Three words — a complete denial.
Su Cha lightly coughed and explained, “Our play is mainly meant to improve everyone’s endurance.”
Without commenting on that, Xie Rongjue invited Su Cha to take a walk.
Su Cha already had something to discuss, so he followed along.
As they passed by the principal, Su Cha politely nodded.
The principal said, “If something doesn’t feel right, shout for help early.”
Xie Rongjue smiled, “You’re quite humorous.”
At dusk, the campus took on a gentle, false serenity. Su Cha explained in detail his meeting with Shen Ningze, and also brought up his intention to make the name “Wolenson” known publicly.
Xie Rongjue showed no change in expression, occasionally glancing at the scenery on both sides, casually reminiscing about his school days. Just as Su Cha thought he might avoid answering, they arrived near the school gate. Xie Rongjue, wearing his usual smile, said, “I’ll take your suggestion. I hope you’ll consider mine too.”
It wasn’t until he had left that Su Cha realized he was referring to the guardianship proposal.
There was no coercion, and the conversation ended in a surprisingly casual manner.
Su Cha strolled alone on campus for a while and received a message from Shen Ningze. It contained no probing, just a straightforward congratulations on developing the perfume.
Like in every conversation, Shen Ningze asked: [What are you doing?]
Su Cha: [Choosing a dad.]
There was a full minute of silence before the reply came: [You’ve had it rough.]
Su Cha: [Yeah, it’s exhausting. (tired.jpg)]
They chatted briefly. Su Cha felt he had successfully conveyed his weariness to the other side. Feeling a weight lift from his shoulders, he made his way back to the dorm in a lighter mood. Passing the admin office, he paused.
Li Huai glanced over. “Something up?”
Su Cha thought for a moment and organized his words. “The phrase ‘having a discerning eye for talent’ was made for you. If there’s no issue…”
Li Huai looked oddly at him. “You want to choose me as your guardian?”
Su Cha nodded.
In truth, he hadn’t hesitated much on this point. From the beginning, he’d subtly hinted to Li Huai — both emotionally and rationally, it was the right thing to do.
Li Huai suddenly laughed.
Su Cha was someone who liked shortcuts — it was clear from his competition strategies — but when it came to certain matters, he was surprisingly principled. Despite the other potential guardians being powerful and influential, he decisively chose an ordinary administrator.
“Approve Yise’s application.”
Su Cha paused.
Li Huai added, “I’m returning to the interstellar battlefield next year. Yise will be stationed in the imperial capital.”
Seeing Su Cha raise his head as if pondering the connection between the two, Li Huai added, “Approve it a couple of days later.”
Since Xie Rongjue had just come, approving someone else’s application immediately after would look a bit like a slap in the face.
From dusk to midnight, only a few hours remained, but every moment today was destined to be unusual.
At 8 p.m., the Investigation Department descended upon Wolenson’s residence with great fanfare, claiming someone had filed a real-name report linking him to live experiments.
Seeing the news, Su Cha knew the goal had been achieved. He stood on the balcony for a while, admiring the night view.
Roughly ten minutes later, he called Shen Ningze. The line was busy. Some time passed before the call was returned. Though the voice tried to stay calm, a trace of strain was unmistakable.
Su Cha asked casually, “I called you earlier, but the line was busy the whole time.”
“It was the hospital calling to ask about my health.”
After their chat, Su Cha found Xie Rongjue’s contact from the applicant list and asked him to help check whether the hospital had really called back. If the Deputy Chief of the Investigation Department found out someone was directing Xie Rongjue to do things, perhaps he’d reconsider his bias and call Su Cha a real tough guy.
The fearless are often the ignorant — Xie Rongjue actually responded.
[No.]
Su Cha stared at those characters for a long while, then suddenly leaned on the railing and gave a soft snort.
“Shen Ningze…”
The three words drifted off into the wind — but some thoughts couldn’t be blown away.
…
September 9: rehearsal. September 10: the long-awaited opening ceremony finally arrived.
Before the Ten-School Tournament, the principal had already said what needed to be said, so this segment ended quickly. Next was the freshmen’s most anticipated part — the class sorting ceremony.
The affiliated school wasn’t big on sentimentality — the class sorting was direct and harsh: based strictly on entrance exam scores, from highest to lowest. At the end of each term, students could change classes depending on their personal points.
Su Cha was counting on his fingers, trying to figure out which class he’d end up in.
With the honor from the Ten-School Tournament, he shouldn’t be dead last.
“Ssst sst—” A strange sound drew Su Cha’s attention. Rong Shao winked at him and said, “What are you calculating? We’re obviously going to Class A.”
“…” Boy, where does your confidence come from?
The next moment, Ji Tianjin not far away said the same thing.
“Special talents will be specially considered.”
Rong Shao had top-level repair skills and would definitely become a mechanic in the future. Su Cha was an awakened mystic-type — all of which the school would factor in.
Just as he said, not long after, the class assignments were posted on the school website, and the announcements were being broadcast.
Su Cha found his name at the bottom of Class A’s list.
“The welcome gala starts promptly at seven. Everyone, make sure you double-check the final program order.”
Today, professional makeup artists and lighting technicians had arrived, and the campus suddenly became lively. Prestigious schools always attracted public attention — both the principal’s speech and the gala were broadcast live, drawing in a considerable viewership every year.
Sponsors began arriving around six. Wu Shui found Su Cha, who was reading over the script, and said in a low voice, “I heard the Chief of the Investigation Department is here too.”
“Oh?” Su Cha put the script down. “Then we’d better put on a good show.”
Before they could talk more, Su Cha noticed Ji Tianjin walking out of the dressing room and raised his brows slightly.
Ji Tianjin already had noble features, and the luxurious outfit looked not only fitting but as if it had been custom-made for him, making him appear even more dazzling.
Su Cha was wearing a blue wig today, giving him an exotic air. Sitting on a high stool, he suddenly reached a hand out to Ji Tianjin, the other covering his heart in a dramatic gesture of lost love.
Ji Tianjin was briefly startled, then lowered his head slightly in sync.
The scene had the air of a movie poster. Rong Shao casually snapped a picture with his communicator and sent it to the newly formed class group chat.
[So beautiful.]
[Feels like a dream, absolutely stunning!]
[Totally! Can’t wait!]
No one held back their praise.
Rong Shao suddenly felt a bit of regret — what if someone came to sabotage the performance later?
“What if someone throws rotten eggs at us?”
No one paid him any mind. The pair were still locked in a gaze. Wu Shui, playing the mermaid who marries the prince at the end, muttered while holding her script: “So heartless.”
That whole part about love and dancing with the mermaid — the prince only saw her as a sister.
“‘Sis—’” Wu Zhi didn’t get the word out before Wu Shui suddenly turned to him. “Don’t call me that right now.”
She couldn’t stand hearing that word at the moment.
“…”
Their act was scheduled near the beginning, so they hadn’t left the hall.
As it neared seven, colorful lights sparkled inside the auditorium. The emcee’s voice came in and out from backstage.
Unexpectedly, Su Cha started watching the live broadcast. Halfway through, he murmured, “I wonder if anyone is watching this stream just because of me.”
Those lurking in the shadows were likely very interested in his every move.
…
There were indeed plenty of people with hidden motives.
Aside from those who wanted him dead, certain corporations were also alarmed — Su Cha’s calming-effect perfume posed a serious threat. If he really managed to secure a powerful guardian, it would be hard to frame the product as unsafe. Once it hit the market, the financial groups monopolizing mental stabilization drugs would lose their grip.
Right now, they were trying everything to stop Su Cha from being adopted by someone influential.
The PR team was frustrated: “All the posts we put out earlier got taken down.”
Their superior said coldly, “Then put out more. You can’t block public opinion by force.”
As long as they kept pushing the idea that people were fighting to adopt Su Cha just for the perfume — for profit — perhaps these big shots would drop out to save face.
They had just finished a draft painting Su Cha as a flirt with powers, hopping between influential figures. Looking up at the livestream — they exploded.
What kind of performance was that?
….
At that moment, Su Cha was performing a dance of love and sacrifice with Ji Tianjin.
The height difference made the duet especially beautiful. Though the fragrance couldn’t reach the distant audience, the five-meter floral scent range enveloped Ji Tianjin completely.
But more striking than the scent were Su Cha’s gently trembling lashes as he looked down during the dance.
Su Cha was supposed to show pain in this part, but he forgot the beat count. As they spun, he realized the mistake and was about to adjust — when he noticed everyone in the audience wearing pained expressions, as if they were the ones dancing on the blade’s edge.
“…”
The story followed its original arc. When Su Cha’s character smiled blissfully and turned into seafoam, a heavy sound rang out — someone had squeezed too hard and broken a chair armrest.
The audience had an outlet for their emotions. The performers could only throw themselves fully into the act.
Just as the story reached its happily-ever-after moment between the prince and the mermaid, Wu Shui sneered — she couldn’t stand even another minute.
She pulled out her hairpin and struck at Ji Tianjin, veering completely off script: “Sorry, I came to usurp the throne. Die.”
She wasn’t some trash collector — why should she live happily with someone like that?
The script had clearly gone off the rails. The lighting crew hurried to dim the lights, signaling the end of the performance.
“Bravo!” A thunderous applause broke out from the crowd.
Those extra ten seconds — they healed the audience’s very souls.
After Su Cha’s act, Xie Rongjue also left, leaving behind a bouquet of flowers in congratulations.
Putting his raincoat back on, Su Cha had just picked up the flowers when the principal approached from behind.
“Think he’s not a bad person?” the principal asked, just as Su Cha opened the card.
“One smooth sailing,” the principal read aloud, smiling cryptically.
Xie Rongjue’s writing was just like the man himself — carefree at a glance, but actually precise.
Knowing the principal had more to say, Su Cha took the initiative: “Is there a hidden meaning behind those words?”
“Wolensen is under investigation. Barring any surprises, he’ll be acquitted,” the principal said calmly. “But the only ones who can keep secrets are the dead.”
Su Cha understood — someone behind the scenes might try to silence Wolensen.
“If the Investigation Department keeps people guarding him, maybe they can trace things back…”
Before he could finish, the principal waved it off. “If you can think of that, others can too.”
Su Cha fell silent. Wasn’t this a stalemate, then?
“Knowing Xie Rongjue, he’ll secretly arrange for someone to take Wolensen out.”
Su Cha looked up in surprise.
The principal continued unhurriedly, “Since the day Wolensen was caught, the department has had a new target every day.”
Which meant, the people behind the scenes would assume Su Cha was retaliating and exposing more secrets.
“Think about it — if one by one, all these people meet with ‘accidents’…” the principal prompted.
Su Cha was silent for a moment, then replied, “They’ll assume someone’s silencing witnesses.”
“Exactly,” the principal sighed. “And once everyone starts fearing they’re next, some will turn themselves in just to survive.”
The Investigation Department hadn’t done this before because they lacked a convincing link. Su Cha claiming to hold classified intel was like delivering them a pillow just as they were dozing off.
If the people behind the scenes wanted to stop this — they’d have to kill Su Cha.
“Xie Rongjue has thrown you into the storm. As for compensation, well, if you choose him as guardian and survive this bloodbath, you’ll be trained as the Investigation Department’s heir.”
That position was one countless people coveted. The emperor trusted the Investigation Department more than the military — but Su Cha had zero interest in fighting over it.
“Coercion,” he commented blankly.
“It wouldn’t be the Investigation Department otherwise.”
The principal glanced at the card. “If you do decide to enter politics one day, you might consider his offer.”
Su Cha shook his head. “I’m planning to choose General Yise.”
“The military’s not a bad path.”
Su Cha quickly waved his hands. “I’m not planning to go into the military either.”
“Once you become Yise’s adopted son, a thousand hands will push you forward. You won’t even have a choice.”
Su Cha tried testing the waters: “What if I chose you…”
The principal had only applied for guardianship to counterbalance Xie Rongjue. He answered directly, “I hold other posts. If you choose me, your path is politics.”
The Empire doesn’t do charity. No one will pour resources into someone who can’t inherit the mantle.
“If you want an easy life, go pick a normal guardian,” the principal stated calmly. “But with your talent, an ordinary life is unlikely. Your future depends on which road you choose.”
He didn’t impose his will, only handed the choice back to Su Cha.
Back at his seat, Su Cha hugged the bouquet. Ji Tianjin noticed something was off in his expression and asked silently what was wrong.
“They’re all forcing me,” Su Cha said.
“Hm?”
Leaning against the flowers, Su Cha complained, “They’re all forcing me to inherit the family business.”
This wasn’t about picking a dad at all.
His communicator showed a message from half an hour ago — a polite pre-show blessing from Shen Ningze.
Su Cha only now replied: [So mad I look like a pufferfish.jpg]
Shen Ningze had started watching the performance but bailed halfway through due to the melodrama. Thinking Su Cha had gotten flamed online, he replied, curious to see the drama unfold: [What happened?]
Su Cha: [The principal pulled me aside and said no matter who I choose as my guardian, I’ll have to pay the price of inheriting a family legacy. Ningze, my life is so bitter.]
Then he added: [Even more bitter than huanglian.]
Shen Ningze, who had endured over a decade of inhuman torment to win a family legacy, read the message in silence for three seconds — then threw his communicator to the floor with force.
