Chapter Forty-Nine: A Face Born to Invite Mockery

Wang Yiran’s words stirred something within Qin Anyi. It wasn’t her assessment of Shi Le that moved him, but rather the sudden realization that, even though he now possessed the superintelligent brain “Qilin,” his understanding of this world remained woefully shallow. It was as if he were a frog at the bottom of a well: the size of the well determined the size of the world he imagined, and so, in this age of networks sprawling across the globe, any ordinary person could seemingly learn anything they wished from the Internet. Whether the information there was true or reliable hardly mattered; at the very least, it created the illusion for ordinary people that the world held no secrets. Everything was exposed beneath the magnesium lights, and everyone believed their knowledge of the world to be nearly complete. For most things they did not know, it was not for lack of access, but simply a lack of desire to know.

Qin Anyi had long harbored such beliefs himself. Subconsciously, he had never thought the world concealed anything truly mysterious. As an atheist, he believed everything in this world could be explained rationally, and if anything truly secretive existed, it would surely have been discovered long ago. After all, nothing in this world was more unreliable than the human mouth; any so-called secret would inevitably be passed on by word of mouth.

Yet today, after listening to Wang Yiran, Qin Anyi was struck by a new thought: exactly how many people in this world knew about the so-called Glory Dragon Riders? Among ordinary people, perhaps not a single one. And those who did know of their existence never leaked it, not because they zealously guarded the secret, but because they simply lived in a different world. The higher one stood, the broader their perspective became; from above, one could see the world clearly, but from below, it was all a blur, like flowers seen through mist. Ninety-nine percent of ordinary people might spend their entire lives as frogs at the bottom of the well, believing the tiny patch of sky they could see was the whole world, naively convinced they understood everything. Even those who managed to leap from the well, who glimpsed a wider world and learned more, could never be sure that this new world was not simply a larger well. How much do we truly know? Who could say?

A powerful urge for knowledge welled up in Qin Anyi. The more he thought about the frog in the well, the dizzier he became; he did not want to be a frog. If he must be one, then let him be a frog who leaped into the widest well possible. No one enjoys feeling ignorant, not even a true simpleton. Though the more one knows, the more trouble one invites, Qin Anyi could not abide ignorance; he despised being a fool. This, perhaps, was humanity’s eternal contradiction—caught between wanting both fish and bear’s paw, never able to choose.

“What are you thinking about?” Wang Yiran asked, looping her arm through Qin Anyi’s as they entered the classroom building, about to step into Class Two of Senior Year Three. She had noticed that Qin Anyi had been lost in thought all the way inside and was curious.

In the past week, the sight of the two walking intimately arm in arm through campus had become a common enough occurrence. Though it still drew a few glances and whispers, it no longer caused the commotion it once had. Officially, the school forbade early romantic relationships, but for a student like Wang Yiran, as long as her grades were unaffected, the school turned a blind eye. Moreover, neither Wang Yiran nor Qin Anyi ever behaved so openly in front of teachers or administrators, who were happy to feign ignorance.

“Nothing, really. I was just thinking that maybe I should start studying in earnest,” Qin Anyi said seriously. It was time to build up his reserves of knowledge. According to Qilin’s calculations, with his current rate of progress and the benefits of the potential-enhancing agent, it would take about two more weeks for his physical abilities to advance to the next level. Qilin, too, would recover some of its functions along with this improvement.

Just imagining the feeling of being a polymath who could discourse on everything from the heavens above to the earth below, from history to the present, made Qin Anyi’s blood surge with excitement.

“You… want to study hard?” Wang Yiran was momentarily stunned, realizing that Qin Anyi was not joking in the least. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. In her view, for someone with Qin Anyi’s intellect and talent to devote himself to the rote learning of the current exam-oriented system was a tremendous waste.

“Well, I mean self-study, mostly. The school’s model of education isn’t suited to me. It just turns out batches of people who all think the same and know about the same things—perfect for mediocrities,” Qin Anyi added, with a self-important air.

To this, Wang Yiran simply nodded, as if it were a matter of course. Once inside the classroom, the two separated immediately. After a week of getting used to it, the rest of Class Two had developed a certain immunity to their relationship. While the boys still harbored some animosity toward Qin Anyi, they consoled themselves with the thought that, in the end, Wang Yiran had ended up with a classmate—the fattened water hadn’t been given to outsiders, so to speak—so they could reluctantly accept the situation. The girls’ thoughts, meanwhile, were far more complicated.

“What?” Qin Anyi was still a little dazed, not quite following the conversation.

“You won over Wang Yiran, and now I’ve persuaded my dad to take down the person she represents. These two things together have nearly driven Guo Qingyuan to the brink of madness. With his arrogance, I bet he’ll make a move against you as soon as possible, so you’d better be careful this weekend,” Wei Dong said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“I don’t get the sense you’re all that worried about me…” Qin Anyi rolled his eyes at Wei Dong’s sleazy grin.

“Heh, with your skills, you won’t suffer much. And no matter how bold Guo Qingyuan is, he won’t go as far as murder—especially since his father’s situation isn’t going well lately. He’ll be extra cautious. Your life isn’t in danger, and you can fight. What’s there to worry about?” Wei Dong replied, utterly unconcerned.

“So, how do you think he’ll come at me?” Qin Anyi asked, resigned to his fate.

“Isn’t it obvious? Everyone knows how petty he is. He’ll definitely try to ruin your reputation, make it so you’re too embarrassed to stay at school. That way, he gets rid of you without risk, and can comfort the heartbroken Wang Yiran. Two birds with one stone. Anyway, just be careful. Your safety isn’t the issue; just don’t fall into his trap,” Wei Dong said, clearly unimpressed by Guo Qingyuan’s methods.

“Fine. So, what do you need from me?”

“I need to know how many people he’s got around him, what illegal activities he’s involved in, and I need real evidence. If we’re going to play, let’s play for keeps—bring him down for good! And your ordinary background is your best camouflage; Guo Qingyuan would never suspect you.”

“Got it… I’ll do my best.”