Principal Yan Qili was awakened by a loud and continuous knock on the door.
“Mu!” His upper body suddenly sprang up, his wig flying off. He groped for his glasses on the desk while forcefully raising his eyebrows, trying to lift his heavy eyelids. “Not sleeping, not sleeping… ho…”
He Jing’en proactively turned the doorknob and entered, shuffling in his cloth shoes: “Principal!”
“Yes, yes, yes… speak.” Yan Qili finally struggled to lift his eyelids, though his eyebal
ls rolled upward, almost unable to see his pupils.
He Jing’en cheerfully walked around the office with his hands behind his back, examining him for a long while, then suddenly went around the desk and whispered in Yan Qili’s ear: “Principal, what’s the password for the confidential archives room?”
Yan Qili was half asleep, his breathing so heavy as if he were still in deep slumber. It wasn’t clear if he had heard He Jing’en’s question. He just rolled his eyeballs, smacked his lips, and mumbled an indistinct string of letters: “……AOTIWBIAH.”
He Jing’en stared steadily at the extremely drowsy Yan Qili before him, revealing a deep smile. Then he rubbed his bald forehead a couple of times and suddenly said loudly: “Principal! The Challenge Cup competition champion has been decided! Guess who it is!”
Several consecutive loud, spirited shouts completely startled Yan Qili from his sleep. He jumped up, his eyes wide open, staring at He Jing’en for a while before remembering to pat his few remaining hairs: “Where’s my wig?”
He Jing’en smirked: “You might as well shave it all off like me.”
Yan Qili reflexively responded: “Nonsense, you, you, you are completely bald. I just have patchy baldness. How could I be like you!”
After saying this, Yan Qili pinched the bridge of his nose and asked: “What did you just say?”
He Jing’en: “The first-place team in the Challenge Cup competition has emerged. They’re called Lance’s Sky, four contestants, waiting for you to represent the school in praising them and awarding the prize money.”
Yan Qili sat down heavily in his chair, making the executive chair tremble. He said absent-mindedly: “For such a small matter, you can handle it for me. It’s just 100,000 yuan and an internship qualification.”
He Jing’en snorted: “You’re really comfortable, becoming an absentee boss whenever you want.”
Yan Qili laughed, pointing at himself, then at He Jing’en: “Well, I’m the principal, and you’re the dean.”
He Jing’en shook his head helplessly and turned to leave with his hands behind his back.
“Wait.”
Just as He Jing’en was about to touch the office doorknob, Yan Qili suddenly uttered these two calm, short words.
He Jing’en stopped in his tracks but remained with his back turned, not looking back.
Time passed second by second, the air slowly and dangerously solidifying.
At this point, Yan Qili lifted his eyelids, rubbed his temples, his gaze sharp and calm, without a hint of drowsiness, and asked: “What question… did you ask me earlier?”
Upon hearing this, He Jing’en’s five fingers, hidden under his training uniform, slowly clenched. His gaze heavily fell to the ground as he turned around with a stiff-legged posture.
The two men looked at each other. Yan Qili’s motion of rubbing his temples stopped. After a silent period of five seconds, He Jing’en finally curved his eyes and said with a smile: “I didn’t ask anything.”
Yan Qili didn’t speak, just stared at He Jing’en, though the corners of his lips gradually began to lift.
Before long, both old men burst into hearty laughter.
Yan Qili waved his hand and said helplessly: “Oh my, getting old. My ears are starting to hear things.”
He Jing’en deeply agreed, teasing: “You’d better exercise more, or you won’t have many days left.”
With that, He Jing’en, with his hands behind his back, ran off like an ostrich.
Yan Qili laughed and scolded: “This old thing.”
He Jing’en knew that the old thing simply didn’t want to handle this hot potato.
The Blue Pivot inspection team’s purpose was to catch the mole among the freshmen, but under the principal’s years of negligence, the school’s surveillance cameras worked intermittently, failing to provide strong evidence to Blue Pivot.
Later, Si Hongche came up with the Challenge Cup competition idea, but from the current results, it seemed to have been in vain.
Blue Pivot had mobilized all its forces, lost two high-ranking officials in the process, and still failed to eradicate the Black Lantern Society tumor. They must be quite frustrated.
If Yan Qili were to cheerfully celebrate the students’ championship at this time, with awards and speeches, wouldn’t that touch Si Hongche’s sore spot?
Although Si Hongche had graduated from Star University, with his current position, he was truly someone Yan Qili couldn’t afford to offend.
He Jing’en stretched lazily in front of the corridor window, a lazy smile curling at the corners of his mouth: “Then I’ll have to be the one to offend him.”
In the Student Care Office, Lance’s Sky team had been waiting for a long time. They hadn’t eaten dinner, and only two staff members remained on duty, expressionlessly typing on their computers.
The office wasn’t particularly large, only about forty square meters, with desks crammed together, accommodating ten workstations.
Due to the excessive placement of files, the windows were never opened, so there was always a sour smell of sweat in the air, quite unpleasant.
On the yellowing white wall directly opposite the main door hung various banners and certificates. The banners bore generic slogans like “Escorting Students, Solving Problems for the School,” “The silkworm spins until death, the candle burns until tears dry,” “Students’ Needs Are Extremely Important,” and so on.
Tang Li couldn’t believe it, whispering: “Is this the treatment for first place? I thought there would at least be a school-wide award ceremony.”
Liu Bo scratched his head, also puzzled: “I heard the previous years were quite grand. Why has everything changed for us? Budget cuts?”
Lance knew well that Star University was handling it low-key to give face to Si Hongche, after all, Si Hongche had essentially worked in vain.
He didn’t care about the ceremony, nor did he care about the prize money.
The reason he was willing to wait hungry until now was to confirm the internship time.
After all, with this opportunity, he could enter the restricted area and contact Oliver.
Zhan Pingchuan somehow produced a small bread roll from somewhere. He first rummaged through it to check the expiration date, confirmed it was edible, then tore open the packaging and dangled it in front of Lance: “Hungry? Eat something.”
Lance took it, somewhat surprised: “Is it okay for us to eat someone else’s food?”
Actually, he didn’t care whether it was okay or not, but he had to maintain his persona.
Zhan Pingchuan seemed somewhat proud, tilting his head and raising his chin: “Look.”
Lance turned his head and saw that Zhan Pingchuan had placed the on-duty staff member’s bread roll under the “Students’ Needs Are Extremely Important” banner.
The bread’s owner was gritting her teeth, repeatedly glaring angrily at Zhan Pingchuan, but constrained by that assertive banner, she couldn’t say a word.
Lance suppressed a smile at the corner of his lips, tore open the small bread roll, and handed half to Zhan Pingchuan.
He essentially didn’t possess the virtue of sharing food, but at this moment, seeing Zhan Pingchuan’s proud little expression and the inadvertently revealed thoughtfulness, he instinctively wanted to give him a little sweetness.
Zhan Pingchuan, seeing the small bread roll extended before his eyes, brightened up and couldn’t help but push his luck. Instead of taking it with his hand, he opened his mouth.
Lance paused, his peripheral vision lightly glancing at Tang Li and Liu Bo, who were rigidly pretending not to see. Then “swoosh,” he quickly stuffed half the bread roll into Zhan Pingchuan’s mouth.
This small bread roll was indeed a bit sweet.
The on-duty staff member had already given up typing, her nails nearly scratching the desk to pieces.
It was at this moment that He Jing’en entered the room, holding his thermos with its chipped mouth, walking with a swaying but steady gait, appearing very leisurely.
“Well, sorry to keep you waiting.” He Jing’en smiled, raising his hand to unscrew the thermos, took a sip, and while drinking, twisted his neck toward the door, “I’d like to say a few words to the students. You two can leave early?”
He Jing’en was known among the school leaders as a slacker, which everyone knew. If Dean Erdiff hadn’t unfortunately passed away, within a year, the dean of the Attribute College would have been replaced.
No, perhaps it could be said that the dean of the Attribute College had already been replaced. Since the rebellion suppression eighteen years ago, Erdiff had risen rapidly, and over the years, he had already grasped the real power in the school, even the principal had to respect him.
As for He Jing’en, he was truly beyond help, being surpassed by his juniors, who controlled the real power. Yet he wasn’t anxious or angry, honestly avoiding confrontation, with an attitude of being timid, fearful, and minding his own business.
So the school staff, especially the newly recruited batch, didn’t have much respect for He Jing’en.
The female staff member stood up and said coolly: “Dean, we have many important documents here, and when you award the prize money to the students, it needs to be recorded here as well.”
He Jing’en drooped his eyelids, listened carefully, and didn’t insist. Instead, he smiled and said: “Alright, alright.”
He was always so accommodating, as if he had no temper at all.
His thin, gaunt figure was reflected in the glass window, as clear as a mirror. The school, under the requirement to save electricity, had turned off the outdoor street lights early, so now the outside was as black as an abyss. That abyss-like blackness also infected He Jing’en’s pupils.
“You are Lance’s Sky team. Nice name, simple and elegant, quite youthful.” He Jing’en asked with a smile, “So what are your names?”
Lance had noticed He Jing’en during that “Introduction to Ability Attributes” class.
This person had such a good attitude, as if he never worried about anything. Even when he learned of Erdiff’s death, he still maintained a smiling demeanor.
“Lance.” Lance revealed a shy smile.
“Oh!” He Jing’en slapped his bald head, suddenly realizing: “So you’re Lance.”
Lance paused: “Not exactly…”
Before Lance could finish, He Jing’en turned his gaze to Zhan Pingchuan beside him: “And you are?”
Zhan Pingchuan reluctantly swallowed the small bread roll in his mouth and immediately said: “‘s Sky.”
He Jing’en: “……”
Zhan Pingchuan said against his heart: “Haha, just kidding, I’m Zhan Pingchuan.”
No help for it, there are just many people in this world who can’t handle the truth.
Lance: “.”
He Jing’en’s gaze swept meaningfully over Zhan Pingchuan and Lance, then returned to his slacker-among-teachers appearance: “Good, good.”
“I’m Tang Li, a recovery system Awakened one.”
“I’m Liu Bo, an animal system Awakened one.”
The two quickly introduced themselves as well.
He Jing’en nodded repeatedly, glancing sideways to see the on-duty staff member’s fingers flying, typing their conversation with a clatter.
He Jing’en put his hand into the sleeve of his training uniform, rummaged around, and revealed a mysterious expression. Hunching over, he lowered his voice and asked: “Which college are you all from?”
The on-duty staff member sensitively straightened up, stretching her neck to listen.
“Underground City College, we’re all from Underground City College,” Liu Bo quickly replied.
“Ah, main specialty.” He Jing’en murmured to himself. A moment later, he raised his eyebrows, his thin, dark face full of vigor. “Would any of you like to transfer to my college? We don’t have enough people.”
Lance felt like laughing but maintained a proper smile on his face: “Teacher, you know we’re in the main specialty, right?”
Receiving the expected rejection, He Jing’en scratched his head: “Ah, indeed, good seedlings are hard to deceive!”
Zhan Pingchuan, always kind-hearted, comforted him thoughtfully from the side: “Don’t be discouraged, teacher. Keep trying, there will always be someone easy to deceive.”
He Jing’en, as if having found a kindred spirit, looked at Zhan Pingchuan with particularly approving eyes, nodding deeply in agreement: “You’re right, I think you—”
Lance promptly reminded: “Teacher, our reward is?”
He Jing’en was indeed scatterbrained, only remembering after being reminded: “Oh yes, yes, yes, the 100,000 yuan prize money. Look, I even brought the banner, but I kept forgetting to take it out.”
He Jing’en pulled out a crumpled banner from the large pocket of his training uniform, stretched it out and shook it, where one could vaguely make out the words ‘Challenge Cup Competition First Prize’ written in yellow dye.
He Jing’en called to the two staff members on duty: “Help me take a photo with the students. It needs to be posted on the wall of honor tomorrow. This is my second time on the board.”
The first-place winner of each Challenge Cup competition would have their photo taken and posted on the wall of honor in the administration building, a tradition that had continued for more than ten years.
The staff member reluctantly came around from behind the desk, took the camera He Jing’en handed over, didn’t look for an angle, didn’t adjust the filter, just casually clicked once, and the photo was done.
He Jing’en took it back without being picky, repeatedly saying while looking at the photo: “Very good, very good. Youth looks good in any photo.”
Lance’s mind wasn’t on the prize money. He found an appropriate moment to ask softly: “Teacher, when is our internship opportunity arranged for?”
He Jing’en’s hand paused, his eyelids suddenly lifting, then quickly falling again.
“Internship, ah.” His gaze circled the edge of the photo, his fingers lightly rubbing the chipped thermos. “We need to wait for notification from Blue Pivot, but generally it starts from the Dawn Day holiday.”
Dawn Day was the most important holiday in the Federation. It symbolized the boundary between the new world and the old world, marking the large-scale awakening of humanity.
It was called Dawn Day for two reasons: first, it meant the world was welcoming a brand-new pattern; second, it was to commemorate a scientist surnamed Li (which sounds like “dawn” in Chinese).
Dawn Day was set on November 17th, and the entire Federation would have a half-month public holiday. Naturally, the two organizations in the restricted area, Blue Pivot and Hong Suo, wouldn’t take a holiday, so students could intern during this period.
“What about our introduction letter?” Lance asked.
He Jing’en smiled, saying meaningfully: “Little one, you’re too eager. There are still two months, prepare well. It wouldn’t be good if something went wrong.”
Lance met He Jing’en’s gaze, one clear and innocent, the other kind and gentle, the scene perfectly harmonious.
He Jing’en turned to call the staff members, repeatedly emphasizing: “Make sure to record my earnest teachings to the students. My year-end report depends on this.”
The staff member silently rolled her eyes, deliberately omitting this unimportant, hypocritical statement.
After receiving the award, they finally had time for dinner, but unfortunately, the cafeteria was already closed. Only the convenience store still sold microwaveable fast food.
The full moon hung high, becoming the only light source at this time. A thin silver mist poured through the window lattice, forming a clear pool on the marble floor.
Lance’s miniature earpiece was almost exploding with calls. He had to grab Zhan Pingchuan’s hand: “Classmate Zhan, I’m going to the bathroom. Wait for me here.”
Zhan Pingchuan looked down at his fingers being held. He subtly realized that previously, Lance would only pull his sleeve, at most grab his wrist, but now, his first reaction was to hold his hand.
After the ambiguous kiss on the gland, something had indeed slowly shifted.
Zhan Pingchuan held Lance’s fingertips, casually reminding him: “Aren’t you afraid of the dark?”
I could go with you if you want.
Lance: “……Not afraid.”
The disappointment on Zhan Pingchuan’s face wasn’t fake: “Really not afraid?”
Lance saw through Zhan Pingchuan’s thoughts clearly. He was amused inside but had to pretend to be innocent on the surface: “Really not afraid.”
Zhan Pingchuan thought to himself that this little red fox was usually quite smart, but at crucial moments, he just didn’t catch on.
What could he do? He would just stand outside the door and chat with his future wife, not peek.
Zhan Pingchuan: “Sigh, alright.”
Lonely as snow, better call dad to ask for a big bathroom.
Lance walked quickly, slipped into the bathroom, and with a “swoosh,” locked the door. Then he reached out and pushed open the window by the sink.
The night wind blew through the window gap, able to cover many sounds.
As soon as he connected to Mad Clown’s communication, the voice on the other end came through urgently: “What happened? During those few hours when the broadcast was interrupted, I couldn’t contact you at all. I was about to teleport you back.”
Lance only then realized that in Oliver’s illusion, his communication with the outside world was completely cut off.
Fortunately, he hadn’t called Mad Clown, otherwise, there would have been a fake response, and Si Hongche would have discovered the clue.
Lance casually said: “We’ll talk about this later, I—”
Before he could finish, the call was intercepted.
Lan Wendao’s irritated voice came through the earpiece: “Why did it take you so long to answer the phone?”
Lance was puzzled: “Something wrong?”
Lan Wendao had already fully entrusted the Black Lantern Society to his care, so most of the time, he communicated with Mad Clown, and Lan Wendao generally didn’t inquire.
Lan Wendao gritted his teeth, feeling sour inside: “Who is that boy? He dares to touch your waist. You’re an A and an O, how can you do such an outrageous thing as waist-touching!”
Lance thought to himself, what if you knew he had even kissed my gland?
Lan Wendao was so anxious he became incoherent: “Darling, you’re only eighteen, young, cute, and naive. Don’t be deceived by some bastard Alpha!”
Lance found it amusing that descriptors like “young, cute, and naive” were applied to him, so he laughed.
Come to think of it, it had always been Zhan Pingchuan who was kept in the dark by him. If anyone was deceiving anyone, it should be him deceiving Zhan Pingchuan.
Lance looked at the rare clear moonlight and casually said: “Dad, he’s not that kind of person.”
Lance was just stating a fact, but unexpectedly, this sentence precisely hit Lan Wendao’s psychological defense line of death.
Lan Wendao was completely heartbroken.
Lance hurried: “Alright, Dad, give the communication back to Mad Clown. I have important matters.”
Lan Wendao swallowed his “using protection is your father’s bottom line” with a gulp, afraid of giving Lance ideas. What if his son was career-focused, taking the Platonic route, and hadn’t thought of going that far?
The old father gave himself false hope, then reluctantly returned the communication to Mad Clown.
Lance sensed the communication switch and immediately straightened his expression: “Last time I asked you to investigate Oliver, you said the investigation was obstructed, only knowing he was a student who graduated from Star University eighteen years ago.”
Mad Clown: “Yes, Duma was afraid that invading Blue Pivot’s system would alert them. The only information that could be retrieved externally was this. Shortly after he started working at Blue Pivot, he completely lost contact.”
The information was too scarce. Oliver’s eighteen years working at Blue Pivot were a complete blank. The Black Lantern Society didn’t know what he had experienced, let alone what kind of desperate situation he was in. Acting with so little information could easily be dangerous.
The night wind penetrated his clothes, taking away the temperature from his skin. Lance frowned, his mind automatically reviewing everything that had happened since entering the underground city.
The number logic hiding hints, the hollow and desperate golden-haired Omega, the powerful and realistic illusion, the speeding SUV…
Suddenly, an unrelated sentence flashed in Lance’s mind—
“Help me take a photo with the students. It needs to be posted on the wall of honor tomorrow…”
As an S-level Awakened one, Oliver would have joined Blue Pivot’s Second District after graduation and couldn’t possibly not be on Star University’s wall of honor.
If there was anywhere that still retained some memories about him, it would only be this university, and within this university, the teachers who had once taught him.
Lance immediately ordered: “Have Duma investigate Oliver’s mentor in the youth class at Star University eighteen years ago.”
If that teacher was still alive and still working at Star University, he would presumably now hold an important position and possess many secrets.
Duma accessed the system quickly. He avoided the files classified as top secret by Blue Pivot and rapidly searched for information that was easily overlooked.
Suddenly, he found a historical investigation report on a long-abandoned personal homepage.
This report was just a classroom assignment for a freshman, with no technical content, so it hadn’t been deleted. The author of the report was the fourteen-year-old Oliver, and in the instructor column, a name was signed in a flowing, dragon-like calligraphy.
Duma pushed Mad Clown aside, pressed his cheek against the earpiece, his voice both serious and calm: “Lance, Oliver had a mentor named He Jing’en.”
Lance’s heart shook, his eyes suddenly widening, his gaze turning sharp and keen.
##
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
![You’re Causing Chaos Again [e-sports]](https://www.freenovels.net/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/1sMqC2JNjIep8Ov.jpg "You’re Causing Chaos Again [e-sports]")
