Chapter 593: line with translation of chapter title

No. 175: Look, it's not mind reading.

Title line. We'll translate: "NO. 175: You see, it's not mind reading". Keep the number format? Use same "NO．175：" maybe keep as is? The instruction: translate the chapter's title. So we output English translation. Probably "NO. 175: You see, it's not mind reading". We'll keep colon.

Can you close the door?

Saying this, Aomo had actually already deployed a soundproof barrier.

Those endless jk topics were essentially a disturbance to him.

Interesting observation subjects fall into two categories, analogous to books: one type that can broaden horizons and even be applied as knowledge, a 'reference book'; the other purely for entertainment, used to stimulate perception, a 'comic book'.

The jk's topics often lie between the two: some gossip that filters out information, some nutritionally lacking yet energizing conversations among close friends, and some improper personal or others' privacy; these mix together and often jump around, disordered like online chats, making Aomo sigh again at how unfathomable women's thoughts are, especially female high school students.

Of course, if these conversations were with the horse girls he'd dated, that would also be a kind of 'respect'.

Unfortunately, even though the intake of Central Tresen has undergone rigorous screening, the number of new students each year is still three or four thousand—which, in this era, for a school that encompasses middle school, high school, and college stages, is actually quite small.

But for Aomo's ability to d people, this challenge is still too high.

There are still plenty of horse girls at the school that he isn't familiar with, having only skimmed the roster.

To him, these horse girls are quite unfamiliar, lacking any fan filter, and he feels they're not much different from most jk.

And one who has long left the jk scene not only has some underground businesses, but is also a woman who is a Ura official.

Then, after slamming the door with a 'bang', he nearby pulled over a chair and sat down, exhibiting a blunt and rude demeanor, being outright impolite:

Has Chazuo not finished school yet?

You might as well go see for yourself.

Aomo had turned his head back, refocusing on the terminal screen, and after glancing twice, he shifted his attention to the trainers' chat room.

If one becomes a spirit body, this would be easy; there's nothing in Tresen's classrooms designed to detect spirit bodies.

Aomo said lightly, given Zhouri Ningjing's ghost‑like presence beside Chazuo, it's not hard to imagine that in past classes this person constantly hovered near the other.

However, this isn't important; at least he doesn't care much, and while saying this he didn't see Zhouri Ningjing's reaction, merely scrolling through the chat room's log.

From the start of the dispersal to now, a moment's inattention would result in over a hundred unread messages.

These records are full of seniors' fantasies about the future Saichang, with plenty of optimistic and pessimistic discussion, and some who call themselves the 'uncle faction' claim to have gotten first‑hand reform data, simulating predictions for the distance and track changes of various g‑level Saichang systems.

Truth and falsehood are mixed together, having little practical value, yet they make it hard for him to look away.

He believes those trainers are the same.

He could see statements from Narita Shirohito's trainer Mitaka Ayaka, as well as Nishizaki Yutaka's professional tone in the log, and even the ever‑playful Kintaro Uchida in the chat room speaking solemnly about possible standards for the Dream Cup.

Besides that, there are many 'new faces' who usually stay silent in the chat room, even the elite diving faction that Aomo has never heard speak, all appearing in the posting record.

This chat room is probably the first time it's been this lively, and also the first time it's resembled a 'professionals' chat room.

Everyone brought forth their own perspective and experience; even if they remained rational and knew such exchange had little practical worth, with useful content being scarce, they all discussed it with utmost seriousness and intensity.

Unable to suppress the unease and restlessness in his heart.

This is precisely the demeanor of top‑tier industry figures; while the recent doubling of examples is certainly intimidating, beyond that it is also a yearning for victory.

Some even directly turned their gaze toward the 'Dream Cup', wondering what data such a standard would yield for a Dream Cup whose distance is always several times that of ordinary races.

Some long for the strongest.

In the realm of the strongest, can one and the horse girl one has nurtured claim the top spot?

During these three years of peak strength, not only does the Dream Cup exist as a fantasy, but also the reform of competitions brings change; countless trainers rooted in Central feel that yearning rise from their hearts, rooted in their manifest or latent pride, welling up from their inner selves and marrow to become a whole‑body 'itch'.

Only the feeling of an 'itch' can describe this sensation.

It floats on the surface yet is hard to dispel, as if it penetrates beneath the skin.

Some wrap it as a dream, some cast it as a sin, but in Aomo's view he would only call it a 'longing'.

It is what you use to counter loneliness, and also what drives you to pursue something, no longer being muddled.

It is the deepest desire, granting one wisdom, sin, and a soul.

It is what makes a person human.

He actually couldn't wait to tell this to the three girls under him, but just as Zhouri Ningjing asked, it's still far from school's end, even though the dismissal bell has just rung.

Sending the message now would certainly let the three girls share that hesitation and the overcoming of it, their longing for 'fastest' and 'strongest', and could also get them called out by the teacher, bringing a lively atmosphere to the class.

For a trainer who knows the personalities of his three subordinates like the back of his hand, it's easy to imagine that scene.

Thus he summoned twelve parts of patience.

But unfortunately, the other person in the room lacks this patience.

With a thud, the sound came from the other's leather shoe kicking Aomo's chair leg.

That kick wasn't particularly strong, so the latter remained seated, merely lifting his head slightly to see the black‑haired horse girl with a shooting‑bang fringe glowering fiercely: 'What spirit body are you turning into?! When you saw me in the meeting room, didn't you notice I'm a physical being?'

Indeed so.

Today, Zhouri Ningjing appearing on campus was a departure from the norm—not only wearing formal attire and sporting the Ura association emblem, but also manifesting as a living horse girl, which made Aomo involuntarily worried.

Will this cause some trouble‑rumors for Chazuo?

Huh?

Like a doppelgänger, who knows—later someone might spread a rumor that the school has two Manchester Chazuo.

As the subject of the still‑circulating forum rumor about a ghost haunting the junior high teaching building, Aomo saying this naturally carries persuasive weight.

Regarding this, Zhouri Ningjing only felt a headache: 'I didn't even want to come today! Everywhere are people I don't want to see!'

'You say everywhere, but it feels like just four,' Aomo said lightly.

'You!' The gaze that had been relaxing locked onto him again, and Zhouri Ningjing even grabbed his collar, her whole face leaning in as she snapped, 'Don't you dare size me up with those eyes!'

'That's asking a bit much, but can I still add a tag to my retina to block Zhouri Ningjing?'

At a distance close enough to almost feel each other's breath, Aomo returned the gaze with a blank expression.

Among Aomo's acquaintances, few horse girls can make him blush and race even when they're close; Zhouri Ningjing is one of them.

This woman is clearly an adult for a long time; no matter how you count her age, she's older than him.

Yet he remained like a child, young and impulsive, forever rejecting everything outside his blood kin.

Aomo had heard from Chazuo about the other side's mature side; he wanted to say that was probably just a child's kind of filter, but in the meeting room where they hadn't sat long, the Sunday Committee had made a few brief remarks, each time appearing that rational and efficient, with a hint of bureaucratic workplace instinct to interject.

That really made him sigh.

Her rationality and behavior were like two parallel lines; her maturity and stability in formal settings did not hinder her showing that frenzy and resentment toward Aomo, just like an extremely sensitive wildcat that would explode and hiss at the slightest touch from Aomo, baring teeth and claws.

Some people's anxiety is deeply hidden, only detectable during sleep, thereby eliciting concern from colleagues.

Some people's anxiety is so obvious, like a hedgehog, making them hard to get along with; even close contact cannot let them sense even a hint of feminine charm.

Ah, wrong—actually one can also smell a hint of mixed perfume, plus some shampoo scent.

But this perhaps cannot be counted as part of feminine charm.

After all, nowadays perfume use is not limited to women, and shampoo is a basic hygiene facility for everyone.

"In short! No probing my inner thoughts!"

This appearance of wanting to act yet hesitating, only able to put up a tough front, also made Aomo sigh a little at the sadness of such a childish adult, especially since she looks so much like the child he admires.

"Saying that makes me seem like I have mind-reading."

"How is yours any different from mind-reading!"

"The difference is naturally huge, like maybe you don't want to see more than four people; if I had mind-reading, I wouldn't need to rely on the uncertain—you might as well calm down."

Watching the darkness in his hand surge, almost forming a spiky outline, Aomo let out a sigh.

Isn't such obvious feedback making your boundaries clearer to yourself?

"What are you sighing about!"

The hand gripping his collar tightened a bit, making Aomo involuntarily feel relieved that today he was wearing the suit reimbursed by the Jiemen District Police Headquarters, whose quality is guaranteed, so it wouldn't easily tear in the tug of an adult horse girl.

"Sighing, it's still after class time; given Chazuo's child's personality, maybe they'll come here to visit in the next second—"

"... friend?"

"Now let go of your hand, say we're joking, how about that?"