Even in the early hours of the morning, the penguin group in V station’s life area felt like it had exploded.
As the largest section of V station, the life area was never short of gossip. Today it’s creative plagiarism; tomorrow, it’s a fight. There’s so much gossip every day that you couldn’t finish eating all the melons even if you tried.
The moment Wanshi Keai showed up to speak, the group—just a second ago lively with chatter—suddenly fell silent.
Everyone knew the golden rule: don’t engage with idiots.
And provoking Wanshi Keai was asking for trouble. The guy was notorious for being a complete psycho. Nothing good ever came from interacting with him.
Most people in the group wore their vests (alternate usernames), but Wanshi Keai refused to follow suit. He made it a point to announce his presence no matter where he went.
Wanshi Keai: So now everyone thinks I’m the unreasonable one? [Crying cat head.jpg]
Wanshi Keai: What exactly did I do wrong from start to finish that you’re all blaming me now? Why is everyone targeting me like this?
Wanshi Keai: You’d only be satisfied if I quit the circle, huh?
He spammed the group with a string of questions, but not a single person replied.
Behind their screens, everyone sighed. The apprentice’s luck really couldn’t be worse—he still hadn’t changed his username.
Big White Goose: If you want to go crazy, fine. Why do you have to drag others into your mess?
Everything is lovely: This is between him and me. You strangers can shut up.
Everything is lovely: My master has become yours. Are you happy now?
It wasn’t clear whether Xixizi was asleep or just lurking. His account status remained at the lowest level, silent.
Everything is lovely: What’s the point of hiding and not talking? You were so arrogant on the forum last night, you bitch!
Everything is lovely: You can’t run away from me. I won’t let you go!
—
In a smaller, four-person penguin group:
Big White Goose: [Screenshot] This Wanshi Keai is completely insane. Damn, I’m so pissed off.
Picked up a 98k: Liangshan’s Old White Lotus. [Like]
Huahua Kindergarten: Why are you even acknowledging him? He’s already torn apart several beauty content creators. What do you think he’ll do to you? And you didn’t even bother wearing a vest just now! QAQ
Big White Goose: I’m a pet owner. Why should I be afraid of him?
Huahua Kindergarten: Well, now he’s coming for the food bloggers too.
Huahua Kindergarten: I knew Wanshi Keai would lose it. The forum was full of people last night declaring sovereignty.
Huahua Kindergarten: I’m a little worried about Xixizi. He doesn’t seem like he can fight back. [Bite hand.jpg]
Picked up a 98k: Wall, come rescue your apprentice.
When He Yuan opened his eyes, his phone was still on the chat interface of the small group—probably because he’d turned off the alarm earlier.
This group was made up of contracted up masters from the life area: one who played games, one who showed off pets, a little tailor, and him—the beauty guru. Exactly four people.
His throat felt dry from sleep, and as he sat up, a faint sense of irritation lingered. Half-awake, he typed out a reply:
He Yuan: He flew.
He Yuan rarely spoke in the group, so the others just assumed he was busy in the three-dimensional world.
Big White Goose: What flew?
Huahua Kindergarten: Didn’t he hold you tightly last night? You were warm. [Squinting smile]
Picked up a 98k: …Looks like the person involved has no clue. [Lighting a cigarette.jpg]
He Yuan’s patience was notoriously bad right after waking up. Unfortunately, Wanshi Keai chose this exact moment to message him.
He had planned to close his eyes for another 30 seconds, but the vibration of the message snapped his eyes open. Irritation flared up instantly.
Wanshi Keai: Let me ask, what’s your relationship with Xixizi? [Maomaoguaiqiao.jpg]
Wanshi Keai: Why’d you take him as your apprentice? He looks pretty inexperienced.
Wanshi Keai: I’m not saying anything bad about him. I just wanted to give an objective evaluation.
He Yuan took a deep breath and slammed his fingers onto the keyboard.
He Yuan: What’s between him and me has nothing to do with you.
He Yuan: You can go away.
After sending the two messages, He Yuan blocked Wanshi Keai and threw his phone to the end of the bed.
—
“That means he slipped away again!” one student council member said through gritted teeth. “He wouldn’t come play basketball when we invited him, and he skipped the sports meeting too. Do academic gods not need exercise?”
“He’s great at basketball, but you rarely see him play,” someone next to him added.
“Hey, I’ll handle it!” Xu Zhaoyuan ran over, chiming in, “He’s just messing around. Don’t bother with him!”
At that moment, He Yuan stood in front of the gates of the neighboring Medical University, staring at its old, weather-beaten sign. The gold paint on the lettering had flaked off, leaving the words ‘Medical Department’ looking more like ‘sauce’.
The Medical University didn’t enforce strict entry or exit rules, so He Yuan walked right in, following a long tree-lined avenue. Compared to his own University of Science and Technology, this campus was much older. Most of the buildings hadn’t changed in decades, and the open spaces next to the teaching buildings were overgrown with weeds.
It was a quiet time of day; the school road was nearly empty. Medical students had packed schedules, often running from morning to night.
He Yuan had glanced at the first-year clinical medicine class schedule in advance. Years of studying architecture had given him a strong sense of direction, so finding his way after looking at the map once was no problem.
Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the back door of a large lecture hall on the fourth floor of one of the teaching buildings. Inside, more than a hundred students were attending a modern history outline class.
He hoped the person he was looking for wouldn’t turn out to be the type to skip classes just a month into the school year.
He Yuan reached out and pointed at the students sitting in the last row near the door. “Find someone,” he said.
The students in the back, who hadn’t been paying attention to the lecture, turned to look.
He Yuan, with his striking appearance and fashionable clothes, stood out sharply against the monotony of the typical engineering student. Those who noticed him nudged their neighbors and whispered, soon creating a chain reaction of poking and murmuring.
By the end, nearly half the class was staring back at him. And He Yuan, unfazed, spotted the buzz-cut guy he was searching for.
He Xinyang had been watching a game with his headphones on when he suddenly met He Yuan’s gaze. Startled, his forehead collided with the desk.
“Damn it, it’s over,” he muttered, panicking.
The debt collector had come for him, and this time, there was no one to help. Xiao An was in a different class, and his other buddies hadn’t chosen modern history either.
“It’s him.” He Yuan pointed toward the short guy with the flat head as if picking something off a menu.
The students in the room burst into applause one after another, as if this was the most entertaining thing they’d seen all day. Finally, someone nudged He Xinyang: “Hey, let’s go. The handsome guy next door wants to meet you.”
He Xinyang reluctantly pulled off his headphones and glanced back at a skinny black-haired guy for help, but it was useless. He turned back to He Yuan with a stiff, awkward smile.
He Yuan’s face was blank, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he turned and walked out, leaving He Xinyang to scramble after him.
“Brother He!” He Xinyang called out as he hurriedly caught up. “I swear I was just about to find you after class to apologize. We’ve got so many medical classes that I haven’t had the time. Otherwise, I’d have—”
He Yuan abruptly stopped, forcing He Xinyang to nearly stumble down the stairs.
“No one told you,” He Yuan said, turning slightly to glance at him. “When you apologize, you’re supposed to take the initiative.”
“Brother He, I’m really…”
Before he could finish, He Yuan grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up. Fear flashed across He Xinyang’s face as he dangled precariously over the stairs, one foot barely brushing the ground while the other hung in midair.
He Yuan might look clean and fair, but his strength was alarming.
“Brother He, wait—”
He Yuan was silent for a few seconds, his grip firm and unyielding, like he was gathering his thoughts.
And then he spoke, each word chillingly precise: “You. Are. Gone.”
—
When the skinny black-haired boy ran into the anatomy lab to seek help, Clinical Class 1 was in the middle of a systematic anatomy session.
The air conditioner was cranked up, turning the room into a frigid icebox despite it being October. The sharp, chemical stench of formalin was overwhelming, but the boy didn’t hesitate.
“Where’s Xiao An?” he shouted, his voice cutting through the cacophony of noise.
The room was chaotic, with groups of seven clustered around cadavers, chatting about hearts and bones as if they were gossiping about a celebrity scandal.
Unable to get a response, the boy pressed forward. After some searching, he finally spotted Xiao An slumped in the corner, half-asleep.
Xiao An, dressed in a pristine white coat with gloves and a mask, sat on a round stool, his anatomy textbook propped open. His long eyelashes rested softly against the edge of his mask, making him look strangely serene in the otherwise grim environment.
As expected of someone from a family that owned a hospital, Xiao An could even nap amid the smell of formalin.
Unbeknownst to everyone else, Xiao An had been up until 3 a.m. watching all of Wall’s livestreams and posts. Wall was just too captivating—his sharp wit and casual arrogance made every moment interesting. Xiao An had even sent a private message two days ago, hoping to be recognized as Wall’s apprentice. But there’d been no reply.
Determined to make a good impression, Xiao An had even studied how to act cute from several guides online.
“Xiao An, wake up!” the boy whispered urgently. “Something’s happened!”
Xiao An blinked groggily, his brows furrowing slightly as he processed the situation.
“A tall, white, handsome guy just stormed in and grabbed Sha Yang like a chicken!”
“Handsome?” Xiao An mumbled, still waking up. Then it clicked, and his expression turned serious. “He Yuan?”
“How would I know his name? Sha Yang gave me the ‘help me’ signal and everything!”
“Got it.” Xiao An sighed, standing lazily. He turned to his group and said, “I’ll be back in a bit.”
At that moment, the professor’s sharp voice cut through the room: “Where do you think you’re going? Skip one more class, and I’ll tell your father!”
The warning fell on deaf ears. Xiao An simply raised a hand in acknowledgment before dashing out of the room.
