For the next three days, Zhao Li made no attempt to contact Shen An.
Shen An wasn’t in any hurry. He stuck to a routine, rising at seven each morning before heading out on his daily explorations.
From his investigations over those few days, he realized that Eight Seas City was far larger than he’d imagined.
It ranked among the top cities in the entire East China District, holding a status akin to a provincial capital in his own understanding of the world.
He also learned more about the university Zhao Li had mentioned: East China Comprehensive University. Among all the institutions of higher learning, it enjoyed a similarly elite position, just like Eight Seas City among its peer cities and counties.
And curiously enough, that rooftop was located right on the grounds of East China Comprehensive University.
In other words, the girl he’d saved that day was a student there.
The university lay very close to his hotel. It was only about a ten-minute walk from the main gate to the hotel.
Its location in the heart of the downtown area struck Shen An as rather unconventional, based on his usual knowledge of how such institutions were sited.
Typically, universities chose spots that were somewhat remote but not desolate.
This served a dual purpose: it kept costs down while spurring economic development in the surrounding areas.
It also facilitated the smooth running of day-to-day school operations.
Not to mention something as basic as rest. A central location could easily disrupt students’ and faculty’s sleep if the dormitories lacked decent soundproofing.
And from what he knew, no matter how prestigious the university, dorm soundproofing was usually mediocre at best.
Unless it was one of those ultra-elite private academies where room and board alone cost six or seven figures a year.
During this time, Shen An slipped onto campus several times to scout things out ahead of schedule.
It was August now, fast approaching the start of the semester.
Freshmen had already begun arriving early to register, and with classes not yet in session, the campus buzzed with activity.
After a few observations, Shen An drew another conclusion: “The gender ratio among East China Comprehensive University students is seriously imbalanced.”
Wherever he walked along the paths, he could spot a dozen or even dozens of female students in a single minute, but scarcely any males.
Moreover, the girls were all strikingly attractive. Even on average, their looks matched the school’s lofty reputation.
They weren’t quite at the level of “school beauty” per capita, but most were pleasing to the eye at first glance. Every few minutes, he’d see a girl scoring in the seventy-to-eighty range.
It was downright bizarre.
Shen An even wondered for a moment if this was some performing arts academy that prioritized appearance in admissions.
Beyond that, Shen An made another new discovery during these days—one concerning his pink brick phone.
He’d assumed the Healing System issued only one commission task at a time, but it turned out there really was such a thing as “free choice.”
As he ventured out from the hotel to explore, notifications trickled in on his phone, with new commission tasks popping up one after another on the interface.
Most were trivial matters, like helping someone find a lost cat or dog, or lending a hand at the scene of a minor accident.
And the vast majority offered no integral points as rewards.
Some didn’t even have rewards at all—the System was just freeloading off Shen An’s good Samaritan impulses.
The ones with points were usually fiendishly difficult, leaving him no time to tackle them.
Still, over these three days, Shen An managed to do plenty of good deeds.
He had time to kill anyway, and most didn’t come with rewards.
No matter. He was in it for the satisfaction of helping out, rewards or no.
Doing so also let him gather information at a rapid clip.
On top of that, he scored some tangible gains: like assisting the owner of a clothing store and walking away with a new jacket.
Or a new charger.
A new pair of underwear.
Little items like these piled up, and by the end of three days, his hotel room actually looked somewhat lived-in.
Counting them over each evening gave Shen An a bittersweet sense of fulfillment.
None of it was valuable, but compared to arriving with nothing but the clothes on his back, it added a touch of real presence.
Oh, and a 150-yuan good Samaritan bonus.
That padded out his wallet, which had held only his ID card before. At least now, on restless evenings, he could hit up an internet cafe.
Yes, the hotel’s lounge area had no such amenity.
All in all, Shen An’s days followed a strict pattern: out promptly at seven in the morning, back by seven at night.
Lunch he handled on the fly through his helpful detours.
On the fourth day, Zhao Li finally called.
“Doctor Shen, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.”
She led with an apology.
Shen An stayed utterly calm. “No worries. These past few days have been pretty fulfilling, actually.”
“Oh? Looks like the hotel didn’t disappoint.”
Zhao Li let out a light laugh.
Fulfilling indeed—playing free “laborer” every day, how could it not be?
Shen An grumbled silently to himself.
“Anyway, to business. Has Aunt Zhao sorted out her end?”
“Yes, it took some doing, but it’s finally handled.”
Zhao Li then asked Shen An, “If it’s possible, Doctor Shen, could you head out now?”
“Head out?”
“Yes. I’ve already spoken to my daughter about it.”
“Oh, sure. Where to?”
“Right on the university campus. If you can leave now, I’ll have someone pick you up, and you can just follow them.”
“Got it. I’m leaving right away.”
“Thank you so much for the trouble~”
Zhao Li paused, then added in a quieter voice, “There’s one more thing I need to tell you. I hope you won’t mind.”
Shen An went on alert. “Don’t tell me something’s gone wrong again?”
“I have a sudden urgent matter to attend to, so… for the foreseeable future, you’ll have to deal with my daughter on your own.”
“I… I might not be able to offer you much help…”
Her voice carried a faint note of regret.
“Oh, no problem. Honestly, one-on-one interaction will let me perform better.”
Shen An’s lips curved slightly. “That’s how psychotherapy works best.”
“I’m sorry to put you out again…”
“It’s fine, really. Aunt Zhao, stop saying you’re troubling me—this is all part of the job.”
“Mm. I hope everything goes smoothly for you, Doctor Shen.”
Shen An caught a hint of hesitation in her tone.
It was as if she had something more to say but couldn’t bring herself to voice it.
He let the mystery hang and didn’t press.
After confirming the details, he hung up and settled in to wait calmly in his hotel room.
To play the part of a hardworking freshman, he changed into the white shirt he’d arrived in.
The bloodstains were gone, but the slashes from sharp objects and faint lingering marks remained.
Zhao Li’s people moved fast.
About half an hour later, a knock came at the door.
“Mr. Shen? We’re here on Miss Zhao’s orders.”
He opened up to find several burly men in suits standing outside.
“That’s me.”
Shen An grinned at them from the doorway. “Do you happen to have a suitcase with you?”
The men exchanged glances and shook their heads in unison.
“Then could you trouble yourselves to fetch one? I’ve got quite a few things to bring along.”
As guests specially designated by Zhao Li, the men didn’t dare slack off. They promptly procured a suitcase from somewhere.
“Is this one okay?”
“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Shen An flashed a broad smile, thoroughly pleased.
The System freeloaded off him; now he was freeloading off others. Mutual benefit all around.
He packed up his room’s belongings, loaded them into the car, and off they went through the school gates, heading north.
Less than ten minutes later, the car pulled to a stop.
Shen An stepped out and stared in mild surprise at the building before him.
In his three days of prowling the campus, he’d covered nearly everything—except a handful of restricted zones that required special permits.
And this was one of those select few.
At first, he’d puzzled over what vital teaching facility or lab could demand such stringent access.
But now it clicked.
This was the school’s dormitory area.
Or rather, not just any dorms.
More precisely: the university’s exclusive apartment district.
Most students lived in standard school dorms after enrolling.
But a tiny fraction were exceptions.
These were students who paid different tuition, pursued special majors, or hailed from uncommon backgrounds.
They got solo accommodations, no roommates required.
The complex before him outclassed even those.
It wasn’t mere “dorms” anymore—it rivaled upscale apartment blocks in the city proper.
If anything, it was even more luxurious.
Shen An recalled what Zhao Li had told him—her daughter had moved into a new apartment right near the school.
He scanned his surroundings. Strictly speaking, this place was indeed near the school…
It was just far from the usual classrooms, tucked away in a remote corner of the campus.
But this “move” implied that her daughter had been living somewhere else before?
Did this school have other apartments??
Given the wealth Zhao Li had displayed, Shen An seriously doubted that her daughter had been crashing in a dorm.
The car pulled up to the entrance, and one of the burly men hopped out to chat with the security guard…
The other burly man in the car turned to Shen An. “This is as far as we can take you.”
“Can’t we drive inside?”
“Nope,” he replied. “Miss Zhao’s orders.”
“Got it. So, where exactly am I headed?”
“Building D, Room 1301.”
At the same time, the man handed Shen An a file folder.
“Miss Zhao told us to pass this along to you.”
Shen An took the folder, grabbed his suitcase, and stepped out of the car alone.
The gate to the Apartment District stood open, but he didn’t rush inside. Instead, he lingered there for a moment.
Once the car had slowly driven off, he opened the folder.
As expected, it contained all the student documents Zhao Li had arranged for him: student ID, admission notice, and the like. There was also a bank card, with the password—six sixes—written on the back.
She must have already deposited his “salary” into it.
He casually picked up the student ID and flipped it open out of curiosity. He froze on the spot.
The card was properly stamped. The photo, dates, and personal details all checked out perfectly.
But what left Shen An stunned was the major listed on it.
“East China Comprehensive University, School of Foreign Languages, Department of Foreign Languages—Class 1, English Major.”
Eng…
English…
Major.
This was bad news. Utterly devastating bad news.
Shen An’s hand trembled slightly as he clutched the student ID.
The midday sun blazed brilliantly overhead, bathing him in a lazy, pleasant warmth. Yet Shen An felt as if he were trapped in the depths of a minus-ten-degree winter chill. His legs shook, and cold sweat poured down his back.
What a blinding sun…
Madam Zhao! Miss Zhao! Zhao Li!!!
That damned English Department.
He had never imagined Zhao Li would casually stick him with a major like this.
To Shen An, English was just like math.
He couldn’t do it. Plain and simple, he just couldn’t.
Which was why he’d never managed it.
He sank into thought, wrestling with one very important question.
Was it too late to switch majors now?
