The journey back took longer than I had anticipated. By the time I arrived at school, it was already one in the afternoon, precisely when the first class was scheduled to begin.
Though it was class time, few third-year high school students actually attended anymore. Most had already secured admission to prestigious universities, thanks to their parents’ influence. The small handful who remained were either fiercely self-reliant, disdainful of leveraging their family backgrounds, or, like me, simply unfortunate souls lacking both money and power.
I pulled out my student ID and swiped it through the card reader. Only after the validator beeped and glowed green did I step through the main gate.
Just as Luo Tianchen’s Uncle had mentioned, the school’s security system was ridiculously stringent, with infrared cameras seemingly everywhere. Without a special ID card, navigating the campus was virtually impossible.
However, this level of security was entirely understandable; after all, the students here were the children of international dignitaries. Should any criminals manage to abduct them, it would be akin to seizing control of half the world.
Yet, despite such formidable precautions, a student had still died right under their noses. The school board members must have been mortified, for failing to resolve this matter swiftly would undoubtedly deal a devastating blow to the school’s reputation.
Luo Tianchen’s Uncle, it seemed, was still a bit naive. At such a critical juncture, the sudden appearance of a girl taking over the case strongly suggested the school board’s involvement; only a fool would believe otherwise.
Though I had only met those old men once or twice, I had already discerned their nature: they rarely acted, but when they did, they struck decisively to achieve their objective. In other words, if they had assigned someone to this case, there was a ninety-nine percent—if not a hundred percent—certainty that it would be resolved.
Oh, and by the way, there were two categories for admission to Xingjiang High School. The first tested one’s family background, followed by an academic performance assessment.
Simply put, the better one’s family background, the easier the entrance exam, though there were limits. The school certainly wouldn’t admit a complete imbecile; they still needed to maintain some semblance of prestige.
The second category relied entirely on individual ability. Did you lack wealth but wish to attend Xingjiang High School to network with the children of social elites, paving the way for future success? That was perfectly acceptable, provided you could demonstrate an extraordinary talent in any field.
If the first type of student upheld Xingjiang High School’s facade, then the second type represented its true pillars. The school was exceptionally accommodating to such talents, even assigning top-tier teachers from their respective fields for one-on-one tutoring and approving research funds without question.
Consequently, many of the world’s current mathematical prodigies, physics savants, and design masters were graduates of Xingjiang High School. Their very existence attracted a large number of individuals eager to enroll.
Not to boast, but both my sister and I gained admission through the second category of examination; the specifics of which, I’m afraid, I cannot disclose at this time.
However, the school must have been utterly exasperated with us. After my enrollment, I showed no inclination to develop my special talent, while my sister simply stopped attending, merely holding a nominal registration and spending her days gaming at home.
After a year of this, the school completely gave up on us, adopting an ‘act however you please’ attitude and simply treating us as ordinary students.
Instead of heading towards the academic building, I turned and stepped onto a gravel path I had walked thousands of times. A certain heaviness settled in my heart as I considered what I had to do next.
The journey was uneventful, with only a few lower-year students chatting and laughing during their break. There was no indication that a murder had occurred on this very campus just that morning.
Then, I arrived at Xingmeng Tower.
It sounded like the name of an astronomy club, but it was, in fact, the administrative building for the student council and its affiliated organizations. Legend had it that Xingjiang High School’s first student council president was named ‘X Xingmeng,’ and she had made immense contributions to the school. In her honor, the student council building was named Xingmeng Tower, a tradition that continued to this day.
Good, it seemed no one had noticed me. I cautiously navigated past several offices where students were working, then skillfully made my way to the door of the student council room.
I heard no sounds from within. They must have gone to the academic building, I surmised. That was for the best; it saved me the trouble of an awkward encounter.
“Ah, Luo Tianchen is back!”
The moment I pulled open the door, I was unexpectedly embraced. When I finally composed myself, I realized it was a tear-streaked Bingying clinging to my chest.
“That’s wonderful, ‘mhm,’ I thought, ‘mhm,’ I’d never see you again.”
“You all…” I looked around the room in bewilderment, only then realizing that everyone was present.
“Oh, weren’t we worried about you? That’s why we’ve been waiting here ever since the police called you away!” Yang Mingzhi gave a thumbs-up, flashing his signature handsome smile.
‘So that’s it. Well, thank you very much… not!’
‘What was with this heavy atmosphere? I wasn’t dead, for crying out loud; I just went to the police station for a meal. Was all this drama really necessary?’
After much effort, I managed to console Bingying and gently peel her off me. Looking calmly into her eyes, I asked, “What… what exactly happened with you all?”
“Because, Yang Mingzhi said,” Bingying still sobbed, “that the police couldn’t catch the culprit, and since you’d just been confessed to by her, they would frame you, beat a confession out of you, and sentence you to death… At first, no one believed him, but you didn’t come back for so long, so…”
‘What era was she living in? This was a society governed by law; how could something like that possibly happen?’
‘…Right?’
“Alright, aren’t I fine? I just had a meal, that’s all,” I said with a wry smile.
“……Really?”
“Absolutely, without a doubt.”
“I’m sorry, Luo Tianchen, you should be the one who’s most upset, yet here I am, crying alone and making you comfort me…” Bingying wiped away her tears, forcing a weak smile.
‘I fell silent. Was I sad? No, perhaps just a little regretful.’
‘Was it because I had grown accustomed to such events, or had I simply become numb?’
“At any rate, it’s good that you’re alright! It’s a shame the party got canceled, but we can always hold another one, right? We five can celebrate together next time, can’t we, President? How about the day our college entrance exams are over?” Bingying quickly recovered from her sadness, smiling as she looked at Ye Siya.
“Ah, I apologize,” I said softly.
“Eh?” She froze. “Why are you apologizing?”
I said nothing, merely returning to my seat to retrieve an application form from my backpack. Then, I walked over to Ye Siya and handed her the document.
“President, I…” The moment the words left my lips, I felt everyone’s gaze converge upon me. I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat, utterly unable to escape.
‘…So, I had become this indecisive, too.’
Ye Siya said nothing, a faint, familiar smile gracing her lips. She quietly met my gaze, as if offering silent encouragement.
‘Honestly, how many more times would I need to be saved by her kindness before it was enough?’
‘Thank you, Ye Siya. If it weren’t for you, I likely wouldn’t be standing here now. You also allowed me to experience a life completely different from my past, a life I had yearned for. Thank you for making me ‘weak.”
‘Precisely because of this, I had to utter those words myself.’
‘To bring an end to our three years together.’
I took a deep breath. Under the collective gaze of everyone present, I said to her, “I’m resigning from the student council.”