The next morning, Shen Rui stood by the front door, coat over his arm, suitcase beside him, sharp as ever in a pressed black suit and polished shoes that made no sound against the marble floor.
Lin Xie sat cross-legged on the couch, disassembling a decorative pen she found in the study. Springs and ink tubes littered the coffee table like fallen drone parts.
"I'll be back the day before the banquet," Shen Rui said.
"Try not to die," she replied, not looking up.
He ignored that. Stepped closer. Held out a sleek, matte phone. "My number's already saved. Use it only if necessary."
She took the phone without hesitation, flipped it around, turned it off, then back on again—curious.
"You're leaving me alone," she said.
"I'm leaving you in a building with thirty guards, facial recognition, and retinal locks."
She blinked slowly. "That's not the same as alone."
He didn't respond. Just gave her one last look—calculated, unreadable—before turning on his heel and stepping into the waiting elevator.
The doors slid shut with a soft hiss.
She waited exactly twelve seconds before standing, grabbing the phone, and heading toward the guest room to change.
By late morning, she was out.
No guards stopped her. No drones hovered overhead. Shen Rui had given orders, and they were followed—if she wanted to leave, let her.
So she did.
The city pulsed with noise and motion, everything a little slower, a little messier than what she remembered from her world. The air wasn't clean, the drones weren't smart, and people walked while staring at their screens like that was a life goal.
She watched them all. Closely. With quiet fascination.
The subway fascinated her—so many bodies packed in with rules about politeness and silence and personal space, all of which were broken. A kid sneezed on her, and she simply sidestepped without blinking.
Eventually, she wandered past a row of tall gates wrapped in banners and school flags. Curious, she stopped.
It was a university.
Senzhou Imperial University. The golden emblem over the archway shimmered in the sun.
Students streamed in and out, some with laptops, some with iced coffee, all of them with expressions that hovered somewhere between exhaustion and determination.
She moved closer, walking along the outside fence, studying them.
Most were young. Talking fast. Wearing matching uniforms or ID lanyards. Laughing. Stressing. Reading notes aloud while chewing on the ends of pens. Lin Xie tilted her head.
So this… was school?
Not training. Not simulations. Not algorithmic feeds piped into your mind while suspended in a pod.
They were learning with each other.
One girl sat under a tree flipping through a chemistry book. Two boys sprinted past, arguing about physics. Another group huddled over exam notes near the snack stall, whispering about formulas like they were gossip.
"Entrance exam's next week," someone nearby said, flipping a brochure.
Lin Xie slowed.
She stopped walking entirely.
Entrance.
Exam.
The words buzzed in her mind, cross-referencing old mission files.
She remembered a facility in the future. One mission. Her target had been the head of a knowledge-based resistance group. A rogue university principal who built schools in secret for "free thought." Lin Xie had been sent in. The campus had been clean. Orderly. Predictable. She'd done her job. Efficiently.
But the idea of education had never mattered to her.
Not until now.
She crossed the street, moving closer to the bulletin board outside the gate. Her eyes scanned the schedule—exam dates, location, rules, subjects.
She didn't recognize the school's systems, but the structure was familiar.
Questions. Problems. Evaluation.
In her world, she'd passed every impossible test thrown her way.
Maybe… she could try this one too.
Not because she needed to.
But because it was unknown.
And Lin Xie hated not knowing.
She tapped the phone Shen Rui had given her and took a photo of the exam notice.
Then turned away, the faintest glint of intrigue in her eyes.
This time, she didn't plan to observe from the outside.
She wanted to see what it meant to belong inside something—if only to understand why people fought so hard for it.
Lin Xie sat at the edge of a public fountain, watching a pigeon try to intimidate a slice of bread. She didn't quite understand why people fed birds here. In her experience, birds weren't meant to be coddled—they were meant to deliver surveillance chips or carry coded explosives.
But this one was fluffy. And ridiculous.
She tapped the phone Shen Rui gave her and stared at the screen. Still unused. No calls. No texts.
She hadn't contacted him since he left.
She didn't need to.
But now…
She scrolled to his name. Clicked it. Let it ring once.
He picked up before the second buzz.
"What did you break?" he asked flatly.
"I didn't call to report property damage."
A pause. Then: "Yet."
She rolled her eyes. "I have a request."
There was silence on the other end—his version of bracing.
"I want to take the university entrance exam."
More silence. Longer this time.
Finally, he said, "Why?"
"I'm curious."
"That's not a real reason."
"It is to me."
Another pause. She could practically hear him thinking through a dozen layers of consequences.
Then, finally: "You don't have a legal identity."
"I figured," she said. "That's your department."
A sigh. "You want me to create credentials. Academic records. Citizenship. A completely fabricated identity robust enough to pass the university vetting system."
"Yes."
"You're aware this is a high-risk request."
"Coming from the man who invited a classified anomaly into his home and asked her to pretend to be his girlfriend?"
Touché.
He exhaled slowly. "Give me until tomorrow."
She blinked. "You're agreeing?"
"I said I'd provide resources," he said coolly. "If this keeps you entertained and off the news, fine."
"Don't sound too excited," she murmured.
"Do not talk to anyone official. Do not sign anything yourself. I'll handle it."
"Understood, boss."
"Don't call me that."
"Copy that, partner."
A click.
He ended the call.
She smiled—sort of. Not quite real. But something close.
A fake identity, huh?
Funny how that felt more honest than anything else she'd ever been given.
She looked up again, watching the students across the street through the gates of Capital Academy.
Soon, she'd be on the other side of that fence.
Not because she needed to blend in.
But because, for the first time, she wanted to stand among the chaos—not above it.