“No matter what attitude natural scientists adopt, they are still subject to the domination of philosophy. The only question is whether they are willing to…”
In a large lecture class called “Dialectics of Nature,” the instructor was an old professor with graying hair. Facing three hundred students in the tiered classroom, he quoted Engels’s famous words as if to drive the point home.
It wasn’t even nine in the morning yet, and the students were drowsy. A male student in the back corner was propping his head up with one hand, his eyes already closed, his head bobbing like a chicken pecking rice.
After a while, the back door of the classroom suddenly made a soft “click,” startling the boy into sitting up straight.
A few seconds later, someone floated in like a ghost, bringing a wave of chill with them, and sat down beside him.
He turned his head to look, and what he saw surprised him: “…Fu Sang?!”
“Mm?” Fu Sang put down his bag and settled into his seat. Hearing his own name, he remembered to glance at the person sitting next to him.
Fang Zehao.
So he very nodded politely at Fang Zehao: “Morning.”
“?”
Fang Zehao wondered if he’d woken up too early and was still dreaming.
‘Isn’t this a first-year philosophy graduate class? Why is Fu Sang here?!’
Before he could even ask, Fu Sang struck first: “What are you doing here?”
“I, I came to keep Yuanyuan company in class.”
“Oh.”
“And you?” Fang Zehao eyed him suspiciously.
“Me?”
‘I’m also here to see Yuanyuan in class.’
Of course, he couldn’t say that to Fang Zehao.
Fu Sang still had suspicions about Wei Luyuan. After all, it was impossible for a normal person to be described “both like a human and like a ghost” by a Crimson Evil. He wanted to figure out what was going on…whether she was human or ghost, there had to be a conclusion.
Yesterday, while looking into Wei Luyuan, he discovered that she was working as a teaching assistant for her advisor for the class “Dialectics of Nature”.
But Fu Sang scanned the front rows of the classroom and didn’t see any student who looked like Wei Luyuan.
He withdrew his gaze and gave Fang Zehao a perfunctory reply, “I came to audit the class .”
“?” ‘This guy is definitely crazy, right?’
With so many interesting classes to audit, he had to pick philosophy.
But Fang Zehao thought about it and felt something was off again.
Fu Sang had been showing excessive interest in Wei Luyuan since yesterday. What exactly was he up to?
Fang Zehao’s heart was pounding with unease. As if fate was deliberately reminding him to confirm his suspicions, the next thing he heard was Fu Sang asking:
“You came to keep Wei Luyuan company in class, so where is she?”
“…She wasn’t feeling well this morning, so she didn’t come. Why?” Fang Zehao’s answer carried a hint of wariness.
“No reason. Have you come to keep her company in class before?” Fu Sang continued.
“No, this is my first time.”
“Oh.”
Fang Zehao waited for Fu Sang to keep pressing, but the air fell silent after that.
He couldn’t help but glance over. He saw Fu Sang propping his chin on one hand, his eyes half open, looking a bit sleepy. But his gaze was fixed on the professor on the stage and his PowerPoint, as if he really were seriously listening.
Fang Zehao had originally wanted to follow the principle of “if the enemy doesn’t move, I don’t move,” but after a moment of stalemate, he couldn’t help blurting out a question out of nowhere:
“Do you like her?”
“?” Fu Sang didn’t understand how Fang Zehao had arrived at that conclusion.
He really couldn’t be bothered to answer, but to avoid trouble, he still said:
“No.”
Who knew that with this kind of question, whether you answered yes, no, or stayed silent, it would be trouble.
“No…? Who’d believe that! If not, why are you always asking about her, openly and secretly? If not, why did you specifically run into us by the lake and shake her hand? If not, why did you conveniently cross majors to audit the class she TAs for? Don’t think I don’t know, Fu Sang. That girl you were with yesterday wasn’t your girlfriend at all. Wang Feihong told me she’s just a regular friend of yours!”
Fang Zehao kept his voice low, but his temper was rising:
“Look, Fu Sang, Yuanyuan and I haven’t confirmed anything yet. If you really like her, I’ve got no right to say anything…we can compete fair and square. But sneaking around and pulling these little stunts is just disgusting.”
Fu Sang couldn’t be bothered to listen to his long tirade. It went in one ear and out the other. He pulled out a universal response:
“If that’s what you want to think, there’s nothing I can do.”
“You…!”
“That student over there.” The old professor’s suddenly raised voice cut Fang Zehao off: “Yes, you…the one in the white hoodie in the back corner. You answer this question.”
And so Fu Sang’s ears finally had peace.
“Ring!”
The bell rang. Fu Sang grabbed his bag, stepped over the chair, and left. Fang Zehao, who had been lectured by the professor and hadn’t dared make a sound for the rest of the class, wasn’t about to let him go. He packed up and followed immediately.
“Fu Sang? Fu Sang!”
He practically ran out, but the guy walked so fast, like a shadow weaving through the crowd.
Fu Sang had his earbuds in and his hood up, deliberately trying to shake Fang Zehao off.
But who knew that the tenacity of males during their courtship period when facing potential rivals should not be underestimated; they are like a heated piece of sticky candy.
“Fu Sang!!”
Fu Sang was grabbed by the fabric of his clothes at the shoulder and shoved against the wall.
It was between classes, and the hallway was crowded. Passing students turned their heads to look at them curiously.
Fang Zehao didn’t want to start a conflict here and be gawked at like a monkey, so he found an empty classroom nearby, shoved him inside, slammed the door, and then grabbed his collar, pinning him against a desk.
Fu Sang didn’t struggle.
Too lazy to resist.
“What exactly are you trying to do?”
Fang Zehao kept a grip on Fu Sang’s collar, forcing him to brace himself against the table’s edge to keep his balance.
“Don’t be so sensitive, Fang Zehao. I really am not interested in your Wei Luyuan.” Fu Sang tilted his chin up slightly, his eyes, which always seemed to carry a shadow, were hidden beneath the darkness of his hood and the strands of hair falling over them.
Fang Zehao sneered: “Do you think I’d believe that?”
“Then what would make you believe me?”
Fu Sang gave a curt smile, then raised his hand, and, with the back of it, lightly tapped Fang Zehao’s lower abdomen through his thick hoodie:
“What if I told you I’m a man-starved gay guy? That I’ve only been asking about Wei Luyuan because I’m jealous of her…because I’ve been secretly in love with you all along, loving you so much my heart is breaking?”
His voice softened, trailing off to almost just a breath at the end, his tone lifting with a teasing lilt.
This successfully disgusted Fang Zehao, because he immediately released him and took half a step back.
Fu Sang yawned, looked down, and brushed the wrinkles out of his collar.
Fang Zehao watched his demeanor and frowned: “You’re messing with me?”
“Mm-hmm.” Fu Sang answered lazily, “Which part are you asking about…the gay thing or Wei Luyuan? Only one of those is a lie. Guess which one?”
Fang Zehao ground his teeth. Honestly, either one being true was nauseating.
In the end, he took a step back:
“Then give me a reason, why do you care so much about her? I told you, I’m serious this time. I really like her. This isn’t just a fling. We’re roommates after all, and doing this really makes me uncomfortable. You need to give me a reason I can believe.”
Hearing this, Fu Sang raised an eyebrow slightly.
He hadn’t planned to bother explaining, but after a moment’s thought, he asked: “You want the truth?”
“Of course!”
“The truth is,” Fu Sang paused briefly, then deliberately lowered his voice, as if afraid someone might overhear, “…I suspect she’s not human.”
“…What do you mean?”
Fang Zehao stared at Fu Sang’s different colored eyes. Being stared at so directly like that made his scalp crawl.
“Shh… take this.” Fu Sang’s voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. He pulled a talisman from the inner pocket of his jacket and pressed it into Fang Zehao’s hand, making him take it, “Next time you see your dream girl, bring this with you. If Wei Luyuan really isn’t human, this talisman will turn black. Then you’ll need to be careful.”
“Ca-careful of what?” Fang Zehao stammered.
“Careful… of your life.”
With that, Fu Sang suddenly curved his lips into a cold smile, then shoved the completely dumbfounded Fang Zehao aside and slipped out.
“…Fu Sang, why scare him?”
There was almost no one left in the hallway. Qi Changying pressed close behind Fu Sang, lowered his head, and took a deep sniff of his scent.
“Fine, I confess. I scared him. I feel so guilty. Turns out you’re the one who’s deeply in love with him, can’t let him go, afraid to drop him or melt him, and can’t even bear to let him hear the truth. Go find him, I wish you a hundred years of happiness and a baby every two years.”
Fu Sang was like an emotionless sarcasm machine. Qi Changying’s eyes widened slightly; he was always stunned by Fu Sang’s mouth, which was deadlier than a repeating crossbow.
But beyond the shock, he smiled.
“No, it’s not for him. I just think this will cause unnecessary trouble for you.”
“So you were thinking of me. Should I say thank you?”
“No need.”
“?” Fu Sang shot him a sidelong glance and couldn’t be bothered to respond.
After leaving the teaching building, Fu Sang went to the Humanities College, mainly to discuss his thesis topic with his supervisor.
His supervisor was called Chen Shu, a top historian specializing in the Xuan and Li dynasties history. She was extremely renowned, but she rarely took on students. One reason was her famous strictness; there was no such thing as “turning a blind eye” in her dictionary. For her, it was pass or fail, black or white. If someone wasn’t genuinely interested in learning but just wanted to coast through for a degree, falling into her hands would be a kind of “torture.”
Another reason was that she was picky about students. If she didn’t find a suitable one, she wouldn’t take anyone. As a result, she currently had only two students, one was a PhD candidate, and the other was him.
“You want to write about Qi Changying’s Northern Campaigns?”
Chen Shu happened to have time that morning. She flipped through Fu Sang’s topic proposal and pushed up her glasses.
She looked to be in her forties or fifties. She was dressed in formal attire, her hair impeccably combed, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, and always wearing a stern expression that wrote “seriousness” all over her face.
“Yes.”
“It’s a common subject. It’s doable, but I don’t want to see something cliché. If you can bring something new to it, fine. But if it’s some boring topic that others have already written about to death, you’d better give it up now.”
Chen Shu handed the folder back to him, “I’m busy today. Go back and think about your angle. In a couple of days, when we have time, we’ll sit down and talk it through properly.”
“Alright. Thank you, Professor.”
Fu Sang put away the folder and was about to leave when he heard Chen Shu say, “What were you doing lurking by the nameless lake late last night? You were acting suspiciously, and you even brought a girl with you.”
“?” Fu Sang hadn’t expected the school to be this small, and that Chen Shu had even caught his little outing last night.
His expression didn’t change:
“Taking a walk.”
“What a leisurely spirit…walking by the lake in the cold wind in the middle of the night.” Chen Shu shook her head.
“You better stay away from that area, especially at night. It’s dark there, and the roads are slippery in winter. It’s not worth it if something happens.”
Chen Shu had probably just mentioned it casually, but Fu Sang felt there might be more to the story behind her words.
So he decided to press further: “Has something happened there before?”
It was a direct question, but Chen Shu never minded, “Mm, a few years ago. Also in winter. An undergraduate from the Humanities College fell into the lake and drowned at night. It was late at night, and there was no one or any lights by the lake. It wasn’t until the next morning that a student out for a morning run found her. They said the rocks by the lake were slippery in winter, so she slipped and accidentally fell in.”
“…Humanities College?” Fu Sang raised an eyebrow slightly: “Was she a philosophy major?”
“I think so.” Chen Shu couldn’t quite remember: “You know about it?”
“No, I’ve never heard of it.” Fu Sang told the truth.
“That’s normal. The school kept a tight lid on it. It was already a big deal for students to spread it among themselves. If it got too out of hand, it would have turned into some legend about a murder lake and ghosts.”
Chen Shu shook her head and ended this unplanned topic with a sigh, “She was a very outstanding girl. What a shame.”
