As one of the top universities in S-District, S University was not shy about displaying its unique and proud nature. Compared to the dignified and simple style of Imperial University, S University was clearly far more glamorous. This institution, heavily funded by the Tang Group, adorned itself with all the brilliant achievements of the Fifth Imperial Era.
Whether it was the fully automated buildings, the flowerbeds that opened with a single command, or the floor tiles from which a chair could pop up anytime and anywhere, it all undoubtedly inherited the uniquely languid and refined atmosphere of S-District.
Yun Chuji walked through this familiar yet strange campus as the morning sun shone down on her—well, at least this warmth was something she would always be familiar with.
Following the route from her memory, she soon arrived at her destination.
She habitually knocked on the door, but it slid open slowly before her hand could touch it. There was no one on the other side turning the handle; the door had simply detected her terminal, found that her information matched an appointment, and since the door’s owner was currently free, the AI opened it for her.
And so, Yun Chuji saw, well, her academic advisor.
It was a position similar to the counselors of the pre-ABO era, but with far fewer responsibilities. They only needed to handle more difficult students like Yun Chuji; as for the rest… that was left to the AI.
This advisor was a female omega who looked gentle and serene. She seemed to have an approachable temperament.
Yun Chuji breathed a sigh of relief and sat down on the chair a robot brought for her.
The female omega tapped her delicate, fair fingers on the pure white desktop, then flattened her hand and said softly, “Student Yun, I’m very happy to see you return to campus. I’m sure this time away has been a valuable experience, teaching you things you couldn’t have learned here at S University.”
“But there is one unfortunate matter.” As she spoke, the advisor opened her terminal and projected a document for Yun Chuji. “Student Yun, the History of the Early Federation course you missed has already concluded. Since you were unable to attend the exam, we cannot award you the credits.”
“The school holiday begins in half a month, and there are no suitable courses for you during this time.”
“So, Student Yun, you now have two options before you. Professor Pei’s History of the Early Federation will begin in March of next year’s spring semester. There are eight other courses with the same credit value, five of which can be completed before graduation.”
“Of course, you could also choose to complete one of the field research assignments offered by the professors during the holiday. I recommend you complete the credit requirement during the holiday, because for a graduating student, the final semester is always busy, isn’t it?”
Yun Chuji listened attentively to the advisor’s words, then lowered her head in thought. “Excuse me,” she asked, “are there any field research assignments that go to C-District?”
“Hmm…” The advisor scrolled through the files. After a moment, she clicked on one to enlarge it. “Professor Song’s Remnants of the Industrial Age includes C-District.”
Yun Chuji nodded. “I’ll choose that one, then.”
“Very well, Student Yun. I wish you a pleasant campus life.”
Yun Chuji stood, thanked her, and left the office.
After making an appearance at the university, she still had to make a trip to the Imperial Library to see Teacher Chu.
To be honest, Yun Chuji’s plans for the future were rather go-with-the-flow at the moment. The advisor suggested she finish her credits during the holiday, so she would. Teacher Chu invited her to write her graduation thesis with him, so she would go to him.
She didn’t have many factors to weigh. She was abiding by what Miss Tang had told her before she left: “Miss Yun, in this world, you should walk around more, see more.”
Miss Tang couldn’t be wrong.
Yun Chuji boarded the maglev train to the Imperial Library. She hadn’t seen Miss Tang in two days.
According to Miss Tang, she was away on a business trip for a while.
The pheromone comfort that Yun Chuji had been preoccupied with was replaced by a light temporary mark.
Miss Tang had willingly offered her neck, revealing the pale pink gland.
Yun Chuji had bitten down very carefully, but she still left an annoying mark, making her feel as if she were ruining something perfect.
Oh, no, Miss Tang wasn’t a thing. A thing wouldn’t smile at her after being marked and say, “In the future, if something prevents us from being together, we can use a temporary mark instead.”
“Sigh,” she had sighed. “It’s a pity a temporary mark only lasts seven days. Thankfully, transportation in the Empire is convenient now. Otherwise, it could easily lead to major problems.”
Yun Chuji thought about Tang Jianxi’s expression at that moment. It was regretful, yet not entirely so. In any case, it was something she couldn’t yet decipher.
Yun Chuji stared blankly at the scenery outside the window until her terminal reminded her to get off. Only then did she realize she had been thinking about Miss Tang the entire trip.
How vexing.
She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Yun Chuji felt like a fledgling suddenly released into the sky, helplessly flapping its immature wings, circling weakly, trying to find its way back to its nest.
But it couldn’t. That wasn’t its real nest. A real nest wouldn’t be harmed by her arrival—she had to consider Miss Tang’s reputation.
At the same time, however, Yun Chuji felt that this reputation, which in her mind was august and inviolable, was now a bit too unapproachable. So much so that she heretically began to feel a bit of annoyance toward it.
She let out a heavy breath, leaving a white trail in the air.
On a nearby aerial holoscreen, virtual idols who were so perfect they didn’t seem real—and of course, they weren’t—cheered and danced in an advertisement for a new inhibitor from the Tang Group. All the surrounding screens were displaying this product, and the slogan, “Spring of Freedom, protecting your freedom,” reverberated like a bewitching chant. Yun Chuji had no choice but to watch it seriously.
In the end, she came to one conclusion: none of them were as beautiful as Miss Tang.
Yun Chuji hurried away from the area and, with the help of an unmanned transport pod, soon arrived at the Imperial Library.
Gazing up at the magnificent and imposing building gleaming in the sunlight, Yun Chuji’s shoulders slumped for no reason. She pressed her lips together and, following the instructions in Teacher Chu’s email, walked step by step into the library.
The exclusive section was completely different from the public section Yun Chuji had visited before. It had shed the crowded, narrow feeling of a beehive. Even though the soundproofing of the walls was top-notch, the rooms were still spaced far apart—purely a matter of aesthetic and class preference.
Yun Chuji belatedly realized that Teacher Chu was likely more than just a simple professor. After all, her father, Yun Cheng, was also a professor, yet he couldn’t have a reading room like this in the Imperial Library in A-District.
This time, Yun Chuji’s body once again acted before her mind, and she knocked. Just as she was frustratedly switching to her terminal to scan the laser detector by the door, the door opened.
Chu Yuexi had opened it from the inside.
Once inside, Yun Chuji discovered that the room’s decor was exceedingly old-fashioned.
It wasn’t antiquated by the standards of her own era, but rather by the standards of this one.
There were too many wooden elements in the table, chairs, and sofa. Instead of using nanomaterials to construct soft, comfortable cushions, they used feathers, fur, and cloth to create a more tangible warmth.
Yun Chuji fell in love with the room almost instantly.
Chu Yuexi guided her to a sofa. Seeing the light in Yun Chuji’s eyes, he smiled. “Have you never seen such a traditional place before?”
Young people, especially those from S University, certainly preferred things with a more metallic feel.
Yun Chuji shook her head quickly and emphatically. “Not at all, Teacher Chu. I think this is very beautiful.”
“It’s much more comfortable than those all-white or all-black styles.”
Chu Yuexi paused, then the curve of his lips deepened. “A young person like you is truly a rare sight. My own children, who are a few years older than you, find this style too old-fashioned.”
“Ah?” Yun Chuji nervously curled her index finger. “I suppose everyone has their own tastes.”
Chu Yuexi nodded in agreement, poured her a cup of tea, and then said, “I asked you here today mainly to discuss your graduation thesis. I know most professors handle these things over their terminals, but like this room, I’m a bit old-fashioned. I prefer to talk face-to-face. I hope you don’t find it troublesome.”
Yun Chuji waved her hands repeatedly. “Not at all.”
“What do you know about the Great Liang Dynasty?” Chu Yuexi adjusted his glasses, and the scholarly air about him grew even stronger.
Yun Chuji couldn’t help but feel more nervous. Recalling the history she had read, she said, “The founding emperor, Taizu of Liang, unified the three-hundred-year period of chaos. After a century of governance, the Great Liang became prosperous and its people strong, achieving a fifty-year golden age. Subsequently, the golden age turned to decline, the nation’s fortunes waned, conflict arose between the upper and lower classes, and officials became corrupt. This allowed foreign tribes to invade the passes as if entering an unguarded land. After four hundred and fifty years of peace, the realm fell into chaos once more, and the Great Liang Dynasty collapsed.”
Chu Yuexi listened with satisfaction to Yun Chuji’s archaic-sounding account, a look of appreciation in his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses. “And what do you know of the women of the Great Liang Dynasty?”
Yun Chuji stiffened, thinking for a moment that he had seen through her. It was only when she met Chu Yuexi’s slightly puzzled gaze that she realized it was truly just an academic question. Forcing herself to relax, Yun Chuji said, “The women of Great Liang were respectful, frugal, virtuous, and gentle, studying the Admonitions for Women.”
She added, “They were no different from those of the dynasties before or after.”
Chu Yuexi raised an eyebrow. Already sitting straight, he straightened his posture even more. The fragrance of the tea curled between them, making Yun Chuji vaguely recall the misty, rainy Jiangnan of her memories.
“Student Yun, did you know? There is something particularly special about the women of the Great Liang. They had hundreds of times more chastity arches than the preceding dynasties.”
“But… isn’t that a good thing?”
“Ah, I forgot you’re an alpha,” Chu Yuexi said, shaking his head with a sigh.
Yun Chuji grew even more confused. “What does that have to do with me being an alpha?”
“It has everything to do with it. Student Yun, do you believe chastity is a good thing?”
“Of course,” Yun Chuji replied without hesitation.
“All chastity, or only certain kinds?”
“All of it.”
“Then should someone who loses their chastity by force be condemned?”
Yun Chuji’s immediate instinct was to nod, but she suddenly remembered the maids from her past life, discarded on the roadside like two pieces of rotten meat. What if they hadn’t died?
Her head froze in place.
Chu Yuexi smiled reassuringly. It seemed she only had a bit of alpha thinking, nothing too extreme.
“Who do you think benefits from chastity?”
Yun Chuji pressed her lips together, an answer she knew by heart naturally surfacing in her mind. “Virtue.”
“If a person saves a hundred people but loses their chastity, are they still a good person?”
Yun Chuji froze again.
Chu Yuexi took a sip of his tea and said with a smile, “Student Yun, I’ve thought of a topic for your graduation thesis.”
“‘On the Chastity of Women in the Great Liang Dynasty.’”
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