What Orwell found even more incomprehensible was that during their wedding, the Second Prince shamelessly continued to entangle with others in ambiguous relationships, truly the scum among scum.
With disdain, Orwell glanced at Iger, who was sitting at the experiment table, then turned and went to the tea room. After a moment, he returned with a steaming cup of coffee and a stack of freshly baked cookies. He walked towards Iger.
Others in the laboratory were puzzled by Orwell’s actions. Was he trying to please the Second Prince?
Orwell approached and placed the coffee and cookies in front of Iger. The sapphire eyes were full of mockery, and he spoke in a disdainful tone, “Your Highness, this is not where you should be. We are all very busy and don’t have time to entertain you. So, I suggest you finish your coffee and leave.”
The others who were working on data suddenly realized Orwell was indeed the arrogant and domineering Orwell. He dared to confront even the Second Prince of the Empire!
Iger raised his eyes to look at the blond youth in front of him. The young man appeared very youthful, with sharp features. His golden hair gave him a rebellious and unruly aura.
Seemingly oblivious to the disdainful expression on the other’s face, Iger picked up the coffee from the table and took a sip. Seeing the person still standing in front of him, he said, “Thanks.”
Orwell didn’t expect the other to have such thick skin. He sneered, “After you’ve had your fill, just go back. Don’t hinder us here.”
Iger raised an eyebrow after listening, looking at Orwell for a while before saying, “So, how am I hindering you? If you can’t explain, it seems like you’re just being unreasonable. You know, not even your father dares to speak to me in such a manner.”
Orwell, upon hearing this, became even more disdainful. This prince really only knew how to use his status to suppress people. Leaning against the experiment table with crossed arms, he smiled slightly. “Second Prince, can’t you see that no one has welcomed you since you came in?”
Iger looked towards the people working on the holographic brain, but they quickly lowered their heads.
Iger nonchalantly responded, “Didn’t notice.”
Orwell coldly said, “This is the Imperial Research Institute. Every person here has been carefully selected. Your Highness, why don’t you ask them which one of them entered as effortlessly as you did? Who among them doesn’t work day and night, voluntarily putting in overtime to run data? Someone like you, whose mind is always filled with pleasure, may never understand why we do this.”
His words were extremely provocative, echoing the sentiments of many. After all, it’s true that most people, unless driven by their own ideals and passions, wouldn’t endure such tedious work, constantly dealing with data day in and day out.
So after Orwell finished speaking, the laboratory, which had gradually quieted down, became noisy again.
Iger seemed to find it amusing. He coughed softly and said, “So, is that your reason? Don’t you know there’s a word called ‘talent’? Whether you admit it or not, there are people like me in this world.”
Orwell was once again astonished by his shamelessness and thick-skinned attitude. After choking for a moment, he continued to mock, “What talent? It was just a casual remark from the dean seven or eight years ago. I can’t believe Your Highness still takes it seriously. Don’t you know the concept of ‘always new and always changing’?”
Orwell shifted his gaze to the massive holographic projection in front of them and asked, “Since our esteemed prince claims to have ‘talent’ in mech design, may I ask, how much of this data set can you understand?”
The data and code they were working on comprised a set of algorithms that their research institute had not yet opened to the public. It had a large scale in terms of both operation and capacity. The reason it hadn’t been opened was crucial—there were still some errors and imperfections in certain details. Although they identified where the problems were, they couldn’t find the correct answers to fix them. During this period, they even doubted whether they had taken the wrong direction. However, the repeated comparisons showed that this algorithm was clearly the closest.
Upon hearing Orwell’s words, others turned their gazes towards this side. Some felt that Orwell was being a bit too much, immediately displaying a domineering attitude toward their imperial prince.
Iger pushed his chair back, gliding half a meter backward. He stood up, looking at Orwell. “Are you unable to complete it yourself and seeking my help?”
Orwell showed no weakness, rolled his eyes, and sneered, “Arrogant and conceited.”
Iger smiled faintly, walked to Orwell’s side, and, with light brown pupils raised, looked at him. In a voice that perhaps only the two of them could hear, he said, “But behaving like this makes me think that you’re intentionally trying to get my attention.”
His voice was deep, and as he walked past, a faint yet discernible, cold masculine fragrance lingered in the air. Orwell was firststartled, but quickly recovered, left with only a strong sense of disdain. He thought to himself that this prince was indeed no different from the rumors—extremely frivolous.
Then Orwell watched as this person unceremoniously pulled out a chair and sat in his place.
His slender fingers lingered on the holographic screen for a moment. After scanning through it, he used a red line to encircle several numbers in a string of code. He edited, deleted, and modified, continuously typing out a bunch of seemingly meaningless new code at the end.
As time passed, the substantial piece of code gradually neared its conclusion, and finally, on the holographic projection, it ended with a black blinking “End.”
The people around them continued to whisper, gradually realizing that this royal prince was indeed skilled. It was no wonder the dean valued him so much. At the very least, he had managed to identify the areas they had been suspicious about, and all within such a short time.
The others in the room didn’t have a particularly negative impression of this prince to begin with, and any remaining discontentment dissipated at this moment. They exchanged subtle glances with Orwell, signaling him to let it go.
Orwell, after observing everything, even if reluctantly, had to admit that the other person was indeed quite skilled. However, he couldn’t save face, muttering in a low voice, “So what? It only shows he understands a bit, but can we really call it ‘talent’? Everyone here knows this.”
The others, under his scrutinizing gaze, lowered their heads, acknowledging that they were not as skilled.
Iger, after hearing this, turned his head and glanced at Orwell. The look in his eyes seemed somewhat complex, with a faint hint of sympathy.
Orwell, being observed by Iger’s light brown eyes, found the emotions within them to be subtly nuanced, yet Orwell couldn’t quite discern their exact meaning.
“What’s the meaning of that look?” Orwell furrowed his brow.
Iger remained silent and pressed the startup control key on the console in front of the light brain. Immediately, the projection screen in front of the experiment table underwent a change. The algorithm, which had been displaying errors all along, miraculously began to run in a loop on its own!
“Damn, is this for real?! Take a look!” The few individuals who were still focused on their data in the corner finally lifted their heads. In an instant, their pupils widened, and they couldn’t help but exclaim, “Damn!”
The entire lab erupted in excitement. They had endured sleepless nights for half a month dealing with this issue, and now it was resolved so effortlessly?
It was just too surreal! Infuriating!
Orwell was also shocked, unsure whether to feel happy or how to react. Normally, he should be delighted with such a result, but at this moment, he only felt a burning sensation on his face.
Iger pushed back the chair, stood up, returned to his own seat, took a sip of the coffee nearby, and then said to the almost petrified Orwell on the side, “It’s a bit cold now, but the taste is good. Can you bother to make another cup?”
Upon hearing this voice, Orwell clenched his fists. However, when he raised his eyes, he met Iger’s gaze full of playful mockery. The light brown eyes unconsciously revealed a faint brilliance, causing the words Orwell had intended to say to choke in his throat.
“Let me do it, Your Highness.”
“Allow me!”
“Please let me do it; I even studied latte art before! Your Highness!”
Others in the lab were extremely grateful for this unexpected turn of events. Finally, they didn’t have to stay up late working tonight; they could go out and enjoy themselves. After all, they also needed a nightlife and had hair to care for!
Orwell frowned at the group of people, endured it for a while, and finally turned and left the laboratory.
*
Throughout the morning, the people in the lab finally fully understood why their dean valued this imperial prince so much. Many data points that had puzzled them for hours were quickly identified by the second prince with just a glance. It seemed he had an innate and extraordinary sensitivity to numbers.
Meanwhile, Orwell, sitting in the corner, had a miserable expression the entire morning. From childhood to adulthood, he had been the pride of their family, rarely encountering setbacks. Even when entering a place like the research institute, he had never felt a defeat as profound as today.
The most important reason, which he was unwilling to admit, was his own ignorance and foolishness today, which made him feel extremely uncomfortable.
It happened to be lunchtime, and someone suggested, “Today’s work efficiency is exceptionally high. I love this kind of life. To express our gratitude to Your Highness, why don’t we all go for a meal together, Your Highness?”
Iger stood up, and Orwell’s gaze unconsciously followed him. From his seated position, he observed that the other’s legs appeared particularly straight and long. His figure was slender and tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, not to mention the rare brown hair and eyes.
Most people in the empire had golden hair and sea-blue eyes. While there were those who dyed their hair brown like Iger, the brown irises seemed to be unique to this prince.
Iger’s gaze fell on Orwell as if by accident. “Sure, but it seems that someone doesn’t agree.”
Orwell’s expression turned cold. “You all can go; I won’t.”
After saying this, he pushed his chair away and stood up. Just as he reached the door, Iger took a step forward, blocking his way.
“Step aside,” Orwell said impatiently, the anger in his gaze almost materializing.
However, Iger smiled slightly and looked at Orwell intently. “Nice to meet you. I heard from them just now that your name is Orwell, right?”
Orwell was directly stunned in place, failing to understand his meaning.
The people around couldn’t believe that the one trying to make amends first was the notorious Second Prince, known for his arrogance. For a moment, they wondered if this prince was being unusually good-tempered. Wasn’t he supposed to be angry, even in a situation like this?
But then it occurred to them that something was off. After all, they hadn’t seen the prince initiate a conversation with anyone the whole morning. Maybe it was about his looks; Orwell was indeed the most handsome among them.
*
[Host, you said you wanted to sacrifice for human civilization; why do I feel like you’re up to something again?! That Orwell is just cannon fodder; don’t flirt with him casually. Don’t forget, we’re here to rehabilitate your image!]
[Look at his eyes—such captivating deep blue eyes. And when he smiles or gets angry, he looks so much like our little Osbourne!]
The system got the gist of what’s going on: [Stop adding drama to your life! Please tone it down!]
In the research institute, they were all a group of single young men with minds and bodies as pure as they could be. When they said they were going to have a meal, it really meant just eating. Even their games were wholesome, involving activities like table tennis and card games for physical and mental well-being.
This castle is one of the Empire’s renowned top ten castles. When Orwell turned eighteen, his father gifted him this castle. Today, there was a suggestion to visit, and Orwell agreed. Otherwise, this castle wouldn’t be open to the public.
Since the beginning of the card game, Orwell has seemed restless, even a bit absent-minded. His upbringing taught him to learn to admit mistakes, and he had to admit that he had been too rude today.
Leaving aside that the other party was the distinguished prince of the Empire, even if it were an ordinary person, he should apologize for his rudeness.
“Never mind, you can play. I’m done.” Orwell had no intention of playing, so he stood up and walked to the window.
The location was in the center of a lake. As night fell, the surroundings became quiet. Occasionally, one could hear the chirping of insects in the bushes. The dim light of the copper street lamps attracted numerous insects, and within the garden fence, a large area of neatly trimmed rose bushes bloomed in a deep crimson color under the night sky.
Orwell also noticed Iger standing under the street lamp in the rose garden, observing as he bent over in contemplation, apparently considering whether to pick some flowers.
This was too rude. Orwell was burning with anger, convinced that this prince indeed had a very unpleasant personality! He shouldn’t have felt guilty just now.
In a fit of rage, Orwell descended the stairs, crossed the lawn, and shouted from a distance, “Stop!”
Hearing this, Iger straightened up, turned his head, squinted his eyes, and looked at the young man running toward him in anger. He smiled slightly and said, “Orwell.”
Orwell never knew that this prince was such a cheerful person. The anger on his face froze instantly, and he asked dryly, “What are you doing? Are you trying to pick my flowers? Don’t you know that touching someone else’s things without permission is a very uncivilized behavior?”
“Is that so? I just thought they looked nice. Well then… Can I pick them?” Iger asked.
Orwell responded coldly, “Certainly not!”
“Alright,” Iger said, not insisting and turning to leave.
Unexpectedly, Orwell suddenly stopped him, reluctantly saying, “Forget it, go ahead and pick. Consider it my apology for today’s rudeness.”
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