The Academic God Becomes an Internet Sensation After Joining a Dating Show - Chapter 70 - Conscience

The lips against his own were cool, almost fragile in their tenderness.

Shen Xuzhi tilted his head, brushing Qing Lin’s mouth again, lingering, his fingertips tracing the curve of his ear before trailing down with soft, coaxing kisses.

For a moment, Qing Lin’s mind went blank, a faint ringing in his ears. Then tears spilled freely, beyond his control.

Shen Xuzhi’s hand slid down, hot against Qing Lin’s palm, their fingers intertwining one by one, holding tight.

Qing Lin faltered, then closed his eyes and rose on tiptoe, answering the kiss.

The damp alley pressed them close, the heavy summer night steaming into soft mist around them.

Shen Xuzhi’s hand moved upward from his cheek, threading into his short hair, tilting his head back with gentle pressure. His palm cupped the nape of his neck, holding him steady.

His tongue slipped inside, coaxing a soft moan from Qing Lin. The young man quickly adjusted, clumsily grinding back against Shen Xuzhi’s lips in return.

A faint bitterness of blood lingered in his mouth—at the corners of his lips, on his skin.

When Shen Xuzhi’s tongue brushed the wound, it stung faintly, but his kiss was so unbearably gentle. All Qing Lin tasted was the citrusy sweetness of him, laced occasionally with the salt of tears.

Qing Lin was a man who understood himself.

He had always been clear about what he wanted. And right now, that truth was simple:

He liked Shen Xuzhi.

But the timing was wrong.

Too many things remained unresolved. And he couldn’t dismiss the thought that Mr. Shen’s feelings might be fleeting—born of a whim, or perhaps nothing more than the illusion created by their contractual bond.

How could he possibly like you?

The ugly voice echoed again, Qing Baihu’s curses refusing to fade.

Qing Lin’s eyes flew open.

The dim streetlights along the road flickered in and out of focus before him, their glow hazy and indistinct. His body stiffened, the weight of those words sinking into his chest.

He reached out, gently nudging Shen Xuzhi.

The man’s pale face bore a faint flush, his long lashes lowered, lips parted ever so slightly, unaware of how vulnerable he looked.

“I… currently have no plans for romance,” Qing Lin whispered hoarsely, his voice unsteady from being kissed into a daze. “I don’t know what it is about me that Mr. Shen believes he likes, but maybe it’s just the atmosphere of the show… or maybe—”

Before he could finish, his breath caught. His neck was suddenly seized, Shen Xuzhi’s arms locking around him, pulling him close without warning.

Then came the kiss.

This time it was nothing like before—fierce, consuming, inescapable.

Shen Xuzhi pressed him hard against the wall, one hand cushioning the space behind Qing Lin’s head while the other gripped tight. His fingers dug into his hair as his mouth ravaged his, licking, biting, devouring. His breath came hot and ragged, the friction dizzying.

Qing Lin’s body went slack, his mind blank. His pulse pounded in his ears, blood rushing to his head until he thought he might faint. The kiss left his tongue numb, the world shrouded in mist.

Then came the bite. Shen Xuzhi’s teeth closed around his lip, sharp enough to sting. His voice dropped low, gravelly, steady with command.

“What is it?”

Qing Lin gasped for breath, mind short-circuiting from the assault. Words tumbled out before he could stop them.

“Sorry—straight through grad school and PhD, no falling in love.”

Shen Xuzhi: “…”

Another kiss silenced him.

Qing Lin blinked, tears catching faintly on his lashes. His eyes were rimmed in red, lips flushed from the relentless kisses, a fragile beauty hidden in their borrowed color.

Numb, his face burning, he lifted a trembling hand to cover Shen Xuzhi’s mouth.

“…Is this how people kiss someone who just rejected them?”

Shen Xuzhi drew back slightly, covering his own mouth. His gaze lingered on Qing Lin for a long moment before he caught the boy’s hand, lowering his head to kiss the center of his palm.

His composure returned, steady and unshaken. “This is fine. Now I have a reason to pursue you.”

Qing Lin’s cheeks burned hot.

“You can examine my heart whenever you wish,” Shen Xuzhi continued softly. “If you feel it’s not ready yet, then we’ll take it slowly.”

The alley lay utterly still. So quiet that only Shen Xuzhi’s voice seemed to exist, every other sound fading into nothingness.

“But I want one honest answer from you.”

He lowered his head, lips brushing Qing Lin’s ear. His voice came low and husky, a coaxing whisper warm against his skin.

“Do you like me?”

Qing Lin’s cheeks flushed a shade deeper.

Shen Xuzhi softened his voice, the corners of his eyes crinkling upward. “You like me, don’t you?”

Qing Lin was jolted back to reality.

He suddenly realized what Qing Baihu had said was nothing more than provocation—meant to make him doubt himself, doubt Shen Xuzhi’s feelings.

He had nearly fallen for it.

Reason and emotion tangled, but slowly, he reclaimed his conviction.

Their heartbeats overlapped.

He wasn’t foolish. He could feel the sincerity. He simply liked him.

“Mm.” Qing Lin murmured softly.

The distant lamps bathed the long path in gentle light. Only the two of them stood there, the world hushed around them. He felt so soft he was nearly melting.

“Shen Xuzhi…” Qing Lin wrapped his arms around his neck, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to his once more.

“Let’s kiss a little longer.”

___________________________________________________________________________

They kissed for an unknown length of time. Had Shen Xuzhi not been stirred by Qing Lin’s awkward, inexperienced technique, he would have gone on forever.

Only when Qing Lin finally pulled away did he ask, “How did you know I was here, Mr. Shen?”

Shen Xuzhi hesitated, then deflected, “I snuck back.”

“Getting out now will be tricky. Luckily, there aren’t many people around here.” Qing Lin tugged his sleeve. “Come with me.”

Shen Xuzhi followed, his gaze lingering on the dark bruise on Qing Lin’s arm. “You’re hurt.”

Qing Lin brushed it off. “It’s nothing.”

They climbed the narrow stairs. Inside, Qing Lin’s rented apartment lay in disarray—an aftermath of violence he’d almost forgotten.

“Just come in,” he said, glancing uneasily at the floor. “Or… maybe sit in the bedroom while I see if there’s anything to drink.”

The space was small, the living room bleeding into the kitchen, a single bedroom tucked beyond. Shen Xuzhi flicked on the light. Sparse furniture greeted him: a bed, a desk, a lamp.

Professional books littered the desk, their spines cracked, pages bent as though someone had rifled through them. The bedding was tossed into a tangled heap.

“Did you chase him off?” Shen Xuzhi asked quietly.

“Yeah.” Qing Lin handed him a glass of water. “But I’ll catch him soon enough.”

With that, he crouched by the bedside, reaching far under. From the deepest corner, he dragged out a box.

Shen Xuzhi leaned closer. Inside lay stacks upon stacks of documents.

Shen Xuzhi frowned. “What’s this?”

“Evidence I’ve gathered over the years of Qing Baihu’s crimes.” Qing Lin’s tone was steady as he pulled out the stack of documents.

Shen Xuzhi sifted through the photographs and written records, his scalp prickling. Each page reeked of blood and shadows.

“Qing Baihu covered his tracks well,” Qing Lin said flatly. “He must have had someone powerful protecting him. Gambling charges never stuck—at most, a few months in detention before release.” His eyes lowered, voice turning colder. “That’s why I’ve been collecting evidence. Enough to lock him away for years. Maybe forever.”

Shen Xuzhi stared at him. Qing Lin spoke of his own scars as though they were weather reports—indifferently, almost detached.

“…That bastard. Did he try to blackmail you?”

Qing Lin lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shen. I didn’t want you dragged into this. I—”

“Qing Lin.”

He lifted his gaze. Shen Xuzhi’s eyes shone faintly red, a fragile sheen at the corners.

“You don’t need to apologize. In fact, you should be relieved.” Shen Xuzhi’s tone was steady, decisive. “Extortion alone is enough for over ten years. With this evidence, I can guarantee you’ll never have to see him again in this lifetime.”

He clasped Qing Lin’s trembling hand. “I’ll get you the best lawyer. Tell me—what else can I do?”

Qing Lin’s throat tightened. His eyes stung. What was this feeling?

He never cried—yet with Shen Xuzhi, he always came so close.

Silence pressed in between them.

At last, Qing Lin steadied himself. His hesitation was gone, replaced by a colder resolve.

“Mr. Shen,” he asked softly, “you really snuck here, didn’t you?”

Shen Xuzhi didn’t answer, but Qing Lin continued, “Good. Spread the word now. I want this resolved swiftly.”

______________________________________________________________________________

The next morning.

Overnight, tabloid accounts erupted with scandal—Qing Lin branded as unfilial, a fame-hungry actor who’d abandoned his father.

As planned, Shen Xuzhi released the news, then hurried Qing Lin into a hotel under heavy guard.

Sure enough, it was still early morning, and media from every outlet had swarmed the hotel entrance—a dense, dark mass, all competing for an exclusive scoop.

This was precisely the effect Qing Lin had intended.

It was the quickest way to make the media fall into his trap without lifting a finger, no need for a press conference, and the news would spread like wildfire.

The vast square was filled with microphones, cameras, and flashing lights—a chaotic mix of everything.

“He’s coming out!”

“Qing Lin, over here! I have a question for you!”

Qing Lin stepped into the chaos. His pale face bore dark bruises, but his gaze remained calm, detached, like still water. The pale light in his eyes glinted with an unmistakable coldness.

The media swarmed like bees around a hive.

“Qing Lin, can you answer us?”

“Is what your father said yesterday true?”

“He said that as a top-ranked bigshot, you just ignored him—how are you going to explain that?!”

“He’s not my father.” Qing Lin’s expression didn’t flicker, his voice flat and cold. “I was adopted by him. But we’ve had no connection for a long time.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd.

“Qing Lin, can you give a direct answer? After all, he raised you for so many years. He’s like a father to you. Are you really going to abandon him so ruthlessly?”

“Have you truly no conscience?”

“Conscience?” Qing Lin repeated, as though tasting a foreign word. His amber eyes, usually placid, lifted at last. They swept across the crowd like a winter gale—ice-cold, cutting, and contemptuous.

Microphones lowered. People flinched. The chaos bled away into silence.

“Fine,” Qing Lin said, almost lazy. “I’ll tell you everything.”

He reached into his bag and drew out a thick stack of papers. In the next instant, the black-and-white sheets were tossed into the air with a swoosh, scattering wildly and creating an instant sea of white as they drifted down chaotically.

Rustling filled the plaza. Pages drifted down in slow, eerie spirals. Reporters lunged for them, some bending to snatch at the fallen sheets, their cameras forgotten.

Qing Lin’s gaze stayed steady on the nearest lens. His voice was cold, his tone measured.

“In 2014, Qing Baihu adopted me from the welfare home after believing a fortune-teller’s claim it would improve his financial luck.

From 2016 to 2017, Qing Baihu lost his job and began gambling for a living. He drank heavily, committed domestic violence, and neglected his family.

In 2018, Qing Baihu accumulated over 700,000 yuan in illegal gambling debts and fled to evade creditors. Under threat, I helped repay a total of 956,300 yuan.

In 2019, Qing Baihu showed no change, traveling nationwide to gamble. During this period, he was detained over ten times for organizing group gambling.

In 2020, to control me, Qing Baihu tampered with my college entrance exam application without permission. That afternoon, I reported him to the police. He was arrested and sentenced to one year and four months in prison. Prior to this, I had already sent him to the police station five times, his cumulative detention time reaching six months and eight days.

On December 18, 2020, I formally terminated my adoption relationship with Qing Baihu. He personally admitted his guilt toward me, vowed to reform, and we agreed to sever all ties for life.

Now it’s 2023. Qing Baihu causes trouble while drunk, commits premeditated theft, persistently harasses me, and threatens public figures for extortion.”

He paused, letting the papers settle across the plaza like fallen snow.

“All evidence has been compiled into documents and submitted to my lawyer. I will show no leniency toward his defamation of me either.”

Qing Lin’s lips curled into a sneer. “And you people are here questioning my conscience?”

His eyes gleamed, the ice in his tone sharp enough to draw blood.

“I have a question for you now.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice low, every word dripping contempt and sarcasm:

“Qing Baihu, do you want to die with me?”