Chapter Fifty-Two: Be Mine!

Chapter Fifty-Two: Be My Woman!

Qiao Nanxin was almost rendered speechless by Tang Zhong’s retort. Yet, remembering how she had stumbled repeatedly in front of him—failing both in strength and wit—she was unwilling to admit defeat so easily.

With a cold smile, she declared, “Men conquer the world to conquer women, while women conquer men to conquer the world. If my opponent in this debate can’t even grasp such logic, it just shows how flawed his argument is.”

“There’s a saying, ‘men chase women,’ but have you ever heard of ‘women chasing men’? This proves that, since ancient times, it’s always been men conquering women.”

“Every year, the NBA Finals and the World Cup draw hundreds of millions of viewers, and aren’t all the players men? Men conquer the world through their careers, and then they win over women. Since ancient times, beauties have fallen for heroes. If you’re not a hero, why would women love you?”

“Take Aoi—” Tang Zhong quickly stopped himself when he saw Qiao Nanxin eyeing him with amusement. He had wanted to argue that even someone like Aoi Sora, who conquered the world, ultimately would still be conquered by men. But with Dean Qiao Yuheng sitting right there, how could he utter such a woman’s name? If the dean didn’t know who Aoi was, it would be fine, but if he did… that would be disastrous.

“Why aren’t you finishing?” Qiao Nanxin asked sweetly, eyes crinkling. “Out of words? Realized your mistake?”

“In the end, all women marry men. That’s an indisputable fact.”

“We’re arguing over whether that girl accepted that boy’s confession—not whether women marry men in general. It doesn’t mean she has to marry that particular boy.”

“All right, all right,” Dean Qiao Yuheng knocked on the table to interrupt. He knew if he didn’t step in, these two could argue for three days and nights.

Tang Zhong smiled, ceasing the debate, and respectfully looked to Qiao Yuheng. “Professor, since you raised the question, perhaps you should tell us the answer.”

Qiao Yuheng looked a bit embarrassed. “Actually, I only thought of the question on the spot… But you both debated very well. Exceptionally well. Your analytical skills are impressive. That’s quite something.”

Qiao Yuheng felt both frustrated and gratified.

He was pleased that both his students had sharp tongues—an essential quality for a psychology teacher. To observe and to express clearly is fundamental. Moreover, their powers of observation and logical reasoning were outstanding: they could associate and infer, making them promising students.

But he was frustrated that, after he spoke for just two minutes, they could debate for half a day. If every class was a battlefield between the two, how could he conduct his lectures?

“But there should be an answer, shouldn’t there?” Qiao Nanxin complained. “When you thought up this question, what answer did you have in mind?”

“I only thought of the question, not the answer…”

“You—!”

Knowing his granddaughter’s competitive nature, and how she was being overshadowed by Tang Zhong since arriving at Nanda, Qiao Yuheng coughed softly and said, “I only wanted to test your analytical abilities. Your performance has satisfied me, and that’s enough. Now, let’s continue with the lesson.”

When Qiao Yuheng put on his stern face, his authority was unmistakable. Even if Qiao Nanxin felt he was playing favorites, she could only fall silent. Tang Zhong, of course, had nothing to say; he was here to learn psychology, not to squabble with a woman.

-----------

The rain had lessened, and the wind grew gentler.

A mist hung in the air, as if the lush campus were draped in a sheer veil. Green trees, red flowers, rockeries and pavilions, tall buildings with crimson tiles, and the streams of people walking in the rain—all were imbued with a hazy beauty.

Such is the way of life: beauty lies in what we cannot clearly see. Once everything is seen through, no longing remains.

The school hadn’t ordered the freshmen to continue with drills, so the students enjoyed a rare day off. Idlers like Hua Ming and Liang Tao were no doubt holed up in the dormitory playing cards. Li Yu was hunched over the computer playing games. Some chose to catch up on sleep, making up for what they’d lost over the past days. Of course, there were also studious types who braved the rain under umbrellas to visit the library, as well as those who loved beautiful women who also found their way to the library—under the same pretext.

Nanda’s library was renowned throughout the country’s academic world. It was said to have the largest collection, the most rare editions, and the strongest scholarly atmosphere of any university library. It’s no exaggeration to say that some students applied to Nanda solely for its library.

Rows of bookshelves stood upright, like soldiers awaiting inspection. Students wove between them, searching for books according to the classified index.

For students, youth literature and novels were the most popular—these shelves were the fullest, and drew the most borrowers. The least visited section was “Religion and Others,” tucked away in the farthest corner of the vast hall. The library was so large and the back rows so deserted that it was almost a kingdom unto itself.

Today, a rather unusual young man appeared in that remote corner.

He was unusual mainly because of his peculiar appearance. Short in stature, barely one meter sixty. His eyes were sunken, as if someone had punched them into their sockets. His chin protruded excessively, making him look like an unfinished product of evolution.

His back was slightly hunched, his head perpetually bowed. He walked with a strange hop, as if springs were attached to his feet.

If one had to find a redeeming feature, it would be his glasses—rare tortoiseshell frames, each pair worth tens or even hundreds of thousands.

In his hands, he held two books: “The History of the Popes” and “A Grand View of Zen in China.”

When he caught sight of an old, battered thread-bound copy of “Tui Bei Tu” on the shelf, his eyes lit up and he reached for it.

Unfortunately, he was a step too slow—someone on the other side of the shelf had already taken it.

A young man and woman emerged from behind the shelves: the man handsome and extraordinary, the woman ethereal as an immortal. Together, they looked like a celestial couple descended from the heavens.

Comparison is the thief of joy. The contrast between the odd-looking boy and the elegant pair could not have been starker—coarse stitches and tattered rags versus fine embroidery and brocade robes, one from the heavens, the other from the earth. The difference was overwhelming.

Yet the short young man showed no fear; in fact, a note of mockery flickered in his gaze.

“You’re in good spirits today, Young Master You,” Lu Junzhuo said, flipping through the “Tui Bei Tu” he had snatched. “They say this book has predicted a thousand years of China’s history without fail—what do you think?”

“I only know it predicted one thing,” the short youth suddenly darted forward, punching Lu Junzhuo in the chest. As Lu raised a hand to block, the boy switched tactics with lightning speed and grabbed the book from him.

Lu Junzhuo hadn’t truly wanted the book; since the other snatched it, he let it go and prepared to withdraw—

But the situation shifted again.

The short boy, now in possession of “Tui Bei Tu,” didn’t stop there. Spinning back, he launched another punch at Lu Junzhuo’s chest. Lu tried to block, but was a moment too slow; the blow landed, and his tall frame staggered back five or six paces before he managed to steady himself.

A metallic taste filled his throat, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“It predicted you’d take a punch from me,” the short youth sneered, waving the book. “No one dares steal from me.”

Cunning. Arrogant. Ruthless.

With a single glance, Su Shan had already defined the target of their quest.

Lu Junzhuo drew a white silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his lips with exquisite care, every movement as refined as if he were a prince raised by royalty.

“Don’t you think—” he said, gripping the handkerchief, his face shadowed, “this is going a bit too far?”

“Too far?” the short boy sneered. “What does that even mean? You tried to take what I wanted. I punished you—what’s wrong with that? If you take what I want, and I can’t punish you, now that would be too far.”

“Young Master You,” Su Shan extended her hand, “I’m Su Shan. This is Lu Junzhuo. We came to make friends with you.”

“Su Shan?” The boy clutched his book tightly, ignoring her beautiful, outstretched hand—a classic outsider’s response. “Anyone who can win over those sharp-eyed old men must be decent enough.”

“Friends?” His lips curled in a mocking smile. “I don’t make friends. I only keep dogs.”

Lu Junzhuo’s face darkened, his gaze turning venomous.

“What, too blunt for you?” The boy laughed. “Do you really have friends? Are you two even friends?”

“Of course we’re friends,” Lu Junzhuo replied loudly.

The boy shook his head. “If that’s truly what you believe, then I can only sigh at how adorably naïve the young heir of the Lu family is. Is someone like that even worthy to be my opponent? If you’re lying, then I must applaud you—putting on such an act at a time like this, spouting such sentimental slogans. You deserve an Oscar for best performance.”

He pointed at Su Shan. “She’s much more honest than you. And smarter, too.”

Lu Junzhuo glanced at Su Shan, a flash of resentment in his eyes.

Su Shan, throughout, remained calm and composed in both manner and speech. She was neither weak nor aggressive, but spoke in a clear, gentle tone. “Why refuse?”

“Then you tell me, why should I join?” the boy retorted.

“You want me to join just to use the You family’s reputation as a shield, isn’t that right?” he sneered. “I could join White Eagle or Black Eagle instead. Or even raise my own eagle. Why should I join you?”

“Looks like we came in vain,” Lu Junzhuo said to Su Shan.

“No. At least you’ve shown your sincerity,” the boy replied. “You invited me; if I refuse, that’s you respecting me. If you ignore me and I show up on my own, I won’t respect you. If you truly want me to join Red Hawk, I have two conditions—”

“What are they?” Su Shan asked.

“First, I want to be vice president,” the boy demanded boldly.

“No problem,” Su Shan agreed at once. Someone with his background certainly deserved the post.

“Second—” he looked at her, “You’ll be my woman.”