UCS Chapter 137

Chapter 137

 

Undercurrents were surging.

 

Gao Gusheng discovered a bloody gash on Mo Hua’s arm.

 

The wound wasn’t gruesome, but it was long and dripping with fresh blood.

 

“How did this happen?!”

 

Gao Gusheng asked anxiously while bandaging the wound, but Mo Hua remained silent.

 

Eventually, after making some inquiries, Gao Gusheng learned the truth: the gash on Mo Hua’s arm had actually been caused by a javelin.

 

That javelin had originally been aimed at Mo Hua’s leg—his most vital asset as a track-and-field athlete. “Sorry about that, Mo—our department’s resident heartthrob. I didn’t mean to.”

 

The culprit sauntered over with a cocky, insolent air and casually picked up the javelin.

 

“But hey, a heartthrob who’s already secured a guaranteed admission—it doesn’t really matter if you hurt your leg, does it? After all, you’re so close with the Gao family’s only son.”

 

Mo Hua cast a cool, indifferent glance at him before picking up the javelin. His silence only made the other guy more brazen.

 

“Ha, who are you trying to fool? You crawled out of an orphanage—poor, pathetic, unwanted trash. You must be feeling pretty smug about latching onto a ‘golden phoenix,’ right? You’re probably grinning ear to ear on the inside. Clinging to Young Master Gao all day—you’ve probably drained yourself dry. I bet your grades are just the result of popping stimulants, anyway. Not that it matters; the spot was already rigged for you.”

 

Amidst the taunts, Mo Hua walked to the far edge of the training field, turned, and began his run-up.

 

He was the best athlete of his year and the undisputed campus heartthrob; even without using his special abilities, he moved as fast as the wind.

 

The javelin shot from his hand like a bolt of white lightning, tracing a perfect arc through the air. It landed right beside the culprit’s feet, having traveled a distance that shattered the school record.

 

Had it veered just one centimeter closer, the javelin would have pierced right through the man’s foot.

 

Cold sweat instantly broke out all over the culprit, as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head.

 

*How is this possible?!*

 

*How could he throw it that far?*

 

Mo Hua walked over to him, step by measured step.

 

Despite the vast training field and the crowd of trainees present, no one moved; they simply watched as Mo Hua walked right up to the culprit and picked up the javelin from the ground. “Useless.”

 

He picked up the javelin and returned it to its rack.

 

The assailant snapped out of his shock, consumed by rage. “You fucking…”

 

But when Mo Hua glanced his way, the sunlight reflecting off the silvery javelin behind him seared the other boy’s eyes; he shuddered violently, and the rest of his curse died in his throat—he couldn’t bring himself to utter another word.

 

What a terrifying gaze.

 

He looked just like a wild, untamed wolf.

 

…

 

After Gao Gusheng finished bandaging Mo Hua, he learned of a conflict within the Student Council.

 

Two days after the Minister of Living and Sanitation revealed the crucial information regarding the “Self-Management Committee,” he resigned.

 

According to the Minister of Discipline, he had seen the Minister of Living and Sanitation secretly carrying a letter toward the area where the Self-Management Committee gathered.

 

Left with no choice, they had to urgently select an interim minister.

 

The person chosen was Zhang Xu.

 

Zhang Xu was so active in the Performance Art Department that people had almost forgotten he was also a member of the Student Council.

 

After taking office and attending his first meeting, Zhang Xu voiced dissenting opinions regarding Yun Zhiyi’s decisions.

 

Some of his points were quite reasonable—even more comprehensive than the considerations of Yun Zhiyi, who had already weighed numerous factors.

 

Others, however, sounded utterly far-fetched.

 

It was only after events unfolded that everyone realized just how much foresight Zhang Xu had possessed.

 

Compared to him, Yun Zhiyi was like an oil lamp standing beside an electric light.

 

An oil lamp could certainly provide light, but once the electric light arrived, who would still need the oil lamp?

 

One instance might have been a fluke, but in nearly every subsequent meeting, he continued to offer superior insights. Yun Zhiyi, who had always run the Student Union with impeccable order, began to see hesitation and doubt in the eyes of the department heads.

 

The Self-Management Committee kept stirring up trouble, forcing the Student Union to hold daily meetings to deal with the fallout; day by day, Yun Zhiyi watched the skepticism in the department heads’ eyes deepen.

 

Within just a week, she realized she could no longer fully control the Student Union.

 

It was as if Zhang Xu, rather than she, were the true Student Union President.

 

Sitting in the president’s chair, she listened to Zhang Xu put forward proposal after proposal and watched the department heads gaze at him with admiration—feeling all the while like an invisible bystander.

 

Under Zhang Xu’s guidance, the Self-Management Committee was gradually brought under control.

 

Although she and Gao Gusheng later discovered that Zhang Xu himself appeared to be the very person who had instigated the committee…

 

…it no longer mattered.

 

She had voluntarily stepped down.

 

***

 

“I’m the one who resigned, not you. The way you’re acting, anyone would think *I* was the one leaving.”

 

Yun Zhiyi looked at Gao Gusheng, who was helping her move her luggage, and gave him a firm slap on the back.

 

“Cheer up! I don’t want a mopey lackey!”

 

Gao Gusheng forced a smile. “That’s right—our Sister Yun can make a comeback anywhere!”

 

As they spoke, they ran into Zhang Xu.

 

Standing beside Zhang Xu was Zhou Jing.

 

Zhang Xu smiled gently and greeted the two of them.

 

Zhou Jing kept his head down; his glasses obscured his eyes, making his expression unreadable.

 

After parting ways with them, the two continued their conversation as usual; Gao Gusheng glanced at Yun Zhiyi out of the corner of his eye, noting how her ponytail hung quietly down her back.

 

The memory of Zhou Jing and Sun Jun standing beside Zhang Xu weighed on his chest like a stone, making it hard to breathe.

 

He recalled the first time they had met—it was before the start of the school term, and he had been standing by the roadside waiting for Gao Shi.

 

Suddenly, he heard a commotion coming from a nearby alley.

 

He stole a glance and saw a young man being dragged into the alleyway.

 

The youth was dressed simply; his glasses had been knocked askew on his face, and his slight frame was no match for the thugs.

 

Gao Gusheng frowned immediately; he hit the emergency call button, tossed aside his luggage, and rushed forward.

 

But someone was faster than him.

 

A red blur shot forward and slammed into the largest of the thugs, bursting open on impact and releasing a potent, fragrant aroma. The thug looked comical as he tried to cover both his wrist and his nose at the same time; he roared furiously,

 

“Who?! Who the hell hit me?!”

 

The red object landed on the ground, and upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a jug of laundry detergent.

 

Its plastic casing had been smashed right against the thug’s arm. The girl, dressed in a red-and-white tracksuit, gave the toilet brush in her hand a flick and tilted her chin defiantly at the punks—her ponytail whipping through the air along with the movement. “It’s yours truly!”

 

As the eldest daughter of the Yun family and a master swordswoman—one who had reached the realm where the sword exists in the heart even when the hand holds none—she wielded the toilet brush with ferocious speed. The bristles flew wildly, turning the scene into something akin to a “dog-beating” session.

 

Beside her, her friend Tian Mian was in a panic; she held her phone to call the police with one hand and clutched other cleaning supplies in the other, looking ready to charge in with a broom to help.

 

“Let me borrow that!”

 

Gao Gusheng casually snatched the toilet plunger from the bucket. “Stay put—wait for my dad!”

 

Dad?

 

Tian Mian watched in bewilderment as an unexpected stranger snatched the dorm’s plunger and promptly slapped it onto a punk’s face.

 

With a loud *pop*, a red circle was left imprinted on the punk’s face.

 

Gao Gusheng looked at the enraged punk and smiled. “That’s better. Cleaning tools ought to be used for their proper purpose.”

 

“Your head isn’t quite clear yet; let me help suck out the rubbish inside it.”

 

The gang of punks was large and fought viciously. The boy they had dragged inside first now had an arm hanging limp—dislocated or broken, it was hard to tell—and his face was as pale as if coated in frost.

 

Unfortunately for them, however, they had run into two very tough customers.

 

Before long, the punks were sprawled all over the floor in a heap.

 

Ever since Gao Shi had forced him to learn martial arts, Gao Gusheng had never experienced a fight quite this exhilarating and dangerous. Caught up in the rush of adrenaline, he failed to notice the punk behind him who was merely feigning unconsciousness. Yun Zhiyi was administering first aid to the young man. Gao Gusheng stepped forward to help, but suddenly heard a rush of wind from behind—

 

The thug who had been feigning unconsciousness had snatched up a watermelon knife from the ground and was slashing right at him!

 

Just as Gao Gusheng was about to fail to dodge in time, there was a sharp *thwack*—the sound of flesh meeting flesh—and the knife clattered to the ground.

 

He turned to see a young man—somewhere between boy and man—clad in a black T-shirt, gripping the thug’s wrist in a vice-like hold.

 

With an impassive expression, he punched the thug hard in the stomach, the muscles in his arm tensing visibly.

 

He looked like a cold, ferocious wolf.

 

Gao Gusheng let out a breath of relief. “Thanks.”

 

“I’m Gao Gusheng. What’s your name, brother?”

 

“Mo Hua.”

 

Just then, the sound of chaotic footsteps rang out.

 

Gao Gusheng wondered, *Could the police have arrived?*

 

To his surprise, the first person to appear was an elderly man with a full head of white hair and a white beard.

 

He was accompanied by someone who was supporting him, sweating profusely from anxiety. “Please, take it slow—slow down!”

 

Behind him came another elderly man, also with an attendant.

 

Then, as if by copy-and-paste, a whole procession of elderly men appeared.

 

Yun Zhiyi drew a sharp, quiet breath.

 

Gao Gusheng whispered, “Do you know them?”

 

Yun Zhiyi whispered back, “They’re veteran professors from Jingda—national treasures of the academic world. How did a simple fight end up attracting this whole group of senior professors?”

 

“Oh no—the last one is the professor in charge of discipline!”

 

Gao Gusheng felt his world go dark at the news. Although he had barely attended school normally, he had a vague idea that getting into a fight meant receiving a disciplinary mark on his record. He had finally managed to get out and go to school—was he really going to get expelled now?

 

Gao Gusheng thought this in despair.

 

The street outside Jingda—known simply as “Jingda Street”—truly lived up to its reputation; it was the sort of place where you might randomly run into senior professors and the Director of Student Discipline.

 

The Director of Student Discipline spotted the school badge pinned to Gao Gusheng’s chest at a glance—Gao had pinned it on in his excitement to finally attend classes, and now it instantly confirmed his identity.

 

The Director frowned slightly and asked, “Are you students from Jingda?”

 

Gao Gusheng and the other two stood in a line.

 

Then, they watched as the group of senior professors—leaning on canes—pushed aside the punks sprawled across the ground and strode briskly over to the young man lying there. “Little Jingzi, are you alright?”

 

“The bastards! They actually hit your right hand!”

 

“Think of how much this is going to set back your progress!”

 

The young man stood up and adjusted his glasses—one lens had fallen out. Although his face remained deathly pale, he appeared composed and calm, displaying a maturity far beyond his years.

 

Yun Zhiyi suddenly paused. “I know who he is.”

 

“He’s the math prodigy specially admitted to the university—Zhou Jing.”

 

Zhou Jing turned to the Director of Student Discipline. “Director, I was just mugged. It’s thanks to these students that I’m safe.”

 

He bowed earnestly to the group. “Thank you.”

 

“I’m Zhou Jing.”

 

And so, their paths crossed.

 

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