Chapter 9 (1/2)
The minor mishap that occurred during Daomei’s live broadcast drew much attention to the flowers sold in Huahua World. They discovered the flowers differ markedly from the others after careful comparisons. Not only was the blooming period longer, the color more vibrant, and the vitality more fervent, but the fragrance was also revitalizing and lasted a long time. Some flowers even have medical functions such as calming the nerves and aiding sleep.
A night of good, quality sleep had always been a problem that plagued most mental strength enhancers. Such inconspicuous disturbances could affect their sleep because their mental power was innately active and yielded immense acute perception. The lighter the sleep, the greater the mental power. Medication, however, seemed to have the potential to change this. However, the effects of sleeping aids were complicated and too succinct to express. Since then, no drug could solve this problem relatively until Dream Pill, and Jingxin Powder emerged.
Although they yielded no immediate effect, the flowers cultivated by An Xian had been catered around for a long time. Thus, it’s only natural for them to have a proactive regulating effect on the mental power’s stability and strength.
Only that no one seemed to discover the actual values of these flowers; people just assumed that they were there to serve as an intellectual and emotional object of admiration. That they smell refreshing, as opposed to those flowers that seemed to be the incarnations of coquettish bitches.
An Xian logged in to Huahua World, updated her inventory of products once again, and then classified the physical objects into the smart equipment warehouse. As long as someone placed an order online, the warehouse would autocomplete the process of address proofreading, cargo assembly, application for express delivery, cargo shipping, and other procedures.
An Xian spent the next minute refining the medicines Your Highness H was looking for, which she planned to finish within the next ten days.
While she went into seclusion, a particular post suddenly appeared on the internet, which gained rapid popularity from the ardent, nosy inquiries. Its eye-catching headline naturally attracted the attention of the masses, like bees to honey.
[818, The Orphan Who Gained Others’ Sympathy by Selling Tragedy, Swindled the Legacy of the Old Man’s Orphanage, Paid his Way Through a Prestigious School Diploma, and Finally Walked on the Pinnacle of Life as an Orphan]
The person who posted this literally stood by on his username—an indignant, ire-filled stone.
The title alone made netizens think it was gimmicky, and the content was exactly what they expected. Very dog-blooded.
[We will name the protagonist of the story Mister A for the time being. When he was a child, his parents died, and he had no relatives to house him. Mister A was also talentless and grew with a poor physique, so he was admitted to a typical orphanage in the end. This kind of life experience could be defined as not miserable, that it’s only foreseeable he’s destined to live as an ordinary person. However, reality consistently exceeds people’s expectations.
The orphanage dean where Mister A was taken in was an amiable, widowed old man who devoted his life to charity. Mister A had always been abnormally lacking when it came to expressing affection since childhood. He spoke hardly ten words a day, but he was diligent in his work, so Mister A quickly won the sympathy of the dean and treated him as his own as the time breezed past. Everything seemed so perfect, like a heart-warming drama of fate.
The plot took an unexpected turn when Mister A turned 17—only a year before the college entrance examination. His school grades were only satisfactory, and he was unpopular.
In the ordinary course of events, he might be accepted to a third-rate university at most. As if his life hadn’t already reached its apex, the healthy dean suddenly fell ill, and his condition deteriorated quickly enough for him to die after two months in the hospital. Before his death, the dean generously left all of his legacies to Mister A and entrusted him with the care of the orphanage’s children.
Then, what happened?
It turned out Mister A, who was notable for having average grades, “unexpectedly” received an admission notice from a prestigious foreign school and went straight overseas. He was befitting of the phrase “never to be heard again” as there was no news for several years. The orphanage’s poor children, who had lost their beloved dean, were abandoned by Mister A, who was supposed to look after them. The children had no choice but to rely on the state’s relief funds to keep their bodies alive.
I recently ran into Mister A, which prompted this author to write this post. He’s now well-dressed and has a rosy complexion. Mister A has returned home but has not ventured into the orphanage. Enraging this author in this regard! How could he squander the dean’s legacy with such a clear conscience? And the old dean’s bequest on his deathbed. Is he still remembering? Even if he couldn’t care for so many children, he still has to give it his all, ah!]
The author’s tone was tinged with indignation. While chastising Mister A for kicking his benefactor in the teeth, he also mentioned the old dean’s condition as something to avoid. And hinted that Mister A’s diploma might not have come from the right source.
Once he issued this post, as expected, it provoked thousands of condemnation from the netizens. There are, of course, various conspiracy theories mixing in.
Besides lambasting Mister A, they unanimously requested the author reveal his identity.
325th floor: [Just want to know how much inheritance Mister A received from the old dean?]
327th floor: [To purchase an admission qualification for a prestigious school, you must have at least 200W (and strong connections. From this point alone, Mister A had it good. The annual expenditure for studying abroad isn’t less than 40W. Calculating for four years, it comes to around 400W.]
330th floor: [My brother, this is fucking cool.]
332nd floor: [It’s plausible the money was the life savings of the dean. Most of which should have gone as the education fund he saved for the children, but all went as cheap to the ingrate.]
349th floor: [Landlord, who is Mister A? Hurry and make his identity public! Do you let scum like this scourge other people, bah?]
Angry Stone: [This author was his classmate, and I don’t want to do too much staining. I just hope he can repent and start afresh after seeing this post.]
355th floor: [Author, you are overly naïve. Do you still believe that a post can make him change for the better after he hasn’t made an initiation in so many years?]
364th floor: [This may involve human life, so we must find out the truth!]
365th floor: [That’s right! I felt terrified when I ruminate about this. There could be more scheming at the other end of this precipice.]
371st floor: [Owner, if it’s indeed inconvenient for you to say, then just give a few keywords. That’ll appease those on our side.]
388th: [I seconded!]
Angry Stone: [Okay, I’ll say it briefly. Mister A majored in medical therapy and a low mental level. He studied at Bellevue Medical School.]
380th floor: [Shit. He actually attended the same school as me! Most of the people admitted to Bellevue have at least a mental level C. I can try to look within the C-level range.]
382nd floor: [Upstairs, C-level is not too low. Since the author said his mental level was not high, then it’s most likely to be below C-level.]