Chapter 46: Inspection

His goal was to win the prize money from the Yanhai Art Festival.

Keeping his objective firmly in mind, as the Yanhai Art Festival drew near, Wen Jiang brimmed with energy.

Daily rehearsals went smoothly; the schedule for the day was solid; lines were memorized fluently; Supernatural Ability usage remained as reliable as ever. Wen Jiang felt confident there were no issues on his end.

What remained was accounting for “accidents.” According to the posted performance order, the Qingchi Drama Club was slotted last. By then, the audience and judges would inevitably feel some fatigue. To stand out and claim first place, they couldn’t afford any deliberate sabotage causing mishaps.

So, where might the “suspect” strike?

Costumes and props—Lin Wenzhi had said not to worry. Tampered props or slashed costumes weren’t likely.

Sneaking past everyone’s eyes in the Drama Club to damage performance items beforehand meant the sabotage couldn’t be too extensive. Limited damage wouldn’t fully halt the show, and such obvious internal meddling would immediately point to Ke Yuan in Jiang Hehu’s eyes.

Backstage food and water—mass food poisoning could derail the performance, but Lin Wenzhi had asked the club president to add an extra safety check. They’d re-inspect everything upon delivery for toxins. Plus, most actors brought their own food and fasted before performing, so the risk was theoretically low.

Key actors—too targeted. A “lead actor framed with no understudy” scenario screamed suspicion. He’d already coordinated with Jiang Hehu: if he wanted to help, protect Lu Jinghuai. Her safety should be secure.

Overall, precautions across the board seemed thorough. But if reality were a novel full of dramatic flair, the more prepared they were, the greater the chance of an upset. Greater chance meant insufficient prep, creating a paradox—the more prepared, the less prepared they were. This was the Golden Paradox Lin Wenzhi and Wen Jiang had deduced.

To be safe, before the Yanhai Art Festival kicked off, Wen Jiang joined the logistics team for another sweep of costumes, makeup, props, lighting, sound, and food supplies. There, he ran into Gao Mingcheng, now both a Student Council member and an honorary Drama Club affiliate. Spotting Wen Jiang, his face flushed with excitement.

Gao Mingcheng looked much improved—no trace of the panic and melancholy from before. He trailed Wen Jiang the whole way, occasionally asking if he needed help.

Wen Jiang could practically read “Give me something to do!” in the guy’s eyes.

Hard to turn down such enthusiasm. As for “work”… there was some. Recalling Gao Mingcheng’s 【Electronic Data】 ability excelled at gathering and integrating info, Wen Jiang asked him to compile data on Gaotian Theater.

Gaotian Theater was the venue for the festival’s performances. Finally able to help, Gao Mingcheng dove in with gusto, unleashing his freshly upgraded A-Rank Supernatural Ability. He quickly sent Wen Jiang a bundled data package.

Gotta hand it to him—working under Wen Tianlu in the Student Council, Gao Mingcheng’s ability use was top-notch: efficient and swift. Though that swiftness had sparked his beef with Jiang Hehu.

The materials were comprehensive, logically organized, and hit “client needs” spot-on. Much tied into Wen Jiang’s circle post-Training Field. Gao Mingcheng no longer shied from “elite intel.” Help was help. Among the theater’s “regulars” listed, Wen Jiang spotted familiar names.

Photos too: Wen Ruoyue with friends, Wen Tianlu and crew entering the theater.

Wen Jiang pulled out his phone and, after a long hiatus, messaged Wen Tianlu.

Wen Jiang: Take me inside

Wen Jiang: [Gaotian Theater location info]

Wen Tianlu: ?

Wen Tianlu: Forgive me?

Wen Tianlu: I’ve sent you so many messages

Wen Tianlu: You ignore them all and hit me with work right away

Wen Tianlu: Sigh.jpg

Wen Jiang ignored him. Moments later: Wen Tianlu: “Alright^ ^ When?”

***

The night before the Art Festival, Wen Jiang appeared in Gaotian Theater with a high-beam flashlight, surveying the empty space that would be packed tomorrow.

Wen Tianlu stood beside him.

Costumes, personnel, props—all clear. But one unchecked spot: the theater itself, their stage.

Internal sabotage carried high detection risk; blame would fall fast. For an unpredictable “accident” derailing the show, external tampering made more sense.

Few contestants bothered with the organizer’s venue. Without Lin Wenzhi’s “scheming rival” script theory, Wen Jiang wouldn’t have come. Most overlooked it—”commoners” like him couldn’t meddle quietly, but elites like Ke Yuan could. The theater checked all the boxes.

Of course, actually sabotaging festival equipment out of personal grudge sounded extreme. But in Qingchi? Wen Jiang knew better than to rule it out.

Most with ill intent stuck to small-scale or online tricks—too lazy for big moves, fearing backlash. More viscerally: they lacked the “means.”

Elites weighed costs differently, prone to overkill like “using a cannon to kill a mosquito.” Crashing a million-yuan sports car into school barriers over a chat slip-up? Not unheard of.

They thought less “restrained,” dreaming up “outrageous” schemes ordinary folk dismissed. Like Wen Tianlu casually sneaking him into a closed theater—his reaction wasn’t “That’s too far,” but “Why check yourself?”

Sneaking around at night on vague hunches? Wen Tianlu doubted it—no solid evidence from Wen Jiang.

Hiding proof? Nah, didn’t fit, and no reason to involve him if so.

Pure gut feeling? Not like Wen Jiang. Arms crossed, Wen Tianlu grinned: “So you called me to play night-shift security with you?”

Wen Jiang shrugged noncommittally: “Doesn’t the Student Council do festival patrols too?”

Maybe it felt “youthful.” They’d patrolled events early on. Freshman year, Wen Tianlu had solo-checked Qingchi Theater at night: eerie emptiness, mysterious actor back-to-audience in top hat, starry black cape.

Bright house lights, no stark contrasts—yet everything felt shrouded in shadow but the actor’s spotlight-glimmed head. A fleeting glimpse, unforgettable.

Weird—he recalled the cloaked silhouette, fingertips snaring invisible moonlight, tossing a crisp coin. But face and voice? Blank. No urge to hunt them down. Much later: his earring Suppressor had triggered mental protection.

Still, the impression lingered. That actor’s power: A-Rank minimum. Suspect pool? Lifestyle S-Grade Wen Jiang’s Qingchi Theater shows fell short—except once.

Once, in Bohr Hotel’s Room 501, eyes locked: reality-warping darkness hit, then a slap.

…Tch.

Shoving down sticky unease, Wen Tianlu kept it light: “Lots of patrol folks back then. Just us now—easy to miss stuff, right?”

“Just in case. Not hard to check.”

No proof of issues here—why drag others? Just needed access: enter/exit openly, no “caught sneaking, accused of cheating, disqualified” drama. Wen Tianlu wasn’t essential.

Wen Jiang walked the aisles from upper seats down, scanning flatly: “You can go if you want.” Anyway, I’m doing the work.

Use and discard, huh. Trailing, Wen Tianlu’s mood soured—from decent to bored, like idling with stale games.

Irritation brewed. Why? The vibe? Feeling dismissed?

Wen Jiang’s attitude wasn’t new—he seemed oblivious to how easily squishable he was. Others enabled it… normal, yeah. Self-mock: I’m enabling too. Anyone else would’ve bailed from Qingchi.

—Really “enabling”?

A inner voice: More like… “tamed”?

Lights dimmed abruptly, snapping his thoughts. Wen Jiang killed one side’s lights; the bright venue split day from night.

Wen Tianlu eyed the flashlight—pointless with house lights available.

“You planning to kill all lights and search in the dark?”

“Not necessarily.” Wen Jiang descended toward the stage’s far side.

Fuming harder, Wen Tianlu reeled in: Mood swings? S-Grades like us Combat System types are moody wrecks. No better than Xie Qi.

…So why not drag closer pal Xie Qi for this disposable gig?

Spare the “friend,” but not him? Made sense—self-aware of his spot. With Xie Qi or Qian Lang here, Wen Jiang wouldn’t shoo them.

Getting annoying.

“Leaving now’d look petty.” From behind, déjà vu hit—that silhouette matched the mystery actor.

Averting eyes, he chuckled teasingly: “Us alone in the theater late night—secret rendezvous. Anyone know?”

Drawing it out: “Think Xie Qi finds out… he’d be pissed?”