Thank you so much, nilvy2003reserve/Fun~Osh, for the ko-fi!!! :blobaww:

I used both names, I don’t know which one you’d prefer :blobsmilesweat::blobsmileopenmouth:

Xi Xianqing didn’t answer directly, only casting a fleeting glance at Zhu Ming.

He averted his gaze and then looked at the surrounding scenery. “Don’t you really love snacks like sauced pancakes and stinky tofu?”

“Loving food is loving food, but is that the point?”

Zhu Ming’s expression was a mix of emotions. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? And how on earth did you even manage to reserve an entire snack street—”

“I just wanted you to enjoy your favorite food without having to wait in line or be disturbed by others.”

Xi Xianqing spoke calmly. “Is that not allowed?”

Zhu Ming had expected Xi Xianqing to come up with an excuse like “I don’t like crowded places,” so for a moment, he didn’t quite know how to respond. “Not exactly, it’s just…”

In the end, he sighed. Sticking to the principle of “the money’s already spent anyway,” he didn’t continue to be pretentious. He strolled leisurely through the snack street with the white fox, indulging in the feast before him.

When his stomach could no longer handle full portions, he simply took a small bite of each item and handed the rest to Xi Xianqing to hold, before moving on to the next stall.

The scene soon became quite amusing—Zhu Ming and the white fox darted around the snack street with great enthusiasm, while Xi Xianqing, expressionless, stood there holding an armful of snacks. Behind him trailed a green peac0ck with round, beady eyes, and an elegantly long plume, following step by step.

Zhu Ming had to admit that ever since leaving the teahouse, his mood had been somewhat heavy. But after this stroll filled with eating and exploring, his breathing felt noticeably lighter.

It was just that his appetite capacity was destined to not allow him to indulge further. Eventually, he stopped in front of a pudding shop, deciding to end this sinful night with a delicious dessert.

Digging a spoonful of cocoa pudding into his mouth, Zhu Ming’s eyes brightened. With one cheek puffed out, he turned around and mumbled, “This is really good. Do you want to try—”

His words abruptly stopped.

The evening breeze was gentle, and the clouds were tinted a soft orange-pink by the last rays of the setting sun.

Xi Xianqing’s dark green eyes were steeped in the glow of the dusk, making them appear even deeper. He didn’t speak, only stood there, gazing at Zhu Ming in silence.

And all the snacks he had been holding had disappeared. Instead, he was now carrying something that looked like a bouquet. Step by step, he walked toward Zhu Ming.

“Zhu Ming,” he called Zhu Ming’s name, “I have something for you.”

Zhu Ming blinked, swallowing the pudding in his mouth with an audible gulp.

Xi Xianqing lowered his gaze, seemingly gathering his thoughts. Just as he was about to speak, Zhu Ming turned his head away with a light sigh, raising his hand with his palm facing Xi Xianqing’s face—a silent gesture that said, Please don’t come any closer.

Valentine’s Day, a snack street, the golden hues of sunset blending with the evening breeze—Zhu Ming’s heart and stomach were already filled to the brim.

If he were to receive a passionate bouquet of roses now… maintaining his boundaries would become an incredibly difficult task.

“This candidate, no matter how much you try to tempt me, it won’t work anymore.”

Zhu Ming said, “I told you, until you properly complete your assessment, I will only be an impartial invigilator. I won’t give you my answer.”

Xi Xianqing seemed to have anticipated this response. His expression remained calm as he said faintly, “You don’t have to overthink it. This isn’t a real bouquet.”

Zhu Ming: “Hmm?”

Half skeptical, he took the bundle from Xi Xianqing’s hands and lowered his head to take a look. His breath caught in his throat—

In a certain sense, Xi Xianqing hadn’t lied—because the bouquet in his hands was indeed not made of real flowers.

Rather, it was an entire bouquet… of roses made from gemstones.

Zhu Ming knew nothing about jewelry design, but even he could tell how intricate the craftsmanship was—large, deep pink gemstones were seamlessly set together to form the petals, emeralds shaped into lush green leaves, and delicate, glistening pearls nestled along the petal edges like dewdrops.

The heavy bouquet cradled in his arm was stunningly beautiful, so much so that it made him instinctively hold his breath.

“I don’t expect you to give me an answer right now.”

Xi Xianqing lifted his chin slightly, his expression haughty and calm. However, behind him, the green peac0ck swayed its butt in delight, its long tail feathers slowly but uncontrollably fanning open.

“But you’re not in a position to stop me from earning some extra points for myself before the assessment,” he said.

Zhu Ming stared at the bouquet in his hands, remaining silent for a long time.

“I’m sorry, as a fair and impartial exam, we don’t set any additional questions.”

After a long pause, he finally lifted his head and said softly, “However, considering how diligently you’ve been studying, I suppose I can give you a small reward.”

While Xi Xianqing didn’t say anything, the green peac0ck behind him narrowed its beady eyes slightly, and its tail feathers seemed to fan out even faster.

“But when I think about it carefully, you don’t seem to lack anything,” Zhu Ming sighed, pondering for a moment. “Then, how about this—”

He tilted his face up and placed a light kiss on Xi Xianqing’s cheek.

“Will this do as a reward?” His voice was soft and gentle.

Xi Xianqing’s shoulders rose and fell slightly, while behind him, the green peac0ck had, at some point, silently spread its tail feathers to their entirety.

“It’ll do,” he said after a long while.

Zhu Ming lowered his head and sniffed the scentless bouquet, the glow of the rubies making his skin appear even fairer. “But the value of this bouquet is honestly a bit outrageous. I think the reward I just gave… might not be quite enough?”

His eyes curved as he smiled. “Do you want to come and claim the rest yourself?”

Xi Xianqing’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

The space between them unconsciously grew smaller, the setting sun casting a warm, tranquil glow over their wind-tousled hair and the tips of their noses as they drew closer.

They had kissed many times before—some things needed no verbal agreement to be understood. At this moment, Xi Xianqing lowered his head, cupping Zhu Ming’s face with one hand, while Zhu Ming, smiling slightly, tilted his head and let his lashes droop, rubbing his cheek intimately against Xi Xianqing’s palm.

This time, Xi Xianqing had no intention of waiting. He rarely took the initiative, but now, he lowered his head, ready to claim his reward.

Just as their lips were about to touch, Zhu Ming suddenly raised a finger, pressing it lightly against Xi Xianqing’s lips.

His fingertips were cool against the heat of Xi Xianqing’s lower lip. He gently rubbed the surface, saying nothing.

The gift had already been unwrapped, ribbons undone, yet the cunning little fox suddenly went back on his word, and was unwilling to give it away. Xi Xianqing frowned slightly, his gaze cold as he lifted his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I thought about it again. If I give you your reward now, you might not study properly anymore.”

Zhu Ming sighed. “Let’s do it this way, I’ll set up a scheduled delivery. Once the assessment is over, I’ll personally deliver you a grand gift. How about that?”

Xi Xianqing was clearly dissatisfied, but at the mention of a “grand gift,” the green peac0ck behind him gave a small, silent tremor, its tail feathers quivering.

After a moment, he finally spoke. “You’ll keep your word?”

Zhu Ming grasped the hand that Xi Xianqing had been cupping his face with, tilted his head, and lowered his lashes, pressing a soft kiss onto his palm.

“Here, I’ll stamp it for you as proof.” He smiled as he met Xi Xianqing’s gaze. “I’ll keep my word.”

Whether it was the lure of that grand gift or the rapidly approaching deadline of the assessment, for the next two weeks, the lights in Xi Xianqing’s study never went out.

Yang Jiahe and the craftsmen occasionally came by for visits. The study door often remained slightly ajar, but this time, Xi Xianqing didn’t show Zhu Ming his drafts. Not that Zhu Ming was particularly interested in the details of the piece.

When passing by, he could vaguely hear them discussing design concepts—Xi Xianqing seemed to be creating a trophy for Qin Weisheng.

Zhu Ming couldn’t quite say how he felt about it. It was complicated, but more than anything, he felt relieved—because he knew that this was probably exactly what Qin Weisheng wanted.

As far as Zhu Ming was concerned, as long as Xi Xianqing could pass this assessment safely and smoothly, that was enough.

Two weeks later, the K University auditorium was packed.

K University’s research institute placed great importance on Xi Xianqing’s visit, so for the exhibition and group photo session, they invited all students and faculty to attend in person while broadcasting the entire event live.

Thus, this ceremony wasn’t just for the audiences of District Six and District Seven—it was being presented to the entirety of Xi Star.

Of course, most of the attendees from District Seven understood what this so-called exhibition truly was—Qin Weisheng’s coronation.

Standing backstage behind the deep red velvet curtains, Qin Weisheng gazed through a narrow gap at the students, the media, the cameras, and the dazzling lights converging at the center of the stage—the very spot where he was about to stand.

He closed his eyes with a smile and stretched out his arms behind the curtain. The suffocating weight that had coiled within his chest for years finally eased as he exhaled.

He was 60 years old now, not lacking honors and titles, and is considered as a living legend at K University for so many years. He had been District Seven’s top scorer in the college entrance exam, missing a perfect score in the medical exam by only three points. He had once been the youngest full-time professor appointed at K University. All the way up to the present, there has never been anyone who has denied Qin Weisheng’s talent.

Yet this smooth journey had also cultivated a self-esteem that teetered on the edge of pathology and paranoia.

Many had speculated why he had never run for Chief Researcher himself. Some said he no longer needed additional titles to prove himself. Others believed he was indifferent to fame and preferred to leave the opportunity for the future generation.

But only Qin Weisheng himself knew the truth—he had never been qualified to compete.

In his first year as an undergraduate at K University, he cheated on an exam.

It was actually just an insignificant basic statistics quiz. But at the time, Qin Weisheng forgot the formula for the final problem, and his mind went completely empty.

Bean-sized cold sweat trickled down his forehead—As if demons and gods were at work, he had tried to sneak a glance at the book tucked beneath his chair—only to be caught red-handed by the proctor.

Very few people knew about this incident, and compared to his later achievements, that tiny mistake was utterly insignificant. Even if he had failed to solve that final problem, he still would have ranked first in that exam.

But the cheating incident had been formally recorded in District Seven’s academic archive—a record shared across all universities to ensure fairness and mutual oversight. And that meant, despite Qin Weisheng’s overwhelming influence at K University, there was no way he could erase this small cheating record.

—And the first requirement for a District Seven Chief Researcher candidate was a spotless academic history.

For countless nights of tossing and turning, Qin Weisheng felt that God was playing a trick on him.

Even though he had already become the most prestigious professor at K University, even though he was the proud son of God in the eyes of outsiders, even though he had swept nearly every top award in his field—Qin Weishing still felt it wasn’t enough. Because the Chief Researcher he could never obtain had become his lifelong obsession.

His heart became paranoid and twisted.

No matter what, he had to get this position.

At first, he had wanted to groom his own child to become Chief Researcher. But heavens played another big joke on him—Years of overwork in his youth had taken their toll, and long-standing emotional strain compounded the issue. Despite trying every medical intervention available, he and his wife had never been able to conceive.

So he had chosen Ruan Min instead, determined to prove to the entire Xi Star that even someone utterly talentless could ascend to District Seven’s Chief—so long as they had Qin Weisheng to back them.

And today, under the attention of ten thousand people, he was finally about to receive the honor that should have been his all along.

The assistant gently reminded Qin Weisheng in his ear, “Professor Qin, the ceremony is about to begin. Please go to the stage and take your seat.”

Qin Weisheng opened his eyes, regaining his composure as he put on a smile. “Alright, I’m coming.”

On stage, two chairs were positioned side by side—one for Xi Xianqing, the other for Qin Weisheng. Standing between them was Qu He, as tonight’s host, who began the ceremony with polite formalities.

Qin Weisheng smiled and raised his hand, signaling that he wished to speak first.

“Before this ceremony officially begins, I have something I’d like to say.”

Qin Weisheng took the microphone and spoke in a warm tone, “This piece was a gift that my student, Ruan Min, insisted on giving me. As the current Chief Researcher of District Seven, he has endured hardships over the years and devoted himself tirelessly to his academic pursuits. I have witnessed all of it. So, I hope that everyone here can first give him a round of applause.”

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience as Qin Weisheng smiled and handed the microphone back to Qu He.

Qu He said, “Now, let us invite Mr. Xi Xianqing to share the inspiration and design philosophy behind this piece.”

Xi Xianqing, who had remained silent until now, took the microphone.

“The inspiration for this piece primarily stems from Professor Qin’s unwavering dedication and guidance toward his students.”

Xi Xianqing’s voice was flat. “I must admit, this is the most intricate and painstakingly crafted piece I have created throughout my assessment.”

The cameras swiftly zoomed in on the central lift platform, focusing on the unveiling of his final assessment piece.

As the platform ascended, Xi Xianqing’s last piece of assessment was finally revealed under the audiences’ collectively held breath.

—Revealing a tall, elegantly contoured trophy. The base consisted of multiple layers, while two graceful, curved handles extended from either side of the cup. It was, without a doubt, an exquisite masterpiece.

But what captured the audience’s attention the most was the trophy’s unique design. Around its main structure, a series of golden spiral staircases wrapped around layer upon layer.

Ant the most shocking aspect was… that the large trophy was made purely out of gold.

Those familiar with Xi Xianqing’s work knew that gold had never been his material of choice. Even when he did use it, it was typically for accenting or complementing other primary stones.

Yet, this piece was composed entirely of large, unbroken expanses of gold. To outsiders, it was dazzlingly extravagant and unreservedly ostentatious.

Even Qu He seemed momentarily stunned by the trophy’s brilliance. It took her a moment to regain her composure before asking, “Mr. Xi, could you introduce the details and meaning behind this design?”

Xi Xianqing: “Of course.”

“In the eyes of outsiders, Professor Qin has selflessly nurtured his students with knowledge, fostering countless outstanding and brilliant researchers.” His tone remained neutral.

As he spoke, the camera provided a closer view, allowing the audience to notice four small buttons embedded in the trophy’s base.

Xi Xianqing pressed the first button. From the center of the first level of the spiral staircase, delicate golden saplings slowly emerged, creating the striking illusion of seedlings breaking through the earth.

“In the eyes of Professor Qin’s students, he is undoubtedly a teacher they can rely on and trust. Under his guidance, his students have flourished.”

—On the second tier of the staircase, the golden saplings continued to grow, sprouting new branches and tender leaves. The delicate gold-veined foliage was exquisitely detailed, lifelike in its intricacy.

“Chief Researcher Ruan Min once told me that Professor Qin has been a mentor who shielded him from the storms, a guiding light in his life. Without Professor Qin, he would not have achieved what he has today.”

The third tier slowly rose. A golden sika deer stood beneath the now lush and thriving tree, its face lifted, gazing quietly toward the distant summit.

At the same time, at the very top of the trophy, a golden fox sculpture—symbolizing Qin Weisheng—emerged. The fox bore a gentle smile, its eyes lowered, looking tenderly upon the students beneath it.

Xi Xianqing’s voice remained steady. “From nurturing saplings, to the sprouting of leaves, to the growth of strong branches—behind this flourishing forest stands Professor Qin, who has watered each student with his sweat and blood.”

Then, he pressed the final button. From beneath the golden fox, at the very center of the trophy, a stream of liquid began to flow.

It was a unique silver-white fluid, resembling liquid metal. Smooth as a mirror, it spilled over the golden trophy’s edges, cascading down the spiral staircase, rippling and winding its way downward.

Like a silver waterfall, the cold, enigmatic fluid first drenched the sika deer’s hooves, then soaked the tree’s branches and leaves, finally seeping into the saplings at the lowest tier. Soon, the entire trophy and the staircases beneath it were immersed in this liquid.

For a moment, the audience collectively held their breath.

—The flowing silver liquid looked like scattered stardust, like a shimmering Milky Way in motion. As it cascaded over the dazzling golden trophy and the intricate staircase, the scene under the spotlight was breathtaking, nearly indescribable in its brilliance.

Then, realization dawned upon them. This was the silver fluid, the so-called “sweat and blood of Qin Weisheng,” in Xi Xianqing’s words.

Even Qin Weisheng himself momentarily forgot to breathe. The last time they met, he had suggested an unforgettable interactive element—Xi Xianqing had actually made it a reality.

His wish was about to come true.

In the midst of this flowing splendor, he was almost obsessively looking at the golden fox at the top of the trophy, as if the distance between them had never been closer.

But in the very next second, from the audience, scattered murmurs broke the silence.

Some faces in the audience twisted with confusion, while others exchanged hushed whispers, their gazes flickering toward the trophy. A few scattered murmurs of “What’s happening?” could be heard

Then he heard Xi Xianqing faintly ask, “Professor Qin, this is how you see yourself, right?”

Something clenched tightly in Qin Weisheng’s chest. His eyes snapped back to the trophy. And in the next moment, his face drained of color, his pupils trembling violently—

It was then that he noticed that everywhere the silver liquid had touched on the gold trophy… had lost its luster!

The once radiant golden trophy was now mottled with ashen gray streaks. The delicate saplings and branches, previously so vibrant, had withered into something lifeless and dull. The intricately carved golden sika deer, which had exuded vitality only moments before, now stood there, its body eerily drained of its former brilliance, as if its very soul had been stripped away.

From resplendent grandeur to utter decay in an instant. The deer’s once spirited eyes turned vacant, its gaze woodenly fixed upon the highest point.

Yet atop the trophy, standing at its absolute peak, the fox alone remained untouched—still gleaming in pristine gold. And beneath its feet, the silver liquid continued to flow, endlessly pouring downward, draining the life from everything it touched.

The once-kind smile on the fox’s face now seemed strange—it looked like it was standing condescendingly at the apex like it was a culprit behind all of this. Smiling and eerily watching everything beneath its feet wither away under its own relentless hunger.

Qin Weisheng’s heart suddenly sank, and he fiercely looked toward Xi Xianqing.

—Only to find Xi Xianqing seated at a distance, legs crossed, watching him with unnerving calm, as if he had been waiting for this moment all along.

“But I’m really curious.”

Xi Xianqing spoke again, his voice ringing clear in the vast auditorium, each syllable deliberate and weighted. “To take the fruits of others’ labor for your own selfish gain. To threaten students with their futures in order to feed your greed. To stop at nothing, even at the cost of destroying other people’s lives by any means necessary, just to claim this position for yourself. Can you really accept this gift with a clear conscience?”

Author’s Notes:

This chapter took a long time to write, and I kind of lost control over the word count. I’ll try my best tomorrow, but there’s a high chance there won’t be an update oh, sorry (>_<)