The shockwave of the Mathematics Olympiad Mock Exam did not take long to ripple through the sterile, high-pressure hallways of Haidian High School No. 1. In an institution where status was measured by decimal points and the shadow of the Gaokao loomed like a guillotine, the name "Lin Feng" had undergone a sudden, violent transformation.
The Faculty's Disbelief
In the third-floor faculty lounge, Teacher Zhang sat at a mahogany desk, his spectacles sliding down the bridge of his nose. Before him lay Lin Feng's exam script. It was unsettlingly clean. Most students, even the geniuses, left a trail of "blood" on the page—scratched-out formulas, frantic marginalia, ink blots born of indecision.
Lin Feng's paper had none of that. It was as if he had simply looked at the problems and projected the answers onto the paper through sheer force of will.
"It's not just that he got them right," Zhang muttered to the Principal, who was leaning over his shoulder. "Look at Question 14. He used a derivation of the Riemann sum that isn't even in the national curriculum. It's a university-level theorem from a paper published... wait." Zhang paused, his brow furrowing. "I've seen this logic before, but it feels... ahead of its time."
The Principal, a man whose career was built on the success of his students, narrowed his eyes. "Is it possible he cheated? A hidden device?"
"We scanned the room, sir," Zhang replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The boy didn't move. He didn't breathe hard. He finished a three-hour gauntlet in forty minutes and looked bored. If he's a genius, we are looking at a god sitting in Classroom 4-B."
Two Thousand Kilometers Away: The Coffin Room
While the faculty in Beijing whispered about a prodigy, the "Digital Sword" of that prodigy was currently starving in the south. In Shenzhen's Nanshan District, the air was a thick soup of humidity and the smell of soldering iron. Here, in a "coffin room"—a space barely large enough for a mattress and a desk—lived Lao K.
Lao K, born Kang Huian, stared at his monitor, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with the dark circles of a chronic insomniac. His ribs protruded against his thin t-shirt; he hadn't eaten anything substantial in three days. On his desk sat a mountain of empty instant noodle cups and a pile of final notice utility bills. He was a Tsinghua dropout, a genius whose refusal to "kneel" to corporate recruiters had left him to rot in the shadows.
Suddenly, his screen flickered. A command prompt opened by itself—an impossible feat given his custom-built firewalls.
[?] : I have a solution for the memory leak in your 'Ghost-Protocol'.
Lao K froze. "Who the hell...?" He tried to trace the IP, but the signal vanished into a recursive loop. Then, the code appeared. It was elegant. It was beautiful. It was math from a future that shouldn't exist.
[?] : Don't bother tracing me, Kang Huian. I know you're hungry. I've just deposited 5,000 Yuan into your Alipay. Consider it a down payment on your soul.
A notification chirped on his phone. Alipay: +5,000.00 Yuan. Lao K let out a jagged, hysterical laugh. He didn't know who this "Ghost" was, but for the first time in his life, someone had seen him.
The Internal Monologue: The Price of Knowledge
Back in Classroom 4-B, the "Ghost" was currently fighting a wave of nausea. Lin Feng sat with his head buried in his arms. Behind his closed eyelids, the Neural Archive was cooling down.
'Steady,' he thought. 'The "Scholar Mask" is working. By the time I apply for the Law program at Peking University, I won't just be an applicant. I will be a national treasure. The Hidden Families like the Li and the Guo pride themselves on "recruiting" the best. They will invite me into their inner sanctum, thinking I am a tool. They have no idea I am the wrecking ball.'
He felt a shadow fall across his desk. It was Su Meilin, the class monitor. Her father was a senior partner at a "Red Circle" law firm—the very people who would one day handle the Guo Family's legal defense.
"Lin Feng," she said, her voice calculatedly soft. "The school wants you to lead the debate team. The topic is 'Intellectual Property and Digital Sovereignty.' My father... he's curious about the boy who aced Zhang's exam. He said you could visit our home library."
"Saturday at ten," Lin Feng said, his gaze sharp enough to make her flinch. "Tell your father to have the files on the 2012 Media Reform ready. I have questions about 'Contractual Nullification'."
Meilin blinked. 'Contractual Nullification? Why?' But she nodded and retreated.
A Heartbeat in the Park
The mental strain of managing his secret wealth through Lao K left Lin Feng hollow. He needed air. He walked toward Lianhuachi Park, a place of weeping willows and ancient stone bridges.
He sat on a bench near a lotus pond. Then, he saw her.
A young woman sat on the grass twenty feet away. She wore a simple white t-shirt and a baseball cap. Beside her was a script, covered in highlighter marks. It was the 2018 Zhao Lusi—innocent, hardworking, and vulnerable.
Lin Feng's heart slammed against his ribs. This wasn't the broken woman from the 2024 video. This was his "Light" in its purest form. As if sensing his gaze, she looked up and waved.
"Oh! Hi!" she said, giggling. She looked at his Haidian school uniform. "Wow, Haidian No. 1? You must be one of those super-geniuses. I bet you're studying rocket science."
"Law," Lin Feng managed to croak. "I'm going to be a lawyer."
"A lawyer! Very serious!" she teased. She reached into her bag and tossed him a small, wrapped White Rabbit candy. "Here. For the 'Lawyer-to-be.' It's good for the brain!"
"Thanks," he whispered.
"Good luck with your exams, Scholar-student!" she called out, returning to her lines.
Lin Feng walked away, his heart roaring. He tucked the candy into his pocket, right next to his heart. But as he walked, his phone buzzed. A message from Lao K.
[Lao_K]: Boss, the Hualong Biotech trade cleared. 112,000 Yuan is in the Cayman account. What's the move?
Lin Feng stopped under a streetlamp, his eyes turning into shards of ice. The encounter had made him happy, but it had also terrified him. She had no idea her manager was already taking bribes from Guo Jian.
[Lin Feng]: Target: Wang Construction Short-Sell. We move on Wednesday. By Friday, I want 500,000 Yuan. And Lao K? Start looking for a shell company. Something in 'Talent Management.' We're going to need a front to hire a certain actress in three months.
He looked toward the skyline where the skyscrapers of the Li, Guo, and Wang families pierced the clouds.
"Treat me like a fan for now, Lusi," he whispered. "You gave me a piece of candy. I'm going to give you the world. And anyone who tries to take it from you... I will bury them so deep that even their ancestors will be forgotten."
The Golden Age of Feng had begun. The Scholar had his shield, and the Ghost had his sword.