Chapter 06
Banquet
Dim light cascaded down,
The corridor fell silent, as if an almost imperceptible gaze was sweeping across this corner.
The door lock was picked.
Just as Lin Yan pushed one of the doors half-open, a figure curled up in the corner tugged at the corner of his clothes, panic-stricken: “Lin Yan… Classmate Lin Yan, please, I beg you, please go to the banquet…”
The lights in the dorm room were off.
Half of Lin Yan’s body was submerged in the darkness. His eyes were slightly downcast, his expression difficult to discern.
Under the spreading stillness,
Desperate pleas, tinged with terror, continuously pressed Lin Yan to turn back. The figure lost all discretion, pleading: “I beg you, Classmate Lin Yan, if… if you don’t go to the banquet tonight, I’ll really die…”
There was no rain in Aurora tonight.
Spreading, pitch-black tree branches surrounded the crescent moon. The crescent moon scattered a gentle, luminous glow. An owl hopped onto the branch closest to the moon, its yellow irises and black pupils staring at Lin Yan as if hypnotizing him.
With a “bang,”
The curled-up figure struggled a few times, terrified of failing to carry out Master Leslie’s task well. Suddenly, he knelt down, wailing in despair: “I beg you, Lin Yan… They… they… they… will definitely… definitely bully me…”
Despair spread throughout the entire corridor.
Some seemed righteous with indignation, others seemed to wear expressions of grief.
Amidst the chaotic disorder,
A voice, very light and carrying a hint of chill, came through.
“You mean, like this for me?”
The noise receded like a tide, and the various figures seemed to have their throats gripped, unable to speak. The slender figure with his back to them didn’t seem to notice this slightly guilty atmosphere, turning his head to glance at the figure kneeling on the ground.
Green hair, brown eyes, a black mole beside his nose.
In the original owner’s vague memory, the pain of a tired body forcibly shutting down, only to be awakened by a basin of cold water—the original owner hadn’t seen the faces clearly, only remembered the gleaming golden hair by the bed, the black mole on the face of the person by the door, the overlapping figures in the corridor.
Lin Yan was enveloped in the hazy moonlight. Even his usual cold, fair skin was covered in a layer of soft luster. When his eyelids drooped, one could only catch a glimpse of a distant, aloofness that kept people at a distance: “That day, who opened the dormitory door?”
The aristocratic children looked down upon the scholarship students’ dormitory building. Some nobles, afraid of being tainted with poverty, would go out of their way to avoid it. If no one had led the way, how could they have pinpointed the original owner’s dorm so accurately in the narrow stairwell?
The figure immediately collapsed onto the floor, letting out a few almost imperceptible, hoarse gasps.
The dorm door was locked from the inside, and the faint moonlight that had filtered through finally vanished, plunging the entire corridor back into its original dimness.
The figure curled up by the door seemed startled by the sound of the door closing, swaying unconsciously. Then came thunderous pounding on the door, his mind a complete blank, desperate and terrified: “It wasn’t me, Lin Yan, it wasn’t me, it’s not me, really it’s not me, I didn’t do it…”
.
There was a yew forest in the southern district of Aurora.
Every autumn and winter, the woods would be covered in ripe small fruits of varying red and purple hues. Sparrows would occasionally prey on them, but more often than not, they would be chased away by the young masters living on the south side of the forest.
Aurora’s banquets were mostly held on the north side of the southern district.
Manors, villas, castles, and racecourses, each with different architectural styles, were often playgrounds for the young masters’ amusement. Interests were intertwined among the high-ranking nobles, and the status of low-ranking nobles was only slightly above that of the scholarship students. When the young masters were struck by a whim, even low-ranking nobles could become fish on the chopping block.
This banquet was held in a castle.
Gothic architecture, with towering spires, classic and elegant. Nobles who had received invitations, adorned with Freud roses, all wore proper tailcoats and leather shoes, and had spritzed on perfume.
Servants smiled, bending low to usher guests inside. They passed through a passageway lined with famous paintings like “Day and Night” and “The Last Supper,” and stepped into the resplendent castle. Crystal chandeliers, fresh Freud roses still bearing dewdrops, and melodious piano music grazed over the nobles who wore smiles tinged with detachment.
The four young masters at the apex of Aurora’s pyramid.
F2 spent a few days each month praying at the St. Erbi Church, F4 had gone to Caya, hailed as the “best holy land for Federation racing,” F3’s whereabouts were unknown. Only F1 remained upstairs in the castle.
The nobles engaged in spontaneous, flattering conversations, their gazes subtly fixed on the movements in the shadows on the western side of the castle.
The moment Lin Yan regained his senses, he found himself at the heart of the banquet, a deck of cards in his hand.
The world consciousness of this book, which still existed, was controlling his body, bringing him to this banquet, bringing him to this glittering center, forcing him to walk through this plot in place of the original owner.
Crowds of people, a world of luxury and dissipation. The pride and arrogance born from long-term navigation of the circles of fame and fortune. Strange gazes, full of malice, swept over Lin Yan’s body as if scrutinizing him.
Lin Yan stared at the card table, quickly assessing his current situation.
He was dealing cards.
He was now a croupier.
This scene was also in the original book.
The original owner, because of F4’s red card, was summoned to deal at the banquet. He didn’t know how, nor did he understand the rules, becoming a laughingstock. In the end, it was the protagonist, Mu Lan, who appeared like a deus ex machina and took the original owner away.
Lin Yan didn’t know if the world consciousness controlling him still existed in this world.
He could die, but he couldn’t leave so inexplicably. Unaware of the danger, Lin Yan felt it was best to follow the plot for now.
Lin Yan slightly lowered his eyes. Although his status at the banquet was low, he was standing, naturally taller than those seated, which gave him a somewhat condescending air.
Before Lin Yan transmigrated into the book, he had spent two years enduring gambling dens, and had also worked as a croupier.
Shuffling, cutting—these were instincts stored in Lin Yan’s memory, movements as fluid as floating clouds and flowing water.
The puppet-like figure, seemingly controlled just moments ago, gradually faded, revealing the original form of this current vessel.
The figures secretly scrutinized Lin Yan’s actions.
Lin Yan really did seem to have changed.
Bai Heng arrived a bit late. He hadn’t come downstairs. His black hair had some green highlights mixed in. Despite the luxurious banquet, he wore a loose, unzipped jacket. His gait was lazy and listless, lifting his eyelids just a fraction as he scanned the banquet hall below with boredom.
There was a guy near the main seats.
Aurora’s school uniform was made of silk.
The silky shirt slightly lifted, revealing a slender waist. He had a beautiful face but lacked the corresponding power. Immersed in the world of luxury, he seemed like a sparkling, translucent piece of jade, like fragile porcelain, yet also an unyielding bamboo.
Bai Heng’s scattered gaze lingered for a few seconds, noticing a red mole behind the guy’s ear, set against his snow-white skin—a pervasive, unspeakable ambiguity.
A round of cards had just concluded.
The young masters, who had touched card tables millions of times, could naturally appreciate Lin Yan’s proficiency.
The young masters glanced at Lin Yan, seemingly unintentionally, and were about to speak.
Clang—the castle’s power went out.
Outside the window, a vast, overwhelming mist of rain poured straight down, as if to expel outsiders.
Lin Yan’s vision went black. He couldn’t speak. He felt trapped inside his own body, watching the banquet guests leave, the voices disappear. Passively, he felt his body move, walking back numbly to the scholarship students’ dormitory under the crowd’s malevolent gazes, his expression wooden.
Aurora’s rainy season seemed like an independent apocalypse, cut off from the outside world.
When Lin Yan opened his eyes again, he was lying in bed.
The weather outside was clear, and he was once again in control of himself.
Various invitations were placed on the desk.
Lin Yan threw them all into the trash, pressing his throbbing temples, thinking about the current situation.
He couldn’t be controlled.
He even considered dropping out.
But he searched the entire official website and only saw large blank spaces. He was trapped on an isolated island.
Lin Yan had no choice but to carry a knife with him at all times, constantly maintaining control over his consciousness.
He felt the control again seven days later. He stabbed himself, tied himself to the bed, and temporarily broke free from it.
Lin Yan holed up in his dorm all day, rarely going out. Whenever he felt his body start to move on its own, he would give himself another stab.
This method was undoubtedly effective.
The instances of blacking out and losing control of his limbs became fewer and weaker. Only then did Lin Yan start going out.
He understood the principle of “blocking is worse than channeling”.
.
Another banquet for resource exchange,
a world of luxury and insatiable greed.
A scholarship student was waiting outside Lin Yan’s dorm and handed him an invitation.
Lin Yan’s consciousness was once again manipulated, bringing him near the castle. He could now control his own consciousness to a certain extent and slowly moved himself to the back of the castle. Suddenly, he recalled the original book’s summary of this plot point.
[The villainous supporting character, Jonathan, coerced a scholarship student into inviting the protagonist, Mu Lan. Unwilling to see the student harmed, Mu Lan came to the banquet voluntarily.
The villainous supporting character, Jonathan, had always had things go his way. He was a natural homosexual who only played with virgins. After setting his sights on Mu Lan, he discovered Mu Lan had a boyfriend, Lin Yan.
He began to frequently cause trouble for Mu Lan, but it only accelerated the development of feelings between Mu Lan and the F4s. In the end, his family was ruined, and he died a miserable death.
The plot point that truly earned Mu Lan the trust of the scholarship student community was:
A scholarship student was turned into a human target. Jonathan gave a gun to both Mu Lan and an aristocratic male student.]
The original text read as follows:
[Jonathan smiled, slowly pulling a gun from the drawer.
The dark muzzle swept across the human targets on the platform.
The banquet hall erupted in an uproar. Even the nobles were startled. Soft sobbing came from the platform.
Jonathan smiled, soothing the crowd: “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid. I’m a lawful citizen of the Federation. This is just a toy gun.”
As he spoke, he pulled the trigger twice.
The muzzle spat out a rose and a jasmine.
Jonathan continued, smiling: “Just a little game. Best two out of three. Whoever guesses correctly wins.”
“The losing side has to grant the winning side one request.”
He tucked the rose into Mu Lan’s chest and the jasmine into the aristocratic male student’s chest, pointing the gun straight at the ceiling. “Bang!”—colored streamers fluttered down everywhere.
Mu Lan’s face was pale: “Didn’t you say there were only two possibilities?”
Jonathan symbolically blew on the dark muzzle, smiling without speaking. Mu Lan’s face grew even paler, but he still gently smiled at his companion on the platform, soothing them:
“Don’t be afraid. Justice will triumph over evil.”
From then on, Mu Lan’s reputation soared. He became the savior of Aurora—the savior that low-ranking nobles and scholarship students, who had no voice in Aurora, would think of first for anything.]
The reality inside the castle continued to function in an orderly manner.
Bai Heng, who had been curled up on the sofa almost all night without making a sound, chuckled disdainfully. He stood up and lazily went up to the second floor.
Leslie, who had been restless and anxious all night, only stood up after Bai Heng left the room. As soon as he reached the second floor, he saw Bai Heng playing billiards.
Bai Heng’s stance and grip were perfect.
After potting a ball with one shot, he stood up and threw down his cue.
Light and shadow divided Bai Heng’s features. He casually threw on a jacket, his hair disheveled, black tips gradually shading to green. He lifted his chin slightly, a hint of arrogance in his grey eyes, and directly left the castle.
Nights in Aurora were very cold. The shadows of the yew forest vaguely and dimly lay on the ground. The trees’ shadows danced, almost inextricably intertwined with human silhouettes.
The back of the castle was cool and shaded. Countless creepers climbed the classical walls, yet few people ever came here.
The view was dim and lightless, only a shallow layer of moonlight scattered on the ground.
A stretch of snow-white shadow was reflected on the window surface.
A few sketched lines, slender and cool, as if a figure drawn on paper had come to life.
A sparrow hopped over the creeper vines on the ground, chirping, seemingly startling the figure in the painting. That stretch of snow-white shadow seemed to soften a little as it looked over.
Bai Heng, who had been harassed countless times, actually felt an urge to dodge. But this was a corner—shallow coffee-colored stone steps, the steps and ground covered in creeper vines, desolate and bleak, only the moonlight flowing quietly.
Accustomed to countless people rushing to greet and introduce themselves, Bai Heng was momentarily speechless. He subconsciously straightened his jacket, then saw the other person walking this way.
Shadows fell on the ground.
Just as the two shadows were about to overlap completely,
Lin Yan suddenly crouched down.
His face cold, he pressed down on the sparrow’s head and touched its wing.
Another injured sparrow.
Recently, the number of injured animals in Aurora had exceeded the norm.
After compiling the animal data, the medical staff had puzzledly prepared some medicine, distributing it to Aurora’s animal protection association, and also giving a bottle to Lin Yan, who often visited the hospital.
Maybe it was a regional thing, but Aurora’s animals were usually quite fierce. Yet this sparrow seemed born weak, actually staring with its pitch-black eyes, motionless, letting itself be handled.
This time its wing was injured.
Perhaps it was Aurora’s recent terrible weather—even the sparrow couldn’t see the road clearly. It probably wasn’t the worst-case scenario the medical staff had imagined.
Lin Yan sighed in relief. Habitually, he took out the medicine and bandages from his pocket. He lowered his head, skillfully sprinkling powder on the sparrow’s snow-white wing. One hand was clumsy; just as he fumbled slightly while unwrapping the bandage,
Bai Heng casually leaned against the wall, condescendingly scrutinizing Lin Yan’s movements. He thought idly,
So this time, this scholarship student trying to get close
wanted to use caring for animals as a ploy—like sheltering a kitten from rain or holding an umbrella for a snail—to attract his attention.
Bai Heng’s greyish pupils moved.
He reached out a hand, without any particular intention.
Another hand appeared in the sparrow’s field of vision.
It looked like a hand accustomed to a life of luxury.
The sparrow glared at this “intruding hand,” refusing help from anyone else. It flapped its wings, striking the “intruding hand.” Because of this struggle, Lin Yan messed up wrapping the bandage. He pressed the sparrow’s neck slightly more firmly, lifted his eyelids, and coldly scolded: “Be quiet.”
Bai Heng noticed the guy had strikingly dark eyebrows and eyes.
Ink dots on snow, forming a vivid and powerful soul.
For an instant, Lin Yan’s eyes seemed to reflect Bai Heng’s figure. Bai Heng even imagined that those pale hands were pressing on his neck, slightly firm, telling him “Be quiet.”
Bai Heng was momentarily silent,
his gaze falling on the other’s slightly bowed neck.
Very pale skin, or perhaps an illusion brought by the moonlight.
Lin Yan quickly finished bandaging the sparrow. He tapped its head, his voice relaxed: “Poor little thing, be careful walking in the rain next time.”
It was a slender, pale knuckle.
Poor little thing.
The sparrow wasn’t a poor little thing.
The sparrow gently brushed its feathers against Lin Yan’s finger. Lin Yan stroked its feathers, then, as if remembering something, coldly said: “Thanks.”
Only two people and one bird were present.
This “thanks” was meant for him, Bai Heng thought, scrutinizing Lin Yan’s next move—seems like the tactics of Aurora’s scholarship students were reaching new heights.
Lin Yan quickly stood up.
The sparrow obediently nestled in his palm, glaring fiercely at Bai Heng.
But Bai Heng didn’t care,
because he noticed their shadows subtly overlapped.
Bai Heng looked up again, his highlighted green hair showing.
He noticed the other person was also wearing a black jacket.
This subtle, indescribable amusement quickly occupied Bai Heng’s mind.
Interesting.
Bai Heng thought idly.
Most people familiar with him knew Bai Heng liked wearing black jackets. This guy really had done his homework.
Lin Yan didn’t know what Bai Heng was thinking. He turned and left.
Bai Heng scrutinized Lin Yan’s retreating figure.
People always came to harass him. Bai Heng didn’t care. He leaned lazily against the wall, idly wondering about Lin Yan’s purpose, teasingly uttering a syllable.
Lin Yan didn’t really want to respond.
But, considering Bai Heng had tried to lend a hand to the sparrow earlier, he was about to turn his head slightly when he heard the guy behind him speak again, his voice carrying the condescension and arrogance of someone who had long occupied a high position:
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Lin Yan lowered his eyes.
But the guy behind him took a few steps forward, so he had to turn his head and perfunctorily reply: “I’m a student at Aurora.”
Suddenly, a burst of cheers and excitement came from inside the castle—the bright, joyful delight unique to the scholarship students.
The banquet was over.
Bai Heng leaned against the wall, let out a soft laugh.
The invisible restraint on Lin Yan finally dissolved. Expressionless, he walked forward.
The only window on the back of the castle leaked some dazzling light, separating the two—one side entirely in shadow, the other entirely illuminated.
Bai Heng lazily stared at that beam of light, not knowing what he was thinking.
Lin Yan took a detour along the small path, walking on a rarely used back route. He tiredly lowered his eyes, heading towards the dormitory building, slowly exhaling in relief.
This act, at last, had temporarily concluded.
Lin Yan could feel it.
He would have a long period of time where he absolutely would not be controlled.
