Chapter 50: Friends (Combined Chapter)

Caesar stood with a smile, holding a martini glass, with his left hand tucked into his suit trouser pocket and his right hand raising his glass in a polite toast to the Student Union executives surrounding him.

After dealing with some trivial matters behind the scenes of the banquet, Caesar finally descended to the dance floor, roaming about the Platinum Pavilion. Wherever he went, the banquet seemed to revolve around him like the eye of a typhoon, stirring up wave after wave of lively discussions and warm greetings. The head of the Sailing Club, the very department whose founding was the theme of the banquet, came over in person to shake his hand. The head of the Dance Department glided over gracefully to ask if he would grant her the honor of the first dance. Every department head held this freshman in high regard, and this was manifested in their unsparing efforts to curry favor with him right then and there.

Tonight, however, Caesar's attention was clearly not focused on socializing with the Student Union members. On ordinary days, he would carefully listen to everyone's requests and casual chats, effortlessly steering the conversation to its core with his rich life experience, reaching a consensus with the other party in just a few words so that both parties would depart in high spirits. But today, he was exceptionally out of the zone. During the socializing, he even failed to notice the "second dance" mentioned by the head of the Dance Department. Under normal circumstances, he would have teasingly inquired which gentleman was fortunate enough to possess the privilege of the first dance.

His gaze kept wandering toward the back of the Platinum Pavilion's grand hall. His naturally superior eyesight scanned every guest's face, continuously comparing them in his memory—familiar ones, unfamiliar ones. Yet, after scanning the entire room, he still could not find the person he was looking for.

This inevitably made Caesar feel a bit frustrated. Could it be that his invitation this morning was indeed too rash? If it were an invitation of this magnitude following a formal protocol, he should have confirmed the other party's willingness and received a reply beforehand. But under those circumstances, there truly wasn't much time for him to go through the proper procedures. It was quite normal that the other party didn't take it too seriously on such short notice.

Did Caesar Gattuso's first approach to an "S"-grade student fail? Was this an expression of contempt or indifference?

Caesar shook his head and didn't dwell on it. If the person didn't come, they didn't come. He could just formally invite them again when the next opportunity arose. He didn't need to hide or suppress his interest in the "S"-grade student. If one day Caesar decided that the other party should be his enemy, he would also issue a challenge in broad daylight.

Just as Caesar let go of his mental burden and turned around to continue celebrating with the head of the Sailing Club, a muffled snap came from the direction of the dining area, followed by a dull thud. A small number of guests close to the dining area noticed the anomaly, but the hearing of people further away on the dance floor was drowned out by the performance of the second-floor cello orchestra.

Caesar, however, was different. Almost the instant the muffled snap sounded, he, holding his wine glass, instinctively turned his head toward the dining area. The subsequent dull thud made him frown slightly as he reached out to part the crowd: "Pardon me for a moment. It seems something has happened over there. I'll go check it out."

When Caesar walked into the dining area, his gaze was instantly captivated by the boy walking toward him—a familiar, young, and handsome face, except that tonight, Caesar keenly noticed something extra in the boy's eyes.

It was a heavy, relentless, and intense desire. His casual pace had become firm and powerful, as if he had undergone some profound transformation!

Damn it, was the pasta he ate just now really that delicious? Where could he get another portion? Lin Nian rubbed his belly in frustration, wandering around and looking everywhere, trying to find another plate of the exact same pasta to eat.

"Lin Nian? I thought you weren't coming." Caesar collected his composure, raised his glass, and walked over.

Lin Nian looked up. Dressed in a formal suit, Caesar Gattuso looked dozens of times more dazzling than when he saw him in school uniform this morning.

One had to admit that a suit really depended on the person wearing it. He remembered back at the Shilan high school prom, his mischievous buddy Lu Mingfei wore a suit and was laughed at for looking like a health supplement salesman. Yet the exact same suit, worn by Caesar who now stood before Lin Nian, seemed as though a lighting technician was hidden within the crystal chandelier overhead, specifically casting the banquet's spotlight onto this blonde man. It illuminated the lines of his well-proportioned muscles beneath the suit to the finest detail. With a faint smile hanging at the corner of his mouth as he walked toward Lin Nian, he looked practically like an overbearing emperor.

"I'd say I arrived pretty early." Lin Nian nodded, considering that their greeting.

"Why are you wearing your school uniform? Didn't I specify in the email to attend in formal wear if possible?" It was only then that Caesar noticed this guy was dressed all in green. At first, he thought it might be some special designer suit, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was just Cassell College's winter uniform.

"I was busy all afternoon after classes ended and didn't have time to go back to the dormitory," Lin Nian explained. "Besides, I don't own any formal wear. Who keeps a set of formal wear in college?"

Caesar froze, over and over again. The differences in the education he had received since childhood prevented him from fully understanding Lin Nian's meaning. In his view, shouldn't every guy's wardrobe contain at least three sets of formal wear? To take a step back, even saying three sets was Caesar being modest, because in the Platinum Pavilion, he specifically had three separate rooms dedicated to his clothes, shoes, and trousers—all handmade, all bearing brands that most people had probably never even heard of.

However, Caesar immediately shook his head, decided to be pragmatic, and changed the subject: "I heard some commotion over here just now. Did something happen?"

"Nothing much. I used a bit too much strength while eating steak just now, snapped a table knife, and slammed my hand on the table," Lin Nian said.

Caesar fell silent, thinking to himself: Are you eating a steak or slaughtering a live bull on the spot? You managed to snap a table knife in half. Should this be considered the unique trait of an "S"-grade student?

In the end, Lin Nian chose to let the matter rest and casually told a white lie. He figured that if he told the truth, Caesar—who was already a competitor for the Student Union presidency—would inevitably use this pretext to go find trouble with Gichin Mamoto. From childhood to adulthood, he hated trouble the most, but sometimes when trouble came knocking, he wasn't afraid of it either. The scene just now was a prime example.

After snapping the table knife, Gichin Mamoto hadn't chased after him or dropped any harsh threats. He had simply stood frozen in place, staring at the table knife shattered like an ice sculpture on the desktop, deep in thought. Caesar, standing at the boundary between the dining area and the dance floor, had spotted him instantly and instinctively frowned, guessing the whole story: "Gichin Mamoto? What is he doing here? I recall he wasn't on the guest list for this banquet. Did he proactively provoke you?"

"You're the one hosting the banquet?" Lin Nian saw Caesar's reaction and immediately knew these two were at odds.

"If you join the Student Union, you'll find that out of three parties a week, two are hosted by me." Hearing Lin Nian's question, Caesar immediately relaxed his brow and said: "As for this Gichin Mamoto, I don't really like speaking ill of people behind their backs. If you're interested in his negative reputation, you can check out the The Chimes' Bulletin Board. But I can introduce him to you."

"I don't really like speaking ill of people behind their backs either, so I usually say all my bad things to their faces. I don't like him." Lin Nian glanced at Gichin Mamoto's retreating back: "He gives me a very uncomfortable feeling."

"He's an exchange student from the Japanese Branch, a former friend of the current Student Union president. He has studied at Cassell College for three years and has served as the head of the Kendo Department in the Student Union for three years. He's considered an old-timer in the Student Union, a notoriously belligerent fanatic who refuses to allow a second Kendo Department in Cassell College. Whenever there's any sign of one popping up, he'll go door-to-door alone with a bamboo sword to challenge them, defeating everyone fair and square. Once they lose face, the club naturally disbands. He's overbearing, but strong enough to back it up." Caesar took a sip of his martini and briefly introduced Gichin Mamoto's background to Lin Nian.

"Strong?"

"Word has it he's absurdly strong. Say his name again."

"Gichin Mamoto," Lin Nian recited cooperatively.

"Japanese, surname Mamoto, kendo. What does that make you think of?" Ripples like water stirred in the depths of Caesar's eyes.

"Miyamoto Musashi?" Lin Nian blurted out, then froze.

"Miyamoto Musashi." Caesar put down his wine glass and nodded. "Have you read *The Book of Five Rings*?"

"Niten Ichi-ryu, a very classic swordsmanship. Anyone who studies kendo learns a bit about it." Lin Nian nodded. He recalled how back at the Youth Palace, his coach would sigh every few days about how monstrous Lin Nian's aptitude was, saying even a young Miyamoto Musashi would just be like this. With that kind of grip strength and physical power, forget about snapping bamboo poles—you could crush and bend steel pipes right in half.

"Word is he's a descendant of Miyamoto Musashi. Japanese history records state that Miyamoto Musashi had no interest in women and left no descendants. But according to explanations from the Japanese Branch, a pure lineage of Miyamoto descendants was actually passed down there, carrying the authentic bloodline of Miyamoto Musashi. However, due to the passage of time and the sword ban decrees, that orthodox lineage all turned to scholarly pursuits. Nowadays, they're considered top scientific scholars over in Japan." Caesar looked at Gichin Mamoto in the distance. "Yet this Gichin Mamoto is one of the rare seeds who inherited the talent for kendo. Ever since he was born, the Miyamoto family sent him to the Japanese Branch to study swordsmanship, giving him free access to famous swords, sword saints, and classics. That's how they finally produced this kendo genius. Now he's been sent to the college for further studies. After graduation, he'll probably return to the Japanese Branch to inherit the position of head of the family, returning home in glory, you could say."

"Wait, Gichin Mamoto appeared here. Does that mean Miyamoto Musashi was—"

"Miyamoto Musashi was a half-breed. It's the most normal deduction in the world. Miyamoto Musashi fought hundreds of battles without a single defeat, facing tens or hundreds of enemies alone on the battlefield, his sword techniques ghostly and cutting down men like firewood. Sounds very much like a half-breed, doesn't it? Only people like us can pull off those kinds of battle records with ease," Caesar said indifferently.

"No wonder he's so aggressive." Lin Nian understood.

"My banquet tonight didn't invite him, because the Gattuso family rules have no concept of hosting enemies, unless I deeply admire that enemy. But Gichin Mamoto clearly doesn't make the cut for anyone I hold in high regard." Caesar glanced at Gichin Mamoto, also catching sight of the utter chaos on that dining table.

Lin Nian thought to himself: Your meaning is that the family is second and you're first, right? I get it. Chatting with the principal this morning made that crystal clear. A young master from a great family going through his rebellious adolescent phase—nothing strange about that.

"Lin Nian, you received the invitation tonight and came as promised, so you're my friend. If he provoked you, he's also disrespecting me." Caesar turned to look at Lin Nian and said.

Lin Nian was startled. Were he and Caesar considered friends just like that? Their meeting and interaction today had barely lasted ten minutes, yet Caesar was already addressing him as a friend. Sure enough, young masters from great families must all be templates of childhood loneliness and starved for affection; friendship came so easily to them.

"Let's reintroduce ourselves." Lin Nian extended his hand toward Caesar.

"Caesar Gattuso, freshman." With a smile, Caesar pulled his hand out of his trouser pocket and shook Lin Nian's hand.

"Lin Nian, freshman... probationary student."

"I initially thought students rated as 'S'-grade by the principal were all arrogant pricks who looked down on people with their noses in the air. But now it seems I was wrong. You're not bad. I like you. We can be friends." Caesar smiled faintly and withdrew his hand.

"I'm not one to easily dislike people. They all say Caesar Gattuso is a very proud person, but in my view, you're very approachable." Lin Nian also wore a smile, the unpleasant feeling before the dining table dissolving away entirely within just a few words of conversation with Caesar.

"This school is full of elites, yet true elites are always few in number. I like gathering elites together, because anyone chosen by me, Caesar Gattuso, can only be an elite." Caesar's words were a direct endorsement of Lin Nian.

You can flatter anyone, but flattery never fails. Lin Nian wasn't entirely sure if this was a conversational tactic cultivated by children of great families since childhood, but he had to admit that chatting with Caesar was a pleasure. You could sense the pride in him, yet he never used that pride to look down on others. You could think of him as an emperor, but he could walk alongside you, drinking and chatting about the weather.

A truly marvelous person, and someone worth befriending.

The feeling of having such a wonderful first impression of someone—Lin Nian only remembered experiencing it once or twice back at Shilan High School. The first time was in his freshman year at an internet cafe, when he crossed paths with some local toughs. Right in the middle of a war of words before any blows were exchanged, a guy playing Starcraft nearby stood up, rubbed the back of his head, and awkwardly apologized on Lin Nian's part, dragging Lin Nian all the way out of the internet cafe. After that incident, that guy would skip classes with Lin Nian to surf the net every single day.

The other time was playing basketball off-campus. The school's basketball team was taunted by a neighboring school, saying Shilan was full of pampered young masters, none of whom could play sports and they might as well go home and keep chasing girls. Lin Nian, sitting in the audience, stood up, threw a basketball right into that guy's face, and walked onto the court. Joining him on the court was a sophomore senior. Without exchanging a single word, the newly partnered duo cooperated with an uncanny telepathic harmony, crushing the opponents in just a few rounds.

After the game, Lin Nian had expected that sophomore senior to gloat or drop some harsh taunts, only to see the guy silently walk over and shake hands with the leader of the hecklers, leaving the opponents with neither a temper on the court nor a temper off it—truly winning back plenty of honor for Shilan's basketball reputation.

Both of those guys were people Lin Nian instantly recognized as worth befriending, but they had all been met through twists of fate. Caesar before him, however, was different. Lin Nian shared no revolutionary camaraderie with him, nor had they ever gone through thick and thin together. Yet the guy simply relied on that aura of leadership and approachability to give Lin Nian the exact same feeling as the two aforementioned people, making him feel that this blonde aristocratic youth was a unique and trustworthy person.

What a fascinating fellow, Lin Nian thought.

After nodding, Caesar beckoned to a nearby waiter, gave a few instructions, and turned back to look at Lin Nian: "What happened tonight... consider it my poor hospitality that made you a laughingstock."

"Gichin Mamoto said he'd never seen you before. Didn't you ever try to negotiate with him?" Lin Nian was very curious as to why someone like Caesar couldn't build relations with Gichin Mamoto. Even if they were enemies, given Caesar's personal charm, shouldn't they be the type to compete on stage and drink together off it? After all, both belonged to the same Student Union.

"Of course I tried, which is why I don't like him." Caesar raised his glass, took a sip of his martini, his ocean-blue eyes remaining placid.

The two stood in silence for a moment before Caesar raised a hand and gave Lin Nian a firm pat on the back: "Let's not talk about these unpleasant things at the banquet. There's going to be dancing here in a moment—do you have a dance partner?"

"The head of the Student Union's Dance Department invited me, and I agreed." Lin Nian hadn't expected Caesar to bring this up, and a helpless look crossed his face.

"Yekaterina invited you?" Surprise flickered across Caesar's face, but it was immediately followed by sudden realization: "Oh, no wonder she told me 'the second dance' when she invited me earlier. I didn't expect you to snag the very first one."

"What kind of dance are you guys doing later? Tango or quickstep? I only know how to waltz." Thinking of this, tension suddenly appeared on Lin Nian's face. He had no idea why he had impulsively agreed to the dance invitation from the swan-like head of the Dance Department, leaving him somewhat stranded on the spot now.

"Then it's the waltz." Seeing Lin Nian's embarrassment, Caesar raised his glass and smiled: "Tonight, the cello orchestra's sheet music in the Student Union will only have waltzes!"

I must say, at that exact moment, Lin Nian's favorable impression of Caesar shot up by another notch. If he were a woman looking at the arrogant and overbearing aristocratic公子 Caesar, his heart would probably have already melted...

Slap!

Lin Nian mentally slapped himself across the face, his gaze snapping back to clarity as he looked at the handsome blonde Caesar, while a cold sweat broke out down his spine.

Good grief, even more formidable than the rumors suggested—playing for both teams?