BL Ch44

Pingyi Middle School, abbreviated as Pingzhong, is a school that stands out in the city’s educational system. Schools named after an entire city often hold a prestigious position within the local education hierarchy.

Pingzhong is such a school.

As one of the top 100 middle schools in the nation, Pingzhong actively responds to the city’s government initiatives by offering a series of extracurricular expansion courses, lectures, and social investigation activities. The focus of its research spans physics, biology, engineering, finance, and law.

The high school department is the most well-known, having nurtured over thirty academicians, but the middle school department is not far behind. The school arranges a special lecture once a week, with speakers being outstanding figures from various industries, giving students early exposure to greatness.

However, when today’s speaker appeared, the auditorium erupted in astonishment, and the leading teachers were taken aback.

Normally, the guest speakers dress plainly and behave elegantly, but today’s speaker sported flamboyant silver hair. His fitted black suit highlighted his superior model-like physique, and although the white rose on his lapel softened his intimidating aura, he still exuded an overwhelming presence.

“Boom, boom,” Yu Duqiu tapped the microphone and smiled while gesturing for silence. The LED screens on both sides of the stage zoomed in on his face, and gasps echoed throughout the hall.

For the teenagers, full of fantasies and treading the path of rebellion, villains often held more appeal than heroes.

With his devilishly handsome face, Yu Duqiu completely captivated the audience.

Zhou Yangguo, seated in her class’s section, heard her classmates excitedly discussing the speaker and couldn’t help but straighten her back in pride. She finally found closure for her first love, which had ended before it even began.

Losing to someone like Brother Yu? Not surprising at all!

She even found herself admiring Brother Bai, who stood quietly in the shadows on the left side of the stage, his face showing focus on just one person. She thought it was incredibly romantic.

The whole world is watching you, but you are my entire world.

How touching!

Plainclothes officers patrolled the sides and back of the auditorium.

Ji Lin and Zhou Yi stood at the center rear, guarding a main exit.

“The world is truly changing. Letting Yu Duqiu give a lecture—isn’t anyone worried he’ll corrupt the kids?” Ji Lin muttered.

Zhou Yi responded kindly, “The young master gives excellent talks, and he’s quite knowledgeable. His TED talks from before had high viewership.”

On stage, Yu Duqiu was introducing his project and how it would change humanity’s fate. Although the school had prepared a podium and chair for him, he didn’t sit. One hand held the microphone, the other hand in his pocket held a small clicker. He paced while interacting with the audience, looking casual. He never referenced notes and spoke of his Themis project with ease. Even the content on the large screen behind him was typed by him personally.

Ji Lin, initially skeptical, listened for a few minutes. His attitude shifted from “Let’s see what nonsense he’s going to spout” to “This kid might actually know something.” He couldn’t help but ask, “At what stage is his brain-computer interface project? Will it really cure drug addiction?”

Zhou Yi smiled wryly, “Captain Ji, I’m just a bodyguard. I don’t have access to such classified core business. The young master manages the progress himself, and even the company isn’t fully aware. But I do know that a Mr. Wu invested ten billion in the project, so the prospects must be promising.”

Ji Lin mumbled, “If he really develops a device that can cure drug addiction, I’d gladly spend all my savings to have a statue made for him.”

Zhou Yi hesitated but kindly refrained from telling him that Yu Duqiu would probably only accept a solid gold statue.

The slides and videos Ji Lin had reviewed earlier were filled with dull data and incomprehensible technical terms. However, with Yu Duqiu’s eloquent explanation, they became engaging and accessible. Even the middle school students in the audience listened intently, their focus gradually shifting from the speaker’s looks to the content of the lecture, nodding in understanding.

“No wonder Mu praised him so highly and entrusted him with the lead, not me or anyone else…” Ji Lin sighed softly. “He really is impressive—wealthy, talented, handsome, and smart. He excels at everything. Unlike me… I’ve been following this case for half a year and haven’t caught a single ghost.”

Zhou Yi heard him muttering but missed the details amid the thunderous applause, so he leaned in and asked, “Captain Ji, what did you say—”

At that moment, with a loud click, the stage lights suddenly went out.

Not just the stage—the entire auditorium plunged into darkness. Cries of surprise replaced the applause, erupting all at once, interspersed with teachers shouting to maintain order: “Don’t move! Stay in your seats! The lights will be back on soon!” Most of the students, thinking it was just a minor malfunction, remained seated as instructed, more curious than frightened.

On stage, Yu Duqiu tightened his grip on the microphone, quietly stepping back a few paces away from the edge.

The equipment in the auditorium had been checked just yesterday, so there shouldn’t have been any issues. He hadn’t used any high-power devices, so a power surge seemed unlikely.

Someone must have done this intentionally.

Was it another warning? Or perhaps another assassination attempt? He had no way of knowing. All he knew was that if the assailant wore night-vision goggles and took advantage of the chaos caused by the students’ shouts, they could easily approach him quietly and stab him in the back.

Yu Duqiu retreated to the center of the stage, vaguely recalling that there was a passage to the left side of the stage that led directly to the back door. Trusting his instincts, he turned 90 degrees and headed in that direction. But after just a few steps, his legs felt as if they were shackled by invisible chains, growing heavier and slower, until he couldn’t move them at all.

The darkness loomed like a giant curtain, engulfing every corner of his vision.

In his mind, he heard a faint click, and the reel of memories began to slowly spin. Familiar yet distant images appeared on the dark canvas—an eerie, narrow room; faces filled with despair and pain; and restless, anxious figures flashing by like scenes from a rapid slideshow. The reel spun faster and faster, until everything distorted into a swirl of colorful blotches, as though someone had splashed paint across his retina. Amidst the darkness, a dizzying kaleidoscope appeared before his eyes.

His pupils dilated, and his heart pounded like thunder. He wanted to scream, but someone covered his mouth and whispered nervously into his ear, “Don’t be afraid, young master, I won’t hurt you…”

“Bang!”

A gunshot echoed beside him, and he heard a brief groan from the man behind him. The hand covering his mouth went limp and released him.

He could finally speak, but his mind went blank, forgetting what he wanted to say. Tears surged uncontrollably from his eyes as he turned around slowly, stiff as a machine.

The man was gone, and all the colors vanished too. Before him was a pure white room, a white hospital bed, and white patient clothes… but they weren’t on him.

A blurry, ghost-like figure reached out to him and wiped the tears from his cold cheeks.

The hand was small and warm. When it touched his eyelids, he trembled involuntarily and instinctively closed his eyes.

As he did, all the images faded away, and even the warmth he felt seemed like another figment of his frayed nerves.

Unable to bear the overwhelming darkness again, Yu Duqiu opened his eyes desperately, only to find it was still pitch black. He kept retreating, unsure from which direction the attack would come, struggling to stay calm. But his trembling hand couldn’t hold the microphone any longer, and with a thud, it fell to the wooden stage floor, making a dull, heavy sound.

The next second, in the corner of his eye, he saw a sudden, tiny burst of light—like a phone flashlight—shining brightly as it rushed toward him.

Yu Duqiu, startled but hopeful, instinctively turned toward the light. But a flicker of doubt crept in, and after hesitating for half a second, he turned and ran in the opposite direction.

Yet he couldn’t shake the chains of fear in his heart, and his sluggish movements couldn’t outrun whoever was approaching. The person quickly caught up, grabbed his shoulder forcefully, and yanked him backward.

Yu Duqiu’s back slammed into a solid chest, making his heart skip a beat. At the same time, it felt as though a loud crash echoed in his mind, shattering the prison of memories that had held him captive. He was jolted back to reality, enveloped by the warmth and presence of a living, breathing person.

The man swiftly steadied him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Leaning close to his ear, he whispered, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here. Let’s get out of here, follow me.”

But it wasn’t so much following as it was being forcibly taken. The man’s chest pressed tightly against Yu Duqiu’s back, his breathing steady, his muscles firm with each inhale. His strength was astonishing—he carried Yu Duqiu, a grown man, as though he were a child, barely letting his feet touch the ground as they moved from the stage to the backstage area.

The lighting in the auditorium was controlled from a central room, but the backstage lounge was on a different circuit and remained brightly lit.

Bai Zhao quickly shut the lounge door, locked it, and turned back, saying, “Ji Lin brought a lot of people, so even if a few troublemakers slipped in, they should be caught soon. Sit down and rest. I’ll message Zhou and the others to come over.”

Yu Duqiu leaned on the table, calming his heartbeat. As his mind cleared and his vision sharpened, he scanned the lounge. The room was cluttered with props for performances, and on the table sat a makeup mirror and a comb. This must have been the room where students prepped and changed costumes during school events. In the northwest corner, there was a small door, probably leading to a changing room…

Suddenly, Yu Duqiu’s pupils contracted.

He stared at the small door, grabbed Bai Zhao, who had just sent a message, and said, “Find the auditorium’s back exit, don’t stay here.”

“But it’s dark outside, it’ll be hard to find—”

“Are you stupid? There’s no commotion outside, which means nothing’s happened there. The target is me, why haven’t they come after me yet? Unless…”

He stopped speaking mid-sentence, but Bai Zhao understood: “They’re waiting inside to ambush us? Okay, let’s get out.”

But Yu Duqiu’s expression froze, and he muttered to himself, “How did they know I’d come backstage?”

Bai Zhao stepped closer and grabbed his arm, “Maybe they know you’re afraid of the dark. It could be Pei Ming behind this.”

Yu Duqiu instantly shook off his hand and stumbled backward, crashing into the table. The makeup mirror wobbled precariously before falling to the floor with a sharp “crack,” shattering into countless glass fragments.

“…You knew.” Yu Duqiu’s gaze turned cold.

The room fell into an eerie silence.

After a few seconds, there were two sudden knocks from outside, accompanied by Zhou Yi’s booming shout, “Young master! Xiao Bai! Are you inside?”

Bai Zhao sighed softly, “If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t have called them here. Unless Zhou and Ji Lin are in on it too. Do you think that’s likely?”

A flash of hesitation crossed Yu Duqiu’s face, but he dismissed the extremely unlikely possibility and said, “Open the door.”

As soon as the door opened, Zhou Yi led a group of bodyguards inside, followed closely by Ji Lin. Noticing their overly cautious expressions, Ji Lin mocked, “You two are jumping at shadows, huh? Everything’s fine outside. There was just a minor lighting glitch. The school staff went to get emergency lighting, and they’ll be back soon.”

Yu Duqiu remained where he stood. “But didn’t you check the equipment beforehand?”

Ji Lin scratched his head in confusion. “Yeah, I did. Everything was fine at the time, but that doesn’t mean problems won’t crop up later. Who knows what happened? Looks like an accident. No one’s trying to attack you. I’ll check it thoroughly after your lecture.”

“No. First, go to the control room and detain the lighting technician. Then I’ll go back on stage.”

“Hey, Young Master Yu, do you think you can just arrest people like that? And you’re not my boss, why should I listen to you?”

Yu Duqiu pulled out his trump card. “Captain Ji, if Mu Hao knew you weren’t doing your best to protect the citizens, he’d be very disappointed.”

“Stop using Brother Mu against me.” Ji Lin’s expression darkened. “With your wealth and status, you call yourself a citizen? Then what am I? The dregs of society?”

Zhou Yi tried to calm the situation. “Alright, alright, let’s all take a break. Young master, I’ll check the control room, and I’ll get Abao to monitor the hall.”

Yu Duqiu nodded, but his gaze drifted once more to the small, closed door. His suspicious nature won out in the end, and he instructed, “Bai Zhao, go check that room. I won’t feel at ease until you do.”

Without saying a word, Bai Zhao went straight to the door and stepped inside.

The group waited for half a minute, and when no sounds came from inside, another moment passed. A teacher then came in from outside to inform them that the lights had been restored and that they should return to continue the lecture—the students were waiting.

Yu Duqiu finally relaxed, his tense expression easing. “Looks like it was a false alarm.”

Ji Lin crossed his arms and sneered, “Just the lights going out, and you get this scared? When you were being hunted down in the U.S., I didn’t see you this nervous.”

Yu Duqiu shook his head. “An obvious attack is nothing to fear; it’s the hidden ones that are terrifying.”

At that moment, Bai Zhao emerged from the room, his expression unchanged.

Yu Duqiu waved at him. “If there’s nothing in there, let’s go.”

But Bai Zhao didn’t move. “There’s something.”

Everyone, who had been about to leave, stopped in their tracks. Yu Duqiu turned back in surprise. “What is it?”

Bai Zhao pressed his lips together, his brows furrowing slightly, as if weighing his words carefully. But he had never been one for beating around the bush, so he gave up and said bluntly, “Huang Hanxiang’s body.”