GRMFBS CH49

Zhan Yan didn’t feel the slightest frustration over this failed tracking attempt. After going through so many garbled-code anomalies, the biggest negative side effect he suffered was that he couldn’t scroll any more gossip threads for the rest of the day—his gossip system’s search bar would lock itself temporarily.

The only pity was not knowing when he’d get another chance to catch Anomaly No. 2’s true form.

Still, there was something odd he vaguely noticed in the fly’s gossip thread this time. Back then, he’d been too busy live-reporting updates to take a closer look. Now that the operation had failed, once he had time, he planned to carefully comb through those threads again to figure out what had felt off.

This chase had taken quite a while. He was still lying on the desk in the professional classroom.

Zhan Yan exited the Chaofan Forum and opened his eyes.

Someone had draped a jacket over him—Gu Jiancheng was sitting right beside him. His phone showed that he had been lying there for more than two hours. In all that time, no one had disturbed him—not even an accidental nudge.

His body felt a little sore and stiff, and Zhan Yan quickly realized it wasn’t just his imagination. He carefully stretched his neck and shoulders, only to freeze halfway with a sharp intake of breath, muttering under his breath, “Sleeping on the desk in class really is a bad idea…”

Gu Jiancheng placed a hand on his shoulder and gently rubbed it a few times, quickly figuring out which side he had cricked.

“Don’t move,” Gu Jiancheng said softly, applying pressure.

His thumbs pressed firmly into the muscle, slowly working their way from the side of the neck to the shoulder. Zhan Yan immediately felt a wave of soreness shoot through him—he nearly let out a groan.

Gu Jiancheng found the knot of tense muscle and kneaded it loose with a few strong strokes, then lightened his touch to give a few gentle squeezes.

It was painful and comfortable at the same time. Zhan Yan couldn’t help letting out a pleased hum. “Right there! Right there! Press a little more!”

Gu Jiancheng followed the direction of the muscle, massaging a few more times.

“Try moving it now?”

Zhan Yan turned his head left, right, forward, and back—and lit up with joy. “It’s fine now!”

He leaned back in his seat, looking up at Gu Jiancheng. “You’re amazing! Where did you learn this? You’re seriously good at this!”

Gu Jiancheng met his sparkling eyes, full of undisguised admiration and longing.

His throat bobbed slightly as he once again placed his hand on Zhan Yan’s shoulder and neck.

Gu Jiancheng’s hands were warm and strong, running smoothly along Zhan Yan’s shoulder blades and either side of his spine. Once the soreness faded, only comfort remained. Zhan Yan squinted in bliss.

“How are you so good at this… mmph—”

Gu Jiancheng slowly leaned in, his breath warm and low by Zhan Yan’s ear. “I’ve actually trained in this. Massaging other places feels even better… want to try?”

A burst of noise interrupted them.

Several classmates returned, dragging Pao Pao up the stairs. The moment the dog got back, it flopped onto the ground, tongue lolling, eyes completely empty.

Zhan Yan was stunned.

“What did you guys do to it?”

One of the classmates coughed awkwardly. “Nothing much… just took him for a little walk.”

Their class schedule matched the two neighboring classes, and they shared the professional classroom. While Zhan Yan had been lying on the desk, these energetic students had played with Pao Pao whenever they got bored—and when that wasn’t enough, they took him out for walks.

And this… was the result.

They all suddenly shivered along with the dog.

Pao Pao blearily lifted its head, glanced around, saw nothing strange, and flopped back down to keep panting, heartlessly at ease.

The other classmates looked up—and saw Gu Jiancheng standing behind Zhan Yan.

Gu Jiancheng was tall, with a high nose bridge and irises that were noticeably larger than average. When he looked at someone, he didn’t lower his head—only his gaze dropped, along with his eyelids just slightly, carrying an air of aloof mystery.

As those black eyes fixed on them, the students couldn’t help shrinking back.

Why did they suddenly feel like they’d done something terribly wrong…?

After more than ten minutes, Pao Pao was still lying on the ground, tongue hanging out.

A group of vet students began to worry and thoroughly checked the dog from head to toe.

“No injuries…” one classmate muttered, starting to fret.

Why wouldn’t Pao Pao get up? Had they over-exercised him? But they hadn’t even walked him that hard—the last few rounds were just slow strolls.

Zhan Yan squatted down beside the dog. “Want to go see your owner? Can you get up? If not, you’ll have to stay here with us this afternoon.”

Pao Pao shot up immediately.

Ha! Called it—this little guy was faking it.

Zhan Yan led the dog to the cafeteria gate.

At first, Pao Pao sat obediently, looking around for Teacher Fang. When students it liked passed by, it even wagged its tail and leaned in for attention.

Zhan Yan held his phone up to record a video, while Gu Jiancheng stood right beside him, head inclined toward him, his breath brushing Zhan Yan’s ear as he spoke: “Do you like dogs?”

Zhan Yan’s hand paused. He turned his head slightly to look at Gu Jiancheng, eyes glittering with a teasing smile.

The two of them were already standing close—when Zhan Yan tilted his head, their noses almost touched.

“I do,” he answered with a quiet laugh.

Suddenly, Pao Pao flopped to the ground, letting out soft, pitiful whimpers.

They were interrupted again. Zhan Yan glanced down at the dog, swept his gaze around, and sure enough—Teacher Fang was approaching.

Zhan Yan kept his video running, calmly recording Pao Pao’s full-on drama performance.

Teacher Fang, familiar with his dog’s cunning ways, laughed and asked, “What’s he doing this time?”

Zhan Yan replied, “The whole class took turns walking him—he’s exhausted.”

He showed Teacher Fang the videos everyone had taken.

Teacher Fang burst out laughing. “Serves him right! You’ve met your match today, huh?”

Pao Pao looked up at him in disbelief, utterly wronged.

Teacher Fang grinned. “Send me the video. And let me know anytime you’re free—I’ll lend him to you guys for walks!”

Their afternoon practical class was by the experimental field, where there was a lotus pond now in full bloom. Gu Jiancheng thought maybe after class, he could go for a stroll there with Zhan Yan.

No need to leave campus—a quiet walk in school would be nice too.

“We could—”

“Hold on a sec,” Zhan Yan said, checking his WeChat.

It was a message from Wen Yinghui—and an important one at that.

Even though the new term had started, Zhan Yan still kept in touch with him and Matthias—the two of them often messaged him.

Wen Yinghui had sent him his latest fitness tips, while Matthias shared some new travel photos.

This time, Wen Yinghui messaged to ask if Zhan Yan wanted to attend the seventieth birthday banquet of the old master of the Luan family.

Old Master Luan was well-known in the business world. He had started with nothing in his youth and built a vast enterprise through sheer hard work—a true legend. The Luan Group had spread its reach into many industries, far beyond the league of “Shoude Company.” To be able to attend Old Master Luan’s birthday banquet was a rare and valuable networking opportunity.

It was no small favor that Wen Yinghui had managed to get an invitation—and was willing to bring him along.

But Zhan Yan wasn’t sure if he could make it. The Luan family’s banquet was being held in another city, and there was still some time before then. He didn’t have any lab sessions during those days, and he could probably get permission to miss a few theory classes without much trouble.

Still… with Anomaly No. 2 unresolved, he didn’t feel right leaving town. And who knew if they’d catch Anomaly No. 2 before the banquet began?

“Can I send someone else?” Zhan Yan asked. “I might not be free that day. Could my sister go instead?”

Wen Yinghui readily agreed.

He simply wanted to offer the favor; it didn’t matter if Zhan Sui Ru went in Zhan Yan’s place—Zhan Yan would still owe him the favor.

Zhan Yan immediately messaged his sister to ask if she was free to go.

But Zhan Sui Ru hadn’t replied yet—probably busy with something.

Gu Jiancheng waited for Zhan Yan to finish texting, then said, “Let’s go walk by the lotus pond.”

Birds chirped as they flew overhead: “Rain’s coming!” “Find shelter, quick!”

Zhan Yan hesitated. “I think it might rain soon.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a flash of lightning streaked across the distant sky.

Crashhh…

Gu Jiancheng: …

He was frustrated.

“Let’s head back to the dorm,” Zhan Yan suggested.

The ground was quickly spattered with dark spots, and in the blink of an eye, the earth was covered.

What had started as a few scattered drops turned into a heavy downpour. Neither of them had an umbrella, so they ran all the way back to the dorm. On the way, they passed the lotus pond—lotus leaves swaying in the wind, the scent of blossoms filling the air. Even this late-summer rain carried warmth, the drops hitting heavily against their bodies.

By the time they made it past the lotus pond, their once-dry clothes were stuck to their skin.

Luckily, their dorm building was newly constructed and had private bathrooms.

Duan Hong was at the library, and Bao Qingshan had left campus after class. For now, the dorm was theirs alone.

Zhan Yan showered first, and while Gu Jiancheng washed up, he logged into the Chaofan Forum. His chat with Lingyu wasn’t finished earlier—he’d cut it off quickly since the classroom wasn’t convenient for private communication.

Lingyu had been left fuming after Zhan Yan had abruptly ended the call with that “Can I exchange it for points instead?” line—nearly choking with frustration. Then she realized something was off.

Zoujin Kexue had hung up way too fast. Normally, he would insist on settling the points score before ending any call.

Given how obsessed he was with points—why end the conversation so abruptly?

There could only be one explanation: Zoujin Kexue must have overdrawn his energy or even suffered mental strain during the live tracking earlier. He probably didn’t even have the strength to continue talking!

Unbelievable! He’d worked so hard and still insisted on putting up a brave front!

What was more important, your health or your pride?!

“Maybe it’s not about pride,” Ning Xi mused. “Maybe it’s anxiety.”

Was he afraid people would think he was weak? Zoujin Kexue was a self-taught genius, unfamiliar with how information-type espers really functioned in the Chaofan world. Cautious and wary, he constantly hid his true identity, downplayed his weaknesses, and masked any signs of discomfort.

They’d treated him kindly, but if he was still this guarded, did it mean he’d once been hurt by trusting the wrong person?

“Or maybe he’s just really desperate for points,” Ji Yueming said. “Did he say why he wanted my lightning talismans?”

Lingyu replied, “He said because he thinks lightning is cool.”

Ji Yueming shook her head, unconvinced by that explanation.

She pondered for a moment before speaking. “Ask him again. I can gift him a defensive lightning talisman. But if he wants an offensive one, I need a proper reason.”

Her lightning talismans were lethal weapons. Defensive ones were fine to give away, but offensive ones couldn’t be handed out casually.

“Tell him not to hoard points at the expense of his mental state. His well-being comes first.”

Lingyu nodded. “Got it. I’ll ask him when he logs in.”

The moment Zhan Yan came online, he saw Lingyu’s message.

A long, detailed paragraph summed up into a simple point:

Tianshi was willing to give him a defensive lightning talisman. He should stop fixating on saving points for a talisman and not risk his condition. Information pollution from anomalies was serious business. He should obediently accept the mental-soothing potions and meditation techniques.

What a generous Tianshi!

Zhan Yan was deeply moved and sent a private reply expressing his gratitude.

Lingyu hummed smugly to herself. Our leader really is this kind! The captain’s lightning talismans were priceless—only five had been traded away in all these years on the forum. Surely Zoujin Kexue would gratefully accept the help and firmly tie himself to the Abnormal Affairs Management Bureau’s team?

Then she saw Zoujin Kexue’s refusal—he still wanted to exchange for points.

What???

Lingyu sat bolt upright.

What was going on?!

Did he not actually want the talisman? Was the rumor that he wanted lightning charms a lie? Was he not a fan of the Tianshi after all?

Zoujin Kexue replied: “I need a total of six lightning talismans.”