Ji Yan was the counselor for Class Three of Yanjing University’s Business Administration program. She’d guided them since freshman year and continued into their sophomore year. It was a relatively easy job—college students were independent, with lighter academic loads, fitting her career plans perfectly. If only there weren’t a few troublemakers stirring things up.
Unfortunately, Jiang Feng was the most notorious of them.
Skipping classes? Fine. Ignoring her calls? Whatever. Skipping exams? Well, if he didn’t care, she couldn’t drag him to the test room. Students had to take responsibility for themselves—she’d done her part. But fighting on campus? That crossed her line of tolerance.
Today, Director Wang Hai called, subtly urging her to give Jiang Feng special treatment, hinting he wasn’t like other students. Ji Yan cut the call short. She knew Jiang Feng’s elite background—a rumored blend of political and business wealth. So what? To her, a student was a student, regardless of status. If he couldn’t even manage that, what could he achieve?
She dismissed Wang’s words but decided to talk to Jiang Feng at the start of the new semester. Repeated calls went unanswered, nearly making her smash her phone. Later, heading to the library for materials, she spotted him.
Jiang Feng rarely showed up—after a year, even classmates barely knew him, and Ji Yan’s memory of his face was vague. But she recognized him. And then she saw red.
Her commanding presence took charge instantly. Seeing Guo Conghu’s sheepish look, Jiang Feng couldn’t help but chuckle.
Ji Yan glared. “Jiang Feng, stop laughing. Do you even respect me as your teacher?”
Jiang Feng coughed, muttering, “Hello, Teacher Ji.”
Teacher Ji? Chen Siran recalled Ji Yan’s name and role. Ji Yan was somewhat famous at Yanjing University, but since Chen Siran was in a different college and a year ahead, she hadn’t immediately placed her. Only a teacher could make Jiang Feng so “obedient.”
Chen Siran spoke up. “Teacher Ji, I’m Chen Siran. Hello.”
Ji Yan had noticed Chen Siran, knowing her name but not her face. She’d assumed the fight was over her—some jealousy-fueled brawl. Hearing Chen Siran introduce herself eased her expression.
Unlike Jiang Feng’s troublemaking, Chen Siran was the opposite: high-born, academically stellar, skilled in traditional painting and piano, a gem of the Literature College’s top class. Known for her impeccable conduct, she was beloved by faculty. Though Ji Yan hadn’t met her, she held a positive impression. “Miss Chen, what’s going on with these two?”
“We’re friends,” Chen Siran said after a pause.
“Friends?” Ji Yan was skeptical.
“Yes, friends,” Chen Siran said firmly.
“Really?” Ji Yan asked Jiang Feng.
Surprised by Chen Siran’s defense, Jiang Feng followed her lead. “Teacher Ji, we were just messing around. Please don’t take it seriously.”
He wasn’t scared of Ji Yan but wanted to avoid trouble, especially with his growing list of problems. He’d likely see her often on campus, so keeping peace was wiser.
Ji Yan doubted Jiang Feng but trusted Chen Siran. Noticing no blood or bruises—just rumpled clothes—she conceded it might’ve been playful. Her expression softened slightly, though she kept a stern tone. “Jiang Feng, I don’t care if you’re friends or not. This is an educational institution—your actions can’t disrupt academic order. If they do, I’ll report you.”
Jiang Feng nodded reluctantly.
After a few more reprimands, Ji Yan left.
The trio exchanged glances, sharing a wry smile. Guo Conghu wanted to ask Jiang Feng what happened but couldn’t bring himself to speak. Sulking, he got into the car.
Jiang Feng ignored Guo Conghu’s mood. He’d come to the library for books and, already delayed, nodded to Chen Siran before heading inside.
Chen Siran often studied in the library’s quiet atmosphere. Meeting Jiang Feng was a coincidence—she hadn’t planned to alter her routine and followed him in.
Guo Conghu watched them enter, stunned, muttering, “Does Young Miss like violent guys?”
Shortly after Ji Yan left, a white BMW stopped her. The window rolled down, revealing a man’s smiling face. “Xiao Yan, over here.”
“Chang Shan, what’re you doing here?” Ji Yan asked, her frustration easing.
“Just passing by, thought I’d see you. Got time for dinner?” Chang Shan said.
Ji Yan hesitated. “It’s the first day—probably not.”
“I know you’re busy, but it’s just dinner. Won’t take long—I’ll drive you back after,” Chang Shan insisted, stepping out to open the passenger door.
Unable to refuse, Ji Yan got in. The BMW headed toward the campus gate.
Inside the library, Jiang Feng and Chen Siran parted ways. He skimmed a catalog, then went straight for his target books—ancient texts like Essential Prescriptions from the Golden Cabinet, Bronze Man Acupuncture and Moxibustion Classic, Treatise on Febrile Diseases, and others like Miscellaneous Morsels from Youyang, Seven Tablets of the Cloudy Satchel, and The Glory of Yue.
He wasn’t chasing grandeur. Studying the The Classic of the Way had revealed the vast complexity of Chinese culture, hinting that these texts might hold unique insights. Even without discoveries, they’d complement his Tianyuan Continent knowledge, aiding his strength and mindset.
Sadly, many were either rare originals he couldn’t access or modern reprints with missing parts—a pity.
Classical Chinese was tough to read and harder to grasp, slowing Jiang Feng down. Occasional comprehension issues frustrated him. In the late Qi Refining stage, a scan with divine sense could imprint texts instantly, but for now, he trudged forward step by step.
Gathering books, he found an empty seat and began reading.
Chen Siran, also fond of classical culture, had different tastes. After some effort, she found her desired book. Spotting an empty seat near Jiang Feng, she hesitated but approached.
Passing behind him, she glanced at his books and froze. Her love for classical culture gave her passing familiarity with these obscure texts, though their complexity limited her to surface knowledge.
Jiang Feng’s presence near the library had surprised her, but she’d brushed it off—until Guo Conghu’s outburst. Seeing him actually enter the library piqued her curiosity, though she assumed he was there for books or to ogle women, given the library’s serene setting and abundance of attractive students.
Now, seeing those books, she was moved. These were mostly rare originals, hard to find, yet Jiang Feng had gathered them thoroughly. Unlike others, she didn’t think he was posing.
As she passed, Jiang Feng didn’t flinch, oblivious to her presence. Watching him study Essential Prescriptions from the Golden Cabinet, frowning and pondering, Chen Siran’s heart jolted. She and Guo Conghu had misjudged him.
Jiang Feng wasn’t here for women—he was here to read.
In that moment, her calm heart stirred chaotically.