80: Only children make choices!

Monday morning,

the air in grade 11, class 3 of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School,

felt as if tons of lead had been poured into it, so heavy it was suffocating.

It was raining outside, and the lights weren't on in the classroom,

the dim light reflecting faces that looked as if they had just lost a parent.

Those who usually copied homework, chatted about games, or caught up on sleep were all silent today.

Most people were staring at their phone screens or newly bought magazines,

looking dazed, their eyes red-rimmed.

"Dream Weaver... how could you be so cruel..."

Wu Di was slumped over his desk,

clutching a wad of tissue soaked with snot and tears,

crying like a two-hundred-pound child.

His eyes were swollen like walnuts, and he was still muttering incoherently:

"Old Man Xu... my Old Man Xu..."

Lin Que sat beside him, half a meat bun dangling from his mouth.

Although that chapter had been released on Saturday night.

Two days had passed, but clearly, the vast majority of readers had not moved past Old Man Xu's sacrifice.

"Alright, stop bawling."

Lin Que reached out, pulled a tissue, and slapped it disdainfully onto Wu Di's face.

"Anyone who didn't know better would think someone in our class died."

"Brother Que! You don't understand!"

Wu Di abruptly lifted his head, full of grief and indignation.

"Old Man Xu died! To save Yang Jian, he blew himself up!

He didn't even leave a complete corpse! Do you think a human would do something like that?!"

"It certainly wasn't done by a human."

Lin Que leisurely swallowed the bun in his mouth and nodded.

"The killer is a ghost, and the author is a devil. Are you talking about humanity with a devil?"

"You're still making sarcastic remarks!"

Wu Di was so angry he wanted to bite someone.

Just then, a cold snort came from the front row.

"What are you crying for? It was just sensationalism anyway."

The speaker was Zhang Ya.

She was holding that issue of New Tide, the title of the ferryman prominently displayed on the cover.

She turned around, her eyes showing disdain and annoyance,

clearly angered by the online flame war from the night before.

"That Hell Dream Weaver is simply a psychopath."

Zhang Ya slapped the magazine onto the desk.

"Killing off a supporting character is one thing, but dragging Teacher Jian Shen into it?

What do they mean 'no the ferryman'? He's just jealous!

Jealous that Teacher Jian Shen can write about the brilliance of human nature, while he can only wallow in gore in the gutter!"

Her outburst was like pouring a ladle of water into a wok of hot oil.

The "Dream Weaver fans" in the class, still immersed in grief, instantly exploded.

"Zhang Ya, what do you mean?"

The Sports Committee Member suddenly stood up and slammed his phone onto the desk.

"What do you mean 'wallowing in gore'? Old Man Xu's act was righteousness!

That was sacrifice! That's reality! What the hell do you know about reality!"

"Does reality mean people must die?"

Zhang Ya didn't back down an inch, standing up to retort.

"Literature is meant to give people hope!

Like in "the ferryman," Dylan can meet Tristan even after death in the wasteland—that's salvation!

What about your Yang Jian?

All he does is kill ghosts or get killed by ghosts. What good is reading that stuff except giving you nightmares?"

"Bullshit! That's called facing fear directly!"

"That's called selling anxiety!"

"Jian Shen just writes chicken soup!"

"Dream Weaver is just a butcher!"

The classroom instantly turned into a wet market.

The two factions argued fiercely across the desks, spittle flying everywhere.

Some waved horror illustrations on their phones, while others held up the New Tide magazine as if it were a bible.

Lin Que retreated into the corner, slowly taking a sip of soy milk.

"Lin Que!"

The flames of war suddenly spread to the corner of the classroom.

Zhang Ya and Wu Di turned their heads almost simultaneously,

a dozen pairs of eyes focusing squarely on Lin Que.

"You're the Grand Prize Winner, you tell us!"

Zhang Ya stared at him.

"You said on stage before that literature is a scalpel, meant to cut open abscesses so the wounds can heal!

Now look at this Dream Weaver, is he curing diseases?

He's a lunatic wielding a chainsaw, purely tormenting people!

Do you dare say he isn't trash?"

"Brother Que!"

Wu Di, not to be outdone, grabbed Lin Que's arm.

"You're the Big Shot who wrote 'the person waiting to die'!

Isn't Old Crow the same kind of person as Old Man Xu? You should be on our side, right?"

"That's right, Lin Que, whose side are you on?"

"Do you support the Reality Faction, or the Healing Faction?"

Lin Que hadn't swallowed the bun in his mouth yet,

caught between these two groups, he felt like a civilian who had wandered onto a battlefield.

Before he could speak, at the back door of the classroom,

a tall, slender figure quietly appeared.

Shen Qingqiu was wearing a beige down jacket and holding a lesson plan.

The morning reading session was so noisy, it was simply lawless.

She had originally intended to walk in and start scolding, but when she heard the question, she paused.

Through the glass of the back door, she looked at the boy sitting by the window.

The student who wrote "Evil Ghost's Journey Through the Human World," the boy who said "Everything has a crack" on stage.

She was also very curious.

In this war between despair and hope,

which side would this student, who appeared lazy but was actually insightful, stand on?

The classroom fell silent.

Everyone waited for Lin Que's answer.

Lin Que swallowed the last bite of his bun and slowly wiped his mouth.

He looked at the indignant Wu Di on his left, and then at the arrogant Zhang Ya on his right.

Then, he leaned back in his chair,

clasped his hands behind his head, and smiled lazily.

"What is there to choose?"

The boy's voice was soft, laced with laziness.

"During the day I need to eat, and at night I need to sleep.

During the day, I need Jian Shen to tell me the world is beautiful,

and at night, I need Dream Weaver to tell me there might be a ghost under the bed,

so I won't dare stick my feet out of the blanket."

He blinked, looking completely self-satisfied.

"Only children make choices. My choice is... I want both!"

The entire room went silent for one second.

Immediately afterward—

"Boo—!!"

The uniform chorus of boos almost blew the roof off.

"Lin Que, you sly dog!"

"Fence-sitter!"

"Master of Equilibrium!"

The tense atmosphere, which had been ready to explode, instantly dissipated by more than half due to his joke.

Although everyone was cursing him, the anger on their faces had lessened significantly,

and some even couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, alright, break it up."

Lin Que waved his hand, as if shooing flies.

"If Demon Head Shen comes later, you'll all be sacrificed."

Before his words fell, he felt a chill down his spine.

"Ahem."

A crisp, cold cough came from the back door.

The air in the classroom instantly solidified.

The previously noisy crowd looked like they had been paused, each one stiffly turning their neck.

Shen Qingqiu pushed the door open and walked up to the podium in her high heels.

Her face was unreadable, her gaze coolly sweeping over the entire class.

"T-Teacher Shen..."

Wu Di was so scared he stuffed the snotty tissue into his mouth, then quickly spat it out.

"Splendid."

Shen Qingqiu tossed the lesson plan onto the podium with a crisp 'slap'.

"Truly splendid. Morning reading class is for reciting classical poetry and prose, not for engaging in literary criticism.

It seems your proficiency in Chinese literature is quite high.

Should I hand over the podium so we can hold a debate?"

The entire class was struck dumb with fear, each one shrinking their neck like a quail.

"If I catch anyone playing with their phone or reading magazines during morning reading again, I'll have them come to the office to discuss 'the ferryman' with me privately."

Shen Qingqiu's gaze finally settled on Lin Que in the corner.

Lin Que quickly straightened up,

wearing an expression of "I am a good student" that was more convincing than anyone else's.

Shen Qingqiu looked at him.

Which is more important: the light or the lock?

This kid is greedy, but also insightful.

"Alright, take out your books."

Shen Qingqiu tapped the blackboard.

"Class begins."

...