98: It's not as good as duck blood and vermicelli soup!

The heavy mahogany doors slowly closed behind him, completely cutting off the seething, bewildered, and even somewhat hysterical venue.

Click.

The soft sound of the door latch locking was like a pair of scissors, severing the air inside that had been stretched to its absolute limit.

Lin Que stood in the empty corridor and exhaled a long, heavy breath.

He reached up to loosen the collar of his school uniform, which was feeling uncomfortably tight, and incidentally patted his empty pocket; the student representative badge had been left on the podium.

That thing was too heavy; it made one stoop, so it was better off without it.

The corridor was covered with a thick carpet, making his footsteps silent.

Only a few security staff members stood in the distance, and seeing this boy walk out alone, they all wore expressions of surprise.

"Student, why are you out here? It hasn't ended yet, right?" one of the security guards couldn't help but ask.

Lin Que didn't stop, just waved his hand casually:

"It's too stuffy inside. Just getting some air."

He walked through the long corridor, turned two corners, and arrived at the first-floor lobby of Zijin Mountain Villa.

Compared to the tension in the conference hall, it was exceptionally quiet and peaceful here.

Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the winter scenery of Zijin Mountain was desolate yet magnificent, with a few wintersweet blossoms trembling in the cold wind.

In the lobby's lounge area, Shen Qingqiu was sitting on a sofa, holding her phone, her brows slightly furrowed.

Seeing Lin Que's figure appear at the elevator entrance, she was visibly stunned for a moment, then quickly stood up and walked over in her high heels.

"Why did you come out?"

Shen Qingqiu looked him up and down, her eyes full of confusion.

She raised her wrist to check her watch:

"It hasn't even been forty minutes since you went in. According to the schedule, this should be the student representative speech session. Is it your turn yet?"

"It was my turn, and I'm finished speaking."

Lin Que had his hands in his pockets, looking completely relaxed and at ease.

"Finished speaking?"

Shen Qingqiu frowned even tighter.

"So fast? Didn't they say everyone had five minutes? And why are you the only one out here? Where is Zhao Zichen? Where are the other students?"

She looked behind Lin Que, but there was no one there.

"They're probably still inside receiving their 'baptism'."

Lin Que shrugged, walked over to the water dispenser nearby, poured a cup of warm water, and gulped it down.

"I'm the first prize winner, after all. I have privileges; I can leave once I'm done speaking."

Shen Qingqiu clearly didn't believe this nonsense.

She had been barred from entering.

For the sake of so-called "purity," that Fang Zhenyun had specifically set up a checkpoint at the entrance. Except for special guests and the media, the teachers leading the various schools had all been arranged to watch the broadcast in a lounge on the second floor.

But just ten minutes ago, the large screen in the lounge suddenly went black, and the staff said it was a signal failure being repaired.

She felt uneasy, which was why she had run to the lobby to wait.

"Lin Que, tell me the truth."

Shen Qingqiu stared into his eyes, her gaze, usually carrying a hint of severity, now filled with worry.

"Did you cause trouble in there?"

She knew this student too well.

He looked lazy and casual on the surface, but deep down, there was an unfathomable streak of madness hidden in his bones.

Last time, he made the whole school cry while reciting 'coco', and this time, facing the literary heavyweights of the entire province, who knows what kind of trouble he would stir up.

"Teacher, now you're not trusting me."

Lin Que put down the paper cup and blinked with an innocent expression.

"I strictly followed your teachings: tell the truth and treat people sincerely. When Editor-in-Chief Fang asked for my opinion, I just said what was on my mind."

"What was on your mind?"

Shen Qingqiu's eyelid twitched.

"What did you say?"

"Uh... nothing much."

Lin Que said lightly.

"Just discussed the truth and falsehood of literature, and incidentally returned that badge to them. I felt uncomfortable wearing it; I'm a bit allergic."

Shen Qingqiu's gaze fell on his empty chest, and her mind went "buzz."

He returned it?

In such a high-profile official occasion attended by the whole province, right in front of the Chairman of the Writers Association, leaders of the Department of Education, and countless cameras, he threw back the badge that represented honor?

This wasn't an allergy; this was clearly slapping the organizers in the face in public!

Shen Qingqiu didn't dare to think about it.

The consequences? The school's reputation? Tomorrow's headlines? Even Lin Que's permanent record?

In an instant, countless terrifying thoughts tangled around Shen Qingqiu like a mess of hemp.

"You..."

Shen Qingqiu pointed at him, her finger trembling violently.

"Do you know what this means?! This is a political incident! What do you expect the school to do? You..."

Halfway through her words, she looked into Lin Que's eyes—clear, without a trace of impurity, yet bottomless—and the reprimand in her throat suddenly stuck.

If it were any other student, it would be arrogance, ignorance.

But facing Lin Que, looking at the relief he felt after shedding a burden, the overwhelming panic in her heart strangely subsided...

Replaced by a sense of predictability upon further thought.

Yes, this was just like him.

That madman who asked on the podium "how many times does a person die" could never be content with being labeled.

"Teacher, don't look at me like that."

Lin Que smiled.

"The air inside is too murky, full of the smell of old vinegar; it's giving me a headache. I just came out to get some air and incidentally go find food."

"Find food?"

"Yeah, coming to Jinling and not going to the Confucius Temple for a bowl of duck blood vermicelli soup—wouldn't that be a wasted trip?"

Lin Que patted his stomach, making a "thump-thump" sound.

"To prepare for this speech, I didn't even eat enough breakfast. Now I'm hungry enough to swallow a cow."

Watching his carefree attitude, the anger in Shen Qingqiu's heart was like a balloon pricked by a needle, instantly deflating by more than half.

She sighed, rubbed her temples helplessly:

"You child... do you know what kind of occasion this is? That's the Provincial Writers Association! With you walking out like this, do you still want a future in the Su Province literary scene?"

"A path is walked, not begged for."

Lin Que put his hands back in his pockets and turned to look outside.

"Besides, I'd rather not have that kind of path."

When he said this, his tone was light, but it carried a youthful arrogance.

The wind outside was strong, making the revolving door at the entrance howl.

"Alright, Teacher, I'm off."

Lin Que waved his hand and walked toward the main entrance with light steps.

"If you want to go in and see Zhao Zichen's highlight moment, you can still catch the tail end. But I suggest you don't go; the atmosphere inside right now... is probably quite 'lively'."

"Where are you going? We still have to assemble later!"

Shen Qingqiu shouted behind him.

"I'm going to eat duck blood vermicelli soup! I heard the chili oil at the one in Old Gate East is super fragrant, and with two flatbreads, it's perfection!"

Lin Que didn't even look back.

Walking backward, he waved at Shen Qingqiu, his voice drifting over with the biting cold wind, carrying a sense of vibrant, youthful energy.

"Should I bring you a portion? Don't worry, I won't get lost! Once I'm full, I'll come back and write a self-criticism. Is three thousand words enough? If not, five thousand!"

The revolving door turned, separating the cold air and the noisy world outside.

Shen Qingqiu watched that back in the black down jacket, neck hunched as he ducked into the wind.

His figure grew smaller in the reflection of the glass, yet it appeared incredibly real.

Compared to the gilded yet suffocating venue inside, Lin Que, walking into the cold wind to seek a bowl of hot soup, seemed much more like a living person.

"This kid..."

Just then.

Boom—the tightly closed conference hall doors behind her were suddenly pushed open heavily from the inside.

A massive wave of sound surged out like a bursting flood.

"Quick! Hurry! Where is that student?!"

"Don't let him get away! This is big news!"

A group of reporters carrying cameras and microphones rushed out from the passageway in a scramble.

Their faces were full of excitement, fanaticism, and the shock of having witnessed history.

Following closely was a livid-faced Fang Zhenyun, walking out quickly flanked by a group of staff members.

Behind him was a flushed, dazed-looking Zhao Zichen, being pushed around by the crowd, almost unable to hold onto his notebook.

The entire lobby instantly turned into a chaotic mess.

Shen Qingqiu stood in place, stunned by the sudden chaos.

She watched the reporters frantically searching for "Lin Que," and then looked at the revolving door, which was already empty.

She finally understood what Lin Que meant by "lively atmosphere."

This wasn't just lively.

This was clearly poking a hole in the sky.