a satisfied smile.

Shi Liangchen stared in the direction Moore had left for a long while before collecting himself.

Then, he turned his gaze to the person sitting in the wheelchair—Shi Meijing. His eyes filled with deep-seated hatred, causing the already pale Shi Meijing to tremble uncontrollably in fear.

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