Yuying University
Chapter 414:
The lights in the corridor flickered slightly, casting their glow on the other person’s bloodless, pale face.
The young man in front of them was expressionless, his pale, almost inorganic eyes lowered, staring unblinkingly at the anchor. His cold gaze fell upon everyone, inexplicably chilling them to the bone. He said nothing, as if waiting for an answer.
The anchor and his companions were startled, quickly exchanging glances.
“Excuse me, this isn’t our dorm.” The lead anchor reacted first, a smile appearing on his face. “We came to the wrong floor, our apologies.”
With that, they carefully backed away, slowly increasing the distance, then swiftly made their escape.
In the “Integrity First” livestream barrage:
[…]
[…]
[Actually, the way that anchor dealt with the crisis was pretty good. After all, when faced with contraband being found in the dorm and student council members right in front of you, admitting to being a resident is clearly unwise. It’s best to deny it immediately and leave the scene as quickly as possible.]
[Of course, the premise is that all of this must be true, not something a certain anchor made up to fool people.]
[Shameless swindler back to his old tricks, innocent anchors fleeing in panic.]
[…Wen Jianyan, you truly commit all evils!!!]
After the group vanished, Wen Jianyan immediately changed his demeanor. He slyly peeked in the direction the anchors had disappeared, and after confirming they were gone, he waved to Su Cheng behind him: “Quick, quick, let’s go!”
Though his face was still pale, his previously stiff, gloomy brows and eyes now came alive, revealing a mischievous innocence unsuited for his age.
“Thank goodness my sanity hasn’t fully recovered,” Wen Jianyan said cheerfully as he ran forward. “If my face wasn’t as white as a corpse, it probably would have been harder to trick those guys.”
Su Cheng: “…” He paused, seeming to hesitate, but still asked, “Aren’t you worried about running into them again in later parts of the instance?”
After all, they were on the fourth floor, and those anchors were on the fifth. Although this instance was a highly flexible, open-world one, as time went on…
Wen Jianyan’s steps faltered slightly. “…Oh, right, there is that possibility.” He looked thoughtful. However, a carefree smile soon reappeared on Wen Jianyan’s face, and he said nonchalantly, “We’ll worry about that when it happens. At worst, I’ll just trick them again.”
Su Cheng: “…”
In the “Integrity First” livestream barrage:
[Are you even human?]
[Is that even a human thing to say?]
[As expected of our anchor. All timid around ghosts, but punches hard against people!]
[…Alright, I get why this guy has offended so many people. Playing like this, it’d be a miracle if he didn’t offend anyone!]
Soon, the two left the fifth floor unimpeded. After confirming no one was following, Wen Jianyan said goodbye to Su Cheng, and they each headed to their respective dorms.
As Wen Jianyan walked, he took the red armband off his arm. Although it didn’t have the words “Student Council” on it, the red color was striking enough. If he angled himself correctly, the other party wouldn’t be able to spot the difference between it and a real student council armband in the dim light. In short, it was enough to fool them.
He took off the armband and put it back in his pocket. However, Wen Jianyan suddenly seemed to catch sight of something. He paused, his gaze falling on the sleeve beneath the armband. There were some red marks on the sleeve. The color wasn’t deep, just lightly covering the fabric, like freshly smeared red paint. But because he was wearing a white shirt, that bit of red was particularly glaring.
Wen Jianyan frowned, took the armband out again, and carefully examined both sides. No different from before. No blood had seeped through. What was going on then?
Before Wen Jianyan could figure it out, Dorm 404 was already close. The door was ajar, and familiar voices drifted out. It seemed his cheap roommates were back too.
Wen Jianyan put the armband back in his pocket and pushed open the dorm door.
“Oh, little brother, you’re back?” Brother Hu and A-Bao, who had already grown familiar with him, brightened up and waved to him. Zhen Zi and others stood nearby. Although their relationship with Wen Jianyan still wasn’t particularly harmonious, the shared experience of yesterday evening had finally begun to melt the ice between them. They nodded to Wen Jianyan with reserved politeness, as a greeting.
Wen Jianyan smiled, greeting them naturally and politely, “Yes, I’m back.”
As he spoke, his gaze shifted, falling onto the bed below his—
The Weasel was sitting there. The thin-faced man’s skin was pale with a greenish tinge. He no longer had the arrogance and swagger from their first meeting. He just stared at Wen Jianyan expressionlessly, saying nothing, but this seemingly non-aggressive attitude inexplicably gave off an eerie feeling. Wen Jianyan wasn’t sure if he was alive or dead, or what kind of storyline was hidden within him. However, in 24 hours, the small bear sticker left on his bed might give him the answer.
“Speaking of which, how many academic credits have you all accumulated so far?” Brother Hu’s voice came from the side. Wen Jianyan withdrew his gaze and looked over.
Brother Hu was meticulously calculating his academic credits: “One course, two courses, three courses… If nothing unexpected happens, I should have accumulated 60 credits before the end of this week. I’ll be able to leave after staying in this instance for at most two weeks.”
After attending classes in this instance for two days, Wen Jianyan now basically had a good understanding of its clearance mechanism.
After attending a class, the corresponding credits would be deposited onto their student cards.
For compulsory courses like physical education and major-specific courses, credits could usually be used as soon as the class ended.
However, for elective courses like [Film Appreciation], which carried subsequent risks, even though credits would be deposited after class, allowing them to purchase recovery items in the cafeteria, these credits would only truly belong to the anchor after completing the assignment, which meant thoroughly overcoming the crisis.
Overall, however, the rate at which events unfolded in the [Yuying Comprehensive University] instance was different from the real world.
One week in this instance was equivalent to one academic year in a normal university.
Therefore, for anchors like Brother Hu, who were relatively cautious and hadn’t selected all 100 credits worth of courses at once, they would only need to stay in this instance for at most two weeks to leave smoothly.
In theory, an anchor could even clear the instance by only choosing compulsory courses that were numerous, low in difficulty, and had low credit values.
Although the deducted sanity points would also increase, as long as they were willing to stay in the instance for a longer period and ensured their sanity didn’t drop below the threshold, they could even completely avoid contact with any main instance storylines and clear it without encountering danger.
However, anchors rarely put themselves in such extreme situations; they would always sign up for at least one elective course. But even so, compared to other instances, clearing this one was still considered easy.
The [Yuying Comprehensive University] instance was widely recognized as the most boring instance precisely for this reason.
Although it was rated A, its entertainment value was even lower than that of ordinary B-rank instances or slightly harder C-rank ones.
For the audience, they didn’t want to watch instances that could be cleared just by “lying low.” But for anchors who constantly walked the line between life and death, such an instance was a much-desired vacation spot—not only could it extend their stay in the system space, but they could also earn points lying down, which was simply ideal.
“I really hope this instance maintains this level of difficulty later on,” A-Bao said, rubbing the back of his head with a long sigh.
In the “Integrity First” livestream barrage:
[Is it just my imagination? Why does that sound like a flag?]
[Hahahahahahaha, it really does.]
[Speaking of which, how many points does the anchor have on hand now?]
[I think it’s 60 too.]
[Ah? So it’s not that much different from other anchors…]
[Huh? How did you calculate that? What do you mean ‘not much different’? The anchor has 50 fully disposable credits out of those 60, and the remaining ten will be credited after this week’s major course ends. Not to mention he still has ‘Ideology and Morality’ class and an ‘Outdoor Practical’ class that haven’t started yet. By the end of this week, if no credits are deducted, he could get a maximum of 110 credits, okay? The other anchor only gets 60 after this week, and their instance intensity is different, so how could their earnings be the same?!]
Before going to sleep, Wen Jianyan hesitated for a moment and finally chose to switch beds.
He moved to Brother Hu’s upper bunk, directly facing Zhen Zi’s bed.
No one said anything about this; Brother Hu and A-Bao were very supportive. After all, they had long disapproved of the Weasel’s actions on the first day, so they naturally preferred Wen Jianyan to stay away from him.
Even while washing up, Brother Hu quietly pulled Wen Jianyan aside and whispered, “Did that guy do something to you?”
Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “No, nothing. I just wanted to change my sleeping spot.” He really hadn’t expected that merely being a bit low-key for the past two days would lead to him being mistaken for a bullied, voiceless little darling.
…Did he really look that easy to bully?
After seeing Brother Hu off, Wen Jianyan hesitated, then specifically checked himself in the bathroom mirror. The mirror reflected his figure.
He was quite tall but looked very thin. His loose shirt concealed his muscle definition, and his face was somewhat pale. His hair was damp and clung to his cheeks. Perhaps due to the instance environment and his attire, he indeed looked very much like a university student.
The young kind.
Wen Jianyan: “…”
Okay, maybe a little. He shook his head and sighed.
Soon, it was lights out. Like the previous two nights, Wen Jianyan got into bed and hung the bone chime, which still had remaining uses, on his bedpost. As the lights extinguished, a familiar heavy drowsiness washed over him, pulling him into slumber.
It was still a nightmare. Cold, pale fingers reached out from beneath the bed frame.
The ceiling began to melt, as if a face was struggling to press closer. But Wen Jianyan was like someone experiencing sleep paralysis, lying motionless on the bed, only able to watch that face approach, closer, closer, and closer still—
When that face was just one millimeter from his nose, the familiar sound of bells chimed.
“Buzz, buzz–“
The corridor lights flickered on with a series of “claps.” The dorm supervisor’s heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, her gruff voice carrying through the tightly shut dorm room door: “Time to wake up, time to wake up!”
Wen Jianyan frowned, rubbed his temples, and slowly climbed out of bed.
To prevent dangerous situations at night, he was already used to sleeping in his clothes. Because of this, Wen Jianyan’s shirt was wrinkled, and his hair stuck up in all directions, making him look tired and weary.
He glanced at the bone chime hanging by his bed. No change. This meant that, unusually, nothing had happened last night. Yet, Wen Jianyan still felt very heavy, his bones and muscles aching, as if something had pressed down on him all night.
Perhaps he should try installing that “Welcome” bell?
But the thought had barely surfaced before Wen Jianyan quashed it in his mind.
Although that lucky charm could make a sound, unlike the bone chime, which was specifically designed for the forced sleep mechanism, sound couldn’t wake someone up through normal means during forced sleep.
Moreover, Wen Jianyan hadn’t yet figured out the specific mechanism of this little ringing gadget.
If it also had the ability to welcome more unclean things, that would be terrible, and people in a state of forced sleep had no resistance.
It was best not to use it until he understood more about it.
Wen Jianyan stretched his somewhat stiff shoulders and jumped off the bed.
He glanced in the Weasel’s direction. The other party was also up, sitting stiffly on his bed. His thin face seemed even paler than yesterday, half hidden in darkness, making his expression unclear.
The uncomfortable chill emanating from him seemed to have become more pronounced. Wen Jianyan withdrew his gaze before the other party looked his way.
He lowered his head and straightened his messy collar. Whatever had happened to the other party, he would only receive related images after the little bear sticker expired.
Wen Jianyan looked at his phone. Since disappearing yesterday, Hugo hadn’t made any moves. He wondered what he had been doing and when he would reappear. However, the group chat was lively again.
[Orange Candy]: Mission perfectly completed.
After this message, she even attached a smug cat-jumping emoji.
[Wei Cheng]: Me too.
Wen Jianyan smiled and quickly typed: “See you at the usual spot.” He quickly tidied himself up, grabbed his backpack, and left the room.
When Wen Jianyan arrived, Orange Candy and the others were already waiting downstairs.
“Finished?” Wen Jianyan asked. “Did you encounter any danger?”
She proudly lifted her chin: “Of course not.”
Wei Cheng also shook his head: “Thanks to you, everything’s resolved.” In an instance, information was always the most precious commodity. With Wen Jianyan having uncovered the rules, the most difficult part was already done. And as experienced anchors with abundant resources, finding countermeasures was naturally no problem.
“So?” Orange Candy tilted her head, leaning in with great interest. “What do we do next?”
“We are good students,” Wen Jianyan smiled. “Next, of course, we go to class and turn in our assignments.”
The group once again arrived at the entrance of the Film Appreciation class. Just like two days ago, Teacher Sun sat behind the podium, a smile of unchanging curvature on his face. However, perhaps it was just a misconception, but after seeing Wen Jianyan and his group enter the classroom, his already bloodless face seemed to become a little unsightly.
“Teacher, we’re here to turn in our assignments!” Orange Candy skipped forward, cheerfully placing her rough draft on the desk. Wei Cheng also came forward and put his paper down.
“…” Teacher Sun lowered his eyes, reluctantly glancing over the papers, and said, “Good, well done.” He looked up at the group in front of him: “Since that’s the case, your class is now concluded, and the corresponding academic credits should have been issued.”
Wen Jianyan blinked: “Since the class is concluded, does that mean we can sign up for other classes now?”
Teacher Sun: “Yes.”
“But isn’t the time for signing up for electives concentrated on Monday and Tuesday mornings? It’s past that time now, can we still sign up for classes?” Wen Jianyan looked troubled.
“Of course,” the smile on Teacher Sun’s face seemed a little more genuine. “As long as the class hasn’t reached its full capacity and the substitute teacher agrees, you can join.”
“Oh, oh.” Wen Jianyan nodded, then suddenly leaned in, “Speaking of which, Teacher, your class doesn’t seem to be full yet, does it?”
Teacher Sun: “…”
In the “Integrity First” livestream barrage:
[NPC: “I suddenly have an ominous feeling.]
[LOL, I’m dying!]
“I feel like I’ve learned so much in your class, Teacher. The thought of parting ways so soon makes me genuinely reluctant.” Wen Jianyan was very earnest, as if the other party was truly a profoundly influential mentor in his life.
Teacher Sun: “…”
“You want to continue attending my class?”
In the “Integrity First” livestream barrage:
[NPC: “I’m willing, I’m truly willing to part ways.]
[Hahahahahahahahaha!]
“Since I can sign up for other electives after this class ends, then signing up for your course should also be possible, right?” Wen Jianyan leaned in a few more steps, looking both pitiful and annoying: “Of course, if I did anything earlier that made you uncomfortable and you don’t want to continue teaching me, I can leave.”
Teacher Sun: “………………”
After about ten seconds, he maintained his rigid smile, squeezing out a sentence through gritted teeth: “…If you want to take it, then take it.”
In the “Integrity First” livestream barrage:
[Hahahahahahahaha, damn, I swear Teacher Sun definitely wanted to refuse just now!]
[Then why did he agree in the end?]
[Didn’t you see his eyes? It was like the embodiment of ‘I have to find a way to knife this guy.’]
[I’m dying of laughter… so his murderous intent towards the anchor is greater than his eagerness to make him leave, is that it?]
“Great!” Wen Jianyan’s eyes curved into crescents. “In that case, I can change the next movie, right?”
Teacher Sun: “…Right.”
Wen Jianyan thought for a moment, then shamelessly leaned in: “And this should count as my new elective course, so I’ll still get credits, right?” He pulled out his student card: “But, I don’t seem to see the credits increasing.”
Teacher Sun: “…” He stared at the other party, his eyes sinister, not even bothering to smile anymore. He slowly took a notebook from under the podium, quickly scribbled a few words, and then squeezed out one word: “…Now it is.”
The next second, 30 credits were added to Wen Jianyan’s student card. However, because he hadn’t completed the coursework yet, these 30 credits couldn’t be settled into his account for now; they could only be used temporarily.
In the “Integrity First” livestream barrage:
[?]
[???]
[Good heavens, so Teacher Sun was planning to trick the anchor, let him encounter danger again, and not even count it as him taking another course?]
[The NPCs in this instance are truly sly!]
[I really didn’t expect that… there was a trap hidden here.]
“Since I can, then my other friends should also be able to, right?” Wen Jianyan blinked his eyes and asked.
Behind him, Orange Candy straightened her back, displaying an eight-toothed smile.
Wei Cheng: “…” He averted his eyes.
“………………” Teacher Sun already looked like he wanted to kill him, but no one could have imagined that this emotion could continue to escalate. His lips twisted, and he slowly said: “Yes.”
Immediately after, he lowered his head and made a few strokes in the roster book. Orange Candy and Wei Cheng also officially became “new students” of this course.
“Yay!” Wen Jianyan seemed to know exactly when to quit while he was ahead. He showed a well-behaved smile. “Thank you, Teacher.” Done, he took the new draft paper from Teacher Sun’s hand and quickly stepped down from the podium.
Behind him, the others who hadn’t gone up to the stage were startled by his actions. Tian Ye shrunk his shoulders and whispered, “Whoa, bro, I almost thought you wouldn’t make it back just now.”
Yun Bilan nodded: “Indeed.” Even in the real world, it would be hard not to get beaten up.
Su Cheng turned his head and glanced at Teacher Sun behind him. Their gazes met—the teacher’s cold and eerie, as if knives could fly out of them—then Su Cheng quickly looked away. “You’re definitely going to be targeted next. Are you ready?”
“No choice, this is the only way.” Wen Jianyan shrugged.
Having had the experience in the dance class before, Wen Jianyan had keenly realized that in this instance, being able to take another elective course had little to do with time; it mainly depended on whether the substitute teacher agreed.
Otherwise, that creepy dance teacher wouldn’t have said he was willing to save a spot for him and welcomed him to join anytime.
However, as someone who constantly outwitted instances and was accustomed to inferring rules from the instance’s underlying logic, Wen Jianyan also understood one thing: It was unlikely to be able to repeatedly enroll in the same class in this instance.
After all, if an anchor chose to repeatedly farm points after figuring out a class’s rules, it would go against the instance’s murderous objective.
Even if he hadn’t cheated during the so-called “bathroom breaks” before, Teacher Sun’s likelihood of agreeing to let him continue the class would have been very low.
Therefore, he had to take a risky approach. Now, rather than saying Teacher Sun gave him a chance to continue the class, it was more like Wen Jianyan gave the other party a chance to knife him. By doing so, he could retake the Film Appreciation class. As for whether the subsequent danger would escalate… Wen Jianyan had no other choice.
The group quickly found a corner in the film class and sat down.
“So, what’s your next plan?” Orange Candy slightly turned her head and looked over.
“It’s simple.” This plan had been refined multiple times in Wen Jianyan’s mind and was already fully formed. “Those who haven’t completed the ‘Brave Richard’ assignment will likely enter that movie again,” Wen Jianyan looked at Su Cheng and the others. “This time, don’t chase anyone. Instead, use the gap during the initial scene change to talk to the surrounding students and change your faction.”
“As for the others…” As he spoke, Wen Jianyan lightly wrote on the paper. The handwriting on the paper was clear and beautiful:
“Wang Ni’s Day.”
“We’re going to the next movie.”
so smart