360: Chapter 360 Youth That Smashes Through High Walls

Wu Di stood directly opposite Lin Que, his eyes slightly red and his nose covered in sweat.

He shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking slightly, completely ignoring any passersby.

"Brother Que."

He took a deep breath, his voice trembling.

"On the day of the final exam, I felt like things between us might be over for good."

"You're a bird in the sky, and I'm just mud in the valley."

"You're going to Tsinghua and Peking University, while I'm still stuck in the same place, not even qualified to be your friend anymore."

He paused, gritting his teeth hard.

"But you didn't look down on me."

"In that corner of the corridor, you told me..."

"Escape Rooms, Script Kills, Dream Factory—word by word, you told me that grades are bullshit, and that brothers working together can still poke a hole in the sky."

Wu Di suddenly turned around to face the entire class, raising his voice to its highest pitch.

"Did you all know?! Lin Que has never once looked down on me, his slacker deskmate!"

"He gave me a future worth fighting for!"

He turned back around, thumping his chest, and practically roared at Lin Que:

"Brother Que, no matter how high you stand in the future, I, Wu Di, will always be your most loyal brother!"

"You charge ahead on the front lines, and I'll guard the rear with my life!"

Fang Zhiyuan followed closely with a step forward, his eyes also rimmed with red.

With a heavy nasal tone, half-joking and half-emotional, he pointed at the Olympic Sports Center behind them.

He said Lin Que was being unfair today, using him as a guinea pig in a ten-thousand-person venue,

putting his name on the big screen for a public execution, making him more nervous than he'd ever been in his life.

But he immediately dropped the joking expression, his tone becoming extremely serious.

He looked at Lin Que and said that he used to only know how to memorize things by rote,

thinking that writing essays was just about meeting a word count and memorizing templates.

But today, when Lin Que reorganized "playground, whistle, and sweat" into that vivid scene on the whiteboard, he felt completely stunned.

Fang Zhiyuan pressed hard against his chest, his voice trembling:

"Brother Que, you made me feel for the first time that words can truly come alive. I'll never forget it as long as I live."

A girl in the front row walked out with red eyes.

She usually didn't have much of a presence in class and was introverted, but now she looked bravely at Lin Que, her voice clearly choked with tears.

She brought up that morning reading class, the morning when Teacher Shen Qingqiu read out that essay, "A Reply Letter Sent to Heaven," with red eyes.

Crying, she said that she still clearly remembered the sound of the entire class sobbing in extreme suppression that day.

Back then, everyone was anxious about their grades and lost about their future,

and it was Lin Que's words that acted like a gentle knife, cutting through the gloom in their hearts.

"Lin Que, you let us see for the first time that death isn't just terrifying; it can also be written as the ultimate form of healing."

"You let us know that as long as someone remembers, those who have left will live forever."

After the girl finished, she covered her mouth and retreated back into the group, her tears unable to stop.

Another tall boy immediately took over, his voice also trembling.

He recalled the night of the New Year's Eve Gala.

Lin Que had stood under the cool white overhead light, calmly posing the soul-searching question: "How many times does a person die in a lifetime?"

That night, the entire school's students and teachers, as well as the city officials, were pinned to their seats in dead silence.

The boy threw a forceful punch into the air:

"That 'Three Deaths' theory completely overturned our understanding of life and forgetting."

"The way you stood on that stage told us what true presence is,"

"and what it means to use strength and brains to crush all injustice!"

Several students at the back of the group shouted in unison, pushing the atmosphere to another climax.

Thirty-nine students, thirty-nine different fragments of their bond.

Each person added their own words, pouring out all the details hidden in their hearts.

Some mentioned the mutual encouragement during monthly exams, some mentioned Lin Que's composure in the exam hall,

and others mentioned Lin Que's sharp counterattacks when standing up for the class.

Zhang Ya spoke again as well, admitting through her tears,

that it was Lin Que who made her let go of her ridiculous vanity and truly understand what it meant to have a grander perspective.

There were no flowery words or affected embellishments, only the most genuine outpouring of emotion.

These words intertwined and overlapped in the evening breeze of the South Plaza, piecing together a vivid image of Lin Que as both a teacher and a friend.

Several girls in the back had given up trying to hold it in and were hugging each other,

laughter and tears mixed together, making it hard to tell if they were crying or laughing.

One girl covered her mouth tightly with her sleeve, her shoulders heaving,

yet she still tried to maintain her expression with a forced smile, until she finally couldn't hold on and buried her face in the shoulder of the person next to her.

Even Li Bowen was not spared.

He tried his best to maintain his usual rock-steady demeanor,

but the tears wouldn't obey him, flowing through the gaps of his fingers and onto the button of his uniform chest before rolling off.

He lowered his eyes and stared at that button for several seconds without saying a word.

Lin Que stood quietly in place, listening.

In his past life, he had struggled in the vanity fair; his twenty-seven-year-old screenwriter's soul was long accustomed to the hypocrisy and exchange of interests in the entertainment industry.

He was used to seeing people leave as soon as the tea grew cold and seeing everyone just playing a role.

He had seen people turn hostile before the ink on a contract was even dry, and tea being poured away after a gathering without even leaving the cup behind.

He thought his heart had long since become invulnerable.

But at this moment, that numb soul perfectly merged with his seventeen-year-old body of this life.

Facing these thirty-nine unreservedly sincere hearts and these pure youth bonds untainted by any impurities,

the calm disguise he was so accustomed to was completely shattered.

The flawlessness he displayed when dealing with various literary giants and the schemes he used to manipulate situations online...

...all lost their effect in front of these navy blue school uniforms.

He felt as if a ball of cotton was stuffed deep in his throat,

his eyes also turned red uncontrollably, and a blur of moisture began to rise at the edges of his vision.

Under the intense and tear-streaked gaze of the entire class,

Lin Que nimbly took off the jacket he was originally wearing and draped it casually over the nearby stone railing.

With both hands, he picked up the brand-new school uniform covered in thirty-nine names and put it on with extreme solemnity.

He pulled the zipper all the way to the top and popped the collar,

pressing those black signatures tightly against his heart and back.

Lin Que took a forceful breath of the cool air, suppressing the sob rising in his throat.

He lifted his head, his posture as upright as a pine tree, and facing thirty-nine pairs of red eyes, he loudly made a promise to everyone:

"I will wear this school uniform into the exam halls of Tsinghua and Peking University,"

"taking the names of everyone in Class 3 with me to see the view from the very top!"

This resounding promise echoed over the South Plaza of the Olympic Sports Center, lingering for a long time.

The eyes of the thirty-nine students followed Lin Que's upright back until he disappeared into the twilight.

...