Golden Throat

Seven in the evening.

The art festival, lasting about three hours, officially kicked off.

The sports field was brightly lit, with the stage set up right in the center. After the sound system was adjusted, it emitted a sharp buzz before being quickly muted.

First up was naturally Shen Zhongping's speech.

But Shen Zhongping always kept it brief. He stood on stage without even holding a script.

"I hope everyone enjoys tonight. Now, let me hand the stage over to you!"

That was it.

The applause and whistles from the audience almost drowned out the speakers.

Shen Zhongping turned and strode off stage without hesitation or delay—a blunt attitude rarely seen in principals.

Next, the student council hosts, a male and a female, stepped onto the stage.

The guy wore a fitted suit, and the girl strutted in low heels. They made a good-looking pair, no doubt.

But honestly, with thousands of students in the audience, very few were watching them. Most were busy flipping through the program, searching for their own class’s act.

The male host announced loudly:

"Next up, we have the skit 'I Dedicate Oil to the Country'!"

The female host followed: "Performed by Yu Anding and Gu Zeteng from G2 Class 3!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

The title reminded everyone of the classic old song "I Dedicate Oil to the Motherland."

Backstage at that moment.

Fang Jun, guitar strapped to his back, was waiting in the wings, muttering song lyrics from his phone. He looked up and saw Lin Mo strolling over confidently.

"Wait, how did you even get backstage?"

Fang Jun was stunned. Backstage security was pretty tight—only performers were allowed in; everyone else was turned away.

Lin Mo had his hands in his pockets, his expression as casual as if he were in his own living room.

"Don’t you know what it means to have 'God Mo’s divine influence'?"

Not bad. The academic genius aura really came in handy.

"Impressive, impressive. Hats off!" Fang Jun couldn’t help but give a thumbs-up.

Lin Mo didn’t waste time. He noticed that when Fang Jun spoke, his voice was strained, tight and slightly raspy.

Beside him, Luo Ruiyu wasn’t much better. She’d tried humming a couple of lines during practice but hit a snag in the middle.

They’d overworked their voices during the afternoon rehearsal.

Lin Mo pulled a box of golden-throat lozenges from his pocket and tossed it over.

"Practiced too hard this afternoon. You two should try one."

Luo Ruiyu caught it, said thanks, and opened it without hesitation. She was a straightforward person who wouldn’t spend forever politely declining.

Plus, she’d already drunk too much lophatherum tea—any more and she’d have to run to the bathroom before going on stage.

Fang Jun certainly wasn’t about to act polite with Lin Mo.

They had three more acts before their turn.

Each popped a lozenge, letting the sugary coating dissolve slowly in their mouths.

Fang Jun’s eyebrows twitched.

For some reason, this golden-throat lozenge felt much cooler than any he’d had before.

It wasn’t the usual minty coolness—it was a chill that traveled all the way down the throat, stripping away the dryness layer by layer.

He instinctively swallowed, and that tight, tense feeling in his throat loosened by more than half.

"Something’s off," Fang Jun said.

He turned the lozenge box over in his hands and examined it twice. The packaging looked the same.

"Did they upgrade this? Why does it feel way stronger than before?"

Luo Ruiyu didn’t overthink it. "You’ve probably just gone without it for too long. Don’t make a fuss," she replied casually.

Fang Jun let it go. Whatever the reason, as long as it made his throat feel better, that was what mattered.

Once Lin Mo confirmed they were in good shape again, he patted Fang Jun’s shoulder.

"Alright, your father is done here. I’ll head back to watch the show. You two do your best—don’t let your father down."

"Get lost!"

The moment Fang Jun shouted "get lost," Lin Mo had already slipped out the backstage side door.

He moved so fast that Fang Jun didn’t even get a second chance to curse him out.

Luo Ruiyu looked at the spot where Lin Mo had vanished and couldn’t help but laugh. "Is he always like this?"

"Not really,"

Fang Jun adjusted his guitar strap with a helpless sigh. "Old Mo’s a solid guy. You’ll get it eventually."

He lowered his head to clear his throat again. The coolness from the lozenge was still lingering, and his voice was better than it had been at any point during the afternoon.

As Lin Mo stepped out of the backstage area, he hadn’t walked far when a figure stepped out from behind a nearby pillar and blocked his path.

Lin Mo wasn’t surprised, though—he’d spotted the guy lying in ambush a while ago.

"Lin Mo, trust me, becoming a boxer will make you famous worldwide!"

Lin Mo felt like saying that his name was already known across various circles around the world.

Hell, even Trump probably knew about a guy like him by now.

Wait, why did I think of Trump?

Isn't it still Obama’s era?

Never mind—Trump would be next anyway.

Lin Mo snapped back to the moment and looked at Jiang Cuo. The guy wasn’t bad—the passion in his eyes was genuine, not pretend to fool anyone.

But the path he was pushing just held no appeal for Lin Mo.

"Too many roads I could take."

Lin Mo spoke calmly. "But that doesn’t mean I have to walk all of them. Covering every single one would be exhausting—pointless, really."

With that, he walked around Jiang Cuo and headed toward the audience.

The next act was the cross-talk performance he’d seen partially back in the assembly hall—he could finally catch the whole thing now.

Jiang Cuo stood frozen in place.

Now he understood why Lu Xiaochen had told him Lin Mo would never join the boxing club.

Back then, he hadn’t believed it. He thought as long as he was sincere enough, Lin Mo would eventually be swayed.

But Lin Mo’s refusal wasn’t out of contempt or dismissal—it was pure... indifference.

To someone who could excel at anything, boxing was just one option among countless others.

He didn’t even bother to glance in that direction.

Once Lin Mo was far off, Lu Xiaochen strolled over slowly from the other side.

"Well?"

Jiang Cuo didn’t answer.

Lu Xiaochen crossed her arms and leaned against the pillar. "He’s outstanding at everything. He’s not going to care about boxing. I told you that just now."

Jiang Cuo opened his mouth to argue, but found he couldn’t get a word out.

Should he ask his father to talk to Lin Mo? Or get his championship-winning brother to do it?

After all, Lin Mo was about to represent the country in South Korea.

Even his brother hadn’t reached that level yet.

At that thought, Jiang Cuo’s mind grew chaotic. If he had such ability, he would definitely push to become world boxing champion.

But Lin Mo...

Lu Xiaochen patted Jiang Cuo’s back. "Drop it. Let’s go back and watch the show."

"Senior, I still want to try."

"Blockhead, the more you push, the more he’ll dislike you."

With that, Lu Xiaochen stormed off too, annoyed. This guy was even more stubborn than she was.