Chapter 160: No Way Back on This Journey (10)
Binhai University Student Dormitory.
In the corridor, the young Yan Shixun suddenly halted in his steps. He abruptly looked up toward his dorm room, his eyes sharp as lightning.
Beside him, Zhang Wubing was still pitifully pleading in a weepy tone. His voice echoed along the long and empty corridor, the reverberation stacking layer upon layer, becoming hazy and unreal.
The dim yellow light from the ceiling cast down, merging their shadows into one. The flickering silhouette rippled like water, as if something was hidden within.
But aside from Zhang Wubing’s voice, the corridor was so quiet it felt like there wasn’t a second living soul around.
Yan Shixun grew alert. He slowed his breathing, his wary eyes scanning the surroundings.
Zhang Wubing had fallen asleep during his exam yesterday and had been caught red-handed by the invigilator. To preserve his pitiful grade, he had spent the entire day begging and pestering the teacher in the office.
In the end, just as the final bus home was about to leave, and the teacher—on the verge of being emotionally worn down by Zhang Wubing’s teary eyes—finally took a deep breath, face dark with frustration, and muttered, “Just this once,” letting him off.
Zhang Wubing, well aware of his own fragile constitution, never dared stray from crowds. He always made a point of sticking close to others, hoping to borrow some of their yang energy to ward off ghosts.
He would never, ever walk alone through a deserted campus at night.
—Given his constitution and past experiences, he would definitely see wandering ghosts when passing the coffin-shaped central lecture hall of the university.
So that morning, he had pleaded with Yan Shixun, clinging to his pants in the dorm and fake-crying wildly, wailing that if Brother Yan didn’t wait to walk back with him at night, he’d smear his tears all over his pants.
Yan Shixun: “……”
Because of that, even Yan Shixun ended up delayed. By the time they returned to the dorm, the academic buildings had long emptied out.
The students who had returned to the dorms earlier had apparently gone straight into their rooms. No one came out. Every dorm door was shut tight, the silence eerie—almost as if no one was there at all.
“Zhang Wubing,”
Yan Shixun cut off his rambling, asking crisply, “Did you attract a ghost again today?”
Zhang Wubing looked confused. “No…?”
Yan Shixun lowered his gaze, his eyes sweeping over the narrow gap beneath the door of their dorm room, before finally settling on the floor by his feet.
He stared at the shadow beneath him and suddenly felt as if he were looking into a pool of stagnant, lifeless water.
Then a sinister wind seemed to pass through, disturbing the surface. Ripples spread outward, and in the murky sway of those waves, something seemed to churn and rise—a malicious ghost roaring in fury.
But in the next instant, everything returned to normal.
It was as though all of it had just been a figment of his imagination.
Yan Shixun blinked slowly.
Now that Zhang Wubing had fallen silent, every other sound around them became even clearer.
Silence reigned.
And yet just a moment ago, when he had reentered the dormitory building, he had still seen the dorm manager sipping hot tea and reading the paper at the entrance, heard the sounds of people playing basketball downstairs, others out for a night run… All those little everyday noises, the lively backdrop of campus life, perfectly normal and familiar.
But now, all those sounds had vanished.
Along with the laughter, the breathing, the exam recitations coming from behind every dorm room door…
As if behind each door, the familiar classmates were no longer there.
As if what now lurked behind those doors were twisted, malevolent ghosts.
They stood silently, waiting behind the doors—waiting for an unsuspecting person to pass by, so they could suddenly reach out and drag them inside.
Yan Shixun’s unusual demeanor and the strange quiet of the surroundings finally made Zhang Wubing realize something was off.
“B-B-B-B… Brother Yan… a-are you saying that we…”
Zhang Wubing trembled and swallowed hard, asking in a shaky voice, “Are we seeing ghosts again?”
“How can this be? Isn’t this the dorm? There should be so many people…” Zhang Wubing was about to cry.
Yan Shixun didn’t respond. He just made a “quiet” gesture.
Then, with long strides, he silently approached their dorm room, making sure his shadow didn’t fall across the gap beneath the door.
Pressing his back to the wall, he formed a hand seal, faint golden light pulsing in his palm. With the other hand, he swiftly and quietly turned the door handle.
*Click.*
The lock turned.
As the door slowly opened, the corridor’s dim yellow light filtered through the widening crack, spilling into the pitch-dark dorm room and illuminating a portion of the space inside.
Yan Shixun stayed close to the wall, keeping himself hidden from view as he cautiously peered inside.
The room looked exactly as it had when he left that morning. His eyes brushed past the doorknob and noticed the yellow talisman folded beneath it was still intact—uncarred and untouched—proving that it hadn’t been triggered, and no spirit had passed through.
Only then did Yan Shixun feel slightly at ease. He exhaled a breath of stale air and stepped into the room.
*Click!* He flipped on the light switch.
The dorm room flooded with white light. The cold, harsh fluorescent bulbs lit up every corner. The shadows of mosquito nets and hanging decorations stretched long across the white walls.
There was not a hint of human warmth.
It was early winter in Binhai City, and even the cracks in the brick walls breathed cold.
As Yan Shixun stood alone in the middle of the dorm room, a chill surrounded him from every direction. The dead silence and loneliness wove together into an impenetrable cage, enveloping him completely.
Yet he remained indifferent, as if nothing in this world could shake him.
His gaze slowly swept across the small room, missing no corner or shadow.
Behind him, Zhang Wubing shrank timidly behind the wall outside, only poking in a fluffy head.
“Brother Yan, is there really a ghost in our dorm?”
Zhang Wubing’s voice broke the silence in the room, bringing with it a faint trace of warmth and life.
“I knew it!” Zhang Wubing was on the verge of tears. “Two nights ago, I *did* see a ghost while I was half asleep! I knew it wasn’t just my imagination.”
Because one of their roommates had been particularly troublesome, relations had grown tense, and the air conditioning in the dorm had been left unused for some time.
So lately, Zhang Wubing had taken to sleeping with a hot water bottle in his bed, falling asleep happily in the cozy warmth.
This idea had actually been suggested by a kind-hearted girl from his class. Even the hot water bottle had been bought by her after noticing he didn’t know where to get one. It was a pink one with an adorable bear head, and Zhang Wubing had really taken a liking to it.
However, once the blanket got warm, it led to him feeling a bit dry-mouthed and parched in the middle of the night. Half-asleep, he opened his eyes, planning to get out of bed to drink some water.
But to his shock, the moment he opened his eyes, he found himself staring straight into a pair of eyes, right next to his pillow—eyes that were fixed on him, unblinking.
The dorms at Binhai University had a loft bed design: beds on top, study desks below. For these tall boys, the height was just right for someone’s head to peek over the edge of the bed.
Zhang Wubing’s bed faced the door. So, whenever someone opened the door and entered, the first thing they saw was his head.
Because of that, he’d often been spooked when half-asleep, thinking a floating head was hovering next to him.
He initially thought this was just another one of those times. In his groggy state, he even wondered vaguely who on earth was visiting their dorm in the middle of the night instead of sleeping.
But as Zhang Wubing blinked sleepily and tried to focus, he slowly realized something wasn’t quite right.
That face was floating just outside the bed rail. Its eyeballs were rotted, with only a bit left. It stared blankly at him lying on the bed, its face pale and bloodless, but thick yellow pus streamed down its cheeks.
The stench of pus was nauseating, invading Zhang Wubing’s nose and snapping him completely awake from his drowsiness.
Even though he was lying under a soft, warm quilt, he felt a chill snake in from a corner he hadn’t tucked in properly—like a ghostly hand had reached in and touched him.
Zhang Wubing screamed, “Aow!” at the top of his lungs, and the cry yanked him fully awake.
But after that, he couldn’t clearly remember what had happened—because it was already so late at night.
It wasn’t until the next morning, when he shot up in bed, that he sat there blankly for a long time, unable to tell whether it had all been a nightmare… or if he had really seen something.
Now, seeing Yan Shixun standing so tensely in the dorm, Zhang Wubing immediately recalled that “dream” from that night.
His legs went weak, and he barely avoided collapsing by grabbing the wall.
The young Yan Shixun swept his gaze over him with a cool expression. “You know walking alone through campus can get you haunted, so why aren’t you worried about walking alone through a hallway?”
Zhang Wubing shuddered, dashed back into the dorm, and obediently locked the door behind him before he finally let out a breath.
It was like the door became a barrier—once closed, the monsters outside couldn’t come in.
Leaning against the door, Zhang Wubing seemed to find some tiny shred of comfort in his cowardice.
He glanced around the dorm room, not noticing anything out of place, and couldn’t help asking, “Brother Yan, what were you just looking at?”
“You scared the crap out of me. I thought there was a ghost.”
Seeing that Yan Shixun wasn’t doing anything, Zhang Wubing figured his earlier question had just been a casual comment and not because he’d actually seen anything. He grinned again, looking silly and goofy like a Samoyed dog coming home after rolling around in the mud.
Samoyed: Dad, open the door, I’m crazy.
The young Yan Shixun glanced over nonchalantly, taking in all of Zhang Wubing’s behavior.
But he didn’t say anything. In truth, what Zhang Wubing had seen that night *was* a ghost.
The ghost had slipped through the crack under the dorm door, floating straight toward Zhang Wubing, whose bed faced the entrance.
Lying in the opposite bed, Yan Shixun had sensed the ghostly aura approaching and opened his eyes.
He waited a moment, realized the ghost didn’t seem aggressive, and then closed his eyes again to continue sleeping.
Zhang Wubing had thought the ghost appeared beside his pillow only in the middle of the night.
But that wasn’t the case.
Shortly after lights-out in the dorm, just past midnight, the ghost had already entered and had been staring at Zhang Wubing the whole time.
While Zhang Wubing was hugging his hot water bottle and snoring happily, the ghost had been silently watching from the side.
Had Zhang Wubing not screamed so miserably—waking up not just Yan Shixun but probably the whole building—then crawled off the bed and tried to clamber onto Yan Shixun’s, annoying him with how much he hated people coming near him, Yan Shixun wouldn’t have taken action.
Annoyed from having his sleep disturbed, Yan Shixun rolled out of bed in his wrinkled pajamas, grabbed the ghost by the neck, and threw it out of the dorm. Then he slammed the door shut with a “bang,” leaving the ghost to sob and wail in confusion in the hallway.
Afterward, he climbed back into bed and warned Zhang Wubing that if he dared to come near his bed again or wake him up, he’d throw *him* out too.
Only then did Zhang Wubing shut up, curling up in his blanket and trembling.
But after just a few minutes of shivering, he was happily snoring again.
Yan Shixun, who hadn’t even fallen back asleep yet: “…”
Was this what people meant by “fools are blessed”?
Because of that, when Yan Shixun left the dorm that morning, he had stuck a yellow talisman under the doorknob.
It wasn’t that he minded ghosts watching him sleep—it was just that Zhang Wubing was too noisy. He’d wake up screaming like a pig being slaughtered, which really tested Yan Shixun’s patience.
Might as well take care of it in passing.
At breakfast that morning, the guys from the next dorm over looked like they’d seen hell. With dark circles under their eyes, they asked around if anyone had heard the screaming last night.
“I was just sleeping when suddenly I heard someone shrieking from inside the wall. It sounded like someone was being murdered. It was *terrifying*.”
One guy said anxiously, “Do you think maybe… someone died in the concrete when the dorm was being built? Maybe the ghost is sealed in the wall and comes out to scream at night?”
Another swallowed hard. “You’re imagining things, right? Maybe someone just lost a game… or got their account stolen?”
Another one shook his head. “No, I heard it too. I was gonna get up to use the bathroom, but the moment I got off the bed, I heard someone crying outside the door—walking past and then back again. The crying sounded eerie as hell.”
“Shit! You heard it too? I was pulling an all-nighter studying in the hallway when I saw this shadow float toward me. It looked just like a monster from a horror game. I freaking sprinted back to the dorm!”
“…Turns out it wasn’t just me. I was smoking on the balcony when I got so scared I screamed and ran for the dorm. And guess what? Those bastards locked the door on me and said I *was* the ghost! They refused to let me in! I was scared out of my damn mind standing outside!”
“Sorry, bro, we really thought it was a ghost mimicking your voice to trick us into opening the door. We *couldn’t* open it. That’s instant death, man.”
Zhang Wubing chimed in, worried, “That scary? There’s actually a ghost in the wall?”
Yan Shixun, who had heard all of this from the side: “…”
The ghost they were all talking about… was you, Zhang Wubing.
For the first time, the young Yan Shixun thought: Maybe his name had been a mistake. It should’ve been Zhang Youbing (Zhang Has-a-Disease).
Thankfully, the rest of the day passed without incident.
Until that evening, when they returned to the dorm.
Although nothing looked unusual in the dorm and the talisman was still intact, the young Yan Shixun couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It left him unable to fully relax.
Zhang Wubing, still jumpy from the scare, just wanted to dive under his covers.
But as he climbed halfway up the ladder, he peeked at his bed and let out a puzzled “Huh?”
“That’s weird. Why did my magazine flip to another page?”
Zhang Wubing pulled the magazine he had left open on the bed toward him, flipping it back to another page with a puzzled expression.
On that page, there was a poster for Li Xuetang’s latest film, covered in Zhang Wubing’s annotations about the filming techniques for the poster. The edges of the page were frayed, as if it had been turned over countless times.
“I was clearly looking at the promotional material for Li Xuetang’s new movie. I had it on this page the whole time, so how did it change when I stepped outside?”
Zhang Wubing tilted his head, utterly confused.
The young Yan Shixun heard Zhang Wubing’s murmurs and, upon seeing the flipped magazine, his gaze darkened.
It seemed… something had been here.
As expected, it wasn’t just an illusion.
Outside the dormitory balcony, Yan Shixun gripped the railing, his body light as he swung down and silently landed on the balcony of the floor below.
He moved like a large nocturnal feline, his padded feet hitting the ground without a sound.
Yan Shixun bent one leg to absorb the impact, then slowly stood up and brushed off the dust from his dark green coat.
Ye Li’s figure followed closely, also flipping off the balcony from Yan Shixun’s dorm room, landing beside him.
Before Ye Li could ask anything, they heard the faint sound of a door being pushed open from above.
He was slightly surprised and turned his head to look at Yan Shixun.
Upon realizing that the younger version of Yan Shixun was outside, Yan Shixun had made a quick decision, silently pulling Ye Li toward the balcony and leaving the dorm.
Normally, one might have chosen to hide in a wardrobe or a corner, or even trust oneself enough to approach the other version of themselves to get to the bottom of things and seek help.
But Yan Shixun did none of that.
He avoided encountering his younger self, choosing the most obvious way to leave the dorm.
What if, just as he reached the balcony, the person outside had pushed the door open?
Yan Shixun wasn’t worried at all.
Since he knew exactly when the version of himself outside was from, he understood his own thought process and knew just how cautious his younger self would be and what choices he would make.
He had calculated the timing, so he wasn’t worried at all about being seen halfway through his escape over the balcony.
A smile curled at the corners of Yan Shixun’s lips as he slyly winked at Ye Li in the dim light of the balcony.
It was almost as if he was silently saying, “See? I was right, wasn’t I?”
Ye Li chuckled, his eyes soft with affection, “Mm, very impressive.”
However, Ye Li still felt a sense of regret for not having seen the younger version of Yan Shixun in person.
He had never cared about Yan Shixun’s past before. To him, the paths of all individuals were already preordained in the grand scheme of things.
Had he met Yan Shixun years ago, perhaps he wouldn’t have been interested in him, nor would he have been moved by always staying close to Yan Shixun, cherishing him as a rare gem, wanting to hold the precious exorcist in his arms.
Maybe a few years ago, Yan Shixun wouldn’t have been the person he would have fallen in love with.
It was time that had shaped the current Yan Shixun—the unique exorcist.
But just now, in the dorm room, hearing Yan Shixun mention that Zhang Wubing had lived with him for four years made Ye Li feel the emotions surging in his chest.
He suddenly realized—no matter which version of Yan Shixun it was, he would always have a huge impact on him.
No matter when he met Yan Shixun, he would be drawn to him.
This world, which had once disappointed him, had found new meaning with Yan Shixun’s presence.
No matter the time, he would always fall in love with Yan Shixun.
After settling on his feelings, Ye Li, who never regretted the decisions he made, suddenly felt a pang of regret: Why hadn’t he met Yan Shixun earlier?
If he had, perhaps he could have replaced Zhang Wubing in Yan Shixun’s heart, instead of now, when even holding Yan Shixun’s hand required finding an excuse.
Yan Shixun, unaware of the sentiments stirring in Ye Li’s heart, spoke, “It’s best not to meet that version of me until we understand the situation.”
Seeing his younger self had also stirred up a storm of emotions inside Yan Shixun, making him even more vigilant about the situation he found himself in, and his actions grew increasingly cautious.
When he had jumped into the abyss, it felt like his vision had blurred, and when he opened his eyes again, he was on the highway.
After being pulled from the blood pool, a similar event had occurred. This made him wary of both the blood pool and the ghostly energy, and he had formed new speculations.
Although he wasn’t sure what the young man was about, Yan Shixun instinctively felt that, since he appeared at Binhai University years ago, he must be connected to the blood pool in some way.
And most importantly—
Yan Shixun understood himself. The version of himself before Li Chengyun ascended was even more sharp-edged, like an unpolished diamond, so sharp that it could hurt anyone or anything, human or ghost.
Before confirming the current situation or coming up with a reasonable explanation to convince his “younger self,” Yan Shixun had no intention of letting his younger self discover him.
That would be a disaster.
A person’s most terrifying enemy had always been themselves.
Especially when that “self” possessed power.
Having made up his mind, Yan Shixun turned and looked around the dormitory they were in.
Then, he came face-to-face with a bedhead sticking out from the bed.
The balcony light wasn’t on, but there was still a desk lamp lit inside the room, casting a dim glow over a small area.
The person in bed was still groggy, trapped in a dream, when he suddenly sat up straight, looked down, and mumbled, “Dad Cheng, you’re back?”
He rubbed his eyes—but forgot that earlier in the evening, he had eaten some extra-spicy shredded chicken and hadn’t wiped his hands properly. The lingering spiciness stung his eyes, making him yelp softly. With tears streaming down his face, he turned over to get out of bed and find some tissues.
What he didn’t expect was that as soon as he poked his head out, he saw… what seemed like two people standing on the dorm balcony?
It was only after asking out loud that he belatedly realized—wait? Something was off. The other two guys in the dorm had either gone off for internships or were staying with their girlfriends. That left only him and Dad Cheng. He was clearly in bed, so even if Dad Cheng came back, that would be just one person.
Then… where did the second person come from?
Did Dad Cheng finally bring his little boyfriend back?
Still half-asleep, the roommate rubbed his reddened eyes open wide and stared through the reflective glass of the balcony door at the two figures.
Roommate: “…??”
The next moment, his eyes widened in alarm. “What the hell! Bro, are you this cocky even when stealing stuff? This is Binda University campus!”
They had been spotted.
Yan Shixun calmly thought, then opened the glass balcony door and stepped inside. He nodded toward the bedhead guy. “Just borrowing your balcony. We’ll be leaving soon. You can go back to sleep.”
He pointed at the swaying wires outside the balcony and, with a straight face, lied without blinking: “Fixing the internet cables. Haven’t you noticed the Wi-Fi’s been acting up lately?”
The roommate thought about it and nodded. True enough.
He bought it.
“Alright then, fix it up properly. I can’t even watch livestreams without buffering. The connection’s crap once everyone’s back in the dorm at night.”
The roommate mumbled, “We’re all getting wrecked. I’m watching livestreams, you’re securing grad school, and he’s publishing SCI papers. What a bright future for everyone.”
Then he continued climbing down from his bunk to grab tissues from his desk.
But his tissue box had already run out. He’d used it all earlier when he was crying and blowing his nose during a scary livestream.
Left with no choice, he turned to use the tissues from Dad Cheng’s desk across from his.
His eyes unintentionally swept past the two people on the balcony again.
Yan Shixun calmly allowed himself to be stared at.
After the roommate looked away, he suddenly felt something was… off. Suspicious, he turned his gaze back to Yan Shixun.
Damn… bro, you really looked like a celebrity. Had he seen you somewhere before?
Still confused, the roommate pulled his gaze back.
Where had he seen him again?
Something felt strange… one more look.
His gaze swept back and forth, and the sleepiness slowly faded from his face, replaced by a look of shock.
“You, you…” The roommate held a tissue box in one hand and shakily pointed with the other.
He swallowed nervously. “Aren’t you that guy? The one… the one we call when there are ghosts!”
Yan Shixun: “…?”
What?
He gave a polite but distant smile. “You’ve got the wrong person. I’m just a regular passerby.”
“Passing by someone’s balcony?!”
The roommate’s eyes were wide with fear. His tongue finally untied as he shouted, “Yes! That exact serious-face-while-bullshitting attitude! You’re Brother Yan!”
Yan Shixun: …
Tch.
This was exactly why he always said having fans was unnecessary.
Even when he tried to make up a fake identity, it got exposed this easily. Who would’ve thought the random person he bumped into just so happened to have seen his livestreams?
Yan Shixun originally wanted to explain and ask to borrow the balcony.
But as soon as he took a step forward, he suddenly stopped.
Wait a minute.
If he was seeing his younger self from years ago—then why… would someone know about his livestreams?
Livestreaming belonged to the present timeline. But “Yan Shixun” was from many years ago. And the person he remembered living in the dorm downstairs… wasn’t this guy either.
It was as if two timelines that should’ve run parallel without intersecting had suddenly tangled and overlapped.
Time and space had become chaotic. Memories from years ago and present-day reality were colliding. The road and Binhai University merged into one.
Was all of it real? Or was none of it?
The brain and the eyes could no longer be trusted. Nothing was reliable.
Yan Shixun’s expression froze.
The roommate hadn’t noticed anything strange. He was still stuck in that surreal feeling of seeing someone from a livestream standing right in front of him.
“That’s him! The guy from the livestream!”
Panicking, he pulled out his tablet and opened Yan Shixun’s livestream split-screen, trying to show him and prove he wasn’t mistaken.
Then he saw his own image appearing on everyone’s screens through Yan Shixun’s camera—looking like a complete idiot, flailing around in a panic.
Roommate: “?”
Viewers: [?]
The viewers were completely confused.
Just a moment ago, they had still been on the highway. The bloody skeletons under the camera had scared many people into screaming in terror. A sea of blood surged, drowning the entire screen.
They felt it deeply, as if they were about to drown in that sea of blood, watching helplessly as they sank lower and lower, ghostly shadows and skeletons from all directions pulling them down, preventing them from surfacing.
The light grew dimmer and dimmer, and only a thick, dark red color remained, covering the entire screen.
A whole minute of blood-red screen—it almost made the viewers cry.
[Can someone tell me what just happened? Is Brother Yan okay?]
[I have thalassophobia… I’m covered in goosebumps, I’m going crazy.]
[I thought my screen was glitching and the red was a display issue. But then I saw that ghost face almost right up against the lens. I’m not exaggerating—I’m a full-grown adult who fears nothing, but I almost cried and called for my mom! Starting today, I officially have thalassophobia.]
[Aaaaaah! What happened to Brother Yan? I’m so worried, sob sob.]
That one minute felt as long as a century.
The viewers watching Yan Shixun’s split screen were on edge. Every time they refreshed the bullet comments or live chat, a flood of messages appeared. More and more viewers rushed in frantically.
Since it wasn’t a day off, many fans and viewers who were at work or school weren’t watching the live stream at first.
But once they saw the trending hashtag **#BrotherYanSafe** under the Yan Mai’ tag on social media, they immediately realized something must’ve happened and quickly jumped into the live stream to check.
What they saw nearly gave many fans a heart attack.
[BROTHER!! YAN!! AH—!!!]
[Sob sob sob where’s my Brother Yan? Damn ghost, give my Brother Yan back sob sob sob.]
Just as everyone was on the verge of panic, the screen finally lit up again.
The vision shifted from red to black, and then slowly, under the returning light, a dim wall came into view.
Viewers: [?]
Then they noticed—was Yan Shixun in a student dormitory?
After they heard what Yan Shixun said, they were all in disbelief.
[What? What what what? Brother Yan is actually a student at Binhai University? And he’s in the finance department? Isn’t that one of the “Four Heavenly Departments” of Binhai U—one of the hardest programs to get into?]
[Let’s gooo! My mom kept telling me that chasing idols would affect my studies. I told her Brother Yan is a role model worth admiring, and she didn’t believe me. She told me to hang out with smart kids instead. Well, guess who’s about to tell her what school and department Brother Yan’s in? Hehehe.]
[LMAO, remember how some trolls used to spam the Yan Mai tag? They ended up getting overwhelmed by fans commenting “You’re right, so… wanna check out Brother Yan?” until they broke down. They called him illiterate, said he probably didn’t even know a single character.]
[Other idols get bullied and fans go, “My baby can’t be wrong! Let me fight for him!” Meanwhile, Yan Mais get attacked and Brother Yan himself is like, “Move. Let me slap that face myself.” LOL. I just wanna ask all those who said Brother Yan was illiterate—what school did *you* go to, huh? Unless it’s Binhai U or Capital U, keep it to yourself. Don’t embarrass yourself.]
[Damn, I didn’t know Brother Yan was so highly educated! I didn’t get accepted into Binhai University, and that’s been one of my biggest regrets.]
[Ugh, what are you all so happy about? This is blatant academic fraud. Has Binhai University officially acknowledged him? Y’all are acting like it’s the new year already. As expected of a fandom that can’t show their faces in public.]
[Ah look, the trolls are here to dump on us again.jpg]
[He’s literally staying in a student dorm at Binhai University. What’s there to fake? And besides, Director Zhang Wubing’s credentials are right there in the show info—he’s from Binhai U’s finance department too. Brother Yan said they were roommates. How could his education be fake?]
Before the viewers could finish arguing, they suddenly saw—wait, there was another Yan Shixun on camera!
The viewers were shocked, staring at the two Yan Shixuns, utterly dumbfounded.
But before they could process what was happening, Yan Shixun had already jumped off the balcony, headed to the dorm room downstairs, and started chatting warmly with a student who was still half-asleep.
One Binhai U student who had been watching the stream looked at the messy-haired guy on screen and suddenly felt he looked familiar.
[Wait a sec—isn’t that the guy who won the chemistry department’s gold medal in the competition?]
[Holy crap, it really is! The lucky fool who teamed up with God Cheng and won gold!]
[What’s going on? Brother Yan came to our school to film a show? No one told me!]
Word spread fast—one person told ten, and ten told a hundred.
While the roommate was still staring dumbly at his own face on the tablet, news of Yan Shixun being at Binhai University had already circulated among many students watching the stream, and they were forwarding it to their friends.
The school’s internal forum, which had been quiet due to finals, suddenly became active again.
Someone saw the stream and immediately said, “That guy sleeps next door to me! Hold on, I’m going to knock and find out what’s going on. How come I’m seeing Brother Yan?”
He followed through right away, running back from the library to the dorm, panting as he searched for Cheng Jing’s room.
But he wasn’t the first—many people had already gathered outside Cheng Jing’s door. The place was packed like a celebrity meet-and-greet.
Someone said excitedly, “I can’t believe Yan Shixun is actually from our school! And such a famous guy too—turns out he’s our senior. I suddenly feel so close to him.”
“Tch, you’re in the astronomy department. You’re not even remotely related to our finance department, okay? Don’t go claiming people as your senior.”
“Heh, if you’re gonna go there, the folklore department has something to say. Brother Yan’s from Haiyun Temple, and our department head is a fire-dwelling Taoist from Haiyun Temple. So technically, he’s our folklore department senior.”
Nobody backed down. Everyone insisted on their version of the truth. They nearly broke into a fight outside Cheng Jing’s dorm room.
The counselor rushed over and yelled, “What are you doing?! Do you still want your scholarship next semester? Any violations will result in your scholarship being revoked!”
The crowd of students finally quieted down for a moment.
The counselor was losing his mind trying to manage the situation.
Meanwhile, the official in charge had already seen the stream and immediately called Binhai University to ask what was going on.
But Binhai U was just as confused: they hadn’t heard a thing!
Although Binhai University had always been a popular tourist attraction in Binhai City, especially that coffin-shaped lecture hall rumored to suppress tens of thousands of mass graves beneath it, which always drew thrill-seekers and marketers…
With finals approaching, the school had stopped all tourist activities to prioritize students’ peace and study time. No outsiders were allowed in without registration, and campus security had become much stricter.
The university asked around, and nobody reported seeing Yan Shixun or his team enter.
Just then, the roommate’s face appeared on the stream—standing right next to Yan Shixun.
It was like a GPS pin. Binhai U instantly locked onto the location and sent someone to investigate.
The counselor knocked on Cheng Jing’s door, but no one answered.
He took out a spare key and opened it.
But inside, the dorm was completely empty.
Not a soul in sight.
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