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

The vast auditorium, with hundreds or even thousands of spectators, fell into complete silence in an instant.

On the seat in the corner of the stage, Zhu Ming’s eyes suddenly widened as he looked incredulously at Xi Xianqing’s profile on stage.

He immediately realized that the silver liquid slowly flowing down from the center of the golden trophy was none other than mercury.

The moment gold came into contact with mercury, a chemical reaction occurred, forming a grayish-white gold amalgam compound on the surface. To the audience, this created a visual effect of decay and fading.

Zhu Ming hadn’t originally planned to come today. Although he could accept Xi Xianqing creating this piece—after all, he was the one who encouraged Xi Xianqing to complete this assessment—it didn’t mean he wanted to witness in person as Qin Weisheng accepted the work with his own hands.

But for some reason, while Xi Xianqing had completed the previous two artwork photography sessions alone, this time, he specifically asked Zhu Ming to come along. So, Zhu Ming and Ye Lu sat in the corner of K University’s auditorium and watched the entire ceremony.

It wasn’t until this moment that Zhu Ming realized Xi Xianqing’s true purpose in asking him to come.

Under the gaze of the crowd and the glare of the spotlight, Qin Weisheng’s expression seemed to contort for a brief moment.

But he quickly regained his composure, maintaining a gentle demeanor as he calmly asked, “Mr. Xi, is there some kind of misunderstanding between… us?”

“I’ve been in this position for so long—baseless accusations are nothing new to me.”

He reminded in a warm tone, “You’re young, full of vigor, and from an outside district. It’s easy to be swayed by rumors—I can understand that.”

“But making arbitrary comments without distinguishing right from wrong is sometimes not the best course of action.” He narrowed his eyes slightly as if sighing helplessly. “Do you have any evidence for what you just said?”

After a long pause, Xi Xianqing replied, “I don’t.”

The corners of Qin Weisheng’s lips lifted slightly just as he was about to speak, but Xi Xianqing interrupted him calmly, “But there is someone who can provide all the evidence.”

Xi Xianqing turned slightly to the side, making space for the backdrop behind him.

The moment the person emerged from behind the curtain, the smile on Qin Weisheng’s face froze.

Ruan Min walked to the center of the auditorium with his eyes downcast, his face pale.

He held a thick stack of papers in his hands. The moment he saw Qin Weisheng, he instinctively avoided eye contact and took the microphone from Xi Xianqing.

“I am… I am Ruan Min, a postdoctoral researcher at K University’s Institute for Spritiual Manifestations Anomalies.”

Ruan Min’s voice trembled uncontrollably. His fingers, gripping the microphone tightly, turned pale from the pressure, as if speaking a complete sentence had drained all the strength from his body.

Taking a deep breath and pausing briefly, he finally gathered the courage to continue, “…Today, I stand here alongside 23 doctoral, graduate, and undergraduate students from the institute to publicly report my mentor, Professor Qin Weisheng, under our real names.”

It was like a drop of cold water falling into a pot of boiling oil—instantly vaporizing and erupting with explosive bubbles. In an instant, the audience broke into a flurry of murmurs and discussions.

“Qin Weisheng has long coerced students in his team into fabricating experimental results, disregarded the side effects and dangers of clinical drugs, arbitrarily falsified experimental data, and repeatedly colluded with and bribed journal reviewers to publish in top-tier journals.”

As he spoke, he raised the thick stack of documents in his hand. “Moreover, he frequently used the threat of delayed graduation and future career prospects to deprive students of their rightful authorship on papers. During the Chief Researcher selection process that year, he also employed illegal means to persecute and interfere with other competitors. All the evidence and records of his misconduct have been compiled here, and I have already submitted them to K University and the District Seven Academic Committee this morning.”

“Meanwhile, as another beneficiary in this matter,” he took a deep breath, “I voluntarily relinquish the Chief Researcher position and willingly accept the committee’s investigation and any disciplinary action from the university.”

“I know that saying this now may be meaningless…” Ruan Min opened his mouth slightly, but after a long pause, he bowed deeply to the audience below the stage, “but I still want to say sorry to those I have hurt.”

His voice trembled continuously. He was still afraid—perhaps he had already realized that the moment these words left his mouth, his academic career would come to an end as well.

But in the end, he still said it.

As soon as his words fell, the auditorium instantly plunged into chaos. The murmurs from earlier quickly escalated into loud discussions. Seeing the situation spiral out of control, K University’s staff urgently shut down the live broadcast. Qu He, her expression slightly stiff, worked to maintain order and began evacuating the audience from the auditorium.

Beads of sweat appeared on Qin Weisheng’s forehead as his hand slowly clenched into a fist.

Stay calm. He told himself. As long as he remained at K University, as long as it was still an academic matter, everything would still be within his control. He had to stay calm.

As the audience was gradually ushered out of the auditorium, the smile on his face vanished completely. He no longer bothered to mask his true expression, staring intently at Ruan Min’s pale profile.

“Ruan Min.” Qin Weisheng let out a cold laugh, gritting his teeth slightly. “The choice you’ve made… is truly foolish.”

“Professor, in all these years, aside from today—how many choices have I truly made for myself?”

Though his voice remained soft, this time, Ruan Min finally didn’t avoid his gaze. “For the past two years, aside from gaining this title, I’ve lost everything—my conscience, my friends, my original aspirations. So now, I have nothing left to fear.”

“Nothing to fear.”

Qin Weisheng repeated the words with a cold, dark gaze. Then, he looked toward Xi Xianqing, who stood silently behind Ruan Min, and let out a low, ambiguous chuckle. “You’re all still too young. You don’t understand that some ideas and actions can’t be realized through courage and justice alone.”

“Perhaps,” Xi Xianqing spoke calmly. “But before that, the one who must pay the price is you, Professor Qin.”

The door to the auditorium was suddenly pushed open from the outside.

Following the direction of the noise, Qin Weisheng saw that the people pouring in were not ordinary spectators but police officers dressed in matching dark navy uniforms.

A sense of unease—one he had never experienced before in his life—suddenly gripped his heart.

His hands began to tremble involuntarily. As his stiff gaze shifted, he suddenly noticed a figure standing in the dimly lit corner of the auditorium, silently watching him.

A young man with a delicate face and dark, bright eyes.

“Professor Qin,” the young man spoke. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Zhu Ming.”

Zhu Ming… The name made Qin Weisheng pause for a moment before he quickly made the connection.

“You’re the one from T University who scored full marks on the medical exam that year.”

Qin Weisheng let out a sneering laugh from deep within his throat, mocking, “I knew it—there’s no way someone as weak and pathetic as Ruan Min could have suddenly developed the courage and intelligence to make such a decision on his own.”

Qin Weisheng’s impression of this young man Zhu Ming, was considered profound, back during the Chief Researcher selection, Zhu Ming had been the hardest obstacle to remove.

Young, outstanding, with an exceptionally valuable research project. What made Qin Weisheng even more resentful was that before Zhu Ming, District Seven had never produced a single medical student with a perfect score.

Zhu Ming had been too dazzling, too great a threat. So from the start, Qin Weisheng had never intended to leave him unscathed.

After the car accident, seeing that Zhu Ming was already crippled beyond repair, Qin Weisheng decided that dealing with a dead man would only cause unnecessary trouble. So he hadn’t gone further. Now, in hindsight, he should have made sure to clean up more thoroughly…

“You look much older than the photos my mother gave me, Professor Qin.”

Zhu Ming suddenly spoke, interrupting Qin Weisheng’s thoughts with a completely unrelated remark.

Qin Weisheng frowned, not understanding what he meant. “…What?”

For some reason, an inexplicable panic slowly crept over Qin Weisheng’s heart.

“That pot of Thousand-Star Tangerine, are you raising it well now?”

Zhu Ming spoke softly. “Or let me put it another way—do you still remember the female student of the Department of Botany who used the alias Jiang Ju 27 years ago?”

Memories surged into his mind, and Qin Weisheng’s expression changed drastically. “How do you know—”

His voice was abruptly cut off.

At Zhu Ming’s feet, glistening neural protons slowly coalesced, forming the figure of a white fox with a bushy tail. It emerged on the ground, lifting its quiet, obedient gaze toward Qin Weisheng’s face.

At that moment, Qin Weisheng suddenly felt as if the world had gone silent.

A sharp ringing echoed deep within his eardrums, veins bulged at his temples, and his face turned ashen as if the entire world had collapsed in an instant. Beads of cold sweat rapidly formed, covering his forehead in mere moments.

“Nice to meet you, Professor Qin.”

Zhu Ming’s lips curved slightly, his voice soft and gentle. “Even though we have never met before. Even though you never fulfilled a single day of your duty as a father.”

He lowered his gaze to his own legs and continued, “But in every possible way, you have left an indelible mark on my life.”

Qin Weisheng stared fixedly at Zhu Ming’s spiritual manifestation, shaking his head in disbelief. He took two steps back, bloodshot eyes wide with shock, his voice hoarse to the point that he could barely make a sound. “No, it’s impossible…”

“Thanks to my aunt’s guidance, I didn’t become another you. Thanks to fate, I survived that car accident.”

Zhu Ming continued to watch Qin Weisheng with a calm smile, enunciating each word with absolute clarity. “Thanks to my lover’s blessing, I now stand before you, watching as you receive the retribution you deserve.”

Qin Weisheng stared at Zhu Ming’s face in a daze, his mind crashing like a system failure. He couldn’t string together a single coherent sentence. “You, you—”

Zhu Ming shook his head, raised a hand, and made a “shh” gesture before lowering his gaze to the police officers below the stage. He took a step back.

“Whatever you have to say, take your time explaining it to the police inside,” he said.

Qin Weisheng was ultimately arrested by the police on charges of attempted murder. When he was taken away, he didn’t resist or argue.

His state was both wretched and dazed—he simply stared at Zhu Ming’s face, as if his soul had already drifted away from his body, leaving behind only ragged breaths, like a fish stranded on the shore.

Zhu Ming watched in silence as Qin Weisheng was detained and escorted into the police car, following him with his gaze until the vehicle turned a corner and disappeared completely.

It wasn’t until a sudden pain shot through his arm that Zhu Ming snapped out of his daze, taking two steps back and turning to the person beside him. “What’s wrong?”

Only then did he realize that Xi Xianqing’s brows were furrowed, his entire posture tense.

“I called your name many times.” Xi Xianqing stared directly into his eyes. “You didn’t respond.”

After a long time, Zhu Ming smiled at him and said, “I’m fine.”

Xi Xianqing remained silent. Zhu Ming exhaled slightly, knowing the young man before him wouldn’t be able to let it go.

So he said, “Let’s go home, Xi Xianqing.”

He really was fine—it was just that the weight pressing on his heart had suddenly disappeared, leaving him feeling momentarily weak.

Even after leaving the auditorium, getting into the car, and returning to Xi Xianqing’s villa in District Six, he still hadn’t fully recovered from the daze.

So when he got out of the car, even though he could now walk like a normal person, he still wobbled unsteadily, stumbling forward a couple of steps. Fortunately, Xi Xianqing caught him in time, preventing him from falling straight to the ground.

Seeing Zhu Ming’s condition, Xi Xianqing had no hesitation at all—without a word, he picked him up in his arms and carried him into the villa. Zhu Ming wrapped his arms around Xi Xianqing’s neck, leaning against his chest without resistance.

After carrying Zhu Ming all the way to the bedroom and setting him down, Xi Xianqing noticed that he remained silent. Something about his state felt completely off. Taking a deep breath, Xi Xianqing knelt halfway by the bed and said, “Zhu Ming, rest for a bit. Take a nap, okay?”

Zhu Ming stared at Xi Xianqing’s face for a while

“Xi Xianqing,” he suddenly asked softly, “The final product of your assessment is ruined now, and the person responsible for grading it is in prison. What will happen to… your assessment score?”

Xi Xianqing had expected him to ask about Qin Weisheng. He hadn’t anticipated that, at this moment, Zhu Ming would be worrying about his assessment results instead.

“If being a representative requires disregarding moral boundaries and betraying my true intentions, then even if I ultimately secured that position, I would end up like Ruan Min—plagued by guilt, unable to forgive myself.”

Xi Xianqing looked into Zhu Ming’s eyes. “I’ll explain it to my grandfather. No matter what he thinks in the end, at least I know that by doing this, I won’t have any regrets in the future.”

Zhu Ming looked at his face and still didn’t say anything.

Though Xi Xianqing had no regrets, he still felt a bit uneasy. After all, he had promised Zhu Ming that he would complete the assessment properly, yet he had changed course midway. And more than that…

After a long pause, Xi Xianqing finally spoke in a hoarse voice, “Should I not have asked you to come today? No matter what, he was still—”

“No, thank you for calling me over.”

Zhu Ming shook his head, exhaling softly as he interrupted him. “Only by facing him directly could I fully understand, without any lingering illusions, what kind of person he truly is.”

Xi Xianqing’s heart stirred. Just as he was about to say something, he heard Zhu Ming call his name, “Xi Xianqing.”

Before Xi Xianqing could react, Zhu Ming reached out, cupped his face, and kissed him.

The bedroom was quiet. Zhu Ming sat on the bed while Xi Xianging knelt on one knee beside it. They had never kissed at this height difference before—without warning, without anticipation, without any preparation. Zhu Ming simply closed his eyes and leaned in, kissing him deeply and heavily.

Their tongues entwined, breaths intermingling. It wasn’t a long kiss, though, because soon after, Zhu Ming pulled back on his own, panting lightly as he rubbed the tip of his nose against Xi Xianging’s.

“…Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for helping me face it all and for leading me out of it.”

He said, “And most of all, thank you for being there for me.”

Xi Xianging’s breath was warm as he gazed into Zhu Ming’s eyes and let out a soft “mm.”

“You don’t need to say thank you to me,” he said.

Zhu Ming softly said, “Good.”

They remained like that, forehead to forehead, sharing a moment of silence and warmth.

It was unclear how much time had passed before Xi Xianging suddenly spoke again, his tone deliberately casual yet hoarse, “If you’re truly grateful, then there are some promises you made… that I hope you’ll fulfill soon.”

Zhu Ming was momentarily stunned before he realized what “some promises” referred to. He let out a small laugh. “Mr. Xiao Xi’s memory is truly exceptional ah. Seems like you haven’t forgotten about that ‘grand gift’ these past few days.”

The way he laughed immediately eased the tension in Xi Xianging’s chest, because it meant Zhu Ming had genuinely recovered.

So Xi Xianging gave him a light glance, then turned his face away. “You said it yourself— you’ll keep your word.”

“There was even a stamp and a receipt.” After a moment, he added this out of nowhere.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Zhu Ming nearly laughed aloud. “But don’t rush me. Since it’s a grand gift, at least give me some time for delivery.”

Xi Xianging had yet to figure out what exactly Zhu Ming meant by “delivery” when he saw Zhu Ming’s eyelashes flutter, his gaze lowering with a smile brimming in his eyes.

He took Xi Xianqing’s hand and guided it to his chest.

With his hand resting on Xi Xianging’s arm, Zhu Ming slowly led Xi Xianqing’s index finger to undo the first button of his shirt.

Beneath the fabric, his collarbones were delicate and well-defined. Xi Xianging’s breathing became uncontrollably heavy. Yet Zhu Ming said nothing. He simply looked at him with those smiling eyes, gently pulling his hand downward, guiding it to the second button.

Like personally unwrapping a gift, the buttons were undone one by one, from his collarbone to his chest, sliding lower over his lean yet resilient waist, until finally reaching the last button just above his lower abdomen.

But it didn’t stop there. Zhu Ming continued leading Xi Xianging’s hand, pressing his palm against the taut skin of his abdomen.

Xi Xianqing’s breath hitched instantly. Zhu Ming also seemed to shiver slightly before letting out a soft laugh, teasing, “Your palm is pretty hot, Xi Xianqing.”

Xi Xianging’s lips parted as if to say something, but his pupils trembled subtly—because in the next second, Zhu Ming’s arm wrapped around his neck, while his other hand traced down to the zipper of Xi Xianging’s trousers. His fingertips lingered there, rubbing it gently and slowly in a circular motion for a few seconds before hooking onto the zipper and giving it a light tug toward himself!

“Ding-dong, your gift has arrived. Please sign for it.”

The distance between them was extremely close in an instant. Zhu Ming’s soft, jet-black hair fanned out over the bed, his eyes lazily half-lidded as he smiled up at the young man before him. “It’s a fragile gift. Remember to handle with care when unwrapping oh.”

Author’s Notes:

Been craving for a long time, Qing.