What Bad Intentions Could a Spoiled Little Brat Possibly have? - Chapter 19

“The Hips are So Big and Perky”

“To be honest, Cheng Huai, you should just step forward and clear things up yourself. It’s better than letting them guess wildly like this.” Gu Siming held a fried dough stick in his left hand and soy milk in his right, his short steps moving faster than anyone else’s as he dragged the others along, puffing and panting toward the faculty building.

It wasn’t until they reached the entrance of the lecture hall that Gu Siming finally braked, hurriedly finishing off the last of his breakfast.

Taking advantage of the moment Gu Siming spent catching his breath, Cheng Huai took the empty soy milk cup from him and conveniently tossed it into the trash can.

The massive lecture hall was already more than half-filled with scattered groups of people.

This was the first common compulsory course for over four hundred freshmen in the entire faculty, and it was also their first university lesson after their coming-of-age ceremony.

The vast majority of people carried looks of curiosity and exploration, not only out of interest in their new classmates but also out of yearning for the next four years of university life.

And at this moment, the focus of all that curiosity landed squarely on Cheng Huai, who was at the center of a storm of gossip.

Fu Zheng’s legend had long since circulated among these freshmen; even old, dusty forum posts had been dug up.

He had entered the Turing Class as the provincial top scholar, completed his professional credits in two years while simultaneously earning dual degrees in Economics and Management, taken over the core business of Yunhuan in his junior year, and skipped directly to a Ph.D. in his senior year. In that same year, he took the helm of Yunhuan, delivering two perfect scores with “Tianshu” and “Lingxi” within a year. Two years later, he executed reverse takeovers of Yunsheng and Yunqing, leaping to become a technology giant.

Though he had not yet officially graduated, he had been exceptionally selected as one of Peking University’s Top 100 Outstanding Alumni.

Rumor had it that he didn’t touch alcohol or tobacco and disliked socializing. He was always calm, always powerful, without weaknesses, and seemingly without flaws. No one had ever seen him initiate a conversation of more than ten sentences with anyone. No matter how many pursuers threw themselves at him, none could catch his eye.

This lack of sociability wasn’t a case of being “solitary and self-admiring”; it was simply that no one could compare to him.

Since the creation of the Peking University Computer Science forum, it had experienced several bloody battles of words fights, bickering, gossip-mongering, and doxxing. Every time a major incident occurred, the forum seemed to uphold the motto: “We are all PKU students, who yields to whom?” Only Fu Zheng was the exception.

Years ago, someone had compiled his achievements into a long-form post of tens of thousands of words; not a single person raised a doubt. From then on, his status as a “god” was established.

He wasn’t just a myth; he was a national treasure.

The past of such a flawless person had been kept airtight. Some speculated that even if there were traces, they had long since been quietly erased.

And the appearance of Cheng Huai, in the eyes of the crowd, was undoubtedly the presence that dragged this deity down into the mortal realm.

Gu Siming was the first to step into the classroom, with Cheng Huai following closely behind. Someone let out a low cry, and the originally noisy air instantly reached a boiling point. Countless gazes focused on Cheng Huai like scanning radar.

“Is that him? Cheng Huai?”

“Seems like him… his hips are so big and perky.”

“So pale and pretty. Is he really a guy?”

“His figure is so good… even I’m envious as a woman.”

“Holy crap, he just passed right in front of me. His skin looks so smooth and delicate!!”

The originally scattered conversations quickly merged into a wave of whispers, and every eye was glued to Cheng Huai.

Leng Muyu gave a cold snort, turned her head, and walked haughtily toward the seat where Zhu Manni was sitting.

“Cheng Huai, there’s a spot here!” A call rang out clearly amidst the noise.

On an ordinary day, this would be the most common greeting, but at this moment, it caused all the eyes focused on Cheng Huai to instantly shift toward the source of the sound.

Cheng Huai turned his head and saw Mo Qing waving enthusiastically, pointing to the empty seat beside him.

Mindful of the surrounding gazes, Cheng Huai politely pointed to the roommates beside him, indicating that he wanted to sit with them.

The light in Mo Qing’s eyes dimmed visibly.

Gu Siming and Meng Qi exchanged a glance, thinking about how to comfort Cheng Huai and tell him not to mind the crowd’s stares, only to see the person in question sit down composedly. He even waved to them to signal them over, appearing as calm as if he were standing outside the center of the storm.

The row behind the one Cheng Huai chose happened to be occupied by two guys wearing black-rimmed glasses. They showed no reaction when Cheng Huai sat down, clearly out of the loop. Gu Siming said “hi” to them and was glared at as if he were a lunatic.

“Tsk tsk, I guess we’re getting a taste of the celebrity treatment.” Gu Siming straightened his back smugly, even though he knew those gazes weren’t falling on him.

Meng Qi lightly scolded him: “What are you talking about? This isn’t exactly a good thing.” After saying it, he realized his slip of the tongue and looked apologetically at Cheng Huai, only to find the other party staring intently at his phone screen.

“What are you looking at?” Meng Qi leaned over.

Cheng Huai turned his phone toward them. On the screen was the laboratory recruitment poster Gu Siming had sent earlier: “Interested?”

A mouthful of water Gu Siming had just sipped nearly sprayed out. He lowered his voice in terror: “I only sent that for you to look at, I didn’t mean for you to actually go! We’re only freshmen! Do you know how hard it is to get into the AI lab? They only recruit two people a year, and the line of competitors from freshman to junior year is a mile long. Just Fu Zheng-shixiong’s selection criteria alone is enough to leave the initial applicants without a place to be buried!”

Meng Qi poked Gu Siming’s arm, reminding him to watch his words.

Gu Siming hurriedly slapped his own mouth: “Almost forgot, the shixiong is your brother. Then you should… be fine, right?”

He had a second thought and said hesitantly: “But based on shixiong’s style, for him to establish such a reputation in school, he probably won’t play favorites…”

Meng Qi nodded in agreement: “I think so too.”

“I’ve asked around,” Gu Siming continued to advise. “The lab has never taken a freshman. There’s only a month left until the selection, and we haven’t even finished half of our professional classes. Let’s wait a bit longer.”

Cheng Huai’s gaze, however, remained fixed on the poster. Finally, he spoke with determination: “I’m going to participate.”

Wasn’t he avoiding him?

Then he would appear openly before Fu Zheng, leaving Fu Zheng with nowhere to hide.

The world-renowned Cooperation Organization Forum in Haishi opened with a grand and magnificent promotional video, gathering celebrities from all walks of life.

The exhibition hall was teeming with people, while in the VIP lounge backstage, political and business elites gathered in groups of three or five. Amidst the glimmer of jewels and the clinking of glasses, everyone attempted to seize opportunities in this grand event, the air thick with hypocritical pleasantries.

Fu Zheng was the last to arrive at the lounge. He was dressed in a well-tailored black peak-lapel suit, his figure tall and straight, his steps steady. His tight jawline and single-minded focus made him seem out of place amidst the surrounding vanity.

Several CEOs of well-known domestic tech companies wanted to step forward to chat, but when they were three paces away from Fu Zheng, they were silently repelled by the invisible low-pressure aura around him.

“Apologies, President Fu needs some time to prepare before the forum begins.” Zhou Yuan stepped forward at the right time to defuse the situation, and the crowd could only disperse dejectedly.

Fu Zheng sat in an empty seat by the window, his long legs crossed. He took out a tablet to quickly browse the meeting materials, paying no heed to his surroundings.

Zhou Yuan stood quietly to the side. Seeing the faint dark shadows under Fu Zheng’s eyes, he couldn’t help but sigh softly.

When the boss was in a bad mood, he was the first to suffer.

Zhou Yuan grumbled silently in his heart. He had just finished settling that little ancestor, and now he had to serve this “Great Buddha.” When would this end?

As soon as he got off the plane, he rushed to the hotel. The first thing he did upon seeing Fu Zheng was to report every detail of sending Cheng Huai back to school this morning with meticulous care. In the end, Fu Zheng only said a flat “I know,” showing no other emotional change.

But after years by Fu Zheng’s side, Zhou Yuan had already developed a sharp intuition.

At this moment, he clearly sensed that a storm was brewing beneath the calm surface, like the low pressure before a heavy rain, making it hard to breathe.

Zhou Yuan couldn’t help but shrink his shoulders and shiver.

“Are you cold?” Fu Zheng looked up at him.

The exhibition center had central air conditioning, and the cooling was strong. It was just right if one wore a suit jacket. He had been in a rush and was only wearing a standard work shirt; it wouldn’t be wrong to say he was cold.

“N-no, not cold. Boss, am I disturbing you by being here?”

“No.” Fu Zheng pressed his brow and said in a raspy voice: “You go back and rest first.”

“No need, no need. I’ll stay here with you until the forum ends.” Zhou Yuan consciously stepped back, preventing himself from appearing in Fu Zheng’s line of sight again.

The main forum officially opened.

As the main attraction, Fu Zheng was invited to the stage to share his insights during a key segment.

He gave no opening greetings or thank-you speeches. He cut straight to the theme, his deep, clear voice projecting through the speakers.

“In the past ten minutes, three guests have mentioned ‘low-altitude network construction’ and ‘data-driven.'” At this point, Fu Zheng paused slightly, his gaze sweeping over the guests who had just spoken. “But unfortunately, 70% of your proposals are solving a non-existent problem, and the other 30% are repeatedly creating information silos.”

As soon as these words were spoken, the entire audience was shocked. The face of an airline president known for his aggressive style instantly turned ugly.

Fu Zheng ignored the reaction from the floor. The panoramic screen behind him began to scroll through 3D city models. “A true low-altitude network should not be another ‘subway in the sky’ that simply sets fixed routes. Instead, it should be a highly autonomous collaborative system.”

The simplified interface of the Lingxi Decision System engine appeared on the screen. “What Yunhuan does is not dispatching, but rather giving every aircraft micro-decision-making capabilities under macro rules. They can autonomously avoid, collaborate, and optimize. The system is only responsible for setting boundaries, not directing every detail.”

Over the next three minutes, Fu Zheng used refined professional terminology and mathematical models to precisely analyze the fundamental flaws of the proposals that created information silos.

The logic was rigorous and impeccable. The venue was dead silent.

“So you believe the key to collaborative governance is establishing mutual trust, rather than technical barriers?” Amidst the silence, that airline president asked in a low voice.

“You could understand it that way.” Fu Zheng’s expression was distant but his response was professional. “Technical barriers are just the surface. The core is the game for rule-making power, and mutual trust is the result of the game, not the premise.”

His tone shifted slightly: “But the advancement of all technology ultimately concerns people. We often get lost in macro blueprints while ignoring micro-level insights. As I just said, the game of rules precedes the collaboration of technology.”

“I have been enlightened.” The airline president turned from anger to contemplation. “I look forward to working with Yunhuan to establish mutual trust in the future, but I hope this isn’t just a result of a game, but stems from mutual recognition.”

“The honor is mine.” Fu Zheng nodded calmly.

Night had fallen when the forum concluded. Zhou Yuan drove onto the streets where the lights were just beginning to glow.

“Boss, President Yan from Kunpeng has invited you for dinner the one who asked the question this afternoon. Should I accept or decline?”

“Decline it.” An impatient flicker crossed Fu Zheng’s brow. “Take me to Yonghua Club.”

“Understood.” Zhou Yuan turned the steering wheel deftly, and the car drew a smooth arc as it merged into traffic.

The Yonghua Club was formerly a British consulate and had now become the most prestigious private club in Haishi.

The foreign owner, having lived in Haishi for many years, had actually developed a Shanghainese dialect with a foreign accent to greet guests, which had become a bit of an anecdote in elite circles.

Zhou Yuan parked the car at the entrance of the courtyard and rolled down the window: “Boss, I’ll come pick you up tonight.”

Fu Zheng waved him off. He took a cigarette pack from his pocket, flicked one out to roll it between his fingers, and bit it between his lips as he stepped inside.

Passing through the red-brick arched gate, white window frames and lush Boston ivy shaded the small courtyard.

He signaled the waiter to bring the wine he kept stored there, filled a glass, sat alone in a secluded corner, and skillfully lit the cigarette between his lips.

Smoke swirled around Fu Zheng’s weary brow. He numbly inhaled and exhaled smoke rings, occasionally flicking away ash with his finger. He raised his glass and drained it in one gulp. The amber liquid’s shifting light and shadow in the glass reflected his dark and uncertain expression.

Richard, having sent off a group of guests, saw this old acquaintance who had paid a sudden visit and strolled over humming a tune.

“Brother, you treating my place like a bar?” Richard looked at the cigarette butts piling up in the ashtray and the nearly empty wine bottle, and couldn’t help but tease. “This wine is strong, drink it slowly.”

Fu Zheng frowned as he listened to Richard’s botched but hardworking attempt at Chinese. He gave a “hn,” serving as a response.

He tugged his tie down, unbuttoned two shirt buttons, and bit the half-burnt cigarette. He leaned back on the sofa with his eyes closed. The smoke he exhaled blurred his occasionally furrowed brow, giving him a unique sense of desolation.

Richard chuckled. Seeing Fu Zheng like this was indeed quite rare. He couldn’t help but be curious: “Didn’t you quit?”

Fu Zheng flicked the ash, meeting the question with silence.

“Failed again?”

Fu Zheng opened his eyes and gave him a cold, sidelong glare.

Ignoring Fu Zheng’s gaze, Richard went straight to the point: “Is it because of him again this time?”

Three consecutive questions, each one striking the heart.

With every question asked, Fu Zheng’s expression sank a degree further.

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