The victory had barely settled before new ripples ford.
At the edge of the elite garden courtyard—a secluded part of the campus rarely visited by ordinary students—Lin Feng stood alone. The sun dipped low, shadows stretching across the cobbled path like fingers trying to hold him back. But his gaze was forward, steady.
His phone vibrated. Another anonymous ssage.
"You’ve stepped too far. The Crimson Circle has noticed."
He didn’t flinch. Just pocketed the phone and exhaled slowly.
"About ti," he murmured.
That evening, at the Velvet Atrium—a private venue reserved for upper-circle mixers—a silent figure watched from the zzanine level.
She wore a crimson qipao, minimalist and sharp, eyes cold but curious. Dark hair tied into a high twist. Her na: Xu Shanyue. Known in certain elite forums as the Crimson Orchid.
"Lin Feng," she said softly, sipping her wine. "You’ve made quite a ss."
Behind her, an older gentleman stepped forward. "Shall I intervene, Miss Xu?"
She shook her head.
"No. I’ll handle this one myself."
anwhile, Lin Feng sat at a rooftop café with Guo Yuwei, her hair loosely tied, worry creasing her forehead.
"You’ve stirred sothing," she said. "There are whispers. Even my dad called today and asked if I was associated with... a ’person of interest.’"
Lin Feng leaned back, letting the breeze hit his face.
"That’s what I am now?" he said dryly. "A person of interest?"
Yuwei didn’t laugh.
"Be careful. There are levels above the people you’ve already offended."
"I know," he said simply.
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