Chapter Eleven: I Could Tell at a Glance That You Were a Nobody

Chapter Eleven: I Can Tell at a Glance That You’re a Loser!

The Mercedes van had barely stopped in the villa courtyard when Hepburn leapt out in a hurry, shouting, “I’m going to see if anyone’s bad-mouthing Tang Zhong—”

Her face was radiant, jumping up and down, with not a hint of worry for a comrade in arms.

Bai Su, somewhat embarrassed, turned to Tang Zhong and said apologetically, “Hepburn’s always like this—she’s not a bad person. Don’t take it to heart.”

“How could I? If I had to take everything to heart, how would I survive?”

“—” Bai Su realized her attempt at comfort was unnecessary. This guy had such thick skin and such a strong mind—how could the likes of this trouble him?

And anyway, what did he mean by ‘if I had to take everything to heart’? Who was it that got up every morning at six to exercise, making it impossible for anyone else to sleep? If everyone really did take issue with him, wouldn’t they have chopped him up for stew with yams by now?

“Sweetheart, don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Trust me. I’m a professional. You have to trust in my professionalism.” A-Ken crawled out of the van, gently patted Tang Zhong on the shoulder.

But as soon as Tang Zhong turned to look at him, he jumped back a few steps in fright, as if Tang Zhong might grab him by the neck and lift him off the ground in a fit of rage.

Tang Zhong shook his head helplessly. It seemed convincing this guy to change his way of addressing him would not be easy.

“Ah! You all have to come see this!” Hepburn’s excited voice rang from the living room.

Everyone hurried inside to find Hepburn perched on a high stool by the window, clutching a small Apple laptop.

She waved frantically at the group, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Come look! There are so many people cursing Tang Zhong!”

“—” Tang Zhong nearly collapsed on the spot. People are cursing me, not praising me—what are you so happy about?

Bai Su walked over with a grave expression, took the laptop from Hepburn, and set it on the wooden bar, then clicked on a news article.

“Butterfly Group Endorses MIFU, Tang Xin Kicks Fan Away with One Kick—”

“Damn it,” Bai Su cursed.

She quickly closed the article and opened a video.

“Butterfly Group’s Endorsement Causes Scene, Tang Xin Kicks Enthusiastic Fan Away—What’s Really Going On? Let’s Listen as Our Editor Explains.”

After watching the video, Bai Su’s face darkened further. “These unscrupulous reporters—they’re just out to stir up trouble. They didn’t even bother searching for the truth, just published their own speculations as news. Infuriating.”

“Exactly! It’s bad enough they’re cursing Tang Zhong, but they even dragged me and Echo into it,” Hepburn complained.

Butterfly Group was a ‘group’ after all, and those netizens deceived by the fabricated articles and videos didn’t just curse ‘Tang Xin’, they went after the other two members as well—which, Tang Zhong thought, showed there was still such a thing as ‘fairness’ in the world.

“Bad people. All bad people,” A-Ken stomped his foot in anger, his pretty eyes turning red. “How can they bully our little darling like this? Su-su, you need to call President Liu right away and have him release the real video immediately!”

Bai Su shook her head. “It’s no use.”

“Why not?” A-Ken demanded angrily.

“Because—not a single report out there has revealed the truth. That proves MIFU wants the situation to escalate. The bigger the uproar, the more famous their brand becomes.”

“Doesn’t that tarnish their brand image?” Hepburn asked innocently.

“That damage is only temporary,” Bai Su explained. “For a while, audiences will be misled by the reports, attacking Butterfly Group and the brand you’re endorsing—they might even threaten to boycott MIFU entirely. But when MIFU releases the real on-site footage, will everyone still think the same?”

“So… you’re saying we don’t need to do anything right now?” Tang Zhong asked.

“That’s right.” Bai Su nodded firmly. “The harsher the criticism now, the deeper the apology when the truth comes out. That’s how die-hard fans are made. The more violently they denounce MIFU now, the more loyal they’ll become later—it’s a win-win.”

“—”

Now Tang Zhong understood how this oddball Butterfly Group had become such a sensation. With such a shrewd, capable manager, even if the three girls were complete fools, she could still turn them into the most popular fools in the country.

Not to mention that Tang Xin herself was a very clever girl.

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Jeans, plaid shirt, canvas shoes, old-fashioned black-rimmed glasses, and a baseball cap pulled low over his brow.

No one would ever connect the scholarly, awkward boy standing here with the wildly popular Butterfly Group; they looked as if they came from two different worlds.

The streets bustled with cars and people. Farewells and reunions, parental affection everywhere.

Today was registration day at Southern University, so the campus and its surroundings were particularly lively. Banners welcoming the new students hung from many faculties, loudspeakers blared slogans like “New students of the School of Economics, gather here!” or “Students of the College of Arts, follow me!”—students from all over the country were about to enter this renowned institution.

The main entrance to College Avenue had long since been closed to private vehicles, so many parents were carrying bags and suitcases, escorting their children to registration. Some sent one parent, some both, and the extravagant even had four or five people seeing one student off.

Tang Zhong even saw a group of more than a dozen escorting a single student. Judging by their expressions, manner of walking, and the burdens they carried, he guessed they were parents, grandparents, a driver, a secretary, and two nannies. The beautiful girl at the center looked like a porcelain doll, clutching a plush toy, her face filled with joy and curiosity as she surveyed her surroundings.

Her gaze met Tang Zhong’s. She wrinkled her nose and gave a faint “hmph.” Tang Zhong squinted at her with a smile in return. She responded by waving her stuffed toy at him—whether as a show of pride or a warning, he couldn’t tell.

“Southern Capital University,” Tang Zhong murmured, standing before the imposing granite gates, gazing at the school’s flamboyant sign with a sense of awe.

Tang Xin had studied here for two years, and her student status at Southern University was still active.

The cherry trees she wrote about in her diary, the chicken drumstick rice in the third cafeteria, the tennis courts where she often played, the suitor who serenaded her with a guitar, and the girl named Su San—were they all still here?

“Everything will have an answer,” Tang Zhong said. Because he was here now—about to become part of this miniature society.

He hoisted the slightly old-fashioned canvas bag he’d brought from Henshan Prison and strode into the campus.

He was enrolled in the Department of Psychology—a rather niche field.

He was a child raised in prison. Every time he left school and returned, it felt like going home.

Outside, the prisoners seemed fierce, shunned by all. But inside, they showed another side.

Some death row inmates became anxious, refused food, prayed, or sobbed as their execution approached; some clutched Tang Zhong’s hand, asking if there was an afterlife, promising to be good people next time; others shouted that they’d be heroes again in eighteen years, but when the moment finally came, they lost control of their bowels and had to have their pant legs tied with string just to die with some dignity—Tang Zhong had talked with them, but he still couldn’t truly understand the changes in their minds.

He wanted to understand the psychology of criminals. He wanted answers.

Fortunately, the bearded warden never interfered.

Without asking for directions, bag in hand, he wandered around. This was his first time at Southern University, a good chance to get familiar with the place. Besides, the scenery was truly lovely.

The enthusiastic greetings of the upperclassmen, their sweating brows; the bewilderment and delight on the freshmen’s faces; the pride etched into the wrinkled faces of their parents—these were the most beautiful sights of all.

They could seep right into one’s heart.

Looking ahead at the red banner that read “Welcome New Students—Department of Psychology, Southern Capital University,” Tang Zhong couldn’t help but feel surprised.

He knew psychology was a niche field, but hadn’t expected it to be this obscure.

At the other faculty banners, students and their parents were packed together so tightly there was hardly room to move. Under the psychology banner, the two students on duty to welcome newcomers were so bored they’d dozed off.

Tang Zhong approached, knocked on the table, and said, “Hello. I’m here to register.”

A boy with equally thick black-rimmed glasses and hair like an overturned bird’s nest groggily raised his head. He squinted at Tang Zhong for a moment, then wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and held out his hand. “Admission letter.”

Tang Zhong took it from his pocket and handed it over, noticing the puddle of drool on the table—it seemed this guy had been asleep for quite a while.

But instead of opening the letter, the boy sized Tang Zhong up from head to toe.

Tang Zhong’s heart gave a sudden jolt. Had he recognized him?

“Let me guess. Let me guess,” the student muttered. “Levi’s plaid shirt and jeans, Converse shoes—obviously knockoffs.”

“Those thick glasses are a giveaway—too much time reading web novels and playing games. Calluses on your hands from using the mouse. The baseball cap’s hiding hair you haven’t washed in days, and the brim pulled down low means you don’t like people looking at you—in other words, you seriously lack confidence.”

“But the key is your stance. You’re not standing feet parallel, which would show confidence; nor are your feet crossed, which would show insecurity. No—you’ve got one foot ahead of the other, body all loose and slack, like your head’s in the clouds.”

Smack!

The boy slapped the table, startling his sleeping companion awake.

Eyes shining, he announced his verdict with excitement: “I can tell at a glance—you’re a loser!”

(P.S. Old Liu slaps the table and shouts: I can tell at a glance who among you hasn’t voted for my book!)