Don't Eat It, Don't Eat It

Tong Dong eventually gave up on the electric kettle.

While high-temperature sterilization could physically eliminate bacteria and viruses,

most normal people would still feel a certain unease about using it.

That’s why so many later opted to bring their own foldable travel kettles—

the whole point was to use their own stuff.

When staying at a hotel, there were many things better left unexamined.

Lin Mo, however, had it easy. With a wave of his hand, he channeled spiritual energy to envelop both beds, ensuring no unsavory remnants lingered in the sheets or mattresses.

After tidying up, Lin Mo’s phone buzzed—a message had arrived.

"Are you there yet?! I’ve never been to Pengcheng before!"

"Just arrived. Heading down for the four-star hotel’s buffet. Heard there’s unlimited free prawns."

"[○･｀Д´･○] Don’t you dare eat them! Save some for me! Bring them back!"

Lin Mo could already picture Xie Yuling’s frustration on the other end.

But it didn’t matter—he planned to take photos later just to rub it in.

By the time they finished packing, it was past eleven.

The treatment for this math Olympiad was far better than what the badminton team got.

Staying at a four-star hotel, with a buffet right in-house—all covered by the school.

Each of them had meal vouchers; just hand one over and eat your fill.

Lin Mo glanced at Tong Dong.

"Going down to eat?"

Tong Dong had just finished packing his competition stationery into the school-issued transparent pencil case.

He nodded. "Not hungry, but I’ll eat."

Lin Mo reminded him, "If you’re full, just eat a little. The competition’s in the afternoon."

Tong Dong nodded earnestly again.

"I know. I can manage."

Typical of a science prodigy—even his food intake was calculated.

"Great! Whatever you can’t finish, hand it over to me!"

Lin Mo—the human incinerator—declared.

The competition started at 2 PM, and it was only 11 now. The venue was just a ten-minute ride away.

Plenty of time to eat, then rest properly.

Down at the buffet, many had already arrived.

Even back in 2012, a four-star buffet was lavish.

Especially in Pengcheng, a coastal city.

Sea urchin, prawns, crab, clams, salmon, and all kinds of sashimi.

Lin Mo swept his spiritual sense over the sashimi, then the sea urchin.

He walked over to Tong Dong and put the sea urchin he’d picked back in its place.

"Huh? What’s wrong?"

"Today’s sea urchin isn’t fresh. Better avoid the risk."

Tong Dong immediately understood and handed his plate to Lin Mo, as if asking, "Then check this?"

Lin Mo inspected Tong Dong’s selections:

Fried rice, steak, crispy chicken cutlet, and cucumber salad.

Carbs, protein, fats, fiber—all covered.

Best of all, most of it was cooked. Safe.

"Solid choices. Stick to cooked food. And seriously, who eats carbs at a buffet?"

Lin Mo then headed toward Xue Zigui.

Xue Zigui hadn’t taken any food—just a glass of fresh orange juice, sitting there sipping while reading.

The picture of afternoon-tea tranquility.

Lin Mo approached. "Old Xue, no raw or cold stuff. No sea urchin, no raw oysters. Got it?"

Xue Zigui nodded without looking up from his book. "I know. Eating that before a competition is basically asking for trouble."

Good. At least this guy, though equally studious, had more common sense than Tong Dong.

Lin Mo paused, then pulled out his phone to call Director Huang.

This was the private number Director Huang had exchanged with him.

The call connected almost immediately after just one ring.

"Lin Mo, is something wrong?" Director Huang's voice carried a hint of concern.

Lin Mo softened his tone. "No, Director. I just wanted to ask you to remind our students—since there's a competition this afternoon—to avoid sashimi, including raw oysters, sea urchins, salmon, and the like. They should stick to cooked food."

Upon hearing this, Director Huang on the other end nodded repeatedly. This was his first time leading a team, and he hadn’t considered such details.

"Got it, got it. Thank you for the reminder. I really would’ve overlooked this. I’ll notify Teacher Xu right away, and we’ll inform everyone one by one."

Lin Mo had already personally reminded all the students in the buffet restaurant.

After all, it was just a small effort on his part.

As for students from other schools helping themselves to sea urchins—well, that was none of his business.

Whether they’d believe him or not was another matter, and frankly, he wasn’t keen on doing thankless tasks.

Lin Mo piled his plate with shrimp, meticulously peeled each one, then snapped a photo and sent it to Xie Yuling.

"Ugh! You’re the worst! Don’t you dare come back!"

Xie Yuling’s text reply practically radiated fury.

Lin Mo chuckled and began eating the shrimp.

They were either boiled or grilled—all thoroughly cooked.

"Is that a photo for your girlfriend?" Tong Dong suddenly spoke up, startling Lin Mo.

"That’s my landlord. She loves shrimp, so I’m just teasing her."

"Oh, I see. So your landlord must be a girl."

Damn, who knew the former top student had such sharp logic?

Lin Mo didn’t argue, though—after all, it was true.

Still, he couldn’t resist asking,

"By the way, back when I ‘stole’ first place from you—how did you feel about that?"

It was a question Lin Mo had pondered for a while.

But Tong Dong merely lifted his gaze slightly, his eyes calm and unreadable.

After a brief pause, he shook his head.

"‘Stole’ isn’t the right word. Studying was never about rankings. Strictly speaking, I was just outmatched."

Tong Dong’s response was simple and straightforward.

People like him—those with muted emotions and little obsession over achievement—were easy to get along with.

Yet every time Lin Mo saw Tong Dong, he was alone.

Tong Dong had been observing Lin Mo closely.

He’d noticed Lin Mo had eaten enough for at least four people.

When Lin Mo stood up to fetch more food, Tong Dong finally spoke up.

"Are you sure you’re okay eating that much?" He pointed at the mountain of shrimp shells and bones on Lin Mo’s plate.

"No problem. My constitution’s different from yours. It doesn’t matter how much or how little I eat."

Lin Mo returned with a heaping plate of grilled meat.

Tong Dong, already full and unable to eat another bite, watched as Lin Mo kept going.

"So your fighting skills come from your appetite, huh?"

For the first time, Tong Dong’s expression brightened—the idea of "eating a lot" seemed to impress him as some kind of superpower.

But Lin Mo caught onto something else.

Fighting.

"You really want to be good at fighting?"

"Of course! I want to be as strong as Huang Xiaolong or Huang Xiaohu—or even a wuxia master like Nan Gong Wentian."

Well, well. So the former top student was a martial arts fanatic.

Not of wuxia novels, though—wuxia comics.

Beneath that academic exterior beat the heart of a martial artist.

No wonder he dreamed of being a formidable fighter.

Lin Mo smirked.

"Without the strength of Homelander, being good at fighting is fucking useless."

"Who's Homelander?" Tong Dong asked.

"A villain from American comics—basically an evil Superman."

As they talked back and forth, it slipped past midnight unnoticed.