The Academic God Becomes an Internet Sensation After Joining a Dating Show - Chapter 82 - Letter to My Wife

Qing Lin shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable position as his expression returned to its usual calm detachment. “Give me the paper first.”

Shen Xuzhi’s collar was half undone as he propped himself up, his voice steady but teasing. “Why don’t you help me fix my clothes first?”

Qing Lin felt a little embarrassed. He glanced aside, eyes catching briefly on the lean lines of Shen Xuzhi’s chest before quickly looking away. With composed, practiced movements, he straightened the man’s collar.

The secret room was quite cool, with strong air conditioning, so being pressed together didn’t feel hot at all.

Shen Xuzhi’s body was strong and steady; a subtle flex of his core muscles lifted him fully upright.

Qing Lin, caught off guard, slid backward slightly as Shen moved, his buttocks brushing against Shen Xuzhi’s crotch.

A jolt of familiarity coursed through him.

Then, without warning, a flash of white light streaked through his mind, followed by a wave of heat that burned all the way to his ears.

Noticing the change, Shen Xuzhi straightened and steadied him with a firm arm around his waist.

Qing Lin quickly regained composure, gave a fleeting glance where he shouldn’t have, then briskly patted his clothes as if nothing had happened.

Shen Xuzhi inhaled deeply.

If this weren’t being recorded, Qing Lin might have actually made him blush from head to toe.

“Oh, you two are here.”

The three from outside had finally finished their argument and opened the chamber door—only to find Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin inside together.

Chen Xiangchao said, “We just reexamined that Secret Incantation for Summoning Souls and found a clue about the ghost—it says the ghost is dressed in red. But for now, I think we should focus on getting out of this room first.”

Qing Lin shared his earlier findings. “I think the new task is hidden here. Look at this wall—it has exactly five openings. There must be a reason for this design.”

Chen Xiangchao added, “Actually, I’ve been wondering about something else. Why haven’t we seen Xiao Ying yet? Logically speaking, we already summoned the spirits and even Qilang appeared, Xiao Ying should have shown up by now.”

Just then, the lights began to flicker.

“What now? What now?” Chen Xiangchao panicked, trying to dash toward the exit, only to find the door locked tight.

“Ahhh—!”

In an instant, a disheveled female ghost dropped from the ceiling, her twisted figure contorting as she screamed and lunged straight at them.

Su Mingxuan, standing right in front, was struck head-on by the ghost. Terrified, he shrieked, “Aaaah!”

“Xiao Ying! It’s Xiao Ying!” Zheng Qin shouted.

“Xiao Ying? She’s turned into a vengeful spirit!” Chen Xiangchao gasped. “How could that be? Didn’t Qilang purify all the ghosts?”

“Probably resentment-induced,” Shen Xuzhi replied coolly. “Quick, hide in those five openings!”

Xiao Ying had completely lost control. The NPC actress played her part with chilling intensity—staggering forward, clawing wildly, almost seizing Su Mingxuan.

Su Mingxuan spun around and bolted toward one of the openings, slamming the door shut behind him.

Pale-faced Xiao Ying crashed violently against the sealed door. The other four scrambled into their own hiding spots and sealed their doors tight.

For a moment, the noise outside ceased. When they tried pushing the doors again, none of them would open.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Looks like we’re trapped inside these things.”

They tried pushing again, confirming that it really wouldn’t budge.

Each opening was carved directly into the wall, its outline faintly resembling a human shape—or more bluntly, a human-sized coffin.

It wasn’t pitch dark inside; a faint light shimmered across the surface. Looking closer, they realized the lid-like wall in front of them bore a pattern—one that resembled a chessboard.

Zheng Qin called out, “Can everyone get out?”

“No, it’s locked,” Chen Xiangchao answered.

“There’s a 9×9 grid in front of me, with numbers on it,” Shen Xuzhi said, narrowing his eyes at the dim glow. “This looks like… Sudoku?”

“Ah! Sudoku! I’ve got a circle drawn in one of the squares,” Su Mingxuan said.

Qing Lin asked, “Which row and column?”

“Row 3, Column 5,” Su Mingxuan answered.

“I have one too—Row 5, Column 9.”

“Mine’s Row 6, Column 4!”

“Seven rows, eight columns!”

Qing Lin paused briefly before speaking. “Eight, five, nine, seven, one.”

Click—

The wall door slid open.

Su Mingxuan stumbled out, utterly bewildered.

How did that even happen?

Zheng Qin stared in shock. “What just happened?”

“The top student just said some numbers, and the door opened…” Su Mingxuan stammered. “Holy crap! Top student, don’t tell me you solved that Sudoku just now?”

“You did it in your head? That’s insane!” Chen Xiangchao looked at him in disbelief. “You finished it in just a few minutes? That’s incredible!”

“Exactly! If you’re the ghost’s ally, how are we even supposed to compete?”

Su Mingxuan joked, but the moment his words left his mouth, everyone fell silent.

The air turned heavy, thick with unease.

Su Mingxuan looked at Qing Lin, swallowed, and said, “Top student… you wouldn’t have—”

Qing Lin showed no sign of guilt, calmly meeting everyone’s gaze before offering a faint smile.

“The ghost is adorned with red.”

Su Mingxuan’s lantern light lingered on Qing Lin’s lips, now noticeably darker than before, with traces of smudged lipstick at the corners.

Chen Xiangchao frowned in exasperation. “Hold on, hold on. Everyone, search him.”

“I’ll search Ah Zhi.” To prevent any love-struck bias, Su Mingxuan specifically requested to search Shen Xuzhi, to ensure no secrets were hidden during a mutual search.

Shen Xuzhi spread his arms wide, allowing Su Mingxuan to search him thoroughly.

However, nothing was found.

Then Su Mingxuan noticed the fabric beneath Shen Xuzhi’s collar looked off. He casually pulled it aside.

There, exposed, was a distinct lipstick mark—chaotic and suggestive.

Su Mingxuan’s eyes widened in shock, thinking he had seen something he shouldn’t have. He quickly pulled the fabric back into place.

But upon reflection, something felt off.

Were Ah Zhi and the top student already so close they could leave love bites?

And one this fresh?

Su Mingxuan pointed at Shen Xuzhi. “What’s the deal with that?”

Shen Xuzhi glanced down at his collarbone and blurted out a lie without hesitation. “Got bitten by a cat.”

Su Mingxuan: “…”

Who would believe that?

Then he remembered Qing Lin’s mouth and finally understood. “Oh, I get it. You two are in cahoots!”

Qing Lin had long known his identity as the ghost would be exposed, so he didn’t hide it. Exchanging a glance with Shen Xuzhi, he smiled and admitted it.

“You two are actually friends with a ghost!” Chen Xiangchao exclaimed. “Xuzhi, weren’t you dead set on finding the ghost’s ally before?”

“Yeah,” Shen Xuzhi replied. “Too bad I have a new client now.”

All three pairs of eyes turned to Qing Lin.

Qing Lin’s face was gentle, his clear eyes holding no trace of deceit. He looked nothing like someone who would lie—no one would guess he was the ghost’s ally.

Ghost? More like a demon!

“Ding—” A bell chimed from above.

Then the floor suddenly shifted, pulling everything backward.

The perforated wall was pulled back, revealing five booth-like boxes arranged facing each other, each with a front opening just large enough to poke one’s head through, resembling a phone booth.

Beside them stood several souls wearing skull masks, their ghostly flames flickering eerily.

In the middle of the five booth-like boxes stood a table, holding two candles—one burning with red flames, the other with blue.

Su Mingxuan swallowed hard. “Are we supposed to go in?”

The five of them entered the inner chamber. The stiff, expressionless souls seized them and dragged each one inside before locking the doors tight.

Qing Lin took a seat in his assigned alcove. By the faint candlelight seeping through the cracks, he could just make out the words etched onto the wall.

[Ghost Blows Out the Lamp]

[One ghost, one human. Red represents humans, blue represents ghosts. Take turns lighting candles. Surrounding your opponent extinguishes their flame until all candles share the same color.

Victory grants release.

Deals with ghosts are final.]

“I don’t get this at all,” Zheng Qin muttered.

Qing Lin replied evenly, “Simply put, it’s like Go.”

Originally, if no ghosts had been caught, the round’s main twist would have been betrayal. But since everyone had already shown their true identities, it turned into a simple head-to-head fight.

“One ghost per person, but if there are only two ghosts, do we get an extra move?” Zheng Qin asked.

Su Mingxuan grinned. “If we get an extra move, that’s a guaranteed win!”

Chen Xiangchao nodded enthusiastically. “Our chances look great. Come on, let’s hype ourselves up.”

Zheng Qin hesitated. “We… can’t lose, right?”

Chen Xiangchao declared proudly, “Tsinghua and Zhejiang University will all fall before us!”

Su Mingxuan laughed. “This is totally cheating! It’s basically a father-and-son matchup! If we’ve got an extra move and still lose, we’d have to be complete idiots!”

Confidence surged through the group. Qing Lin and Shen Xuzhi, however, stayed quiet and began playing calmly.

Fifteen minutes later—

Zheng Qin: “…”

Chen Xiangchao: “…”

Su Mingxuan: “…”

All three stared in disbelief at the table now glowing entirely with blue candles.

Qing Lin blew out the last red flame and asked, voice soft but laced with amusement, “Father-and-son match?”

Shen Xuzhi added, “Losing means we’re idiots?”

“Tsinghua is a defeated foe?”

The trio: “…………”

Utter humiliation.

“Aaaah, help! I can already imagine the trending topics when this airs—it’s too embarrassing!” Su Mingxuan groaned. “Production team, please, I beg you—cut the parts where we bragged! Spare us a little dignity!”

Even Qing Lin hadn’t expected such an effortless victory. This strategy carried plenty of risks—the variables were unpredictable. But Shen Xuzhi had moved with precise intuition, following exactly where Qing Lin anticipated, making their win seamless.

A sudden gust swept through the room, snuffing out every light. Darkness enveloped them, save for the faint glow illuminating the seats of Qing Lin and Shen Xuzhi.

Shen Xuzhi stood, pushing open the door. “The door’s open,” he said.

“Hey, you’re just leaving us like that?” Su Mingxuan cried, peering through the window.

Zheng Qin added, “So we’re just stuck here?”

“We still haven’t escaped?! What kind of twisted hidden ending is this?!”

Amid their collective complaints, Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin simply exchanged amused glances, offered brief farewells, and walked out together.

Beyond the door stretched a long corridor. At its far end, a warm yellow glow flickered—the path to freedom.

For the first time in the game’s history, the opposing faction had won, unlocking a completely different ending.

The ghost’s allies had triumphed, keeping the secret of the Qishan Manor couple safe.

At the corridor’s end, beneath the soft lamplight, sat Xiao Ying—a bride dressed in scarlet wedding robes, a mask concealing her fanged mouth. She sat motionless on a wooden chair.

The vengeful spirit hid her monstrous visage beneath the mask, as if offering a silent farewell—grateful that they had helped her preserve the pure soul within, protecting both her and Qilang’s child.

Qing Lin walked up to Xiao Ying and asked quietly, “Vengeful spirits are born from resentment, right?”

He spoke, pulling a letter from his pocket and placing it on Xiao Ying’s lap.

Shen Xuzhi spoke. “What is that?”

Qing Lin straightened his back and said indifferently, “This is a letter from Qilang, who has become a ghost.”

[Letter to My Wife

May this letter reach you as though we were face to face. Unfold it, and let your face brighten.

As I take up my pen, distant thunder rumbles through the night like the echo of enemy gunfire.

These are not prosperous times. Wars rage everywhere, and the peace that people pray for has yet to arrive. Even now, in this so-called M Century, our age is still named a time of chaos. Our School of Learning and Thought has always upheld benevolence toward others and compassion for the world, striving to dedicate our passion to building the State of Wisdom. Yet petty men have betrayed our principles, defected to the enemy, and leaked state secrets, leading our nation into grave errors. War has broken out once again, plunging the people into suffering beyond endurance.

Petitions for uprising have been countless, and articles exposing these evils fill the newspapers. But for daring to criticize the corruption of our time and reveal the enemy’s weakness, I have been hunted down by the traitorous faction, tortured beyond words, and endured unspeakable torment in prison.

Surrounded by mountains of blades and forests of swords, I silently beg your forgiveness. The only transgression I have committed in this life was hiding one truth from you for years. To have brought you further sorrow is my karmic debt.

Like longing, it deepens with time. Though divided by the veil between life and death, our affection remains unbroken.

That day when you asked what I loved about you, I did not answer, and you scolded me for not caring.

Now I understand: it was your tenderness, your resolve, your sincerity, your wisdom untouched by vanity—each of these made me cherish you all the more. In prison, a single thought of you was like glimpsing the full moon through clouds.

The truth is, I need no reason to love you. My greatest fortune in this life was meeting you, marrying you, growing old with you, and sharing a humble table together.

But I know the path I’ve chosen has no return. This solitary life is like swallowing snow to quench a fire, like cradling the moon only to lose my soul.

I beg your forgiveness once more—and beg you to let go of your grievances. So long as the world remains without peace, our small family cannot reunite in joy.

Beyond us lies the vast realm of China, home to countless families like ours. I choose to be the first to cry out, to raise the first voice for peace—for the sake of all the world’s children.

May the spirits protect us both, so that we may meet again in the mortal world.
May we be reborn as kindred souls in the next life, to share in the splendor of a golden age together.]

Every word of the letter was heartfelt. Upon learning the truth of the time, her heart surged with emotion, her thoughts racing.

The dimly lit hallway held the silent ghost bride; the infant’s cries were now still. Finally, a single tear traced its path, falling from the lowest edge of the mask.

“I hope Xiao Ying can understand Qilang, release her resentment, and become a purified spirit,” Qing Lin murmured, his eyes lowered, after a long silence. “Such a pity—they should have been so happy.”

The flickering lamplight cast a faint, icy pall over Qing Lin’s shadowed face. His expression bore an indescribable weight, a complex mix of emotions.

“Qing Lin,” Shen Xuzhi gently stroked Qing Lin’s head, his fingertips softly massaging the corners of his eyes.

“Qilang gave his life in exchange for peace and freedom from war, for an age of scholarly freedom and family reunion. Their child now lives a healthy, whole life, while he and Xiao Ying, as spirits, reside in another realm where they can be together for eternity.”

“Though not the best ending, with the dust settled, it is not a loss.”

Qing Lin listened quietly to Shen Xuzhi’s words, his expression softening. A tightness rose in his throat, and he gave a gentle hum in response.

When he looked up again, Xiao Ying had vanished. Only a distant white glow remained, accompanied by two silver-white butterflies dancing together in the air.

Shen Xuzhi opened the door for him. The warm glow of the orange-red sunset outside bathed the surroundings, tracing a soft, beautiful golden halo around them.

Qing Lin gazed out.

That intense sense of familiarity returned—as if he’d seen it countless times, long, long ago.

He stared for a long while, then a sudden flash filled his mind.

He stood rooted to the spot, letting the warm orange haze that veiled the view seep into his own eyes.

That tangled familiarity finally found its answer in the slowly awakening memories.

So that was it.

Their meeting wasn’t just the silent moments on the high school rooftop, braving the wind to listen to music. It wasn’t just the missed glance at the sports meet, where affection was sensed but not spoken.

It began much earlier.

The summer’s wildly growing branches and the vines entwining the corridors cast a translucent light that embraced the clouds.

The results of the middle school art competition had already been predetermined. Qing Lin’s painting was displayed at the very end, without a title or even his name on it. By the time the event ended, it hadn’t received a single red flower of recommendation.

Yet he saw, after the exhibition closed, a boy with a guitar standing before his painting for a very, very long time.

A tall silhouette, beautifully framed by the light. Qing Lin found himself picking up a pen, sketching that back view.

The boy stared for a long while, then seemed to take something out and stick it onto the frame meant for red-flower recommendations.

After the boy left, Qing Lin stepped forward to take a look.

It was the first time he felt his heart pound so violently.

On the red flower recommendation frame, the boy had stuck a sticky note. On it was a strangely drawn recommendation flower, imitating the style of the organizer’s red flower.

The drawing was very crude, clearly done by someone who had never studied art. Even the attempt at copying was shabby.

A soft breeze brushed past the youth as waves of green swayed beneath the halo of light.

Qing Lin regretted not chasing after him then to say thank you, not keeping that sticky note, or giving him the sketch of his back.

He had wondered even then.

When would they meet again?