Chapter 133: Great Unity Under Heaven

So both of them were this incredible.

NASA Club?

Just hearing the name sounds high-class and intimidating, doesn’t it?

And Sir Huo Sang said it himself—it’s not some student club for fun, but a serious organization that has actually worked with NASA and earned the respect of the aerospace professors in Sakura Country.

Gu Yebai suddenly understood why Bai Xialin’s WeChat profile was a tiny UFO.

She was studying the universe.

Not some chuunibyou fantasy, but real, hardcore research—using the coldest logic and the most rigorous mathematical models to prove the existence of aliens, writing papers that made Tokyo University’s astronomy professors fall silent for three minutes.

She had even made Sir Huo Sang, an old educator who had lived over seventy years, light up when mentioning her, his tone carrying undisguised admiration and a hint of awe.

‘And me?’

Gu Yebai lowered his head, his fingertips unconsciously picking at the crease of his suit pants.

‘What am I? What’s my talent?’

He didn’t consider writing novels a talent.

If not for a few readers donating, his novels couldn’t earn much—just a pile of obscure web data, forgotten within a few years.

He felt as insignificant as a speck of dust.

Ah—

‘This feeling… like someone grabbed my head and shoved it into ice water. If not for Gao Hongzhi pulling strings, a guy like me—Sir Huo Sang probably wouldn’t even bother looking twice. But of all people, I’m the one who’s been spotted by two geniuses. One is a once-in-a-century piano prodigy, the other a sharp mind in cosmology… One put a collar on me and said, “I won’t let you escape,” while the other quietly wrapped her fingers around my pinky and whispered, “I’ll give you love that’s easier.” Me…’

Sir Huo Sang’s gaze lingered on Bai Xialin for a moment, full of appreciation, then shifted to Gu Yebai.

The smile at the corner of his mouth deepened, but carried a hint of pity that sent a chill down the spine.

“Please, both of you, have a seat.”

His voice was low, like an ancient bell tolling in the dead of night—just one strike, enough to make the room so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat.

“Miss Bai, I no longer need to ask why you want to come to Saint George’s. Your resume itself is the most standard answer.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing behind silver hair as he looked at Gu Yebai.

“As for you, Mr. Gu… I’m curious. How did a young man who writes web novels manage to make two such dazzling geniuses fix their gaze on him at the same time?”

Gu Yebai’s eyes widened as he stared at the principal.

This old man seemed to know everything already.

“Let’s get back on topic.”

“Let’s start with the most basic interview question.”

“Why did you choose Saint George’s International School?”

‘Isn’t that obvious? Because of Father Gao Hongzhi and Gao Hongyi…’

Gu Yebai recited silently.

But that was clearly not an answer he could speak out loud.

Being pushed into this private aristocratic school felt ridiculous—like a beggar suddenly shoved into a crown, unable to stand steady, about to be crushed by the weight.

Actually, two days ago, when he had practiced the interview content in English with his father, Gu Yebai had already known the questions in advance.

It was a standard interview question with a standard answer.

Next, he should have used the most standard British accent to talk about the school’s founding history, then its original educational philosophy, and give his approval—just like a perfect, full-score college entrance exam essay.

However—

“In this world, some children study in very poor conditions. They sit in cow sheds, shivering in the cold wind. Their playgrounds have rusty flagpoles. The food they eat has a sour taste…”

As if driven by instinct, the fire in Gu Yebai’s heart had been doused with oil.

“But in this world, some children study in beautiful, magnificent castles. They wear gorgeous clothes, are chauffeured around, use the latest phones, and eat the finest steaks.”

“I’ve always wanted to understand: why is the gap between one side and the other so ridiculously huge? What’s the essential difference between a child born in Donghai and a child born in Linchuan?”

As soon as he finished, the room fell silent as if suddenly plunged into a vacuum.

Gu Yebai was stunned himself.

He was supposed to spit out those pre-memorized pretty words—those British-accented educational philosophies, those perfect essay-standard approvals.

But now those words were like fish bones stuck in his throat—he couldn’t swallow them, and if he spat them out, he was afraid they’d draw blood.

He lowered his head, his fingertips still unconsciously picking at the crease of his suit pants.

Bai Xialin sat beside him.

Her violet pupils narrowed like a cat who had finally spotted its most beloved, bleeding prey in the dark.

She didn’t speak immediately.

Instead, under the table, her knee gently brushed against his leg again.

Very light.

But it was like an electric current shooting up his spine, numbing the back of his neck.

Sir Huo Sang wasn’t angry.

On the contrary, his eyes brightened behind his silver hair, as if he had finally been waiting for a truly interesting hunt.

“Interesting.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting cold light, and finally revealed interest and appreciation for Gu Yebai.

“Mr. Gu, your question… has more weight than I imagined. I think you are a thoughtful child.”

Then he looked at Gu Yebai, his voice low as if reading a verdict already written.

“Please continue. I will listen to every word.”

Gu Yebai’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to hide anymore.

“Because of bloodline. Because of inheritance.”

“In this world, too many people mistake their parents’ savings and things handed to them on a silver platter as their own talent.”

“Indeed, those fools will squander the wealth their ancestors accumulated in just a few years.”

The principal nodded in agreement.

“I want to come to this school because I want to figure out why.”

“I’m not a piano genius, nor a math-science genius. The only skill I have that can barely earn a living in society is writing novels… For most of my life, I didn’t have a glamorous background. I’ve seen how poor people struggle in society. I’ve seen families in hospital hallways max out all their online loans to save someone, only to end up losing both the person and the money. I’ve seen families tell their daughters, ‘Don’t go to school anymore, go work in the underworld’…”

Gu Yebai paused, his voice dropping a notch, but clearer, as if speaking to himself.

“I think: if you gave the same resources and the same environment to those buried in the dust, would they have more potential than your school’s once-in-a-century geniuses? Would they better benefit society?”

“These kinds of people are hidden away, forever in the shadows. Meanwhile, some who occupy resources are arrogant, lazy, and unwilling to improve.”

“I hope… for a society where everyone has the chance to climb up, instead of being buried. Where everyone has the right to stand in the sunlight, instead of being born to shiver in the cold caves of life.”

“I once stood with them. I was lucky enough to get a rich father, but I cannot forget who I was, nor be ashamed of who I was!”

“Great harmony under heaven!”

Sir Huo Sang suddenly blurted out in Chinese.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it hit the room like a thunderclap.

Then he clapped.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Slow and forceful.

His eyes shone behind his silver hair, as if he had finally been waiting for a performance worthy of the old man’s personal applause.

As the principal, of course he knew what the real standard answer was.

Those glorious founding philosophies, those British-accented words of praise, those pre-memorized “educational visions.”

But for an educator who had lived over seventy years, fought in wars, and seen too many people turn themselves into machines just to get the “right answer”—

The real standard answer was precisely the worst, most soulless answer.

Bai Xialin suddenly smiled too.

Very soft, very gentle, like melted syrup, but with a stickiness that made the bones go weak.

She leaned forward slightly, the hem of her violet evening dress spreading out like a pool of still poison.

“Sir Huo Sang…”

Her voice was sickly sweet, but carried a hint of unsettling gloom.

“Xiao Gu spoke so well.”

“He really… cares.”

“He wasn’t reciting a script, nor trying to please anyone.”

“He is a gentle and stubborn person, someone who has completely captivated me!”

When she said “captivated,” her voice dropped a little, as if murmuring to herself, or swearing to Gu Yebai.

“To be honest, your school’s philosophy is too profound for me.”

“I came to this school for essentially one reason.”

“For love.”

“Answer complete!”

Bai Xialin stood up.

Her movements were elegant, like performing a ritual.

She pinched the hem of her skirt, the violet velvet slowly rising to reveal her fair, slender legs, silver high heels glinting coldly under the light.

“Xiao Gu, look…”

Her voice softened, as if coaxing a naughty child.

“Usually I always wear sportswear. Why did I put on such a sexy evening dress today?”

“Why?”

Gu Yebai’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

He instinctively wanted to step back, but found his chair couldn’t move.

“You, you just talked on and on without understanding the essence of this matter at all.”

“How can that be?”

Bai Xialin stepped forward, her skirt brushing against the carpet with a faint rustle, like someone whispering “I love you.”

Sir Huo Sang looked at her, the smile at the corner of his mouth deepening.

“You say, for love?”

“Yes.”

Bai Xialin turned around, looking straight at Gu Yebai.

Her violet pupils were like water-soaked gems under the light—wet, dangerous.

“I want to enroll together with him.”

“I think my answer is his answer!”

“And moreover, it is the eternal answer of someone who pursues the truth of the universe… hahahaha—”

She laughed, her shoulders trembling.

Then suddenly stopped.

Her eyes reddened.

It wasn’t an act.

Miss Alpha—the alien wearing the skin of Bai Xialin—really wanted to cry.

She remembered.

The smell of poverty, rats, slums… nights without enough to eat.

Casting hateful glances at those in power.

Hating a world that gave her no stage to show herself, with violet eyes full of misanthropic resentment.

‘If only I had noticed you sooner…’

Thank you for speaking for me, darling.

Thank you for shouting out all the words I once wanted to scream but couldn’t.

Bai Xialin suddenly bent down.

She cupped Gu Yebai’s face with both hands.

Her fingertips were cold, yet trembling.

“Xiao Gu…”

Her voice was low as a whisper, but every word slammed into his bones.

“Do you know?”

“When I first read your novel, I thought… how could this person write such dark things so gently?”

“He’s clearly almost broken himself, yet he still uses his last bit of strength to leave a lamp for others.”

“That lamp—I want to monopolize it.”

“I want to blow it out, and then light only mine.”

“Because only I deserve to see all your darkness.”

“Only I deserve to lick those wounds clean, bit by bit.”

“No one else… deserves it.”

As she finished, her voice carried a choked sob.

It was a mania on the verge of losing control, pressed tightly beneath the surface of gentleness.

“Ahem—”

Sir Huo Sang cleared his throat.

Bai Xialin snapped out of it.

‘Wait a little longer. Anyway, everything will go according to plan. Tonight, I will definitely make you completely mine, Xiao Gu… Tonight, there’s no escape for you!’

‘Becoming my man has become an unchangeable truth of the universe.’