Chapter 27: Lincuan Academy

Linchuan High School—undoubtedly the most prestigious aristocratic school in Linchuan—gathered the children of the city’s most influential and noble families.

Gazing up at the grand school gate, reminiscent of a triumphal arch, the school’s name was inscribed in vigorous, flowing calligraphy, rendered in golden characters by the renowned Japanese calligrapher Sakuragi. To the right of the gate stood a lavishly decorated and fully equipped security pavilion. Two security guards, dressed in pristine uniforms, stood tall and alert beside a small open gate, overseeing the comings and goings.

Occasionally, some students arrived late. The boys wore pure white shirts beneath deep blue jackets adorned with a circle of golden tassels, tailored by hand with black buttons, the second button featuring a miniature golden emblem. Their pants were simple dress slacks. The girls’ skirts were far more playful, designed in blue and white stripes with a princess-style cut to avoid monotony. Some skirts bore diagonal metallic ornaments, paired with white leather belts whose large metal buckles echoed the decorations. They wore sky-blue knee-high stockings and white high-heeled leather shoes imbued with an air of royalty—pure aristocratic elegance.

The main gate was firmly shut, indicating classes had already begun and those arriving were tardy; yet, they entered through the smaller gate with pride and grace, unhurried. Only a few lowered their heads to offer apologies to the guards.

“Wow, this is the school? It’s so beautiful,” murmured Hei Yu Yi as he stood before Linchuan High School’s gate. Clad in a simple white loose T-shirt, a black jacket, a gray single-shoulder backpack, cheap blue jeans, and a pair of blue casual shoes—all purchased nearby for nearly two hundred yuan, a painful expense for him. His master had given him only a thousand yuan, saying that since he wanted freedom and to leave the island, he would provide only a transfer certificate for Linjing High School and a thousand yuan for travel expenses—nothing more. The travel costs alone had consumed over three hundred yuan. If not for the excessive attention he drew walking the bustling autumn streets in just his shorts, black vest, and wooden clogs, he would never have spent two hundred yuan on such attire.

On the island, everything had been provided by his master free of charge, and he had no concept of money. When hungry, he would order a few dishes at a local eatery; the portions were too small, so he added more, spending the last few hundred yuan in an instant. Now, less than a hundred yuan remained, and he grumbled about the unfairness as he stepped out amid the shopkeeper’s sarcastic remarks.

Helpless, he asked for directions repeatedly. After querying five people, he finally arrived at the gate of the school he had long awaited.

Peering through the narrow gap of the closed iron gate, he glimpsed a boundless campus, flourishing and lush with greenery. A gentle breeze stirred his long fringe, which he brushed aside as he squinted and tilted his head upward. The faint scent of books wafted from within, accompanied by soft, melodious voices reciting lessons. A subtle smile graced his lips.

This is the school I’ve dreamed of. My long-awaited school life has finally arrived.

“Hey, what are you doing there? If you have nothing to do, move along,” one guard called out.

The two guards at the gate spotted Hei Yu Yi. His shabby attire and the strange expression on his face made them suspicious—perhaps he was targeting the students inside. After all, each student came from a well-to-do background, inevitably attracting unsavory attention.

“Huh? Me?” Hei Yu Yi opened his eyes and turned toward them.

“Yeah, you. What are you doing here?” The guards exchanged a glance and approached. Their salaries were triple those of guards at other schools, so they had to maintain triple the vigilance. Any mistake could cost them their coveted high-paying jobs—or worse.

“I’m just looking at the school. I’m going to study here,” Hei Yu Yi answered earnestly, smiling sheepishly as the guards neared.

“Go on, this isn’t a school you can afford to attend,” one guard said, his brow furrowed. Perhaps he had mistaken Hei Yu Yi for someone from a poor background like himself. He once envied kids who could attend school and dreamed of entering one himself, but his family had no money. He had ended up joining the military and, after discharge, came here as a guard—an indirect fulfillment of a childhood dream. His tone softened slightly.

“But—”

“Didn’t you hear me tell you to leave?”

The other guard’s tone grew sterner when Hei Yu Yi didn’t budge.

“Wait.” Hei Yu Yi tilted his body, letting his bag slip off his shoulder. With his left hand, he gripped the bag; with his right, he unzipped it and reached inside.

“What are you doing!” The guards immediately reached behind their waists for their batons, alert.

“This is my transfer certificate.” Hei Yu Yi pulled out a slightly crumpled document from his bag.

“Huh?” The guards exchanged surprised looks, not expecting a transfer certificate. Leaning closer, they confirmed it was genuine.

“Then why aren’t you inside registering? What are you doing here?” They wondered how this poorly dressed student had managed to transfer into such an aristocratic school.

“I’ve never seen a school like this before. Well, actually, I’ve never seen a school this good,” Hei Yu Yi said, rubbing his hands and chuckling.

“Then hurry up and register. The semester’s been underway for a while, and the coursework is intense. Don’t fall behind. Linchuan High School welcomes you.” The guards stepped aside. Since he had a transfer certificate, he was officially a student, even if his appearance clashed with the school’s atmosphere. It wasn’t unusual; every elite school tried to “buy” outstanding students from smaller towns or counties to improve their admission rates to prestigious universities, attracting government subsidies and future enrollees. They called it helping underprivileged students realize their dreams.

This had become an unspoken rule among many aristocratic schools. Judging by Hei Yu Yi’s appearance, he was likely one of those “purchased” students preparing for next year’s entrance exams.

“Thank you! I’ll go in now. Bye!” Hei Yu Yi waved the certificate in one hand, greeting the guards with the other as he stepped through the gate.

“The Dean’s office is over there. After registering, go to the library to get your books. The library is that way. If you don’t know something and others won’t tell you, just come ask us.” Perhaps also from a humble background, security guard Tongye Zhi knew many students here came from proud noble families who disregarded even the guards, let alone someone like Hei Yu Yi—an unfamiliar “country bumpkin” whose clothes weren’t worth a day’s pocket money. So he kindly offered these directions.

“Thanks, Uncle Tongye.”

After walking only a few steps, Hei Yu Yi became confused. The school was large, and he couldn’t find the registration office. Hearing Tongye’s instructions, he followed them.

“How does he know my name?” Tongye Zhi felt a spark of electricity when Hei Yu Yi called him by name, suddenly energizing him. In nearly five years working here, this was the first time a student had said his name. It warmed his heart. But how did he know my name?

As a competent assassin, Hei Yu Yi always observed his surroundings carefully, memorizing the exact locations of all objects. He had simply glanced at the name tags on the guards’ chests.

After nearly ten minutes, Hei Yu Yi found the Dean’s office. He placed his hand on the door handle and pushed open the door, revealing a lavish office of nearly one hundred square meters—entirely befitting an aristocratic school.

A woman around forty sat behind the desk, dressed in a half-undone black business suit that revealed a black lace bra embracing her chest like proud grapefruit. Her skirt had ridden up, and her flushed face wore an expression of pleasure. The high-end rosewood desk shielded what lay below.

Yet Hei Yu Yi’s keen senses told him someone was beneath the desk.

Though he had heard from senior masters returning from missions about the chaotic connections outside, the reality was still shocking to Hei Yu Yi, fresh from the “Wolf Island.”

“*Ahem*,” Hei Yu Yi stood awkwardly. Should he leave, or stay? Should he leave, or…?

“Who are you?” The woman opened her dreamy eyes, suddenly alert at the sight of someone standing at the door. She quickly composed herself, straightened her clothes, and kicked her foot as a subtle signal—possibly to someone under the desk.

“Should I move away?” Hei Yu Yi scratched the back of his head, embarrassed, pondering whether to step out and let the Dean emerge from under the desk. Otherwise, who would handle his enrollment procedures? He also hoped this woman wasn’t going to be one of his teachers—he didn’t want to be targeted on his first day.

“What do you think? Who are you? How did you get in here? Don’t you know you’re supposed to knock before entering?” The Dean’s expression quickly returned to calm. She put on her black-framed glasses and appraised Hei Yu Yi from head to toe. Judging by his clothes, he clearly didn’t belong to the school.

“I’m a new transfer student, here to register with the Dean,” Hei Yu Yi said, noting the swift change in her expression. Aristocratic schools were different indeed—the teachers’ composure was remarkable, even in such situations.

“Oh? You must be Hei Yu Yi. I am the Dean of this school.” The woman adjusted her glasses and smiled, seemingly unafraid that Hei Yu Yi might reveal what he’d just witnessed. Instead, her eyes gleamed as if she had found a new toy.

“Damn, if she’s the Dean, then…” Hei Yu Yi muttered softly, his eyes involuntarily drifting toward the desk. Memories flashed of his masters watching a certain film in a hidden grove, scenes so scandalous that, as an innocent young man, he hadn’t slept for nights. Was this “strong woman” scenario playing out right here?

Feeling the chill of her glowing eyes fixed on him, Hei Yu Yi cursed his bad luck. Just after leaving “Wolf Island,” he had entered a “Wolf School.” Her eyes resembled a wolf’s! Being handsome isn’t my fault!

“Do you want to complete your registration, or not? Come here.” The Dean frowned, displeased by Hei Yu Yi’s frozen stance, as if she might devour him.

“Y-yes, thank you, Dean. Um, should I come back later? I’m not in a hurry.” Hei Yu Yi chuckled awkwardly, not stepping forward but slowly retreating.

What rotten luck. On his first day, he’d stumbled upon the Dean’s private affairs—and it seemed she had set her sights on him. This was the end of his pure, innocent school life before it had even begun.