‘Who leaked the news? Ma Zhenhe? Or some other faction that can’t stand the Celestial Pavilion?’

Lin Zichen’s thoughts raced.

After thinking for a while, he decided that didn’t matter.

The urgent task now was to get that news post taken down as fast as possible.

With that in mind, Lin Zichen scrolled to the bottom of the news page, found the “Report” entry point and submitted a report.

He reported the article as a violation that infringed upon the subject’s privacy.

After that, he called the relevant internet authorities to lodge a complaint.

After a round of actions, the news item that exposed a candidate’s personal privacy was finally removed from the news app at 10 a.m.

However, it was already too late.

In the hours before removal, the related chatter had fully fermented; countless click‑bait posts spun off from it and spread across every platform.

Practically the whole country now knew that the Southern River Province’s runner‑up had joined the Celestial Pavilion and chosen the pure‑blood human path.

Some unscrupulous influencers, chasing traffic, even fabricated conspiracy theories—claiming Lin Zichen hadn’t joined of his own will but had been threatened or that there were shady dealings between both sides.

During this period, a number of classmates and teachers messaged Lin Zichen on WeChat to ask what was going on.

Lin Zichen didn’t explain; he simply replied that it was “inconvenient to disclose,” and then stopped responding.

* * *

By afternoon, the “runner‑up incident” grew even more heated.

Someone posted Lin Zichen’s photo, saying this boy was the province’s runner‑up.

Because he was too handsome, at first netizens assumed some male influencer was just piggybacking on the trend.

Once it was confirmed to be Lin Zichen himself, the discourse escalated further.

Many female netizens, seeing how absurdly handsome he was, flooded the comments calling him “husband.”

A few took it to extremes, even declaring they wanted to have his children.

Plenty of professional fan‑herders smelled money; they went through the comments DMing those women one by one, inviting them to form fan clubs, hoping to skim profits.

Watching the uproar swell, Lin Zichen’s frown only deepened. He felt troubled—yet had no solution.

He had zero desire for fame and didn’t want to live under the spotlight.

He only wanted to be a quiet genius—improving in peace.

With more eyes come more risks; that’s never a good thing.

Especially for a transmigrator like him, brimming with secrets—before he had fully grown, too many eyes could spell disaster, inviting attacks from cultists at any moment.

* * *

By evening, several well‑known influencer‑incubation companies contacted Lin Yansheng and Zhang Wanxin by phone.

They said they could “package” Lin Zichen—crafting the persona of a handsome, hard‑hitting genius—to build him into an internet star on par with the Kyoto Genius or the Mechanical Genius Girl.

They also claimed that, in today’s market where women drive spending, the persona “handsome and strong” would be even more monetizable than those of the Kyoto Genius and the Mechanical Genius Girl.

Both Lin Yansheng and Zhang Wanxin were rational; they declined without a second thought.

Money is nice.

But if earning it means constantly showing your face and disrupting studies, then forget it.

After dinner that night, the two families sat together to discuss how to handle Lin Zichen’s situation.

His heat level was now too high; it would inevitably affect his normal life.

The parents discussed for a long time, but couldn’t come up with a good solution.

They were ordinary people—no money, no connections—and had no way to tackle this kind of mess.

In the end, what they settled on was: don’t engage.

Internet fads are fickle; most people are just there to rubber‑neck.

Give it some time and once the novelty fades, the heat will likely die down.

* * *

11 p.m.

Lin Zichen showered, put on pajamas and lay in bed scrolling his phone, keeping an eye on news related to himself.

Seeing the growing frenzy, his brow furrowed tighter and tighter.

Before long, a voice came from outside the room.

“Xiao Chen, I want to sleep here tonight.”

“The door isn’t locked—come in.”

Creak—

With the sound of the door opening, Shen Qinghan—wearing a nightdress and carrying a bag of toiletries—walked in.

She smelled faintly of body wash—clearly she’d just showered.

She set the bag on the table.

Kicked off her slippers.

Then climbed onto the bed, scooting up next to Lin Zichen so their shoulders touched, tilting her head to look at his phone.

Seeing he was searching for news about joining the Celestial Pavilion, she couldn’t help saying, “Those people are awful—using an innocent candidate like a knife. No sense of basic decency at all.”

“That’s how politics works,” Lin Zichen said evenly, “Play by principles and you’re at a disadvantage; without them, you gain the upper hand.”

Shen Qinghan suddenly thought of her “master.”

Yuan Dongzhi, was vice‑principal of Shanhai University, head of the Academic Affairs HQ and a daughter of the Yuan family.

Any one of those identities looked powerful.

If they asked her for help, could she erase the news about Xiao Chen?

With that in mind, Shen Qinghan said to Lin Zichen:

“Xiao Chen, my master seems pretty influential—what if I ask her? Could she fix this for you?”

“Probably not.”

Lin Zichen shook his head and explained, “This is factional infighting. Odds are the gene‑fusion faction is suppressing the pure‑blood faction. And your master belongs to the gene‑fusion camp—no reason she’d help with this.”

Shen Qinghan felt that made sense.

But then she thought: it costs nothing to try. Might as well.

She took out her phone and sent several WeChat messages to Yuan Dongzhi.

She laid out Lin Zichen’s situation.

And asked whether she could help resolve it.

* * *

Roughly half an hour later…

Yuan Dongzhi replied.

Just one word, “Okay.”

Shen Qinghan’s eyes lit up, “Xiao Chen, look—Master says she’ll handle it for you!”

Lin Zichen glanced at the screen. It was a single “okay,” perfunctory at best.

He had no expectations and didn’t assume she’d actually solve anything.

Yet within half an hour, Shen Qinghan said joyfully, “Xiao Chen, Master messaged—she said it’s taken care of!”

“Taken care of?”

Lin Zichen blinked.

“I don’t know if it’s really solved. She only sent two words: ‘It’s solved.’ Quick—search the news about you and see if anything still comes up.”

Lin Zichen opened his news app and typed his name into the search bar.

Result: none.

He then searched across the major social platforms.

Same result: none.

Last, he looked up the rumor‑mongering traffic‑baiters who’d smeared him earlier. One after another: no trace found—apparently banned.

At the same time, multiple top news and social apps all pinned the same headline to the top…