By the time they returned to Shen Rui's penthouse, the sky was ink-black and cloudless, scattered with a few dim stars peeking through the glass windows like nosy neighbors. The whole place smelled faintly of sandalwood and something colder—his cologne, maybe. Or power.
Lin Xie stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the city with that usual calculating stillness, hands clasped behind her back like she was preparing to deliver a military report.
Meanwhile, Shen Rui's phone buzzed again.
He picked it up with a sigh, already knowing who it was.
"Mother," he said, monotone.
"Rui," Madam Shen's voice was almost cheerful. "You're home?"
"Yes."
"And Lin Xie?"
"She's here too."
"Good. Bring her to the main house again this weekend."
"…Again?"
"She's charming. The staff have already added her to the biometric guest list. Shen Yan framed her photo and put it in the piano room."
"That's—concerning."
"Also, I want to ask her opinion on the east wing's security matrix. Ours is now considered 'prehistoric and easily breachable,' apparently."
Shen Rui rubbed his temple. "She said 0.3 milliseconds."
"Exactly. Genius! So bring her."
Click.
He stared at the phone for a moment.
"…I'm starting to lose custody of you," he muttered to Lin Xie.
"I'm not a child," she said flatly. "I'm a civilian weapon prototype with independent decision-making protocols."
"Exactly like a child," he replied, flopping down on the couch.
She turned toward him. "Now that we're back, I want to discuss school."
He raised a brow, suddenly more alert. "SenZhou Imperial?"
She nodded once. "Enrollment orientation is next week. I already reviewed their student resources, lab access, faculty, and extracurriculars. I will need optimized scheduling."
He sat up straighter. "What course did you end up picking?"
"I chose multiple majors," she answered, like she was ordering side dishes at a restaurant. "Mathematics. Quantum Computing. Molecular Biology. Mechanical Engineering. Cybersecurity. Psychology. Architecture. I might audit Political Theory if time allows."
Shen Rui just blinked.
"…That's seven."
"Eight," she corrected. "I didn't mention Astrophysics."
He stared at her for a second longer, then exhaled slowly and reached for a bottle of water like he suddenly needed hydration just to survive the conversation. "XieXie, you know you don't have to break the academic records every semester, right?"
She tilted her head. "Should I do it quarterly instead?"
"No," he said firmly, then softer, "I mean—don't pressure yourself. You've already made history just by existing."
"I'm not pressured," she said. "I'm curious. That's different."
There was a pause. She hesitated.
Then: "Also… I want to be an actress."
Shen Rui froze with the bottle halfway to his mouth.
"…You what?"
"I want to try acting," she said, as if announcing she wanted to study for a new license. "I've studied human behavior extensively, but direct immersion would be more effective. Also, I want to cry on screen. Like the girls in the dramas you leave playing on mute."
He blinked.
Twice.
Then smiled, slow and warm and far too soft for someone who normally destroyed boardrooms with a single stare.
"You… want to be an actress," he echoed.
"Yes. I've already downloaded 486 scripts and dissected 78 of them for narrative structure."
He leaned back against the cushions, letting out a breathy laugh.
"You're serious."
"I'm always serious."
"You want to do all your majors and become an actress."
"I'm time-efficient."
"You're a walking simulation."
"That too."
He shook his head, still smiling. "Fine. I'll arrange it."
She blinked. "Really?"
"Really. Audition practice. Studio access. I know a few directors. You'll probably have five roles by next week."
"You're very efficient too," she noted.
He smirked. "Only when I like someone."
She stared at him.
He stared back.
Then: "Was that flirting?"
"No," he lied.
She didn't question it, but her eyes flicked to his hand—still holding the water bottle. Still open like he wanted to offer her the whole world in a thermos.
She sat down beside him, surprisingly quiet.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
And Shen Rui didn't even notice how gently he adjusted the throw pillow behind her back.
Or how, when she leaned slightly against his shoulder, he let her.
No questions. No tension.
Just a strange, warm quiet.
Like maybe, in this chaotic timeline of two absurd people, this was what peace looked like.
One genius planning to dominate the academic and cinematic world—
And the cold CEO already preparing to buy her the studio.
-----
SenZhou Imperial University didn't usually roll out the red carpet for freshmen.
But today, it did.
Because today, Lin Xie arrived.
The moment her sleek black sedan—personally arranged by Shen Rui—rolled past the university gates, the security scanners automatically pinged. A dozen faculty eyes turned toward the monitors. Someone in the admin office gasped.
"She's here," whispered one junior staffer. "The Lin Xie."
The legendary top scorer. The one who broke the entrance exam system. The one who solved the final quantum problem so fast, it short-circuited two outdated AI servers on campus.
And, most importantly, the one who was now registered as a freshman.
Whispers spread through the campus like caffeine in a bloodstream.
Students stared.
Professors peeked from windows.
Entire forums online refreshed by the minute, waiting for updates on the school's new academic anomaly.
Lin Xie, for her part, stepped out of the car calmly. Crisp white blouse, black pleated skirt, high ponytail. Her expression blank, posture perfect, every movement controlled like a programmed unit from a futuristic facility.
Which, in a way, she was.
No one knew she was from the future.
She didn't need them to know.
She just needed to observe.
"Miss Lin Xie?" a voice called out.
Three people were already walking toward her across the courtyard—two men and a woman, all wearing sleek suits and university pins. She recognized them instantly from the campus database.
Dr. Huang, University Head.
Dean Luo from the School of Engineering.
Dean Qian from the Department of Natural Sciences.
"Good morning," Lin Xie said neutrally.
"Good morning?! It's glorious!" Dr. Huang boomed. "Welcome, welcome to SenZhou Imperial. We're honored to have you."
Dean Luo pushed forward. "Lin Xie, I must say, with your score and skillset, the School of Engineering would be—"
"She belongs in Sciences!" Dean Qian snapped. "We can offer her private labs, accelerated research tracks—"
"With her math scores, she should be under my department directly!" Dr. Huang said, puffing his chest.
The three began to argue. Right there. In the courtyard. While students started recording from behind planters.
Lin Xie blinked slowly. "There's no need to fight."
They stopped mid-sentence, all looking at her like she'd just unlocked the equation for teleportation.
She continued, calmly: "I've already finalized my plan."
All three straightened up instantly. "Which department?" Dean Luo asked.
"Several," she answered.
A pause.
"…Several?" Dean Qian repeated, frowning.
"I've registered for eight majors," Lin Xie said simply, as if listing groceries. "Mathematics. Quantum Computing. Molecular Biology. Mechanical Engineering. Cybersecurity. Psychology. Architecture. And Astrophysics. I'll be auditing Political Theory and two Law electives if time permits."
The faculty heads stared at her like they'd been punched in the brain.
"You… you can't take all of that," Dean Qian stammered. "That's impossible. Even with credit waivers."
Lin Xie tilted her head. "I've already cleared the prerequisites and applied for the overload program."
"You'll burn out!" Dean Luo argued.
"I don't burn."
"But the schedules—"
"I optimized my week using parallel clustering methods. No overlaps."
"You'll need to complete at least twenty-five credits a semester—"
"Twenty-nine," she corrected. "I added an independent study project. Already submitted."
They all blinked.
Then, as if needing proof of her sanity, they began bombarding her with questions.
"Then answer this: if given the first 100 digits of a collapsing Fibonacci series under interference noise, how do you extract the base anomaly?"
"Median pattern flagging and reverse entropy coding."
"Correct," muttered Dr. Huang.
"Explain why the Möbius symmetry fails in interlinked architectural folds."
"Dimensional redundancy. It creates a looped stress point."
"…How do you differentiate artificial emotions from recursive mimicry in simulated human behavior?"
"Rate of instinctive delay. A real emotional response contains 0.7–1.2 seconds of unsimulated silence. Machines skip this."
One by one, the questions came. One by one, she answered.
Crisp. Cold. Flawless.
Students gathering around started clapping halfway through.
Someone whispered, "Is she a student or an AI?"
Dean Qian looked like she might cry from happiness. "You're serious about this."
"Yes."
"You're… brilliant," Dr. Huang muttered. "Terrifyingly brilliant."
Lin Xie blinked. "Thank you."
Dean Luo, flushed with pride, immediately pulled out his tablet. "We'll create a flexible learning plan for you—whatever you need."
"You'll have access to all the research wings," Dean Qian said quickly. "And I'll assign my best faculty as your mentors."
"We'll update the scholarship package—"
"I don't need funding," she interrupted politely. "My boyfriend is rich."
Dr. Huang nearly choked.
"I—yes. Well. Excellent. Even better."
Just then, another student pushed forward shyly. "Lin Xie? Can I… can I take a selfie with you?"
She blinked. Then nodded.
The photo was taken.
And posted.
Within fifteen minutes, #LinXieUnstoppable was trending in the campus forums. Then, across five neighboring universities.
Back in his office, Shen Rui saw the post, smiled faintly, and immediately added a digital alert system for every time her name showed up online.
At SenZhou Imperial University, chaos had landed.
She was brilliant. She was terrifying. She was quiet. She was strange.
She was theirs.
And Lin Xie?
She simply walked to her first class with her schedule memorized, her brain calculating twelve things at once—
Unaware that every department was already preparing to fight for her again before midterms.
Or maybe she was aware.
And just didn't care.
After all—
This was only her first day.