Students who actually applied to medical school were mentally prepared for encounters with cadavers; however, suddenly sheltering from the rain in front of the corpse repository was genuinely eerie, so a slightly overwrought reaction was entirely understandable.

As for the first freshman who bolted out into the rain, he truly was timid; his lips had turned blue from fright. It seemed overcoming this psychological hurdle would be difficult for him in the future.

The heavy rain came quickly and left just as fast. Everyone hoisted their umbrellas and resumed their journey. Zhou Huaian’s sharp eyes noticed something unusual tucked inside the clear, waterproof folder the school had given Wang Zhuo.

“Hey? Wang Zhuo, why do you have two dormitory keys?”

Wang Zhuo shook his head. “I don’t know either. Do you only have one?”

“Two keys means you have a key to the Doctoral Building,” the student guide leading them said, turning back to smile at Wang Zhuo. “The school grants special consideration: the eight-year Clinical Medicine students can directly reside in the Doctoral Building. Since your class only has one student admitted each year, it’s fine—there are two hundred of you total.”

“The Doctoral Building? That sounds awfully high-class!” Zhou Huaian asked with a hint of envy. “Brother Qian, tell us about that Doctoral Building.”

The student guide, named Qian Xianbing, saw everyone was interested and began explaining. “Our undergraduate dormitories are like this: standard rooms house four students, bunk beds over desks—you sleep up top, the desk is underneath, and the bookshelf and wardrobe are integrated with the desk. You use communal bathrooms. Master’s dorms hold three people, also bunk beds over desks, but they get an attached private bathroom, though no water heater. Doctoral dorms are truly premium: three people share a three-bedroom apartment with a shared bathroom that includes a shower. So, each person gets an outer door key plus a key to their own private room.”

The group immediately erupted into exclamations. Since they were all new students, they were naturally assigned to the four-person undergraduate dorms. They didn't even have the perks of a Master’s level assignment, let alone Wang Zhuo’s level of private accommodation.

A parent suddenly inquired, “I heard the Doctoral Building is never fully occupied. Are there vacant rooms available for students to rent?”

Qian Xianbing nodded. “That is true, but only undergraduate students from the third year onward can apply, and it requires triple approval from the Department Head, the Counselor, and the Dorm Manager.”

A girl asked, “If the application is approved, you can move in?”

Qian Xianbing chuckled. “That’s right. But the rent is six hundred a month, and broadband and satellite TV are free. Utilities are extra.”

This statement immediately stirred up more discussion. Some grumbled that the school was too greedy, profiting off such things. Others thought it was still cheaper than renting off-campus, plus they would maintain a scholastic atmosphere within the university. Then there was Zhou Huaian, who had already firmly decided he wanted to find a girlfriend to live with, feeling it would be more comfortable to rent off-campus, rather than be managed by the school.

Passing the Doctoral Building, Qian Xianbing left Wang Zhuo there and led the rest of the group away.

While registering at the gatehouse, a petite, baby-faced girl hurried into the building. She glanced at Wang Zhuo, gave a bright smile and a small wave to the gatekeeper—an uncle in his fifties—and headed straight upstairs.

“New arrival, you’re in room 305?” the gatekeeper Uncle smiled. “That girl just now was Liu Yun; she’s your roommate Li Guangran’s girlfriend. She’s heading to your room.”

“Oh?” Wang Zhuo found it a bit surprising. “Doesn’t she need to register here with you?”

“Heh heh, we know each other well. Why register?” The gatekeeper Uncle’s face crinkled with laughter. “She can come whenever she likes, as long as she leaves before curfew at night.”

Wang Zhuo accepted this reasoning. The Doctoral Building housed older, unmarried young adults; if the gatekeeper wasn't relaxed, wouldn't he push these people over the edge?

Arriving at the dormitory door, Wang Zhuo paused, then decided against using his key, knocking instead.

“Who is it?” Liu Yun, wearing an apron tied around her waist, opened the door and paused slightly upon seeing Wang Zhuo.

“I’m the new resident for this room,” Wang Zhuo explained with a smile.

“Oh, oh! Please, come in quickly!” Liu Yun hurriedly stepped back two paces to clear the doorway.

The living room was somewhat stuffy. The window was open, likely just opened by Liu Yun upon entering. Two of the three bedroom doors were shut; the one left open seemed to belong to her boyfriend, Li Guangran.

The living room had a color TV and an air conditioner, though both looked antique. The sofa was slightly newer. On the coffee table sat an induction cooker, and through the transparent lid, Wang Zhuo could see a pot of plain water simmering.

“You must be a new student, right? I’m Li Guangran’s girlfriend; I’m a senior this year. My name is Liu Yun!” Perhaps not used to interacting with strangers, Liu Yun seemed a bit shy.

“My name is Wang Zhuo, and I’ll be staying in this room,” Wang Zhuo said, smiling as he pointed to the room marked with a '1'. Li Guangran lived in number two.

“Your senior is volunteering for freshman orientation; he’ll be back soon. I need to start cooking. We can chat later!”

Wang Zhuo’s room was sparse: a single bed, a large wardrobe, two chairs, and a writing desk—that was the extent of his furnishings. Still, this was the highest level of treatment. He heard that the junior college students were living in eight-person bunk rooms, where one person’s fart meant seven others smelled it...

There wasn't much to unpack anyway. Wang Zhuo organized the contents of his folder and skimmed the freshman guide, suddenly catching a savory aroma wafting from the living room.

He emerged to find Liu Yun watching television. The fan on the induction cooker was whirring loudly, and the pot contained something simmering and bubbling slowly.

Seeing Wang Zhuo, Liu Yun grinned. “Rabbit stew for lunch, how about that?”

“This is rabbit?” Wang Zhuo was surprised; in all his years, he’d barely eaten rabbit. “You must have bought it at the farmers’ market, right?”

“Since we’re roommates, it doesn’t hurt to tell you,” Liu Yun winked playfully. “Your senior has the key to the freezer—we can have as much rabbit as we want!”

Wang Zhuo scratched his head, completely failing to grasp her meaning. Wasn't Li Guangran a doctoral student? What did a freezer have to do with rabbits? What was the direct connection between a freezer and rabbit meat?

While he was puzzling over it, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed, followed by a tall, thin young man with a light mustache walking in. He paused briefly upon seeing Wang Zhuo, then smiled. “You must be the new freshman. I’m Li Guangran; I’m in the sixth year of Clinical Medicine.”

Liu Yun jumped up from the sofa and chimed in quickly. “Guangran, this is Wang Zhuo. I was just telling him about the rabbits.”

“Heh heh.” Li Guangran shook hands with Wang Zhuo and said with a smile, “The professors here are very busy and often hard to locate, so the Department Head gave me a set of keys to the freezer. The professors hide quite a few treasures in there, and I get to benefit too.”

After all that talk, the origin of the rabbit was still unclear. Wang Zhuo asked with a wry smile, “Why would the school’s freezer have rabbits in it?”

“You wouldn't know about that. Many experiments require rabbits. Sometimes, after half a month of experiments by a batch of new students, they end up with several baskets full of dead rabbits.”

Wang Zhuo suddenly understood. So, these rabbits were martyrs who had dedicated themselves to the cause of medical education!

Liu Yun picked up, “Right, and earthworms and white mice too, but nobody eats those.”

“Then are these dead rabbits safe to eat?” Wang Zhuo looked at the rabbit meat in the pot, feeling a little uneasy.

Li Guangran shook his head and laughed. “These just died from excessive anesthesia after they were taken off the operating table. They’re fine.”

But there would still be residues of the anesthetic, right? Wang Zhuo remained slightly concerned.

“Oh, Wang Zhuo, don’t worry so much. Guangran and I have eaten no fewer than eighty or ninety rabbits in the last year, and nothing has ever gone wrong!” Liu Yun lifted the lid, poked the rabbit meat with chopsticks, and replaced the lid. “Half the braised chicken chunks in the cafeteria are made from dead rabbits—they’re cheap and popular. Have you ever heard of anyone having an issue eating them?”

Wang Zhuo was instantly reassured. He had survived challenges from genetically modified foods, gutter oil, chemical hotpots, and poisoned rice; what was a little bit of residual anesthetic in a rabbit that had already died for a noble cause? Eat it, he decided!