The Stanford quarter system, where each term lasted only about two months, was something Bella found very hard to adapt to. She had just gotten the hang of many of her studies and hadn't even fully entered "the zone" when finals arrived. Time was tight and tasks were plentiful, but thanks to the advantage of her good looks, she gradually established a presence in several clubs.
Fencing was a sport that average students rarely came into contact with. In their spare time, they would play baseball or football and call it a day—who practiced this sort of thing?
Take Bella's roommate, Heather, for example. She had come to watch Bella's match. This was a girl who could handle a 3,000-RPM chainsaw like a pro, but fencing? Sorry—she had never even heard of it. According to the well-endowed girl, a thin metal stick like that was far less useful than a chainsaw; its lethality was limited, the rules were excessive, and it wasn't practical at all.
Bella couldn't quite figure out how the swordsmanship she had inherited from pirates, after a bit of repackaging, had become synonymous with elegance. However, she could understand the logic. It was similar to how in high society, the better someone was at an obscure skill, the more they were seen as a person of "refined taste and breeding."
Fencing was much like equestrianism. Calling it a noble sport was gilding the lily a bit, but plenty of people still tried to associate the sport with high culture.
Many wealthy Stanford alumni sponsored the Fencing Club just to slap a label of "sophistication" onto themselves.
Rich. The Fencing Club was filthy rich.
After the competition, the organizers loudly announced that a party would be held.
Not going to parties here would make you stand out too much as an outlier. Even Miss Barbara Morse, who had been thrashed and was looking thoroughly depressed, couldn't refuse the invitation.
The organizers had borrowed a villa for the evening's party.
San Francisco in December was already quite cool, but the party scene was extremely hot. No one would show up wrapped in a thick coat. Bella changed out of her fencing whites and shoes; she was now wearing a white knit sweater and a floral maxi skirt, with a pair of sandals on her feet.
After casually playing a round of pool, she sat at the bar watching the crowd party, occasionally dealing with people who came over to hit on her.
Bella was also selectively filtering people. If the conversation flowed, she would say a few more words; if not, she would ignore them.
She felt she was slowly becoming like Victoria Hand—completely tailoring her behavior based on who she was dealing with. But she had no choice. Making worthwhile connections would save her a massive amount of time. She didn't want to waste too much energy on social interactions, nor did she want to go into politics. Finding a relatively upper-crust circle to blend into would be enough.
"Your swordsmanship is really good. Did you start practicing when you were young?" Barbara Morse, wearing a tank top and trousers, sat beside her and asked curiously.
Should I say my ancestors manifested their spirits and transmitted the skills to me through a spiritual sea? No one would believe that. Bella nodded.
"Yeah, I started practicing young. It's been many years."
The two chatted while drinking. The ban on drinking under twenty-one had long been virtually non-existent. People who truly obeyed this law in the United States were about as rare as unicorns; as long as you didn't get caught, it was fine.
"Your parents were both police officers? That's really nice... My parents are both military. My family has been in the army for four generations; I'm the only woman..." Barbara poured out the grievances in her heart.
Her family background was similar to Bella's. Charlie and Samantha had actually served in the military and only became sheriffs after retiring.
Barbara's family had been in the army for four generations, giving her a certain common language with Bella. In a way, they were "military families" of a different sort.
However, on a societal level, the United States didn't place much importance on this class.
Sociological research reports considered eighty percent of people to be middle class. But here in Silicon Valley, they had their own definition. They believed only the IT elite, professors, and doctors were the true middle class—the pillars of society. Police officers and grunts? They were far off the mark.
Neither of them said it explicitly, but between the lines, they understood each other's meaning. Discrimination. Discrimination was everywhere in this country.
It was precisely because there was so much discrimination in every aspect that so many people kept the word constantly on their lips.
Barbara kept talking to her, using the opportunity to block those suitors. Bella had a similar mindset, so the two engaged in idle chatter.
Stanford parties were relatively well-behaved. Around ten o'clock, Bella got up to leave.
She returned to the dorm, changed into casual clothes, rinsed her mouth repeatedly to ensure there was no smell of alcohol, and then headed to the library with her backpack.
She presented a signed authorization from a professor to the librarian. After verifying it, the librarian called over two burly men, who used a small cart to haul a particularly rare ancient book out of the library's vault for her.
It was an enormous, incredibly ancient book. Its appearance was a bit like the Pirate Code in Pirates of the Caribbean—more like a door plank. It required two people to lift it and a cart to pull it out.
This was a rare ancient text from the Stanford Library: the Gutenberg Bible, also known as the Forty-Two-Line Bible.
This was the Latin Bible printed by Johannes Gutenberg in 1454 using movable type. The entire book had 1,282 pages. Limited by the parchment technology of the time, the book was incredibly solid—smashing someone to death with it would be absolutely no problem.
Only 180 copies were printed at the time, and fewer than fifty remain in existence today. Such a precious ancient text couldn't be borrowed out, even with a professor's signature. The book couldn't leave the library; she could only read it there.
Although it was already ten o'clock at night, the library was still brightly lit, with a large number of students studying.
The book Bella was reading was far too huge and far too ancient. Combined with her beautiful appearance, a few passing students would occasionally cast surprised glances, but no one felt anything was wrong. The winds of freedom blew strong; you could study whatever you liked.
Bella planned to use the holiday to dig into the contents of this book, consolidating her foundation and developing brand-new psionic spells.
Her Latin was still at a beginner level, so reading the Gutenberg Bible was a bit of a struggle and required much more time and energy.
When encountering difficulties, she would also email the Winchester family to ask questions. When it came to biblical knowledge, the Church was certainly the most authoritative, but for a heretic like her to go to the Church would be a bit untimely. Settling for the next best thing and seeking answers from Hunters wasn't a bad idea.
Hunters' knowledge of exorcism often remained at the level of "knowing the how but not the why." Draw a magic circle, scatter salt, then charge in blindly. Looking at it now, it was indeed crude, but there were some tricks worth learning from.
Ignoring social issues and ignoring GPA calculations, Bella frantically soaked up knowledge from all directions. She even refused Natasha's invitation to go shopping. She planned to hole up in the library for the next few days, right up until Christmas.