372: Chapter 372 The one who checked into room 303 was classmate Lin Que.

At 6:10 in the morning, the sunlight in the capital arrived nearly half an hour earlier than in Jiangcheng.

Light crept in through the gaps in the dormitory curtains,

slicing a narrow, elongated patch of brightness onto the empty bed opposite.

Lin Que leaned against the headboard, a guide material titled 'Bone Dismantling Stage' sent by the Qinglan Project spread open on his knees.

The material wasn't thick, printed on A4 paper and neatly bound.

The title page bore the handwritten inscription of Professor Liu Zuoqing:

"The first threshold of literature is admitting that what you've written isn't good enough."

Lin Que flipped past the title page, his gaze pausing for a second on the heading of the first chapter.

"Structural Dismantling: From Skeleton to Veins."

He read page by page, not particularly fast,

his fingertip occasionally pressing lightly at the edge of a paragraph, as if making a silent annotation.

The content of the material covered the dismantling methodologies of three major modules: narrative structure, linguistic texture, and imagery systems.

Each module was followed by anatomical analyses of two to three classic case studies.

But Lin Que noticed that none of the works used in the case studies were by living authors.

This indicated that Professor Liu had kept a trump card up his sleeve.

The real works of living authors to be dismantled were all being saved for tomorrow's class.

His phone vibrated once beside the pillow.

Lin Que reached over and picked it up. The class group chat had already piled up over sixty messages.

The latest one was from Wu Di, accompanied by a screenshot.

The screenshot was of an article from a public account, its title in eye-catching, bold red font:

"Fudan Affiliated High School Chinese Teaching and Research Group Seeks to Include 'fan jin passes the imperial examination' as an Exam Discussion Model Text".

Wu Di's accompanying text had only seven words: "Brother Que, your book is going into exam reading comprehension!"

Beneath it followed a string of exclamation marks and worshipful emojis.

Lin Que stared at that title for two seconds.

In his past life, this article had indeed appeared in middle school Chinese textbooks.

That was the first cut Mr. Wu had carved with his brush centuries ago.

Later, countless people had been sliced by that blade in classrooms, on exam papers.

He was merely a bearer of the flame, moving that fire, which should have existed, from one world to another.

After a full circle, this time the name in the author column had become his own.

But the fire wasn't lit by him.

He just hadn't let it go out.

Lock screen.

He placed the phone face down on the pillow, his gaze passing through the window to land on the empty bed opposite.

The bedding was folded with sharp, defined corners, laid out in advance.

The creases on the pillowcase were still there, untouched by anyone's head.

Song Yuan had notified them last night: the remaining twenty participants would all arrive and register this morning, after which the dormitory lottery assignment for the remaining students would take place.

Lin Que's gaze lingered on that empty bed for two seconds before he withdrew it and continued flipping through the guide material in his hand.

8:30 AM, registration hall on the first floor of the main building.

The hall, deserted yesterday, had transformed.

The registration desk had been placed in the very center, several folding tables pushed together and covered with a dark green tablecloth.

On it were neatly arranged camp handbooks, passes, and an opaque dark-colored lottery box.

Lin Que and Wei Yiming leaned against a pillar to the left of the registration desk.

About a dozen people had already trickled into the hall, scattered in twos and threes.

The sound of conversation was hushed, everyone instinctively controlling their volume and choice of words as they spoke,

as if wrapping a core of mutual probing within the shell of casual small talk.

The main doors of the hall were pushed open.

Everyone's gaze converged there in the same second.

The way Xu Changge entered was completely different from the office workers Lin Que had seen at the waiting hall yesterday, dragging their standardized black carry-ons.

He wore a well-tailored navy blue thin wool coat over a white mandarin collar shirt, the top button fastened perfectly.

Behind him followed a black vintage leather suitcase, its brass clasps reflecting a muted sheen under the hall's ceiling lights.

From the moment he pushed the door open, the man carried an aura of composed presence,

as if he had stepped out of an old photograph, every movement imbued with a poise cultivated through immersion in time.

Over a dozen pairs of eyes in the hall simultaneously fixed on him.

The participants who had arrived earlier halted their actions; some put down their phones, others swallowed their words.

The map guide in Wei Yiming's hand hung in the air, forgotten mid-page-turn.

Xu Changge glanced around, his gaze not lingering unnecessarily on anyone, precisely locking onto Lin Que leaning against the pillar amidst the crowd.

He walked straight over, his pace neither fast nor slow, the sound of his leather shoes hitting the marble floor crisp and clean.

Stopping before Lin Que, he extended his right hand.

"Lin Que, long time no see."

Lin Que straightened up from the pillar and took it.

The grip was neither light nor heavy, the palm dry and warm.

"All good."

Their hands clasped in the air for less than two seconds.

The expressions of the surrounding participants underwent a series of subtle shifts.

Zhang Liang in the baseball cap opened and closed his mouth slightly; Tang He's finger stopped on her phone screen, unmoving.

Su Xiaotang turned from the window, her gaze fixing for a moment on where their hands met.

This was the first meeting of the Twin Stars of North and South at the Qinglan Project.

Xu Changge withdrew his hand, his gaze falling on the other students nearby, greeting each one in an impeccably proper manner.

His expression maintained a perfectly appropriate mildness throughout.

Then he turned his head towards Lin Que, his tone carrying a trace of unconcealed anticipation.

"I heard for the first class tomorrow, Professor Liu is going to dissect works by the two of us."

Lin Que glanced at him:

"I know. Couldn't ask for more."

Xu Changge paused for half a beat.

Then he smiled, a smile that held understanding.

"Actually, I've already dismantled 'folding beijing' from start to finish again."

He slowed his speech by a notch.

"I also want to see how much Professor Liu's method of dismantling overlaps with my own judgment."

Wei Yiming, listening nearby, twitched at the corner of his mouth.

He leaned closer to Tang He, his voice lowered so only the two of them could hear.

"Are these two here to be punished or to observe?"

Tang He didn't respond. Her fingers tightened around her phone case.

The main doors of the registration hall were pushed open again.

This time, it was a group of participants Song Yuan had just brought back from the station.

Seven or eight people filed into the hall one after another, dragging various suitcases, their hushed conversations carrying accents from different provinces.

At the very end of the group, a tall, slender youth in a black hooded sweatshirt walked in silently.

The hood was pulled very low, covering most of his face.

The visible line of his jaw was sharp, his cheekbones high and prominent.

Beneath the shadow of the hood, a pair of gray-blue eyes swept across the hall without resting on anyone.

Danyi Lopivich dragged an old, military-green canvas duffel bag, walking alone towards the registration desk.

The bottom of the duffel bag was worn with a faded patch; two of the metal teeth on the zipper were missing.

He didn't look at anyone the entire time.

It was as if he were separated by a transparent shell; everyone's gaze slid over him, only to be bounced back by that shell.

Dan Yi lowered his head to fill out the form at the registration desk, the pen tip pressing heavily on the paper.

Participants passing by glanced at him a few times, intentionally or not.

That kind of look was all too familiar to him. It wasn't malicious, even carried curiosity and goodwill,

but the sensation it left on his skin was no different from being pricked by needles.

Dan Yi kept his head down. The pen tip paused for a moment in the name field of the registration form, leaving an unnecessary ink blot on the paper.

He didn't wipe away the blot, continuing to fill out the rest.

Just as a chill had settled over the registration desk, the sounds of conversation gradually fading away,

the silence was shattered by a shout that pierced through the entire hall.

"Master Que!!!"

Everyone turned their heads in unison.

A boy wearing a co-branded trendy T-shirt, wireless headphones around his neck, came rushing in through the main entrance at a half-run.

In one hand he held a takeaway coffee cup, the other dragging an obviously overweight suitcase,

a first-class luggage tag still stuck to the suitcase.

Chen Jiahao rushed up to Lin Que in a few quick strides, the liquid in the coffee cup sloshing violently.

Completely oblivious, he grabbed Lin Que's arm and shook it up and down.

"Master Que! Finally see you again!

You never reply to my WeChat messages usually, do you know how excited I was on the plane?!

The guy next to me thought I was having a fit, called the flight attendant several times!"

Lin Que calmly extracted his arm from the frantic shaking.

"Given your current state, the guy wasn't wrong about you."

A wave of good-natured laughter rippled through the hall.

Even the gray-blue eyes beneath Dan Yi's hood shifted a degree towards them.

Approaching noon,

all thirty participants had finally assembled.

Song Yuan stood by a long table behind the registration desk. On the table sat the opaque dark-colored lottery box, beside it neatly stacked twenty folded slips of paper.

He adjusted his glasses, sweeping his gaze across the room.

"Everyone, next we'll proceed with the dormitory assignment lottery."

"The rules are simple."

"Apart from the students who checked in last night, each person will draw one slip of paper."

"It will have a room number on it. Two to a room. Those who draw the same number will be roommates."

A rustle of low whispers arose in the hall.

The sound of someone swallowing was particularly clear in a quiet moment; others secretly sized up the people around them, their eyes filled with silent prayers.

The lottery proceeded in order of registration.

Xu Changge was first in line.

He stepped forward, his slender fingers reaching into the lottery box. His fingertips gently stirred inside for a moment before plucking out a slip.

Unfolded it.

Printed on the paper was the string:

1-A-303.

Xu Changge glanced at it, his expression unchanged, and handed the slip to Song Yuan for verification.

His tone was unhurried, as if asking about something inconsequential.

"Senior Song, has the other occupant for 303 been determined?"

Song Yuan looked down, flipping through the registration sheet.

His movement halted for half a second.

He looked up, quickly scanning the faces nearby—some expectant, some uneasy.

Chen Jiahao was desperately craning his neck to see, his lips moving silently.

Song Yuan's gaze behind his glasses fixed for a moment.

He closed the registration sheet, his expression showing no change,

but the hand that pushed his glasses up moved half a beat slower than usual.

"It's determined."

His voice was neither loud nor soft.

"The one who checked into 303 last night was Student Lin Que."

...