Chapter Sixty-Two: The Stolen Idea

The journey was smooth, with hardly any red lights, and the car’s interior was enveloped in silence. As they neared the Jiang family home, Jiang Yunzhu suddenly remembered, “Where are you hurt? Is it convenient for me to take a look?”

Shen Tingxiao turned his head to meet her gaze, then rolled up his sleeve, revealing an abrasion on the inside of his arm.

It really was just a scrape.

“What about anywhere else?” Jiang Yunzhu couldn’t help but worry. “Your knee? Or your waist?”

“I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong,” Shen Tingxiao replied coolly.

Jiang Yunzhu glanced at the wound on his arm, noticing how he exposed it so nonchalantly. “Is this the only place you’re hurt? Then why were you hospitalized?”

Ge Xingjing turned from the front seat, “President Shen suffered a mild concussion, so he was kept for observation. He was discharged as soon as he was fine.”

Shen Tingxiao shot him a cold look. “You talk too much.”

Yet, his peripheral vision lingered on Jiang Yunzhu.

She showed little reaction to the explanation, only nodding lightly. At that moment, her phone vibrated.

She took it out—it was a message from Miller.

[Zhouzhou, the short film you submitted for your application is excellent, truly outstanding.]

The praise came so abruptly that Jiang Yunzhu didn’t think much of it, assuming he was just drunk. A faint smile touched her lips: Thank you for your appreciation.

Miller replied quickly: Tomorrow’s the first day. Don’t be late.

Jiang Yunzhu: Understood.

The car stopped in front of the Jiang family home. Jiang Yunzhu hopped out, then suddenly turned back to Shen Tingxiao. “Take good care of your injury. Also, I’ve already told my parents about us.”

Shen Tingxiao’s expression remained indifferent. “I know. I’ll be prepared.”

“Alright.”

…

In the following days, Jiang Yunzhu found herself quite busy. Returning to campus, it took her a day or two to adjust to the academic rhythm, but she quickly established good rapport with her classmates.

Ian had apologized to her, but Jiang Yunzhu was careful to keep her distance from him thereafter.

On this particular day, just as Jiang Yunzhu returned home from school, a classmate sent her a forwarded post.

[Check this out—our advisor Miller’s new work! I heard it’s already been nominated for Best Director at a renowned film festival!]

Jiang Yunzhu clicked the link. When she saw the short film, her expression changed abruptly.

The content was identical to the one she’d made—only the setting and lead actor were different!

What was going on? That short film was clearly hers. Why would Miller plagiarize her idea?

She opened Miller’s contact, forwarded him the post: Professor Miller, could you please explain what’s going on?

Her tone was sharp and confrontational.

Miller replied quickly: Is there a problem?

Seeing him feign ignorance, Jiang Yunzhu frowned. Professor Miller, you asked me by email to make a short film for your review, to determine whether I was eligible for admission. Now, your Best Director-nominated short film is exactly the same as mine, only with different characters and setting!

Miller: Miss Jiang, don’t make baseless accusations. Our school never requires students to submit short films as proof of ability for admission! You’re still a student, and quite talented. Don’t follow the wrong path like others. If you study hard with me, you’ll be nominated for Best Director someday.

She had truly never seen anyone so shameless.

Jiang Yunzhu sneered: Professor, do you need me to remind you that the email is still sitting in my inbox?

Miller: If such an email exists, show it to me then.

Jiang Yunzhu’s frown deepened. Miller’s confidence was unsettling.

She hurried upstairs, opened her laptop, and checked her email.

Both messages were gone—the one where Miller asked her to make the short film, and her reply with the finished piece.

Narrowing her eyes, Jiang Yunzhu opened the last congratulatory email Miller had sent her about her admission. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

Soon, she figured it out.

That final email carried a virus, designed to precisely erase the two prior emails—hers and his—leaving only the admission notice.

Jiang Yunzhu let out a low laugh, picked up her phone, and messaged Miller again: So it turns out you’re a hacker too, Professor. I wonder how many students you’ve trapped with these tricks?

Miller: Miss Jiang, I truly recognize your talent, but it’s excessive to slander others so readily! If you have evidence, produce it. If not, show some respect for your teachers!

Jiang Yunzhu lowered her gaze: I’ll give you the evidence you want.

Sitting down, she began to work deftly. Half an hour later, lines of code were running across her screen.

Her phone vibrated—it was a message from Ian.

[What’s going on between you and Professor Miller? Why did he publicly criticize you on the campus network?]

Jiang Yunzhu raised her brows: What campus network?

Ian forwarded her a post.

It was on a section of the campus website reserved for criticism—a section with significant influence, especially over academic credits.

Most professors would never name students there, but for those who were, it almost always meant they’d have to retake credits that semester.

[Miller: I’m quite fond of Jiang Yunzhu as a student. She has undeniable talent, and I know she once created an award-winning short film. But it’s always a pity to see wasted potential. However, no matter what, she shouldn’t have accused me of stealing her ideas. Frankly, if she didn’t have that earlier work, I wouldn’t have bent the rules to admit her as a promising student.]

What Jiang Yunzhu had earned through her own efforts, Miller now claimed as his special dispensation.

She had never encountered a mentor so brazen.

Below the post, there were many replies from people who knew nothing of the truth.

[I know Jiang Yunzhu—her debut was amazing, but it’s been over a decade, and she’s disappeared until now. So she was admitted to our school?]

[Geniuses like her, who peak too early and stop working hard, they fizzle out quickly. Yet she’s still proud, living off that one success.]

[Who even is Jiang Yunzhu? Never heard of her. Professor Miller is the real prodigy—he’s been consistently producing quality work for years.]

Unhurried, Jiang Yunzhu started a new post.

[Jiang Yunzhu’s Appeal: When I applied, Miller emailed me, asking me to make a short film for him to assess my abilities, and only then decide on my admission. I completed the short film as requested and sent it to Miller. Today, I discovered that Miller’s new short film plagiarizes my idea, changing only the lead actor and the setting.]

She attached her own short film for all to see.