Volume One, Chapter Thirty-Five: Echoes

Falling asleep with mixed emotions and awakening with the satisfaction of a full rest, Mode pulled open the curtains to find the morning light just right and the autumn breeze slightly cool. After settling the troublesome young heiress, Mode slung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried to catch the bus that would take him to school.

“Teacher Qiao Ping was unfortunately injured during the autumn hunt two days ago. For the foreseeable future, I will be taking over the Elements Theory course and acting as your homeroom teacher.” At the morning assembly, a young man with a buzz cut, dressed in a white shirt and plain jeans, walked into the classroom. Smiling at the students below the podium, he continued with his self-introduction.

“My name is Yu Heping. You can just call me Mr. Yu.” Picking up a piece of chalk, he wrote his name on the blackboard—his handwriting as clean and crisp as his appearance.

“After investigation, the incident during the last autumn hunt was deemed a minor beast tide riot. The patrol team, composed of homeroom teachers and core faculty, was attacked by the fog beasts just as you were. Among them, Teacher Qiao Ping was the bravest, leading the teachers out of the encirclement, but was severely injured and will need two months of rest. I hope we can get along well during this time.”

Applause erupted below. Though everyone was concerned about Old Qiao’s health, they welcomed and showed enthusiasm for the new homeroom teacher—after all, who could dislike a refreshing and handsome teacher?

Mode joined in the applause but couldn’t, like his classmates, join the chatter about whether Mr. Yu had a boyfriend or other gossip. According to official data, no teachers or students had died, but he knew well that the zero casualty rate among over two thousand students had been secured by the escort team’s blood and sacrifice.

From Mu Qing last night, he learned that forty-six members of the escort team were killed, and the rest were all wounded. With so many children behind them, even in the face of death, they held the line without retreating a single step.

Seated beside him, Su Ziwen seemed to sense something, turning to ask softly, “What’s wrong?” Her left hand was immobilized against her chest with a splint and bandages, and a band-aid adorned her delicate face. Even though Mode had already swept the student battlefield before going to stop the Fog Spider’s spirit, everyone still suffered some injuries—like chubby Wu Fan, who had taken the day off.

“It’s nothing. I’m just glad things didn’t get any worse.” After offering a silent prayer for the fallen, Mode forced a smile at Su Ziwen. Seeing he didn’t want to talk, she opened her mouth as if to say more, but let it go.

It’s strange, she thought—sometimes you know someone won’t open up about the doubts and troubles buried in their heart, yet you still ask, though you don’t know why.

Sweeping his mind clear and setting his emotions aside, Mode began to focus, listening attentively to the class.

“Oh, one more thing: since everyone is carrying some injuries, all afternoon practical courses are canceled this week. You’ll study at home in the afternoons, but remember to complete your homework,” Yu Heping announced at the end of the assembly with a smile. Then he lifted several thick stacks of books from under the podium and continued, smiling, “The first student in each row, come up and collect these—your review workbooks for this week. Don’t leave them for the weekend! If you procrastinate, there’s no way you’ll finish them all by Sunday.”

The joyful cheers died instantly. Each student felt the weight of the thick workbook, both in their hands and in their hearts.

Mode flipped his open and weighed it—yes, thrown hard enough, it could knock someone out.

...

“Since we have afternoons off, let’s pause tutoring for now,” Su Ziwen said as the lunch bell rang, and the classroom quickly emptied. Mode, who was helping her pack her bag, looked up in surprise.

Adjusting her glasses with her right hand, Su Ziwen’s voice was cool as she continued, “Let’s just rest this week.”

“Class leader, your hand...” Mode zipped up the backpacks, offering to carry them both downstairs for her, and she accepted without protest. Together, they closed the windows and doors and headed down the stairs.

“It’s not serious. The splint comes off next week,” she said, eyeing Mode up and down. “But you look so energetic—it’s unexpected. Are you really all right?”

As soon as she asked, Su Ziwen felt it was unnecessary, but Mode’s answer surprised her—he didn’t brush her off this time.

...

“Not entirely unscathed, I suppose...” If not for that half-potion, the family would probably need to buy a wheelchair. “But compared to those people, I’m much better off.”

“You mean the warriors who escorted us?” Su Ziwen seemed to have known that some lives were lost in that battle. Perceptive as she was, she’d noticed the escort team’s diminished numbers on the return journey.

Mode had only sighed in passing, never expecting she already knew the truth.

“If those warriors hadn’t held the line, we might never have been rescued.” Since she brought it up, Mode no longer concealed it. If that fog spider had started slaughtering students at the outset, by the time Mu Qing arrived, revenge would have been all that was left.

“They died to protect us. So we must live our lives to the fullest, for their sake,” Su Ziwen said, lips pressed tight, turning to descend the stairs.

Mode stared after her small figure, something kindling in his heart, burning ever brighter.

...

After seeing Su Ziwen home and bidding her parents farewell, Mode headed back. Opening his own door, he found Mu Qing sprawled on the sofa, fast asleep, the muted television playing a silent comedy. He turned it off, draped the fallen blanket over Mu Qing, and went into the kitchen to start cooking.

The scent of food roused Mu Qing. Learning Mode had afternoons off this week, her drowsiness vanished—being stuck at home alone had been dreadfully dull, and even shifting places was a challenge.

“I have to go out this afternoon. Anything you want for dinner?” Mode asked while feeding her.

“What? Leaving me alone again? I nearly died of boredom all morning...” Mu Qing’s face fell, and suddenly the food seemed less appetizing.

“I thought you slept pretty well—your drool was—” “Wasn’t it you dragging me up early?” Mu Qing quickly interrupted. “Can we agree from now on—don’t wake me up for breakfast...”

“Sure. I won’t wake you in the mornings anymore. You can lie in bed staring at the ceiling all day,” Mode teased.

“Maybe not.” Weighing the lesser evil, Mu Qing chose early rising. “Where are you going, anyway? It can’t just be grocery shopping.”

“Why so many questions? Just tell me what you want to eat.”

“Cola chicken wings, braised ribs, string beans with salted egg yolk, and ice cream, donuts, caramel pudding...”

Mode quickly stuffed a spoonful of food into her mouth, shutting down her endless list.

...

Holding a slip of paper packed with dishes and desserts, Mode sighed and stepped outside. First, he needed to find a quiet spot for this afternoon’s “Tide” meeting.

He found an internet café, rented a two-hour booth, logged in deftly, and put on a TV show for cover. On his phone, he opened a hidden app and joined the “Tide” online conference room.

...

In the “Tide” meeting hall, Shu and White Coat entered and took their seats. At the far end, someone had been waiting for a while.

“Taiyin? When did you get out of seclusion?” A virtual projection appeared at the side of the long table—Daoist Liu’s image flickered in, eyes widening in surprise at the familiar figure.

“I just woke up yesterday. I barely had time to slip out before Sister Shu caught me,” the man replied, smiling helplessly at the blue-robed Daoist. Shu rolled her eyes at the head of the table, while White Coat grinned, enjoying the banter.

As more projections lit up, more people logged into the operations meeting.

Another seat’s light screen activated, but no image appeared—only a line of text:

System notification: Qin has joined the meeting.

Qin: Long time no see, everyone. I can’t use projection here, so I’m in text mode.

In the corner, a shy figure seemed inspired—their projection switched instantly to a light screen, and a line of text appeared:

System notification: Crescent Moon (attending for Scholar) has joined the meeting.

Everyone had just recovered from Mode’s unexpected appearance when attention shifted to the second light screen.

“Qin really hasn’t attended in ages. But who is this Crescent Moon? Since when do we have a member who can attend on Scholar’s behalf?”

“If I’m not mistaken, Crescent Moon is a young lady. Why go for text mode like Qin instead of projection...”

The avatars began whispering among themselves, while Zhou Nansheng, sitting in front of her screen, deeply regretted her choice. She’d only switched to text out of shyness, never expecting to draw so much attention. The chat exploded with messages, all centered on herself and the mysterious “Qin.”

System prompt: Group owner Shu has enabled mute for all members.

“Quiet.” Shu spoke from her seat. She’d intended to introduce the newly promoted Crescent Moon, but the discussion had erupted before she could speak. She knew that in text mode, every member’s words were instantly turned to text, overwhelming any newcomer with the flood of messages.

“Save the small talk until after the meeting. I want to introduce Crescent Moon, who has completed her probation and is now a full member of ‘Tide.’ She’s also Scholar’s sister. Scholar is occupied with a purge mission, so Crescent Moon will relay information on his behalf.”

“And now, let’s begin the meeting.”