The principal who came to meet me was striking—at least one meter seventy-five, her frame lean and athletic, not an ounce of excess on her body.
She wore a fitted black tracksuit, perfectly tailored, the sleek lines emphasizing every contour of her figure with explosive precision. Her bronzed, sun-kissed skin glowed under the station lights, and the sharp cut of her short hair only heightened the aura of strength about her.
Her features were clean and defined, and her eyes—razor-sharp, like a hawk's mid-dive—were locked on the girl whose wrist she held. The look in those eyes brimmed with open disdain and warning.
Unlike Su Qingyu's studied delicacy or Mu Qingxue's polished corporate poise, this woman exuded an untamed, commanding power—like a sword drawn from its sheath, gleaming and dangerous.
The girl she had caught filming turned ashen under that gaze, stammering, "I—I didn't take anything, I swear…"
"I'll say it once more," the woman said evenly. "Delete it."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that silenced the air itself.
Passengers nearby turned to look but none dared to intervene. The trembling girl unlocked her phone, deleting the photos one by one while the woman watched.
"Go."
That single word fell like a commandment. The girl snatched back her hand and fled, stumbling down the carriage.
Only after she was gone did the short-haired woman seem to sense she was being watched. Her hawk-like eyes lifted, piercing through the connecting glass between carriages—straight toward Jiang Xun.
For an instant, something flickered in her gaze—an emotion too quick to name—then vanished, replaced by cold irritation. Her brow tightened, and she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for herself to hear:
"Damn it. Are they all losing their minds over a man now? Disgraceful."
Her tone dripped with contempt, not just for the incident, but for the world that allowed it.
Jiang Xun blinked, bewildered.
Seriously? Now I'm the damsel in distress?
Mu Qingxue, unruffled as always, leaned closer and whispered an explanation:
"Sir, she was just following protocol."
According to Article 19, Chapter 3 of the Male Rights Protection Act, it was illegal to film a man without permission for private use or distribution—punishable by up to fifteen days' detention and a fine between ten and a hundred thousand yuan.
"And Article 17 states," Mu continued matter-of-factly, "that prolonged staring at a man, causing him discomfort, qualifies as visual harassment."
"If that woman's look made you uncomfortable, we can report it immediately. She'd owe you emotional compensation and face at least a hundred hours of community service."
Jiang Xun: "…"
He felt his understanding of this world disintegrating further by the minute.
These laws were absurd—an overcorrection so extreme it bent the idea of justice itself.
He ignored the lingering stare from across the carriage and stood up, pulling the still-stunned Mu Qingxue with him just as the train reached the next station.
"Come on," he said coolly. "It's time to report in."
"I'm not interested in these childish social games."
His gaze turned toward the view outside—green hills, clean air, and the sprawling university ahead. The corner of his mouth curved faintly.
"Flowers inside the ivory tower," he murmured. "Now that sounds more interesting."
The entrance of Jinling University looked nothing like the tranquil, scholarly campus he had imagined.
It resembled a red-carpet gala.
A long crimson carpet stretched from the parking area deep into the campus, its end lost to sight. On both sides, an enormous crowd had gathered—women, thousands of them, dressed in every style imaginable.
From lively short skirts to elegant gowns, they stood in eerie, perfect silence.
No chatter, no shouts—only the weight of countless gazes, burning with curiosity, reverence, and something dangerously close to obsession.
Further ahead, rows of faculty members stood waiting—all women, their expressions solemn, as if awaiting the inspection of a monarch.
"My god, Qingxue," Su Qingyu whispered, eyes wide. "This looks less like a university and more like an emperor's homecoming ceremony."
Jiang Xun stepped out of the car.
The moment his foot touched the carpet, the silence shattered.
A wave of collective breath rushed through the crowd—heat and frost at once—eyes converging on him like floodlights, stripping him bare with their intensity.
He didn't flinch. This kind of attention had long since lost its novelty.
Then, the crowd parted.
A woman in her early thirties walked forward with confident, measured steps. She wore a dark gray tailored suit; the cut was sharp, professional, but still unmistakably feminine.
Her hair was pinned neatly back, revealing a smooth forehead and a graceful neck. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses framed eyes that glimmered with intelligence and calm authority—the kind that only came from years of leadership.
But as she stopped three steps from Jiang Xun, that commanding aura softened.
She bowed deeply, the motion precise as if drawn by compass and ruler.
"Mr. Jiang Xun," she said, her voice clear, cultured, and poised. "I am Wen Shu, principal of Jinling University. On behalf of our thirty-five thousand seven hundred and twenty-one students and staff, I welcome you."
Her smile was warm but tinged with reverence.
"Your arrival," she continued, "is not only Jinling's honor but also the most glorious moment in our school's century-long history. You are truly unparalleled among our kind."
Jiang Xun's expression remained unreadable.
"Unparalleled? That's quite a title."
Still, he noted to himself—the principal carried herself with a quiet allure far beyond the coquettish charm of the younger women around her.
Principal Wen Shu seemed not to notice his cool tone. She nodded slightly, her smile deepening as she gestured toward a waiting vehicle.
"Sir, your residence on campus has been fully prepared. This way, please."
A white, extended golf cart glided to the edge of the carpet.
Jiang Xun boarded first, followed by Mu Qingxue and Su Qingyu.
As the vehicle moved forward, the sea of women drew in collective breath. Some trembled with excitement but forced themselves to avert their eyes, remembering the rule against visual harassment.
The cart stopped before a lakeside villa surrounded by trees and water—a three-story modern residence complete with a garden and an outdoor pool.
"Sir," Principal Wen said with professional grace, "this will be your exclusive residence during your time at Jinling. The security system is top-tier, and all daily needs will be personally attended to."
She adjusted her glasses, her tone shifting to one of careful suggestion.
"Additionally, to assist with your academic growth—particularly in foreign languages—the university has selected several outstanding international exchange students. They are fluent in eight languages and leaders in their respective fields, ready to provide around-the-clock academic support and translation services."
At that, Su Qingyu muttered under her breath, "Academic support, huh? More like a hand-picked harem."
Jiang Xun reclined lazily against the seat, his gaze distant, unfazed by the opulent setting.
When Principal Wen finally asked, a hint of tension creeping into her voice, "Sir, do you approve of the arrangement?"
He simply waved his hand, not even looking up.
"No need," he said calmly.
"Energy is limited."