371: Chapter 371 Bloodless Battle

Song Yuan stood atop the steps, watching Su Xiaotang's rigid back and the varied expressions of the people around them.

He knew the timing was right.

As a teaching assistant, he couldn't let this group of geniuses form grudges on their very first day of arrival.

"All right."

Song Yuan pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose, the lenses reflecting the afternoon sun.

He stepped down two stairs, his tone strictly professional,

forcibly suppressing the tense atmosphere that had just been brewing.

"Only ten students have arrived today; official registration won't begin until everyone is here tomorrow.

The rule of the Qinglan Training Camp is that work speaks for itself.

Save your emotions and energy for your writing; don't waste them here on the steps."

Lin Que took the cue and spoke up.

He didn't look at Su Xiaotang's expression, but instead directed his gaze toward everyone present.

"Senior Song is right," Lin Que's voice was gentle, without the slightest hint of condescension.

"We are all here to learn, myself included.

No matter how Professor Liu deconstructs it, it's a rare experience.

I'll be looking forward to learning from all of you in the camp ahead."

Su Xiaotang understood.

She looked at the boy before her, who was only a few months older than herself.

His eyes were crystal clear, devoid of mockery or pity, containing only a sense of calm as if he had already weathered a thousand storms.

Su Xiaotang's tense shoulders slowly relaxed.

She released her grip on her sleeves; her palms were marked with deep red indentations from her fingernails.

"Lin Que," Su Xiaotang looked him in the eye, her tone no longer sharp, but filled with a sense of relief.

"I was impulsive just now. The class the day after tomorrow... I will watch it closely."

With that, Su Xiaotang picked up her suitcase, nodded to Song Yuan, and turned toward the registration desk in the main building.

Her back was still straight, but it lacked the forced rigidity from before, and her pace had become much lighter.

As Su Xiaotang left, the stagnant air on the steps began to flow again.

A boy wearing a baseball cap, Zhang Liang, was the first to step forward. He scratched the back of his head, revealing a row of white teeth.

"I'm Zhang Liang, from Zhejiang Province. Regarding that 'target' thing, I'm behind you."

Several other students who had been observing from the sidelines also gathered around, introducing themselves and their home provinces.

"I'm Li Hao, from Sichuan. I've read your folding beijing three times."

"Lin Que, if Professor Liu goes hard on you the day after tomorrow, you better hold your ground."

The atmosphere that had been filled with testing, defensiveness, and even hostility vanished in just a few minutes.

The sense of distance between them was completely smoothed over by Lin Que's few understated remarks.

Wei Yiming stood to the side, watching Lin Que surrounded by the crowd, and nodded inwardly.

He had thought Lin Que was merely brilliant; now it seemed that this magnanimity in his dealings with others was the truly impressive part.

Song Yuan stood atop the steps, taking it all in.

Watching Lin Que handle these proud peers with such ease caused no small stir in his heart.

In the underground garage, Lin Que had displayed unfathomable academic talent; that kind of logical dominance had made even him, a graduate student, feel a chill down his spine.

And here on the steps, Lin Que was showing a level of social grace and perspective that far exceeded his age.

"Alright," Song Yuan saw that it was about time and clapped his hands to interrupt the pleasantries.

"Grab your luggage and follow me to the dormitory area. I'll explain the camp rules on the way."

The group dragged their suitcases behind Song Yuan, walking through the tree-lined paths of Qingbei University.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the ginkgo leaves, scattering onto the asphalt road, the light spots dancing with the breeze.

Lin Que walked among the crowd, dragging his overstuffed suitcase.

The wheels of the suitcase made a dull thudding sound on the asphalt.

Wei Yiming walked beside him, looking at the somewhat heavy box, and asked in a low voice:

"Lin Que, what treasures do you have in that box? It looks heavier than the bedding roll I carried out from the mountains."

Lin Que smiled as the image of the pickled garlic and chopped chili sauce Wang Xiulian had stuffed into the suitcase popped into his head.

"Yeah, strategic supplies. All of it is life-saving stuff."

Wei Yiming took him seriously and nodded earnestly.

"True, prices in the capital are high; it's right to bring more things.

I also stuffed two jars of my mom's pickled vegetables in my bag."

The two shared a smile; a silent understanding that crossed regions and backgrounds was quietly established.

"The Qinglan Project operates under semi-closed management."

Song Yuan spoke as he walked, his voice reaching everyone's ears clearly.

"You are not allowed to leave the dormitory building after 10:00 PM.

The day after tomorrow is the first day of reporting. Gather at the main building's lecture hall at 8:00 AM sharp.

Being one minute late will result in a direct deduction of your first-stage training points. Oh, regarding the rewards and penalties for training points, I will announce them separately once everyone is here."

"In short, your past achievements don't count here; everything starts at zero. Is that understood?"

"Understood!" everyone responded in unison, their voices tinged with the excitement of entering a battlefield.

Dormitories for the Qinglan Project were arranged as double rooms.

Song Yuan settled the ten students who arrived today into their respective rooms.

Lin Que pushed open the door to his dormitory; the room was simple and clean.

The other bed was empty; his roommate would clearly not arrive until tomorrow.

He placed his heavy suitcase against the wall and looked out the window at the darkening sky.

At the same time,

inside an independent study next to the Dean's office at the Qingbei School of Literature, under the shroud of dusk.

Professor Liu Zuoqing sat behind a large mahogany desk.

There were no academic journals on the desk.

Instead, a physical book with a dark blue cover and a coarse, heavy texture was spread open.

This titan of contemporary literature was reading intently.

He held a purple clay teacup in one hand, while the fingers of his other hand gently brushed over the pages.

Reading the part where Sun Shaoping was doing manual labor in Huangyuan, his back rubbed bloody and raw by stones yet still gritting his teeth to endure,

Professor Liu Zuoqing's brow furrowed slightly. His teacup stayed suspended in mid-air, and he didn't take a sip for a long while.

That kind of raw, realistic depiction of suffering, that vitality that kept the spine straight even in desperate straits,

caused a tremor in the soul of this literary giant who was accustomed to flowery rhetoric.

"This Jian Shen..."

Professor Liu Zuoqing let out a long breath and muttered to himself.

"To write suffering with such restraint and such dignity—how many people in today's literary world can do that?"

He had even considered inquiring through Xinchao Publishing House about the true identity of this "Jian Shen." If he could invite him to give a few lectures at the School of Liberal Arts, it would surely teach these arrogant students a good lesson.

The landline on the desk rang.

Professor Liu Zuoqing put down his teacup and picked up the phone. "Speak."

"Professor Liu, the first batch of ten students who arrived today have all been settled in the dormitory area. The remaining twenty will arrive one after another tomorrow."

Song Yuan's voice came through the receiver, carrying a hint of irrepressible excitement.

"Mhm."

Professor Liu Zuoqing's gaze remained on ordinary world.

"That Lin Que—did you see him?"

"I did. I was the one who picked him up from the station."

Song Yuan paused for a moment to steady his breathing, his tone becoming extremely solemn.

"Professor, in the underground garage, I tested him using that angle you mentioned before."

Professor Liu Zuoqing looked up.

"Cognitive decline threshold?"

"Yes."

Song Yuan began to recount the conversation.

The study was silent for a full ten seconds.

Professor Liu Zuoqing's hand tightened slightly on the receiver.

He had originally just wanted his assistant to feel things out, to see if the boy who wrote folding beijing was just a flash of inspiration or if he truly possessed systematic thinking skills.

"Commoditization... formatting cycle..."

Professor Liu Zuoqing repeated those two terms in a low voice.

On his face, which was usually set in a stern expression, a rare look of profound appreciation gradually appeared.

"A safety line precise to infinite decimal places. Well said."

Professor Liu Zuoqing's voice rose half a pitch, full of vigor.

"This kid's brain is different from the others.

He didn't just see the wall; he saw how the bricks used to build the wall were fired."

Song Yuan agreed on the other end of the line:

"Not only that, Professor. A small episode occurred on the steps of the main building today."

Song Yuan reported everything in detail: how Su Xiaotang pointed out the pressure of being a 'target,' and how Lin Que used the logic of targets and shields, of being shattered versus what remains, to resolve the conflict.

"He didn't use a winner's posture to suppress her; instead, he took the initiative to lower his stance, giving everyone a way out."

Song Yuan summarized.

"By the time he left, it felt like half of those arrogant top students were already won over by him."

Upon hearing this, Professor Liu Zuoqing suddenly burst into laughter.

The laughter echoed in the spacious study, making the purple clay teacup on the desk tremble slightly.

"Good! Excellent!"

Professor Liu Zuoqing closed the copy of ordinary world on the desk and patted the cover heavily twice.

"His writing is as sharp as a knife, yet his character is as smooth as water.

To be able to control his edge so freely at seventeen... in all my years of teaching, such a talent is rare indeed."

Song Yuan didn't dare to interrupt on the other end.

He knew very well that for Professor Liu Zuoqing to give such an evaluation, Lin Que's path at the School of Liberal Arts was already much wider than anyone else's.

"Alright, it's been hard on you picking them up today. Get some good rest tonight."

Professor Liu Zuoqing withdrew his smile, his tone becoming stern once more.

"Tell them: see you in the lecture hall at 8:00 AM the day after tomorrow."

Hanging up the phone, Professor Liu Zuoqing stood up and walked to the window.

The night view of the capital spread out outside the window, neon lights making the sky glow.

With his hands behind his back, Professor Liu Zuoqing looked through the glass at the distant night.

The day after tomorrow would be the first lesson.

Thirty of the nation's top literary geniuses, and two works that had been elevated to legendary status.

Xu Changge's ancient wall had deep heritage, while Lin Que's folding beijing was sharp and incisive.

Professor Liu Zuoqing was looking forward to it.

He wanted to see if, when his scalpel actually descended, this boy who said on the steps he 'wanted to see clearly' could really reconstruct a harder bone from the fragments.

The night wind blew through the campus of Qingbei University, shaking down a few yellowed ginkgo leaves.

The lecture hall the day after tomorrow was destined to be a bloodless battle.

...