Rong Ruxue's heart was racing with suppressed excitement. The thought of it made her lips curl into the faintest smile—if she became the campus belle and Shen Zeyan rose as the campus heartthrob, wouldn't they naturally be seen as a pair? A perfect couple admired by all? Just imagining the scenario filled her with a smug sense of anticipation.
At the same time, Fan Yuelin, who had been following every update about Shen Zeyan online, could no longer contain her excitement. Once the students dispersed, she burst out, her voice carrying barely concealed glee, "Guys, did you see the buzz when everyone was talking about Shen Zeyan?" Her eyes practically glittered as she leaned forward. "I also saw his picture on the school forum, and honestly, I couldn't resist. Before class today, I deliberately went to the final-year wing and peeked into Rocket Class. And let me tell you, he's even more alluring in person. His looks—so refined, so ethereal—it's like God sculpted him with extra care."
Her words made Meng Qianyi sigh dreamily, she however, spoke in a calmer tone, though her cheeks still carried a blush. "Yes, although I haven't seen him with my own eyes, his picture alone is enough to stir fantasies in any girl. Still," she gave a small, resigned laugh, "I'm not as delusional as the others. I know someone like him is way out of my league."
At that, Rong Ruxue's lips twitched in a fleeting sneer. At least she knows her place, she thought inwardly. Yet when Shen Zeyan's name was mentioned again, her gaze grew brighter, greedier, almost possessive. He only belongs to me, she told herself smugly.
Just then, Meng Qianyi tilted her head thoughtfully, her curiosity piqued. "Ruxue, I heard Shen Zeyan transferred from Beijing as well. Do you… already know him?"
The question struck Rong Ruxue like a spark to kindling. For a moment she hesitated—should she tell the truth or weave a lie? But then, an idea bloomed instantly in her cunning mind.
Lowering her lashes to hide the glint in her eyes, she forced a shy flush to her cheeks. "I… I do know him," she murmured, her voice deliberately small. Her gaze dropped to her feet, her fingers twisting the hem of her sleeve, as though recalling some tender memory.
Both of them around her stiffened in shock.
After a carefully calculated pause, Rong Ruxue added with feigned embarrassment, "In fact… I met him at Qinghe Zhuchan Pavilion for evening tea before I came to Wuhan."
Meng Qianyi gasped audibly. "Qinghe Zhuchan Pavilion? That's one of the most exclusive tea houses in Beijing! I heard it requires not only a membership card but also an expensive fee just to sit down. And reservations are booked months in advance!"
Fan Yuelin, who had fallen into stunned silence, suddenly jolted back to life. Her voice trembled as she asked, "Ruxue, w-what did you just say? You already knew Shen Zeyan? D-Does that mean… Shen Zeyan followed you here to Wuhan?"
Rong Ruxue's heart leapt with triumph, but on the surface she played her role perfectly. She widened her eyes, her face flushing deeper red. Then, as if overwhelmed, she covered half her face with her hands. "Wh-what nonsense are you saying, Yuelin? Don't spread such rumors!" She stammered with exaggerated nervousness. "H-he wouldn't… f-follow me, right?"
Her voice faltered deliberately, dripping with an almost vulnerable innocence.
Before anyone could press further, she abruptly stood up, and ran out of the classroom as though fleeing from embarrassment. Both girls inside were left stunned, watching her retreating figure.
But the moment Rong Ruxue stepped into the empty corridor and lowered her hand from her face, her lips curled into a sly smirk. Her eyes glinted with satisfaction. Perfect. By tomorrow, the entire school will whisper that Shen Zeyan came to Wuhan for me. Let them believe it.
Back in the classroom, Meng Qianyi let out another gasp, her hand covering her mouth. "That means… the reason Shen Zeyan came to Wuhan was because of Rong Ruxue?"
The thought alone was enough to send a ripple of envy across the school.
Fan Yuelin, however, felt a sharp sting pierce her heart. A suffocating unease clawed at her chest as the image of Rong Ruxue and Shen Zeyan together burned in her mind. But almost instantly, she forced herself to calm down. She bit her lip and looked away, convincing herself. Someone like Shen Zeyan would never glance at me anyway.
Gong Xinyue, who had quietly been observing everything from the sidelines, slowly pieced things together. She had always felt there was something unusual about Rong Ruxue's sudden transfer to Wuhan. After all, who in their right mind would willingly leave behind a grand city like Beijing to study in a comparatively small and unremarkable city like Wuhan? Unless, of course, there was a deeper reason.
And just now—when Meng Qianyi and Fan Yuelin mentioned Shen Zeyan's name—Xinyue clearly caught it. A fleeting but unmistakable glint flickered in Rong Ruxue's eyes, and her expression shifted too sharply, too quickly. That wasn't the look of casual familiarity; it was something else, something calculating.
Although Gong Xinyue herself had never seen Shen Zeyan before and hadn't even bothered to check his thread on the forum, she wasn't oblivious. The girls in class could hardly keep quiet about him—a boy so devastatingly handsome that he had instantly become the centerpiece of every conversation the moment he stepped into the school.
Curiosity pricked at her now, subtle at first, but growing until she could no longer ignore it. With deliberate slowness, she unlocked her phone and opened the Renren school forum. Her fingers hesitated briefly before she typed his name—Shen Zeyan.
The screen instantly flooded with results. Dozens of posts, threads overflowing with excitement, pictures captured from every angle, both candid and stolen, as though the entire campus had conspired to worship this one boy.
Her gaze fell on the first photograph, and her breath hitched.
The moment she saw him, her entire body stiffened. It felt as though someone had struck her chest with a silent drum, sending her heartbeat spiraling out of control. Her throat went dry, her palms grew cold, and for a fleeting, terrifying moment, she thought she might actually nosebleed from the sheer intensity of it.
He was—indescribable.
That face carried the sharp, clean lines of a sculpture chiseled by the gods themselves, every angle cold yet painfully perfect. His skin was pale, unmarred by a single blemish, glowing faintly as though lit from within. Dark, narrow eyes looked out with an aloofness that froze her blood, as though he had already decided the entire world was beneath him. And yet, there was something magnetic in that cold indifference, a force that dragged her in, leaving her powerless to resist.
She studied every detail with trembling concentration—the straight bridge of his nose, the subtle curve of his lips that refused to soften into a smile, the effortless elegance in the way he carried himself even in candid pictures. The longer she looked, the more her heart thudded, until she almost feared it would burst from her chest.
For a long time, she forgot to breathe. She forgot to blink. Even her thoughts stumbled into silence, her mind spinning in circles around the same truth: Shen Zeyan was unlike anyone she had ever seen.
When at last she managed to lower her phone, she exhaled shakily, her body still buzzing with an unfamiliar tremor. She understood now.
So this was it.
This was why Rong Ruxue had come all the way from Beijing to Wuhan. Not for studies or anything. No—she had come here for him.
The realization settled into Xinyue's chest with a strange heaviness. She bit her lip, her eyes flickering toward the door where Rong Ruxue had disappeared moments ago. In her mind, one thought echoed clearly, chilling in its certainty:
If Rong Ruxue has her eyes set on Shen Zeyan, she will stop at nothing to claim him.
She immediately made up her mind, she must tell this to her father. With that she also got up and followed other girls to school canteen, her mind still filled with the thoughts about Shen Zeyan.
---
On the other hand, Li Ziqing stood in front of the Wuhan Central Library, its towering white facade gleaming under the fading sunlight. Nestled in the heart of the city's central business district, the library spanned an impressive 140,000 square meters, making it one of the largest in all of China. From the outside, its sweeping modern design looked less like a mere library and more like a cathedral devoted to knowledge.
Earlier, she had been on the verge of heading home in disappointment. But then, a sudden thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. If she had been able to memorize every page of her middle school textbooks with ease, then why couldn't she learn hacking the same way? After all, the photographic memory bestowed upon her by the system was no ordinary gift.
She inhaled deeply, her eyes fixed on the grand building before her, and finally asked in a low voice, "System… will I truly be able to learn hacking on my own?"
[Ding… Of course, Host. With the right approach, a structured plan, patience, and consistent practice, hacking is well within your grasp. With your divine gift of photographic memory, you can absorb the fundamentals in as little as a single day. However, to reach the level of a true professional, constant practice will remain indispensable.]
Li Ziqing's breath caught in her throat. "In just a day?" she asked, her tone incredulous yet hopeful. "Then, System, where do I begin?"
[Ding… Start by mastering the foundations: networking concepts, familiarity with the Linux operating system, and a programming language such as Python. Once you understand the basics and algorithms, move on to creating an isolated network environment and engage in online challenges. From there, specialize in a field of your choosing—web application hacking, network penetration testing, or mobile security.]
Li Ziqing's eyes sharpened, her lips curling into a determined smile. "If I can at least grasp application hacking today, that will be enough. I can become a professional with time."
[Ding… Correct, Host. Begin with programming theory. Establish your foundation first.]
Without hesitation, Li Ziqing stepped forward into the vast halls of the library.
The Wuhan Central Library was a world unto itself. Polished marble floors reflected the soft glow of chandeliers above. Rows of towering bookshelves stretched endlessly, housing millions of volumes across every discipline imaginable. The faint scent of paper and ink hung in the air, mingled with the quiet rustle of pages turned by scattered readers immersed in study.
Li Ziqing approached the front desk and spoke politely to the supervisor, "Excuse me, could you direct me to books on programming and computer science?"
The librarian glanced up at her, briefly distracted by her striking beauty, before nodding with a professional smile. "You'll find those on the fifth floor, Section C. It's one of our largest technical collections."
"Thank you," Ziqing replied softly and headed toward the elevators.
When she reached the fifth floor, she spent a long while browsing the shelves, running her fingers over rows upon rows of titles. Finally, she began pulling books one after another: computer science fundamentals, operating system concepts, data structures and algorithms, cryptography, binary and hexadecimal studies, computer architecture, and thick tomes on programming languages—Python, C/C++, JavaScript, and even Assembly. By the time she was finished, she had gathered a towering stack of more than forty books.
The other readers stared in disbelief.
"What is she thinking? Forty books at once?" whispered one student, wide-eyed.
"Does she really plan to read all of those?" another muttered.
"Maybe she just wants to show off," a girl scoffed. "Some people like to look impressive."
But an older man shook his head quietly. "No… look at her eyes. She's not here to play. She's searching for something."
Unfazed by the whispers, Li Ziqing carried the mountain of books to a secluded corner by the window. The golden glow of dusk filtered through the glass, casting long shadows across the polished wood of the study table. She sat down gracefully, opened the first book, and began to read.
Her pace was extraordinary. With her photographic memory, she didn't need to linger on each sentence—she read entire passages at once, her eyes sweeping over the pages five lines at a time. Within twelve minutes, the first book was complete. She closed it, reached for another, and continued.
Minutes turned into hours. Page after page, volume after volume, her hands moved in a rhythmic pattern: open, scan, absorb, close, repeat. To the onlookers, it seemed almost inhuman—she would stare at a page for mere seconds before flipping to the next. Murmurs rose again, but she paid them no mind.
By noon, the floor had nearly emptied as students left for lunch, yet Li Ziqing remained unmoved. By evening, as the library lights flickered on, she finally closed the last book in her stack.
She sat back in silence, gazing at the towering pile beside her. Even she was momentarily stunned. She had known she would read quickly, but to finish more than forty dense technical books in less than seven hours was beyond her own expectations. And what startled her most was not fatigue—but exhilaration. She felt invigorated, as if her mind had been sharpened into a blade.
Tentatively, she tested her memory, recalling every formula, every line of code, every algorithm she had read that day. To her amazement, it was all there—crystal clear, as if etched permanently onto the walls of her mind.
Rising slowly, she gathered the books and returned them one by one to their shelves. As she slid the last volume back into place, she whispered to herself, "Now, all I need is practice. My brother can help me with that."
With quiet resolve burning in her eyes, Li Ziqing turned and walked out of the Wuhan Central Library, stepping into the evening air with a newfound purpose.
---
At the same time, in Hong Kong, the Shen family estate was cloaked in an unusual silence.
The vast living room—normally filled with chatter and the occasional quarrel—sat heavy with tension. At the head sofa sat Shen Yunhai, the current patriarch, beside his wife, Qin Meilan, her posture composed but her eyes sharp. To the right, Shen Weiyuan and his wife, Han Jingxian, occupied their seats with youngest daughter of Shen family, Shen Yunci, poised quietly at single Sofa. On the opposite end sat the second son, Shen Huairen, who had arrived that morning with his wife, Lu Yajing.
For Shen Huairen, it was a rare return from Shanghai, where he managed his thriving aviation and logistics company. His wife, Professor Lu Yajing of Shanghai University's Department of Chemistry, was equally burdened with her academic duties and the care of their twin daughters and infant son, barely a year old. Yet, when the summons had come directly from Old Master Shen and Old Madam Qin, they had dropped everything and flown back immediately.
And now, seated under the watchful eyes of their elders, they finally understood the reason for such urgency.
It wasn't for a business crisis.
It wasn't a family dispute.
It was… a jar of tea leaves.
At first, both Huairen and Yajing had been dumbfounded. To summon them back from Shanghai for tea? Absurd. But the moment they laid eyes on the leaves, their skepticism faltered.
The aroma alone was intoxicating—fresh, earthy, and impossibly layered, like a fragrance no perfumer could ever craft. The texture of the leaves shimmered faintly under the light, and a soft glow, almost divine, seemed to ripple through their veins.
Even Shen Yunci, who had never once interested in tea and found it bitter, found herself staring, entranced.
Now, all eyes were fixed on the central table, where Butler Gao Boheng had carefully laid out glassware and chemical equipment. Professor Lu Yajing, calm but inwardly unsettled, worked methodically, test after test, her slender hands steady though her heart pounded with each result.
Finally, after nearly four hours, she lowered the pipette, her expression frozen. She remained silent for a long while before raising her head toward Old Master Shen.
"Dad…" she began slowly, her voice carrying both awe and disbelief. "This is miraculous. The tea is entirely natural and safe to consume. In fact, the catechins, flavonols, theaflavins, and thearubigins are several times higher than in any known variety. The alkaloid concentration is astonishingly high—what would normally require truckloads of leaves to yield even a milliliter of anticancer-grade alkoloid extract is present here, naturally, in bigger quantities in every leaf. And yet," she drew a breath, "there are no external additives. Nothing unnatural. It is as if these leaves were… cultivated by heaven itself."
The room erupted.
Han Jingxian leapt to her feet and glared at her husband. "Didn't I tell you it was safe? But no—you wouldn't believe me! See? My faith in that girl was right. She would never bring harm to us."
Old Master Shen's face darkened as he turned his glare on Shen Weiyuan. "Hmph! Your mind has truly rotted with age. If not for your wife, you would have tossed away these leaves like common refuse. If you had done so, I swear I would have strangled you with my own hands."
Shen Weiyuan's face flushed crimson. He struggled to reconcile what he was hearing. "Yajing… are you certain? Completely natural? No manipulation? No chemical intervention? Such quality… such purity—can tea like this truly exist in our world?"
Lu Yajing inclined her head firmly. "I am absolutely certain, Brother-in-law. I would never endanger my own family."
A soft voice broke through the chaos—Shen Yunci's. "You're all so focused on the tea… but has anyone looked carefully at the jar it came in?"
The family turned.
The porcelain jar sat quietly on the table, but the closer they looked, the more extraordinary it became. The fine jade carvings shimmered faintly, the inlaid golden threads along its cavity catching the light in delicate brilliance. It wasn't just a container. It was a masterpiece.
Old Madam Qin leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "This… this is no ordinary jar. The jade is genuine, the gold pure. Look at the craftsmanship—ah, such a treasure, perhaps even an antique of immeasurable value."
The discovery only deepened the mystery.
Shen Huairen frowned. "Elder Brother, you still haven't told us—who gave this to you?"
"Yes, tell us quickly!" Old Master Shen's impatience was palpable. He turned to Butler Gao Boheng with sudden excitement. "Go, bring me my tea set. Tonight, I will brew it myself."
Everyone knew Old Master Shen's obsession with tea. It had been his lifelong passion, bordering on compulsion. Over the decades, he had collected and tasted teas from every corner of the world—the most expensive, the rarest, even the legendary Da Hong Pao, which once sold for millions per kilogram. Yet not a single one had ever emitted the faint, divine glow that now radiated from this Phoenix Vein Brew.
The first time he had opened the jar, the fragrance had nearly undone him—a fragrance refreshing yet profound, awakening the spirit itself. It called to him. He had wanted to drink it immediately, like a child clutching a forbidden sweet.
But Shen Weiyuan had stopped him then, whispering grimly: "The sweetest poison in the world tempts most easily." Out of fear, he had restrained his father, convincing him to wait until Yajing could analyze it properly.
Now, with her verdict delivered, there was no longer a reason to hold back.