Lyra shook her head slightly.
"I would have loved to cook you a bowl of noodles myself..." she said with a smile.
"But tonight, I have something to attend to. I'm visiting one of my students. Her family happens to run a noodle shop. I thought, if Mr. Veil doesn't mind, perhaps we could go there instead. Their noodles are quite good."
"Then I shall gladly accept your invitation," Veil replied without hesitation.
Although Lyra kept a gentle smile on her face, she hid her true emotions well. There weren't many students she truly allowed close to her.
And now she mentioned her family owned a noodle shop... who else could it be but Carlin, the beloved campus beauty from an ordinary background?
Of course, the idea of Lyra personally cooking him a bowl of noodles was tempting beyond words.
But Veil understood the importance of patience. He couldn't afford to rush things—pacing mattered.
The two of them left the precinct together.
Walking alongside Lyra, a stunningly beautiful and composed professor, naturally drew a lot of attention from passersby. Fortunately, Veil's reputation as a villain deterred most people from making any inappropriate comments. At most, there were only a few glances filled with envy and jealousy.
They soon arrived in front of a modest noodle shop.
As soon as the owner—a warm, middle-aged woman—saw Lyra, her face lit up with familiarity and affection.
"Ms. Lyra! You're here! And this young man..."
She gave Veil a quick, appraising look. Handsome and poised, he stood next to Lyra without appearing out of place at all. In fact, they looked remarkably well-matched.
"This is a friend of mine," Lyra explained with a smile. "We came to try your delicious cooking tonight."
Turning to Veil, she asked gently, "What would you like to have?"
"I've loved beef noodles since I was a kid," Veil said, glancing at the menu taped to the table.
Lyra nodded and looked back at the owner. "Two bowls of beef noodles, please."
"Of course! You two have a seat. I'll go get Carlin," the owner said, wiping her hands on her apron as she hurried back into the shop.
Outside, a simple canopy sheltered a few folding tables and chairs. Veil and Lyra sat across from each other.
Lyra, rare for her usual demeanor, initiated the conversation.
"Mr. Veil, what do you do for a living?"
"Me?" Veil smiled lazily. "I'm just a good-for-nothing heir waiting to die."
He didn't bother to hide the truth.
"But recently, I managed to pull some strings and transferred into Veyport City University. Figured I should learn something before I completely ruin the family business."
"Really? You just transferred?" Lyra's curiosity was piqued. "What's your major?"
Veil shrugged. "International Trade and Economics."
"International Trade?" Lyra looked genuinely surprised, and then couldn't help but chuckle lightly. "Who knows, I might even be your professor."
She sat up a little straighter, naturally slipping into her teacherly persona.
"Allow me to properly introduce myself. I'm Lyra, a professor at Veyport City University. I teach several courses across different departments... and I happen to have a class for International Trade students."
Veil played along, acting innocent and eager.
"Then if I end up in your class, Professor Lyra, I'll be counting on you to look after me."
Just as Lyra was about to reply, they heard the soft hum of an electric wheelchair approaching.
A girl in a floral dress rolled out from the shop.
She was ethereal—her beauty light and delicate. Her skin was soft and luminous, her eyes bright and lively, framed by long lashes and a natural rosy glow on her cheeks.
Her eyes were like two pools of clear spring water—calm yet vibrant—carrying an elegant charm that made others feel almost unworthy to gaze at her directly.
Yet despite her radiant appearance, the wheelchair beneath her said it all—her legs were unable to walk.
"Ms. Lyra! You're here!" Carlin greeted her, her face lighting up with joy.
Although officially teacher and student, Lyra and Carlin were much closer—almost like sisters.
Carlin would often come to Lyra with matters she wouldn't even discuss with her own family, especially when it came to affairs of the heart.
Lyra smiled warmly, reaching out to lightly pinch Carlin's cheek in a teasingly affectionate manner, her demeanor that of an older sister.
"And why wouldn't I come visit?" Lyra teased. "Or has the rumor about you and Lucas turned out to be true? Got yourself a boyfriend and decided to abandon your dear sister?"
Carlin hurriedly shook her head.
"No! I have nothing going on with Lucas. I've already told him, but he just won't give up. Besides..."
She glanced down at her legs, her expression dimming.
She was well aware of her own situation. Despite her pretty face, she couldn't walk. A lifetime disability.
"And besides what?" Lyra praised sincerely,
"Do you know how many girls would kill for a face as beautiful as yours?"
Carlin pouted slightly.
"Lyra, you're always teasing me. If anyone else said that, I might believe it, but coming from you—a goddess yourself—it just feels insincere."
"I'm being serious," Lyra said, then turned to Veil and joked,
"Don't you think so too, Veil?"
Veil didn't immediately answer.
Instead, he frowned slightly, his gaze fixed on Carlin's legs.
Carlin grew increasingly uncomfortable under his unwavering stare.
She instinctively tugged her already-long skirt lower, trying to cover herself even more.
She had thought he was quite handsome at first, but now... she was beginning to dislike him.
Who just stares at a girl's legs like that upon first meeting? He didn't even blink—completely rude!
"Mr. Veil?" Lyra gave a small reminder.
"Huh?" Veil snapped out of his thoughts, looking genuinely startled. "What's wrong?"
Lyra smiled to ease the tension, helping him cover it up.
"Carlin's beautiful, sure, but you didn't have to stare so hard. You've made her all self-conscious."
Carlin rolled her eyes playfully at Lyra.
Veil, however, showed no sign of embarrassment. Instead, he calmly voiced the thought he had been turning over in his mind.
"It's not just that she's beautiful. I was curious. If this young lady is confined to a wheelchair, normally her legs should show signs of atrophy from lack of use. Yet hers... they're perfectly shaped, slim and fair. No signs of weakening at all. How is that possible?"
Carlin—the campus flower of humble birth. A pure, flawless lotus rising unstained from the mud.
Her disability was supposed to be incurable, and yet, paradoxically, her legs were long, slender, and perfectly proportioned.
It was one of the biggest "bugs" in the original story, a glaring inconsistency from a lazy author. And now, seeing it with his own eyes, Veil had no choice but to give that dog author a thumbs up.
Some bugs were just... wonderful. This one could be played with for an entire year.
Carlin lowered her head, unable to hide the disappointment in her eyes.
"I've been to the hospital countless times," she said softly. "Those so-called experts and professors couldn't find the real cause. Some said it might be a nerve issue, others suggested problems with joint integration or bone marrow defects... In any case, I just can't stand."
Veil pressed on curiously, "Do you have any sensation at all?"
Carlin shook her head. "None."
Veil frowned. "That's strange. Your legs look so healthy—smooth and flawless. If there really was a bone marrow problem, your growth wouldn't be so perfect. Plus, bone marrow issues usually affect the whole body."
He feigned ignorance, his face full of suspicion.
Lyra looked at him, puzzled. "Wait, you know medicine?"
Veil nodded lightly. "I know a little."
He glanced at Carlin, hesitated, then finally opened his mouth, albeit a bit awkwardly.
"If there's anything you want to ask, just ask," Carlin said with a small, resigned smile. "It's been so many years... I don't really care anymore. I mean, it's not like I can't live without walking."
Veil pulled out a silver needle, smiling faintly.
"I'd like to try something. Test my medical skills. If you're willing."
Lyra immediately grew nervous. "If you're not very skilled, it might be dangerous. Acupuncture is amazing, yes, but even a slight mistake can cause serious harm."
Carlin, however, was entirely unconcerned.
"It's fine. I can't feel anything anyway. What's the worst that could happen? Go ahead and try."
Veil got up from his seat and crouched down beside Carlin's wheelchair. He expertly twirled the silver needles in his fingers and, with swift and fluid movements, inserted them into a point just about an inch below her waistline.
The advanced medical technique Veil had won from the system's lottery was no joke.
Even Caden Voss, if he were here, might not match Veil's skill—at least not yet. Caden hadn't reached his peak in the original story, especially when it came to medicine.
"It feels... tingly, like tiny bugs crawling," Carlin said with a bittersweet smile. "But that's normal. I could always feel that part."
Just then, the owner of the noodle shop emerged with two steaming bowls of beef noodles.
She opened her mouth to greet them, but before she could say anything, Veil struck swiftly—a light chop with the side of his hand to Carlin's knee.
It was a gentle move, almost casual, but even so, Carlin's left leg reflexively jerked upward.
Clatter!
The two bowls crashed to the ground, broth splashing everywhere.
The shop owner stood frozen, staring at Carlin, her hands trembling. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"Carlin... your leg—your leg moved!" she cried out, her voice shaking with excitement.
Carlin's eyes went wide with disbelief.
"This... this is the knee-jerk reflex! But how? I haven't had any feeling in my legs for years... how is this possible?!"
Veil adjusted the needles delicately, driving them deeper with subtle precision.
Then, he tapped Carlin's knee again—this time, with a little more force.
Whoosh!
Carlin's leg kicked upward sharply, catching Veil off-guard. He ducked instinctively, and her left leg ended up resting squarely on his shoulder.
He lifted his head slightly, and their eyes met for a fleeting moment—Carlin, flustered, quickly pulled her skirt down to cover herself.
Veil, still crouched, maintained his composure.
He gently took hold of her delicate, almost translucent ankle, and carefully placed her foot back on the wheelchair's footrest.
"Ahem... Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "Used a bit too much force."
He straightened up, his expression turning serious.
"From what I can see, it's not a bone or marrow problem."
"Then what is it?"
Lyra, Carlin, and the shop owner all asked at once.
Veil replied solemnly, "It's a nerve issue."
He explained, "With current medical technology, this kind of condition is easily misdiagnosed. Even in the capital, few top-tier specialists have the skills to properly treat nerve dysfunction. It's incredibly complex—and risky. A single misstep could cause permanent paralysis."
The shop owner stepped forward eagerly, tears still brimming.
"Little doctor... do you know any specialists? Or—or could you possibly cure Carlin yourself?"
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't trust a young man so easily.
But the miracle she just witnessed left no room for doubt.
For twenty years, Carlin's legs had been numb, unresponsive—and now, with just a few needles, there was undeniable movement!
Veil exhaled slowly, his gaze sweeping over to Lyra, who was watching him with anxious expectation.
He bit down, as if steeling himself, and said,
"My master once warned me never to intervene casually. But... Carlin is someone Lyra values greatly, and tonight I already owe Professor Zhou a favor. So just this once—I will break the rules."
Master?
Of course, Veil had no such master. He made it up on the spot.
It was a calculated move, carefully crafted to shift the responsibility of his "unauthorized" treatment onto Lyra's connection—implicitly telling the mother and daughter:
I'm only doing this because of Lyra.
It was a little trick, a way of sowing goodwill—and influence.
In Veil's view, whether he was trying to capture a heroine's heart or manipulate a situation, what mattered was the rhythm and the plan.
You need to lay the groundwork to control the board.
And saying a few extra words to earn favor was a price Veil was more than willing to pay.
Under the curious gazes of the other diners, the small group made their way up to the second floor of the noodle shop.