Miao Haixin leaned halfway into the office, her smile growing even brighter:
"Professor Miaozhu, sorry to interrupt—hope I’m not disturbing your work?"
"I just heard in the cafeteria about Lin Yu’s group wanting to borrow some equipment."
"Since they need to use the school’s facilities, I rushed over to explain the application process for venue requests."
Lin Yu silently studied the advisor’s expression: "…"
So, it really was just an unexpected visit?
Judging by Miao Haixin’s reaction, it didn’t seem like she was making up an excuse.
Besides, she mentioned running into Elder Chi and Little Chi in the cafeteria.
The two Chis were on good terms with the advisor, so it made sense they’d ask her for help with the venue request.
Yeah, plausible enough.
As for Yan Miaozhu…
What else could she do?
You don’t slap away a smiling face.
Faced with Miao Haixin’s warmth and friendliness, Yan Miaozhu naturally responded with an equally bright smile:
"Not at all, no disturbance."
"Lin Yu here just finished organizing the students’ assignments for me."
"Haixin, if you need anything, go ahead and discuss it with him."
Lin Yu: "…"
A moment ago, she was calling him "little brother," and now it’s "Lin Yu."
Great.
Just great.
Talk about putting on two different faces—one in public, another in private.
She might as well staple "strictly professional teacher-student relationship" to her forehead.
Miao Haixin cheerfully flashed an "OK" gesture:
"Perfect! Then I won’t keep you, Professor Miaozhu."
Yan Miaozhu nodded, her gaze lingering on Lin Yu.
Lin Yu responded with his most "sincere" look—might as well commit to the bit.
As they stepped out of the office, Miao Haixin even held the door politely and added:
"Professor Miaozhu, I’ll close this for you."
Click…
The moment the door shut, Miao Haixin’s smile froze for two seconds.
Her eyes flicked meaningfully toward the door, her expression screaming "alert lifted" and "finally, I can breathe."
This micro-expression didn’t escape Lin Yu’s notice.
Lin Yu’s mind reeled: "!!!"
Not an accidental interruption?!
So…
Miao Haixin knew about the "rumors" surrounding Professor Yan Miaozhu?
She’d rushed here from the cafeteria specifically to "rescue" him?
To shield one of her students from… temptation and corruption?
There was no other explanation.
If that were true, Miao Haixin’s performance had been flawless.
She’d nearly fooled even him into thinking it was all a coincidence.
In an instant, Miao Haixin’s image in Lin Yu’s mind grew several sizes taller.
Then, his brain kicked into overdrive—how to handle the inevitable "interrogation" coming his way?
He needed a convincing cover story.
If the advisor knew about Yan Miaozhu’s "private conduct" and had come to "save" him, she’d definitely ask what "work" he’d been doing in that office.
He’d been in there a while.
"Just copying and pasting" wouldn’t cut it.
He’d have to invent a more elaborate task to explain the time spent.
Whatever Miao Haixin thought of Yan Miaozhu didn’t matter.
Lin Yu had to protect his own reputation!
When Miao Haixin turned back to him, her smile was radiant again.
She waved a folder, signaling for him to follow.
As they walked, she chatted:
"Lin Yu, you’ve been on a roll lately."
"Top marks in photography class, and that gold medal at the comic con with Qingchi?"
"Impressive! You’re making me look good as your advisor, haha!"
"Keep it up for the rest of the semester’s projects."
"For the classroom filming request, you’ll need a handwritten application."
"Oh—I’ll send you the template on WeChat. Got it saved on my phone."
"…"
"Got it? Just standard procedure."
"Don’t worry about timing; I’ll handle the scheduling. No need to wait for approval."
"And hey, if you need an extra, I’m available!"
"Haha, if you win another award, I can brag to the other advisors."
"…"
The entire walk out of the building, Lin Yu realized something:
His usual street-smart skepticism didn’t apply to genuinely sincere people.
Miao Haixin never once brought up what happened in the office.
Not a single critical word about Professor Yan.
Just enthusiastic, responsible chatter about the semester’s short film project, her energy infectious.
Watching her work ethic and upbeat demeanor, Lin Yu couldn’t help but think of her as that eternally optimistic sponge—soaking up life’s challenges with a grin.
Miao Haixin led Lin Yu straight to the cafeteria, where his four groupmates were waiting.
Two untouched meals sat on the table.
"Advisor, Lin Yu—finally!"
"If you’d taken any longer, the food would’ve gone cold."
Little Chi noticed Lin Yu and Miao Haixin arriving at the cafeteria together and quickly greeted them warmly.
"Professor."
"Sister Haixin."
"Professor."
The other three also chimed in with their greetings.
Miao Haixin motioned for everyone to sit down, teasing as she spoke:
"Qingchi, it seems the food doesn’t taste as good when we’re not around."
"Or maybe it’s just that when we’re not here, you end up eating everything?"
Little Chi’s eyes darted playfully:
"How could that be? I’m not that much of a glutton, hehe."
Everyone burst into laughter, the atmosphere lively and harmonious.
Lin Yu and Miao Haixin took their seats, chatting with the group as they ate.
The conversation flowed from filming plans to amusing anecdotes about the end of the semester.
Then, as usual, Miao Haixin’s signature "Oh, right, right!" made an appearance.
She suddenly put down her chopsticks, grabbed Lin Yu’s arm, and exclaimed excitedly:
"Oh, right, right! Little Lin Yu, I heard you’ve published a novel online? And it’s doing pretty well?"
Lin Yu: "…"
Huh?
Another literature enthusiast?
Don’t tell me she’s about to ask for writing advice too?
He already had two such admirers—adding another would be too much!
Lin Yu’s gaze swept across the table.
The only people who knew about his writing were Elder Chi and Little Chi.
Elder Chi didn’t seem like the type to casually gossip about this with their professor.
When his eyes landed on Little Chi, she immediately grabbed her chopsticks—only to realize she had already finished her meal.
Lin Yu: "…"
Got it.
He’d deal with her later.
Faced with Miao Haixin’s question, Lin Yu replied:
"Yeah, I’ve written a little something."
Miao Haixin smiled brightly and continued:
"Little Lin Yu, you seem so reserved in class, but you’re full of surprises!"
"When you write online, do you use a pen name?"
"Back when I was in school, submitting to campus magazines, our teacher made us all pick pen names."
"What’s yours?"
Lin Yu scratched his cheek: "…"
Last time, when Ying’er asked about his writing income, the system had smoothly handled it.
Surely it could fabricate a pen name too, right?
Just as Lin Yu was about to answer, Elder Chi interjected curiously:
"Professor, what was your pen name back then? I’m really curious."
The moment the question left her lips, all eyes turned to Miao Haixin.
She grinned sheepishly:
"Haha, you’re making me blush."
"I called myself… Boss Bao."
Lin Yu froze: "!!!"
Boss Bao?
Wait—
Their professor was the legendary Boss Bao from back then?!
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
end. Thus one must continue to cultivate, and become a saint or great emperor, in order to prolong one's life. Chen Xia, however, completely reversed this. Since his transmigration, he has gained immortality, and also a system that awards him with attribute points for every year he lives. Thus between the myriad worlds, the legend of an unparalleled senior appeared. "A gentleman takes revenge; it is never too late even after ten thousand years." "When you were at your peak I yielded, now in your old age I shall trample on you." - Chen Xia
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
