Lin Mo blocked the number.
Then he ate the rest of his dumplings.
Problem solved.
At least, that was his theory.
Gu Wen watched him put down his phone.
“You're really not going to tell me?”
“No.”
“Someone bothering you?”
“No.”
“Then why did you look like you wanted to throw your phone into the soup?”
Lin Mo considered this.
“Because phones are expensive.”
Gu Wen stared at him.
Lin Mo smiled innocently.
“Let's go.”
The next morning, Lin Mo received another message.
He didn't open it.
He saw the notification.
He turned the phone face down.
Five minutes later, it vibrated again.
Lin Mo turned it off.
Then he went back to sleep.
This was called emotional maturity.
At least, that's what he told himself.
Unfortunately, someone else seemed to have a different definition.
By ten o'clock, three more messages had arrived.
Lin Mo finally opened them.
You don't have to answer.
I only want to ask about the library system.
Your analysis was interesting.
Lin Mo stared at the screen.
Then he typed:
Ask Professor Zhang.
He sent it.
Immediately, a reply came.
Professor Zhang says you're the one who understands the system best.
Lin Mo put the phone down.
He didn't reply.
A minute later, another message appeared.
You really don't like trouble, do you?
Lin Mo stared at those words for a long time.
Then he blocked the number again.
“Definitely trouble.”
At lunch, he told Gu Wen about none of it.
Instead, he asked,
“Do you want noodles?”
Gu Wen looked suspicious.
“You hate sharing food.”
“I didn't say share.”
“You're buying two bowls?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I've suffered emotionally.”
Gu Wen laughed.
“You're strange.”
Lin Mo nodded.
“I know.”
That afternoon, Lin Mo went to the library.
Not because of the network.
Not because of the messages.
Not because anyone had asked him to come.
He simply needed a quiet place to study.
He found a seat near the window.
Opened his laptop.
Put on his headphones.
And began working.
Twenty minutes later, someone sat down across from him.
Lin Mo didn't look up.
“Occupied?”
The voice was familiar.
Lin Mo raised his eyes.
Jiang Rui.
For one second, neither spoke.
Jiang Rui wore ordinary clothes today.
No mask.
No sunglasses.
Just a baseball cap and a simple jacket.
Lin Mo immediately looked around.
No cameras.
No assistants.
No screaming fans.
Good.
“You?”
Jiang Rui smiled.
“Me.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Reading.”
Lin Mo glanced at the book in his hand.
It was a university-level business management book.
Lin Mo's expression became complicated.
“You can read?”
Jiang Rui laughed.
“That's a little rude.”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
Jiang Rui pulled out the chair.
“May I sit?”
Lin Mo looked at the empty seat.
“You already did.”
“Then I suppose I have my answer.”
Lin Mo returned to his laptop.
Jiang Rui opened his book.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
It was surprisingly peaceful.
Then Jiang Rui said,
“You really don't seem interested in celebrities.”
Lin Mo looked up.
“Should I be?”
“Most people recognize me immediately.”
“I recognized you.”
“You didn't ask for a photo.”
“I don't need one.”
Jiang Rui smiled.
“Why?”
Lin Mo thought seriously.
“Because then I'd have to keep it.”
Jiang Rui laughed.
“That's the strangest reason I've heard.”
“Thank you.”
“Again with the thank you.”
Lin Mo smiled.
Jiang Rui looked at him for a moment.
“You're different from what I expected.”
Lin Mo's smile disappeared.
Dangerous sentence.
Very dangerous sentence.
He immediately lowered his eyes.
“People say that too much.”
“Do they?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe there's something to it.”
“No.”
Jiang Rui laughed again.
“You really don't want people to analyze you.”
“Correct.”
“Why?”
“Because analysis leads to conclusions.”
“And conclusions?”
“Trouble.”
Jiang Rui leaned back.
For some reason, that answer amused him.
After about half an hour, Jiang Rui's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
His expression changed slightly.
“I have to go.”
Lin Mo nodded.
“Okay.”
Jiang Rui stood.
Then he paused.
“Lin Mo.”
“Hm?”
“If someone bothers you because of the library project, you can tell me.”
Lin Mo blinked.
“Why would I tell you?”
“Because I know a lot of people.”
“That sounds exactly like something troublesome people say.”
Jiang Rui laughed.
“Fair enough.”
He left.
Lin Mo watched him disappear between the bookshelves.
Then he returned to his laptop.
One celebrity encounter was enough for one week.
He was not going to think about it.
That evening, Jiang Rui sat in the back seat of his car.
His assistant glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
“You met him again?”
“Yes.”
“Lin Mo?”
“Yes.”
The assistant hesitated.
“Is there a reason you're interested in him?”
Jiang Rui looked out the window.
“No.”
“Then?”
“He's interesting.”
The assistant sighed.
“That usually means there is a reason.”
Jiang Rui smiled.
“Maybe.”
He didn't explain.
There wasn't anything particularly mysterious about Lin Mo.
That was precisely what made him interesting.
Most people recognized Jiang Rui and immediately changed.
They became excited.
Nervous.
Overly friendly.
Or deliberately impressive.
Lin Mo did none of those things.
He simply treated Jiang Rui like another student.
It was refreshing.
But Jiang Rui had no intention of interfering with the young man's life.
At least not deliberately.
Meanwhile, Lin Mo was sitting in his dorm room.
He had finished his assignment.
Finished dinner.
Finished gaming.
And was now lying in bed.
His phone vibrated.
He opened one eye.
A message.
Different number.
Lin Mo sat up.
I'm sorry about the previous messages.
He frowned.
Another message appeared.
Professor Zhang asked me to contact you regarding the library system.
Lin Mo stared.
Professor Zhang?
He opened his university email.
There was indeed a message from Professor Zhang.
Apparently, a graduate research team needed clarification about one part of his network analysis.
Lin Mo stared at the email.
Then at the text.
Then back at the email.
He sighed.
So it really was university-related.
He replied:
Which part?
The response came quickly.
The external gateway routing issue.
Lin Mo relaxed.
Fine.
Technical question.
Nothing strange.
He replied with a short explanation.
Then he put his phone down.
Five minutes later, his phone vibrated again.
Thank you. This is much clearer now.
Lin Mo smiled.
See?
Normal.
Completely normal.
He pulled the blanket over himself.
Then another message arrived.
By the way, I'm Chen Yu. We met at the academic exchange event.
Lin Mo stared at the screen.
“Oh.”
Right.
Chen Yu.
The graduate student.
The person he had completely forgotten to save in his contacts.
Lin Mo typed:
Got it.
Chen Yu replied:
Good night.
Lin Mo put down his phone.
“Good night.”
He closed his eyes.
For once, nothing else happened.
And that was exactly how Lin Mo liked it.
What he didn't know was that Chen Yu had forwarded his technical explanation to Professor Zhang.
Professor Zhang had forwarded it to the university research team.
And the research team had sent it to the company's technical department.
Where, once again, it eventually landed on Shen Yichen's desk.
Shen read the message.
This time, he didn't immediately speak.
The explanation was concise.
Accurate.
And completely practical.
No unnecessary terminology.
No attempt to impress anyone.
Just—
This is the problem. This is why it happens. This is the cheapest way to fix it.
Shen placed the paper down.
His assistant waited.
After a moment, Shen said,
“Find out where he learned this.”
The assistant nodded.
“And this time,” Shen added, “don't assume the answer is the obvious one.”
Because Lin Mo was becoming harder to categorize.
And Shen Yichen disliked unanswered questions.
Very much.
Back in his dorm room, Lin Mo sneezed.
He pulled the blanket higher.
“Someone must be talking about me.”
Then he rolled over.
And went to sleep.
He had no intention of finding out who.