In truth, nobody was really listening to the specifics of what Li Xun was saying. The hours upon hours he’d spent working out the cracking method and its technical details might as well not have existed. What mattered to everyone was the spectacle itself.

The competing teams present all knew, to varying degrees, about the situation with Fang Zhijing’s group. Some looked down on it, some envied it, some resented it, some were simply indignant. But in this moment, watching this unfold before them, the mental state of most people could be summed up in two words — pure entertainment.

There’s an old saying: only a fool would pass up a good spectacle.

Whispers rippled through the audience. Those in the know explained things to those who weren’t. At first the voices were barely audible, but as Li Xun turned through his slides one by one, the noise below grew steadily louder.

Though nobody’s attention was truly fixed on the content, these were, after all, top students in their field. They could all see that the person on stage had genuinely and methodically documented the software-cracking logic and the hardware replication process — well-reasoned, evidence-backed, each point laid out with clarity.

A security product cracked and counterfeited before it had even been fully developed, and now being publicly broadcast. What that meant for the industry, everyone understood perfectly well.

When Li Xun reached a particularly brilliant section of his cracking analysis, someone in the audience actually started clapping.

Most of the students present were by nature mild-mannered — years of academic training had shaped them into reserved, humble, well-behaved individuals. Yet youth untouched by audacity is youth wasted, and young hearts will always carry within them a deep current of boldness and rebellion.

Li Xun paid no attention to the increasingly enthusiastic reactions below. He simply continued laying out his thinking as he normally would, without pausing for even a second.

He was not one for empty boasts. Having already promised the host this would end quickly, he intended to make good on that.

Li Xun’s delivery was so matter-of-fact that by the time he’d worked through over a dozen slides, the experts and instructors below still hadn’t quite processed what was happening.

It wasn’t until the commotion below began to grow into something more like an uproar that the event staff rushed over. Nothing like this had ever occurred before, and they had no idea what lay behind it. Several of them stood there helplessly, uncertain whether to interrupt Li Xun outright or to focus on managing the crowd first.

Zhu Yun sat perfectly still in her seat. Once the initial shock and nerves had passed, she felt heat spreading through her whole body, adrenaline surging, trembling all over with excitement.

Good heavens.

Good heavens…

Zhu Yun’s eyes shifted sideways, sneaking a glance at Fang Zhijing.

In truth, she wasn’t the only one looking at him. Many in the audience had their eyes trained in his direction — he was drawing even more attention than Li Xun was. Fang Zhijing was doing everything in his power to suppress his emotions, but his face had gone unmistakably red all the same. His girlfriend, Liang Yuxin, wore the expression of someone who had suffered a profound insult — palms turned up, staring at the person on stage, her face a picture of disbelief.

The venue had been thrown into chaos by the sudden turn of events, but the panel of expert judges was showing a remarkable degree of composure. Two of the older professors in particular had been watching the screen with smiles on their faces the entire time, quietly discussing something between themselves.

Zhu Yun looked at the figure on stage, and the corners of her mouth curved upward without her meaning them to. Just then, amid all the chatter around her, she heard a long, bright, clear whistle.

She turned around. Xu Lina — the source of the whistle — had risen from her seat in the row behind. She looked even more stirred up than Zhu Yun, both arms raised high, like a fan catching sight of an idol, her gaze burning with fervor and overflowing with something that could only be described as adoration.

…

…

Wait a moment…

Adoration?

Zhu Yun was stunned for approximately ten seconds.

Thanks to the golden-haired Li Xun, Zhu Yun’s mind was currently running at full blood flow and remarkable speed.

The competition had been pressing down on her this whole time — from the moment she had set foot in the capital, every ounce of her attention had been directed at Fang Zhijing, leaving no room for anything else. Now, as the clouds parted and the moon came through, she rapidly rewound through everything that had happened over the past few days, stringing all the threads together, and arrived at a single thought —

Had she been careless?

Zhu Yun had been burning with excitement just moments before. Now a strange, unsettling idea had crept into her mind and cooled her down completely. She stopped looking at the golden-haired figure on stage entirely and fixed her gaze on Xu Lina instead.

Why are you this happy?

What does any of this have to do with you?

Zhu Yun frowned inwardly — but quickly felt that wasn’t quite right either.

It wasn’t entirely unrelated. It was quite likely that Li Xun had gotten the hardware sample from Xu Lina. A few days ago, as “the last person to have seen Li Xun,” she had also had a conversation with him lasting more than half an hour.

Then there was the dinner gathering — when Xu Lina and Liang Yuxin had gotten into it, Li Xun had been there too.

…

She couldn’t possibly think that Li Xun had done all this to vent her feelings and avenge her on her behalf — could she?

The conclusion Zhu Yun had just reasoned her way to gave her such a fright that she broke into a cold sweat.

She turned her scanning gaze on Xu Lina once more.

A very pretty girl — small face, big eyes, cheerful personality, boundless energy, always fond of fruit-scented perfume. The type who got along with absolutely everyone.

Zhu Yun turned back around. She quietly slipped out her phone and used the screen as a mirror to look at herself.

Having been shaken up by Fang Zhijing, Zhu Yun had spent the past several days in a state of complete despondency, with absolutely no mental energy to spare for her appearance.

Her hair hadn’t been washed in two days. She’d been wearing the same old clothes the whole time…

The more she looked, the more disheartened she felt. Zhu Yun quietly put her phone away.

Up front, Li Xun had also finished speaking.

“Now, allow me to present our group’s competition entry.” With that, he gave a tilt of his chin toward the audience, gesturing for Gao Jianhong — who was standing off to the side looking completely dazed — to come up and assist with the demonstration.

Look at how smooth that was.

No one questioned it, no one interrupted. It was as if the entire preceding segment had been a regular part of the competition all along.

Once their demonstration concluded, it was finally time for the defense. A hush fell over the venue. Everyone sat up and listened with rapt attention as the panel prepared to speak.

The older professor who had been smiling and murmuring to his neighbor throughout Li Xun’s slide presentation was the first to pick up his microphone. His expression remained entirely unhurried — almost as if he were joking — as he asked Li Xun, “Young man, which of the two entries would you like us to direct our questions toward?”

Li Xun looked at him, and smiled too, with an air of complete indifference.

“Either one is fine.”

The competition ended. Zhu Yun waited by the entrance of the venue.

Their entry had not been scored on the spot, and Li Xun had been pulled aside by the school administration immediately after the defense concluded. Zhu Yun sent a message asking what was happening. Li Xun didn’t reply.

“I genuinely can’t believe him…”

Zhu Yun turned to see Gao Jianhong standing nearby with his arms folded.

“I really, truly cannot believe him!” He repeated it slowly, word by word, for emphasis.

Zhu Yun handed him a bottle of water. Gao Jianhong accepted it and still remembered to say thank you.

“Do you have any idea how badly he nearly gave me a heart attack?” Gao Jianhong’s breathing was still uneven, his chest rising and falling noticeably, as though he hadn’t yet come back down from the adrenaline. “Who does something like that? The least he could have done was warn us beforehand!”

Zhu Yun said, “He might not have had time. He only just made it here today as it was.”

Gao Jianhong unscrewed the bottle and drank, leaning back against a tree by the side of the path.

“Great, well, never mind the competition — whether the lot of us even make it back home in one piece is a whole other question now.”

Xu Lina came walking over.

“Of course we’ll make it back in one piece — what is there to be afraid of.” She lifted her chin, her expression resolute. “Don’t worry. If something really comes of this, we’re not letting your group shoulder it alone. We’ve all already agreed — we’re in this together!”

Gao Jianhong looked at her with a slight frown. Xu Lina continued, “Plenty of people already had grievances about this whole situation. Now that someone’s had the courage and capability to let out that pent-up frustration, we can’t be cowards either — we have to stand our ground against this kind of corrupt behavior. The device and the source code for Fang Zhijing’s entry were both obtained through me and passed along to Li Xun. If the school actually comes around asking questions, I’ll be the first to step forward!”

Zhu Yun: “…”

The first to step forward, no less.

Who do you think you are — a revolutionary martyr?

Inside the meeting room of the administrative building, several parties were in the middle of a heated dispute.

“I demand the school handle this with the utmost severity!” Fang Zhijing was agitated, on his feet, his voice rising. “This kind of behavior is absolutely disgraceful! According to competition regulations, their qualification should be revoked!”

Several experts sat in their chairs. The older professor looked toward the person slouched in the seat across from Fang Zhijing.

Li Xun’s demeanor stood in stark contrast to Fang Zhijing’s.

He had done what he came to do. Days and nights of exhaustion were now pressing down on him all at once. Li Xun’s manner had always leaned toward the aloof and proud — now, worn out as he was, he rested his forehead against his hand, too weary to even lift his eyelids. This posture, in Fang Zhijing’s eyes, was an insult compounded upon insult.

Fang Zhijing was burning with rage.

“The competition has strict rules — it only accepts submissions of a defensive nature and will not accept anything with an offensive quality, let alone anything that crosses the line into legal violation! He must face consequences for his conduct!”

Seeing Fang Zhijing grow increasingly agitated, the older professor on the expert panel raised a hand to signal him to sit down first.

The professor turned to Li Xun. “Young man — you’re Li Xun, correct? Tell us, in your own words, why you did this.”

Li Xun said quietly:

“Because of love.”

“…”

Everyone in the room froze.

A few seconds of silence passed. Li Xun pulled his mouth into a half-smile and raised his gaze from beneath his heavy lids.

“Because of passion…” he said, peering at Fang Zhijing across from him, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Passion for the field. Passion for the exchange of ideas. The moment I come across something interesting, my hands itch and I can’t help wanting to dig into it.”

“That’s nonsense!” Fang Zhijing was furious enough for his nostrils to flare. He ground his teeth and spat, “You’re just jealous! You’re all just petty and contemptible!”

Li Xun’s expression didn’t change. He rose, turned to the older professor, and said, “I apologize for the disruption this caused to the competition. Whatever the outcome, I’ll accept it.”

With that, he turned and walked out without looking back.

“Stop right there!” Fang Zhijing went after him and grabbed his arm.

The teacher nearby immediately intervened. “Both of you — calm down, don’t do anything physical!”

Li Xun didn’t raise a hand. He turned around, and because of his height, at this close distance, he looked down at Fang Zhijing completely.

“Actually, some of what you do is fairly clever,” Li Xun said in a voice only the two of them could hear. “And some of your thinking is even right.”

Fang Zhijing stared at him with hard eyes. Li Xun continued, “This world does judge by results, it’s true. But unfortunately, you got the timing wrong.” He let out a quiet, unhurried laugh. “The road to winning or losing is still a long one.”

Li Xun walked out, passing the sponsor’s representative, who had been on the phone outside. Fang Zhijing caught sight of the expression on the representative’s face, understood something, and immediately forgot about Li Xun.

Out in the corridor, Fang Zhijing composed himself and said to the representative, “Our product was only just developed — naturally it’s easier to break through at this stage. But give us enough time, and we’ll absolutely be able to polish it into something airtight.”

The representative shook his head. Fang Zhijing tried to continue. The representative patted him on the shoulder in a gesture of consolation.

Fang Zhijing clenched his jaw and pressed on. “I mean it — please trust in our ability. I—”

“I know you’re talented, but the company has its own decisions to make.” The representative was a technician in his thirties, slightly heavyset, wearing glasses, and looking very serious.

He said, “To be frank, the original decision to purchase the patent was partly about establishing a good collaborative relationship with the school, and partly about generating some positive publicity for the company. Now that things have turned out like this, our hands are tied as well.”

“But we agreed—”

“Your work is decent enough,” the representative said, cutting him off without any particular rush. “But — we are a security company. You understand what I’m saying?”

Fang Zhijing said nothing. The representative spoke with the measured gravity of someone delivering a hard truth: “Just now, that person — whether or not his cracking method and counterfeit replication scheme actually work or could be executed is beside the point now. The most important thing for a security company is making people feel secure. The moment a product gives people reason to doubt it, regardless of its actual quality, it has already lost all meaning and value.”

After being given a talking-to by the expert panel, Li Xun was then hauled off by old Lin for a thorough, merciless dressing-down that lasted several hours.

By the time everything had settled, it was already deep into the night.

The entrance of the administrative building was deserted. Only a single small figure remained, sitting on the steps by the side of the path.

The campus was quiet at night. It was the break period, but with the competition in progress, the school had left the lights on above the building entrance and set the fountain running, giving the night a quality that was less than desolate.

Night breeze. Rippling water. Insects singing.

Zhu Yun sat with her head bowed, chin resting on her knees.

Her phone had died. By the faint glow of the streetlamp, she passed the time watching a trail of tiny ants on the ground.

Come to think of it, she’d actually eaten those once — ate a whole skewer of them…

As Zhu Yun drifted through these idle, wandering thoughts, a low, raspy voice came from behind her —

“Sitting out here feeding the mosquitoes?”

Zhu Yun turned around.

Li Xun stood beside a utility pole. Above his head, tiny insects circled in the glow of the streetlamp.

Zhu Yun stood up and dusted off her clothes.

She wanted to ask how badly he’d been berated, but seeing how exhausted he looked, she didn’t want to make him say any more than necessary.

Li Xun’s face was heavy with weariness. He lowered his head to light a cigarette, then asked, “Happy now?”

Zhu Yun nodded.

Li Xun gave the cigarette a satisfied tap, tilted his head back, and said with quiet ease —

“Then smile for me.”