Chapter 6: Catching the Thief (Part 2)
Today, the four freshman newbies finally saw what the info systems department was made of. No wonder Counselor Chen hammered it home in class: "We're one unit here. Our motto? 'We are strong!' Unity is power!" At first, it sounded like cheesy propaganda nonsense, but now? They got it—loud and clear.
Back on campus, Wang Dong made a quick call. Five minutes later, they hit the dorm's ground floor, and the lobby was swarmed—dozens of burly, roughneck students surrounding the guard post. Old Zhang, the dorm manager, was sweating bullets, clueless and panicked. Spotting Wang Dong, he latched onto him like a lifeline.
Wang Dong carried himself like a boss—not flashy, just respected. You could tell half these guys were his buddies. After their earlier chat, Chen Xu pegged him as solid—someone who'd take a hit for a friend, not stab them over a girl.
Once Wang Dong laid out the story, Old Zhang exploded. "That bastard dared to steal?!"
The freshmen had never seen this near-retirement geezer so fired up. "Son of a—! He's from my hometown, came sucking up, slipped me a pack of smokes. I figured, tons of hawkers come through—what's one more? Let him upstairs. How was I supposed to know he'd rob you blind? I swear, you don't believe me? When stuff goes missing, I'm the one who catches hell!"
That sold it—no one doubted him. Old Zhang had been around forever; lost goods meant misery for him too.
Dorm thefts were par for the course, but multiple rooms hit with big-ticket items on day one? That was next-level bold.
Wang Dong lit a cigarette for Old Zhang, calming him down. "Know where that punk's at now? If we nab him and the loot, the school'll be thrilled—pats on the back all around. No heat on you, Old Zhang—just watch it next time."
Old Zhang's eyes gleamed. He took a hard drag, stomped the butt, and barked, "Let's go! That jackass is holed up in a dump motel by the west gate—I set him up there myself. I'm slapping that punk silly!"
The posse rolled out, a thundering herd charging past the soccer and basketball fields toward the west gate. It was noon, but the courts were alive—pickup games and a full-on soccer match in swing. Seeing Wang Dong's grim-faced crew, players—many who knew him—jogged over, asking what was up.
His clout was unreal. Half the field recognized him. When they heard "thief hunt," chaos erupted—guys yelling for backups, ditching games mid-play. The soccer teams' captains roared, "Screw this—let's get him!" and joined the mob.
By the time they hit the gate, the crew swelled to nearly 200—a jaw-dropping spectacle that spooked the campus guards senseless.
At the motel, the four freshmen got shoved to the back, lost in the sea of bodies. They couldn't see squat, but soon heard shouting, then bam bam—fists flying, a guy wailing, and the cop yelling to break it up.
Holy crap, brutal! The newbies pictured a bloodbath inside.
Outside, the crowd wasn't done. "Yo, big shots inside—had your fun yet? Step aside so us little guys can get some kicks in!"
"Nut shot! Scissor kick! Wang Dong, you're the damn team captain—heavy gunner of the school! Split his legs and blast a 36-meter Carlos free kick—send his junk flying in an S-curve!"
"Nah, Carlos is too savage! Go Beckham—full-moon scythe kick! Bend his junk 270° into a Turkish blade!"
The four lambs-to-the-slaughter freshmen sweat-dropped. What kind of lunatics are these?!
The endgame was straightforward. The creep hadn't fenced the goods yet—everything was stashed in the motel. Old Dong's wallet, laptops, phones, MP3s—all recovered. Old Dong nearly charged back in to stomp the guy some more… just how much cash did he lose?
There was extra loot too. This was a school zone—four or five colleges, plus kindergartens to high schools nearby. Some stuff clearly came from other campuses. Wang Dong's crew decided to haul it back, snap pics, and post them on local BBS forums for claiming—raking in serious goodwill points.
On the walk back, the cop told Wang Dong about Chen Xu's "nuclear weapon blueprints" stunt. The group erupted, thumbs up, shouting, "Badass!" Wang Dong elbowed him, grinning. "Not scared they'd slap you with a 'disrupting police work' charge?"
"Scared of what?" Chen Xu puffed up, chummy with the cop now. "They'd have to find my laptop first to prove it. Worst case, a scolding from Officer Bro here—but I got my stuff back, didn't I?"
Everyone groaned, "Damn!"—plotting to pull the same move next time. Chen Xu smirked, "If they pushed it, I'd say the thief messed with my computer and 'accidentally' wiped some data!"
"You're ruthless!" The crew marveled at this freshman's wild imagination, oblivious that he was thinking of his real future-tech laptop—the one with actual data glitches.
Goods reclaimed, spirits high, the afternoon rolled on. Wu Yuan wanted to shop, dragging the dorm crew along. Only Qin Xiao'an, with nothing better to do, tagged along. Dong Qingjie had nabbed a tutoring gig for cash and headed off. Chen Xu, shamelessly, claimed "aunt flow's in town" and bailed, staying behind.
Alone at last, he locked the door, drew the curtains—sneaky as if he were up to no good—and pulled out the future laptop. Time to dig deeper into this era-busting machine.
Hexie University's dorms were decent, especially Building 14—newly built with private bathrooms, AC, and wired campus internet.
Spotting the ethernet cable, Chen Xu itched to surf—dying to see how this future rig handled the web.
Lucky for him, his grandson was sharp. By 2086, networks had ditched outdated cables for global satellite Wi-Fi—landlines fading like rotary phones, a natural evolution. No wired ports needed, just like 3.5-inch floppy drives were fossils now. But Xiao Fei had prepped for this, rigging the laptop with a USB 2.0 port and an ethernet jack—saving Chen Xu from the nightmare of owning a future computer with no way online.
Xiao Fei'd gone all out. The laptop even had an XP system package tucked in its files. Xiaomin could whip up a browser compatible with 2006's Microsoft ecosystem—otherwise, even connected, Chen Xu couldn't have surfed squat.
He wasn't a tech newbie. Back home, he had an ancient rig—bought in '95 when Windows 95 dropped, a legit OS and machine costing a fortune. Compared to peers, he'd been early to the game.
Not that he was some prodigy, destined to caress circuits like a soulmate and rise as a hacker legend. Nope—his gateway drug was The Legend of Sword and Fairy. A decade of computing later, it was mostly a gaming career.
His dad, an old lech, didn't help—always trawling adult forums on the family relic. Wet shoes were inevitable by the river, and that machine was a virus cesspool. Already slower than a turtle on crutches, the extra baggage made Command & Conquer: Red Alert 95 unplayable. Chen Xu snitched to Mom, who reamed Dad out—not for the porn, but for not inviting her to watch. She even demanded Japanese stuff!
Chen Xu gave up. Silence or bust. Young and clever, he lived by "Google it if it's foreign, Baidu if it's local." He dove into antivirus forums, picking up tricks—enough that, to total noobs, his knack for cleaning systems with borrowed tools made him a guru.
His go-to spot was "KillSoft Home," a hefty domestic forum dishing out cracked versions and updates for antivirus software worldwide.
But today? He wasn't there to grab tools. He was there to stir the pot.