Chapter 212: Another Nod

A group of people lined up and went to the military base's logistics department to collect toiletries, joining a crowd of students from Huaqing, Jingda, Renmin, and other key Beijing universities. These items were almost certainly scheduled down to the minute—otherwise they couldn't have been so perfectly synchronized.

Wang Yan glanced briefly at Qiu Shui and the others as they chatted and critiqued; with so many schools represented, the total number must have been several hundred. Naturally, his own Renhe Medical College's Clinical Department had the fewest—after all, the very name "medical college" said it all. Students like him, in the eight-year direct PhD track, were taught in small classes with concentrated resources—calling them future pillars of the national medical system wasn't an exaggeration. Other universities offered many majors; even if each sent just a few students, the numbers added up.

As for the group of young people gushing over who looked cute or cool, Wang Yan found it all perfectly fine under thirty years' worth of aesthetic differences. Nothing like the four-hundred-year gap he'd experienced before. And relatively speaking, there were more boys than girls among these two hundred-plus students. At Renhe Medical College, with twenty-four students total, a one-to-one gender ratio was already more than sufficient. All in all, it was just how it was.

After collecting their toiletries in a chaotic scramble, Hou Pu led them to the dormitory: "Classmates! Classmates! Each bunk has your name on it. Find your assigned bed—no, find your assigned bunk. Don't mix them up. Keep it orderly!"

Twelve students per room, all bunk beds. Some had imagined the awkwardness of hundreds of people sharing flatulence, but since they were all boys, no one wanted to seem weak or fussy, and the room was clean, so everyone quietly searched for their name-tagged bunks. Wang Yan ignored the idle chatter from Qiu Shui, Xinyi, and the others, found his spot, and saw it was the top bunk above Gu Ming, by the window.

He tossed his things up without using the ladder, grabbed the guardrail of the top bunk, pulled himself up with a single leap, and landed lightly beside the bed. Then he lay flat on the mattress and rocked back and forth, testing it.

Noticing Wang Yan's movement, Xin Yi, who'd been chatting with Gu Ming, let out a startled "Huh!": "Bro, uh—wait, Wang Yan, right?"

Wang Yan sat up and looked down at Xin Yi, who was perched on the desk: "What?"

Xin Yi raised his thumb: "That move just now—the 'whoosh'—was insane. You train?"

"Nothing special. Just farmhand tricks."

Wang Yan found Xin Yi likable enough—slightly sycophantic, but one of the few named characters in this whole drama who felt relatively normal. Of course, his sycophancy was relative; after all, chasing after a girl he liked wasn't wrong.

Xin Yi didn't dwell on the modesty, instead said: "You're rocking back and forth—you're afraid you'll fall off? Never slept on a top bunk before?"

Wang Yan had slept on top bunks before—but back then, he hadn't weighed two hundred jin. Now he was just testing whether it could hold him.

He had no interest in explaining. He simply nodded: "With my height and weight, I'm just checking. I don't care, but I'm worried I'll crush whoever's below."

"Relax. These are military-grade. Top quality. I'm a hundred and fifty jin and it holds me fine. You don't look fat—probably about my weight. No problem. Sleep easy."

"Thanks."

"Hey, we're classmates. Eight years ahead—no need to be formal…"

Xin Yi was just testing the waters, seeing if Wang Yan fit in. The proof was clear: Wang Yan could be reached. Sure, he might act a little aloof, a little cocky—but he was still approachable. That was enough.

Others had overheard the exchange. Most shared Xin Yi's initial skepticism, and seeing Wang Yan's calm demeanor, they quietly relaxed.

Wang Yan noticed everyone's expressions, smiled faintly, and said nothing. He began making his bed.

Gu Ming looked at Xin Yi curiously: "Why's he impressive?"

"You had your back turned—you didn't see. Wang Yan just grabbed the guardrail and floated right onto the bed." Xin Yi then clung to his own bunk and jumped up and down, trying to replicate it.

Though Xin Yi's clumsy attempts were funny, Gu Ming finally understood what made it impressive. After trying it himself, he turned to Wang Yan: "Wang Yan, can you do it again?"

The commotion had drawn everyone's attention. Some had already tried and failed. Hearing this, they erupted in chatter. Qiu Shui hadn't seen it either, but didn't join in—what was the point? They all acted like kids who hadn't grown up…

Hou Pu shouted: "Classmates, let's skip it. That move's too dangerous. Not safe."

Though he might look like a monkey on display, Wang Yan understood their curiosity—it was natural. He jumped down from his bunk, landing easily on the floor: "Class monitor, thanks for the concern. Since everyone wants to see it, I'll do it again. I'll be doing this every day anyway. Watch closely—next time, don't just gawk like you're watching a circus act…"

Hearing this, everyone burst into laughter. Though embarrassed, they felt better now—he'd said it openly, so it just looked like showboating, not arrogance. He was actually easy to get along with.

Ignoring their thoughts, Wang Yan grabbed the guardrail above with one hand and the footrail below with the other, bent his knees, pushed off the ground, and pulled himself up with a smooth motion, landing effortlessly on the bed.

Watching him—so effortless, so quiet, the bed barely swaying—the male classmates were stunned.

"Cool…"

"Incredible…"

They showered Wang Yan with praise, then hurried back to their own bunks to try. But sadly, aside from Hou Pu—who was tall and strong from years of manual labor and managed to land with a loud "Bang!"—none of them succeeded.

Even those who failed refused to give up. The room filled with the clatter of beds being yanked and slammed against the floor, and the laughter of boys watching each other's ridiculous attempts—simple, childish joy, wildly lively…

Though noisy, Wang Yan said nothing—it was his fault they'd started. By the time he finished making his bed, arranged his toiletries, fetched a thermos, went out for hot water, and returned, the others had quieted down and were chatting.

What they were talking about didn't need guessing—it was always the same: the girls. At this age, it was an eternal topic.

As he listened, Wang Yan sat by the desk, slowly sipping hot water from his military-green enamel mug. Though it was September and sweltering, he was used to it. "A calm mind brings natural coolness" applied to him perfectly—his system-enhanced body handled heat and cold easily. He was perfectly content. The only regret? He was two pinches of tea leaves short.

While they chattered, Huang Qi opened the window on the other side of the room: "Hey, come look!"

Xin Yi, mid-conversation with Qiu Shui, turned: "Look at what?"

Huang Qi was clean-cut but secretly flashy—he'd been the one who'd commented on Zhao Yingnan's chest during her self-introduction. Without turning, he said: "Everything you want. So rich."

The implication was obvious—they'd just been talking about the girls. Everyone scrambled to the window: some climbed onto desks, others pressed against the back, craning their necks.

Even Qiu Shui, who'd been distractedly reading, pushed his way to the front: "Let me see! Let me see too!"

Wang Yan watched the cluster of heads like a herd of donkey-kicked fools, shook his head, stood up, and opened the adjacent window. Below, a line of girls in their own clothes queued up…

Seeing Yang Yue, reading a book and memorizing vocabulary below, Xin Yi sighed dreamily: "My goddess."

"Who? Who?"

All eyes fixed on the girls below, yet all mouths asked the same question.

"Top student from No. 4 High School—Yang Yue, alias 'Sword of Seduction.'"

Wang Yan ignored their commentary. He rested his elbows on the windowsill, leaned out, watching the girls below, feeling the pulse of youth.

"Hey, look! Look! Denim shorts…"

Soon, Xiao Hong bounced out in denim shorts, hips swaying, her long white legs drawing a chorus of wolf-whistles from the boys at the opposite window.

Honestly, in 1992, though everything was changing, developing, breaking boundaries, Xiao Hong's shorts weren't trendy. Most girls still wore long pants, or like Liu Tingting, floral long skirts.

Girls who dressed like Xiao Hong—though men loved to stare—faced harsh social judgment, often assumed to be prostitutes…

But in this story, perhaps to highlight youthful vitality and beauty, it was fine—it was a cinematic world. The System was the boss. Whatever existed was justified.

Soon, Zhao Yingnan organized the girls into a neat line, and they strolled off into the distance.

The boys at the window watched. The girls noticed. Mutual curiosity flowed both ways—they walked, glancing up at the boys craning their necks, chattering away.

One target stood out: Wang Yan. His arrogant self-introduction had already marked him. Now he stood alone at one window, separate from the crowd at the other—impossible not to notice.

Xiao Hong glanced at Wang Yan—tall, nothing else remarkable, just overly flashy. After one look, she turned to the other window, where a group of boys clustered. Her gaze instantly locked onto Qiu Shui—the boy with the messy, punkish hair. That was exactly her type.

Seeing Gu Ming wave wildly beside him, Qiu Shui looked away, avoiding eye contact. Being watched felt electric. He knew Xiao Hong was looking at him. He pretended indifference, but inside, a small spark of joy lit up—his charm had been confirmed. Who among young boys didn't harbor crushes? Who among young girls didn't dream?

Unlike the others, Zhao Yingnan stared at Wang Yan. Her impression of him ran deepest. After thinking back, she felt more strongly than ever—he was different. A naturalness no one else possessed.

Seeing Zhao Yingnan watching him, Wang Yan smiled and nodded again.

Perhaps out of politeness, Zhao Yingnan met his gaze, smiled faintly in return, and nodded. Then she realized something was off—she quickly looked away, scanning the boys at the other window. After a swift sweep, she turned and led the group away.

When everyone had left, Hou Pu put on his "class monitor" persona: "Oh come on, enough already, stop staring—go tidy up your quarters, go, go…" As he spoke, he shoved aside a group still gazing intently.

Seeing Xin Yi, Gu Ming, Qiu Shui, and others still crouched on the table, staring without reacting, Hou Pu stepped forward and yanked one of them: "Xin Yi, Xiao Bai—go tidy up your quarters."

Xin Yi was lost in thought, watching Yang Yue reciting vocabulary, and impatiently shook off Hou Pu's hand: "Ugh, don't bother me—I already tidied up."

Hou Pu had no choice; muttering "go tidy up your quarters," he grabbed Qiu Shui beside him. Perhaps his class monitor authority felt challenged, so he pulled harder than usual—or perhaps Qiu Shui was just weak. Either way, Qiu Shui was yanked backward, overturning his stool and landing flat on the floor.

The atmosphere grew tense. Qiu Shui froze for a moment, then stood, brushed off his hands, and slowly advanced toward Hou Pu. The others gradually circled in, surrounding Hou Pu by the table—probably nervously curling their toes…

Knowing no fight would break out, Wang Yan sat back down and sipped hot water.

He didn't think Qiu Shui had this much influence to rally so many newly met people to his side; more likely, Hou Pu had become class monitor and gotten too cocky, and just now had shoved people around—everyone was a bit annoyed. So they all gathered around, using Qiu Shui as an excuse. If it came to actual fighting, probably no one was that stupid—what they really wanted was to watch the show and stir things up.

The group surrounded Hou Pu, scratching him all over until he laughed, cried, and begged for mercy. But in the process, a small conflict vanished—and without realizing it, their bonds grew a little closer…

【A novel app that's run stably for years, preferred by old users and even those switching sources—huanyuanapp.】

That evening, several students from the school ate dinner together in the big cafeteria. The overall food was decent—no matter what future nonsense awaited regarding prep classes or whatever, right now they were the darlings; they couldn't be fed poorly. Though the dishes were mostly big-pot stews of potatoes and green beans, meat was never lacking. The cook's stir-frying skills were on par with Wang Yan's—both were professionals. But if you really compared, he couldn't match the cook; after all, cooking for a hundred in a giant pot was nothing like making one or two normal plates.

After dinner, Dai Bingzhong and Sun Army Supervisor pulled them aside to explain some rules, then let them return to rest. The first day at the camp was finally over. Now came the task of tidying up and lying on the bed to chat—after all, the novelty hadn't worn off yet; hardly anyone could sleep, and they'd be gabbing for a while…

Back in the dorm, Wang Yan shed his clothes and socks, changed into the issued slippers, and sat on a stool wearing only green army shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, sipping hot water while flipping through a book borrowed from another male classmate.

Xin Yi and the others were dressed the same way. Seeing Wang Yan sitting there, they called out: "Wang Yan, come on, go wash up."

"You guys go ahead—I'll wait until fewer people are there."

It wasn't a big deal—skip if you want. They didn't care, at most calling him pretentious, and immediately left, laughing and chatting.

As for washing up—maybe at home you'd skip washing your feet. But now with so many people around, not washing felt… off. Of course, Wang Yan wasn't talking about himself—he knew there were definitely guys like that here.

When everyone gradually returned, Wang Yan chatted idly with them, half-hearted and easygoing.

Only when the hallway noise faded and he guessed the water room was emptier did he change into a fresh pair of underwear, shed his outer shirt and shorts, and walk out in just his underwear, carrying his toiletries. He planned to splash two basins of water for a quick rinse—delaying this long was to avoid disturbing others.

In Great Ming times, when going to war, enduring ice and snow, eating outdoors, drenched in sweat—it was unavoidable. But when not at war, he bathed daily in a giant wooden tub. Now, in modern times, with shorter hair, a quick rinse was only proper; otherwise, he always felt uneasy—it was just habit.

As for showing off his manhood—he wasn't worried. Though not exaggerated, most men certainly couldn't match his size. It was both about respecting others' dignity and avoiding being stared at. He didn't mind—but being watched felt strange…

After Wang Yan left, the boys in the dorm burst into lively chatter.

Gu Ming widened his eyes, glancing around: "His muscles… did you see them?"

Xin Yi, Du Zhong, Hou Pu, Huang Qi, and others all nodded. Only Qiu Shui sneered: "Pfft, so what?" He was an artsy type—he didn't go for that… of course, that was a lie. Every boy, even an artsy one, had dreamed of having strong, muscular arms.

Though China's fitness culture hadn't yet spread widely, Wang Yan's smooth, natural, full-bodied muscles—combined with his height over 1.8 meters—were unmistakable. Two adjectives, four characters: strong, capable.

Before Gu Ming could retort, Xin Yi, hearing Qiu Shui's comment, glanced down at his protruding belly: "You're just jealous."

Qiu Shui, lying on his bed reading, sat up, ready to argue.

But before he could speak, Gu Ming said: "Yeah, I agree—Qiu Shui, you're jealous. Look at those muscles, wow…"

Huang Qi said slowly: "He must be incredibly strong."

Du Zhong nodded: "When he comes back, ask him how he trained like that."

This struck a chord. Everyone was curious. Then Gu Ming launched into stories about America, describing legendary bodybuilders. The boys listened, entranced, wishing they could instantly gain muscles to match Wang Yan.

After a while, Wang Yan returned, carrying a basin and strolling in. The boys, still chatting merrily, all turned to stare at him.

Wang Yan blinked: "What? Did I grow flowers on my face? Why are you all staring?"

Du Zhong hurried over, suppressing the urge to touch: "Wang Yan, can I ask you something?"

"Ask," said Wang Yan, placing the basin on the shelf.

"How'd you get all this muscle?"

Wang Yan hadn't expected this—he'd almost forgotten his own physique. He looked at the group staring at him: "This?"

Everyone nodded. Xin Yi said: "Look at me—any advice?"

"Just run more," Wang Yan said casually. "You won't reach my level, but do plenty of sit-ups, push-ups, frog jumps, squats, pull-ups—plus a balanced diet—and getting some muscle won't be hard."

Gu Ming asked: "You trained like that?"

"Pretty much."

Seeing Wang Yan about to leave, Du Zhong blurted: "Wang Yan… could I… maybe just touch it? Feel it?"

Though Wang Yan wasn't shy and had no "big brother" ego, a guy touching another guy? Was that appropriate? He extended one arm, flexing hard, joking: "Fine, but no other spots—feel my Heavenly Qilin arm."

Though a bit disappointed, no one could force him. Feeling his arm was better than nothing. Du Zhong went first, then the others couldn't resist—each touched Wang Yan's arm a couple times. Only Qiu Shui didn't touch; the other ten all had their turn.

Wang Yan caught Qiu Shui's indifference. He didn't know what Qiu Shui had said earlier, but guessed: maybe Qiu Shui had always been the center of attention, and now felt ignored, robbed of the spotlight; or maybe he resented Wang Yan for showing off; or perhaps his artsy pride made him unwilling to lower himself.

Actually, Wang Yan had no real issue with Qiu Shui. Though he often dropped lines from compulsory education poetry and prose to force an image, he was just a slightly clever, immature, irresponsible person with no clear self-awareness.

Stealing Sun Army Supervisor's pork can, sent by his parents for the New Year, was questionable. Saying he didn't know, thinking it was something else—well, that could be spun as plausible. But whether that can was Sun Army Supervisor's own savings or stolen from military supplies, sneaking into his dorm to take it and leaving a taunting note—it was just plain low.

As for the later mess with Zhao Yingnan, Xiao Hong, and Liu Qing—wishing for one, thinking of another, then obsessing over a third—Wang Yan figured Qiu Shui just wanted what every man wants, but lacked the ability to handle multiple women. And he still couldn't see it—he really deserved it…

As long as he didn't bother him, Wang Yan wouldn't interfere. Let him do whatever he wanted.

Back on his bed, lights-out time arrived. Wang Yan patiently answered everyone's endless questions, until the conversation drifted to impressions, then to female classmates.

After a while, voices in the dorm faded, replaced by snores and teeth-grinding…

Wang Yan hadn't experienced such an environment since becoming Emperor—over eighty years ago. Though adaptable, he still felt slightly uneasy.

With his head resting on his hand, Wang Yan closed his eyes, drifting toward sleep—until, at some point, he fell asleep…