Chapter 203: Two Little Bao
Chapter 203: Two Little Bao
When her colleague exclaimed in shock, Ji Shuyao was surprised as well. On the Global Discoveries website, it was rare enough for a single article to make the front page—yet now, two had appeared side by side. That alone meant something unusual had occurred.
The article under the pen name “Lin Xiaobao” was already astonishing in its depth and impact, but the fact that another had joined it on equal footing meant the second piece had to be equally extraordinary. Curious, Ji Shuyao immediately leaned in to take a look at her colleague’s computer screen.
What she saw was a scientific paper—specifically in the field of biochemistry. While Ji Shuyao specialized in marine biology, as a scientist she naturally had a solid grasp of other disciplines, and it didn’t take her long to recognize the caliber of what she was reading. The new article was undeniably brilliant, a work of rare insight and elegance, worthy of being considered among the best of its time.
Then her eyes fell on the author’s name.
That couldn’t possibly be foreign.
Lin Xiaobao and Wei Xiaobao?
Two articles, two pen names, both eerily similar. Was it merely coincidence—or was there something more behind it?
At that moment, Lin Chen strolled lazily up to the deck. He noticed a few of the scientists gathered around a laptop, murmuring in excitement, and instinctively knew what had happened.
Clearly, the article he’d submitted last night had been accepted—and not just accepted, but featured on the front page. “Sixth Sister, what’s got everyone all worked up?” Lin Chen asked with feigned surprise, approaching the group casually.
“Oh, two unbelievable articles just made the front page on Global Discoveries,” Ji Shuyao replied.
“Two?” Lin Chen raised his eyebrows, playing along.
“Yeah.”
He leaned in and saw it for himself—two articles side by side.
One of them was the one he’d submitted under the name “Lin Xiaobao.” The other, however, belonged to someone else entirely.
And that pen name made Lin Chen freeze.
Wei Xiaobao?!
That was where he had drawn inspiration from in the first place.
He had chosen “Lin” from his own surname. And “Xiaobao”… well, that came from Wei Xiaobao, the legendary character with seven wives—a fitting aspiration for someone who dreamed of marrying his seven goddess-tier sisters.
It was a whimsical idea, born from his romantic ambition.
But now someone else had shown up with the exact name he parodied.
For a long moment, Lin Chen stared at the screen, inwardly reeling. Then he clicked into the article to examine it closely.
“The pen names are so similar… could the two be friends or something?” one of the researchers asked.
“Seems likely. Otherwise, why the overlap?” another replied.
“Maybe,” someone chimed in, “they’re actually the same person?”
Wang Haoran had arrived just in time to catch the conversation and offered this suggestion with a smirk.
“They’re not the same!” Lin Chen blurted out before he could stop himself.
Wang Haoran glanced sideways at him, amusement flickering in his eyes, but said nothing more.
“Why do you sound so sure, Xiao Chen?” Ji Shuyao asked, curious.
“I just guessed,” Lin Chen said quickly, deflecting. He had no intention of revealing his identity—not yet.
His plan was to publish on Global Discoveries, to earn a name in the scientific world, and through that, win over his Sixth Sister’s admiration and awe.
But this was only his first publication. It was still the beginning. He hadn’t earned that recognition yet, and until then, he intended to stay in the shadows.
——–
Nightfall.
A soft sea breeze swept across the deck.
Ji Shuyao sat alone beneath the moonlight, perched on a stool, immersed in a heavy scientific tome. Qiu Qianwei was recovering in her cabin due to a recent bout of illness. The ship was quiet, save for the lapping of waves and the occasional creak of wood.
Wang Haoran, bored and restless, stepped out from the cabin and wandered onto the deck. He spotted Ji Shuyao sitting under the stars and made his way over.
“The moon over the sea is truly beautiful,” he said aloud, more to himself than to anyone else.
Ji Shuyao, fully absorbed in her reading, only now realized someone had approached. She gently closed her book, raised her eyes to the luminous orb above, and responded in her usual matter-of-fact tone.
“The moon’s surface is composed of both dark and light regions. The brighter areas are highlands, and the darker parts are low-lying plains or basins, commonly referred to as lunar seas. Early astronomers believed these dark regions were covered in water, hence names like the Sea of Clouds, Sea of Moisture, and Sea of Tranquility. The bright areas are mountain ranges—craggy, rugged terrain riddled with craters formed by ancient impacts. There are also normal mountains and valleys that create a truly unique landscape.”
She sighed softly, adding, “Unfortunately, there’s no astronomical telescope onboard. It’s a shame we can’t admire it in more detail.”
Wang Haoran blinked, caught off guard. He’d hoped for a romantic exchange about the moon, maybe a segue into poetry or philosophy, something to stir the mood. But Ji Shuyao launched into a full-on scientific monologue.
His enthusiasm fizzled instantly.
“Are you hungry? Want to grill up some seafood?” he tried another angle.
After all, they were surrounded by the bounty of the sea. Grilling fresh seafood under the moonlight, with the ocean breeze at their backs—it was an idyllic picture.
“Eating is simply an energy intake mechanism. Three meals a day are sufficient. I don’t consume excess energy,” Ji Shuyao replied flatly.
Wang Haoran stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Can I… borrow a book?”
“Of course.”
Ji Shuyao brightened slightly and handed him a volume from her collection, then returned immediately to her own reading, eyes scanning the page with laser focus.
The two of them sat there reading, silently, side by side.
It was, technically, harmonious. But not exactly intimate.
There was no interaction—no spark, no progress. Just two people occupying the same space.
Wang Haoran flipped through the book for a while, but it didn’t hold his interest. His gaze drifted toward Ji Shuyao again.
From her appearance, figure, and natural poise, she was practically flawless. But the way she carried herself… it was painfully indifferent. Almost aggressively unadorned. She didn’t even bother with the most basic touches of grooming.
Her thick, dark hair was loosely tied behind her head, slightly disheveled. It didn’t ruin her beauty, but still—couldn’t she tidy up a little?
“Miss Ji… do you not have a comb in your cabin?” he finally asked, unable to hold back his obsessive-compulsive itch.
“I do,” she replied.
“Then… why don’t you use it?”
“Is it so strange not to comb one’s hair?” Ji Shuyao tilted her head at him.
“Well… isn’t it?” Wang Haoran felt more confused than ever.
“In the animal kingdom, females often beautify themselves as part of mating behavior,” she explained seriously. “Peahens display their plumage, ducks preen after swimming, insects dance or emit sounds to attract mates. These behaviors are instinctive cues.”
She looked him dead in the eyes. “But I do not possess any such inclination toward courtship. So, I do not groom myself for attraction. What’s so strange about that?”
Wang Haoran opened his mouth, then closed it.
“…Humans aren’t the same as animals, though?” he tried weakly.
“In essence, there is no difference.”
She said it with such conviction that he had no rebuttal.
“…I’m going to rest. Not feeling great,” he muttered, turning and walking away without waiting for a reply.
He had come out hoping to flirt a little, maybe even stir some chemistry. But instead, he felt like he’d been systematically dismantled. Ji Shuyao was a solid wall of logic and literal thinking.
A complete and unshakable steel straight woman.
Absolutely unrizzable.