"Tsk."
Both Flandre and Komeiji Koishi let out identical, matching sounds of profound disappointment.
Beside them, Hong Meiling wearily massaged her brow with two fingers. "Look, Flandre causing trouble is one thing—that old guy was explicitly targeting her to begin with. But Lady Koishi, why on earth are you joining in on the chaos?!"
Just as the trio stood there chatting and giggling amongst themselves as if no one else existed, the professor's face flushed a violent, mottled crimson, looking precisely like a chili pepper about to burst from internal pressure.
He whipped his arm around, pointing a trembling finger right at them.
"Enough! You three have utterly disrupted my lecture. Leave this area immediately!"
Accompanying his furious command, several professional security guards tasked with maintaining order in the botanical park stepped forward, forming a loose semi-circle to block their path.
Seeing the guards close in, Hong Meiling's eyes narrowed slightly. The sudden, razor-sharp surge of combat intent radiating from her small frame caused the approaching security personnel to slam their boots to a halt.
One had to understand that although Hong Meiling appeared petite and delicate, it was the dead of winter with outdoor temperatures hovering around minus seven or eight degrees Celsius. The stylish martial arts tunic she wore was relatively thin—not because she didn't possess warmer attire, but because she felt this outfit offered the best aesthetic balance, and more importantly, bulky winter coats severely restricted her range of movement.
For a young woman to stand comfortably in front of guards in such sub-zero weather wearing a single thin layer without showing the slightest tremor of cold... naturally, it struck deep, instinctive fear into the professionals.
In the frontier cities of Terra, anyone who dared dress like this in winter was either an absolute master of arts or a terrifying lunatic. Neither type was someone ordinary security guards wanted to provoke.
Furthermore, because of the professor's loud outburst earlier, a large crowd of onlookers had already gathered around to watch the spectacle. The guards still cared deeply about their public professional reputation; dragging a young woman and two children out by force in full view of the public would look atrocious if word leaked back to local media.
Therefore, facing Meiling—who stood her ground with a steady, unyielding stare—the guards wisely chose to freeze in place, refusing to advance any further.
Faced with this passive resistance, the professor grew even more incandescent with rage.
In his arrogant mindset, these security guards were merely hired help—his personal watchdogs. Yet the moment a dispute arose on his behalf, they refused to lift a finger. How could a man of his standing swallow such humiliation?
However, just like the hesitant guards, he was an academic intellectual. With dozens of students and tourists staring directly at him, even if he felt his mind fracturing from pure fury, he couldn't possibly start cursing like a fishmonger in the middle of a public park. If word of such undignified behavior reached the university administration, his prestigious teaching credentials would likely be revoked overnight.
He could only stand there choking on his own breath, swelling up like an overinflated balloon.
Flandre glanced sideways at Koishi. "What do you think of this?"
"Boring. Not fun anymore!" Koishi answered with brutal honesty.
"Indeed, my thoughts exactly. Let's go wander somewhere else!" Flandre declared, turning on her heel with a flick of her cap, fully prepared to abandon the scene.
However, right before departing, a mischievous thought crossed her mind. She decided she needed to leave a parting signature; otherwise, if people walked away thinking she was just some generic, disposable villain who popped up halfway through an academic dispute, that would be far too frustrating for her pride.
She trotted back toward a nearby female student sitting in the front row.
"Excuse me, could I borrow your notebook and pen for a second?"
Thanks to Flandre's astonishingly adorable appearance, the student—who had been deeply worried a moment before that interacting with the troublemakers might somehow implicate her—instantly threw all fear of the angry professor to the winds the second those bright, blinking crimson eyes looked up at her.
Honestly, who in this world could possibly resist a little tomato-and-egg sprite looking at them with such an irresistibly cute expression?!
As for the professor... screw him, it was just a blow-off elective credit anyway; it wasn't worth sacrificing her moral principles for!
The student eagerly handed over her leather-bound notebook and a fountain pen. Flandre took them, rapidly scribbled several lines of text across a blank page, and handed the book back with a bright smile.
Then, she turned her head to look back at the fuming scholar.
"Don't say I never gave you a chance, Professor. We're both technically copying texts, but I copy with significantly more style and taste than you do. Even though this poem about plum blossoms is borrowed, it's still a fine piece of literature. I'll leave it here so you can actually learn something!"
With that parting declaration, Flandre waved her hand casually, beckoning Meiling and Koishi to follow.
As the three figures vanished down the snowy garden path, the student looked down in bewilderment at the notebook in her hands.
Written in exceptionally elegant, sweeping calligraphy across the page was a classical quatrain:
Early Plum · Zhang Wei A tree of cold plum blossoms, white jade branches, Standing far along the spring path by the creek bridge. Not knowing that near the water the flowers bloom first, One suspects it is the winter snow that has not yet melted.
After reading the poem word by word, the student instinctively raised her head, looking out toward the nearby flowing creek and the arched wooden bridge just past the garden fence.
Relating the verse to the exact physical scenery before her eyes, a chill of awe ran down her spine.
In her vast literary knowledge, she had never heard of any ancient scholar named Zhang Wei, nor had she ever encountered this particular plum blossom poem. Moreover, the imagery of the verse matched the surrounding winter landscape so flawlessly that if someone claimed it had been improvised right on this exact bridge, no one would ever question it.
So... did this "Zhang Wei" actually exist? Or had that little girl...
A terrifying realization crossed the student's mind, causing her to shudder involuntarily.
Meanwhile, after listening to the student murmur the verses aloud, the professor felt his internal organs twist into painful knots.
Although every fiber of his academic pride screamed at him not to admit it, he recognized instantly that the poem was an absolute, flawless masterpiece. Combined with how perfectly it integrated into the immediate environment, if he had authored such a verse himself, his status and prestige within the Lungmen literary circle would have instantly skyrocketed by several tiers.
Regrettably, it didn't belong to him.
Putting aside the identity of the mysterious "Zhang Wei," the professor was painfully certain of one thing: he had never heard this piece in any published anthology.
A young girl reciting someone else's obscure verse—yet customizing the content so it complemented the local scenery with terrifying precision—clearly meant one thing. She had constructed it on the spot.
Was she using this poetic juxtaposition to mock his lack of original talent?!
The thought struck him like a physical blow. The anger he had suppressed for the past ten minutes rushed straight to his brain in an uncontrollable tidal wave. His vision went completely black, and with a soft groan, he collapsed backward onto the frozen turf, fainting dead away.
The students standing nearby shrieked in sheer terror at the sudden collapse.
After all, a university lecturer being verbally out-maneuvered and literary-shamed into a dead faint was something they had only ever read about in satirical fiction; none of them expected to witness it unfold in real life.
Panic-stricken, the students began shouting, frantically abandoning their notebooks as they rushed forward to haul their unconscious professor up and carry him away from the scene.
Meanwhile, walking down the gravel path a hundred meters away, Hong Meiling glanced back toward the commotion.
"Hey, Flandre, that 'Zhang Wei' guy isn't even from this universe anyway. If you just claimed you wrote the poem yourself right there, nobody would have been any the wiser!"
Flandre spread her hands dismissively, walking with a light, bouncing step. "Puh-lease, it wasn't my intellectual property to begin with—why should I shamelessly plagiarize and claim credit for it? Besides, don't you forget who else is standing right here in this world?"
With someone like Patchouli or Eirin around who possessed deep historical archives, claiming ancient Earth literature as her own original work in front of people from her home dimension would be mortifyingly awkward if she ever got caught. Besides, she'd probably never hear the end of the teasing.
Naturally, Flandre wasn't going to hand Master Hong that kind of ammunition.
Anyway, the goal had simply been to put on a good show and flex a little. If the flex landed, she looked cool in front of strangers; if it didn't... well, those strangers didn't even know her name, so she had zero social embarrassment to worry about.
With that carefree philosophy guiding them, the trio continued their leisurely tour of the sprawling botanical park.
"Say... is that the legendary Civil Engineering Master we were discussing earlier?"
Walking around a picturesque corner near the greenhouse, Hong Meiling whispered, pointing toward a lone female figure standing in the distance who was holding a heavy clipboard and vigorously recording soil metrics.
Flandre squinted at the woman's distinct field uniform and professional surveying gear, and couldn't help but raise her hand to give a respectful thumbs-up.
"Truly a master of the earth. Master Hong, your observational eyes are genuinely top-tier."
"Heh, you flatter me!" Hong Meiling puffed out her chest proudly, happily accepting the compliment.