88: This is clearly a memorial service.

The archives of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School were located on the top floor of the Administrative Building, locked year-round.

The air was thick with the musty smell of old paper, mixed with the scent of mothballs.

Shen Qingqiu pushed open the heavy iron door,

and dust danced wildly in the columns of evening sunlight.

The old man guarding the archives was about to retire; his surname was Sun.

He was wearing reading glasses and pasting matchboxes together by the window.

Seeing someone enter, he slowly raised his eyelids,

pointing to the row of dark green metal cabinets inside:

"They're all there: photos, negatives, and School Chronicles since the school was founded.

Flip through them gently; some of that paper is more fragile than I am."

Shen Qingqiu thanked him,

and slipped between the rows of silent metal cabinets.

Lin Que only wanted black and white photos—the older and more authentic, the better.

She had initially thought this would be an easy task,

but when the first album was opened, Shen Qingqiu's fingers froze.

It was a large group photo taken in the 1980s.

The people in the photo were wearing Dacron Shirts and sporting the popular parted hairstyles of that era,

their smiles slightly reserved, but their eyes held a spark.

Among the group of young faces, Shen Qingqiu recognized a young Principal Jiang,

and also... Teacher Yan, the deceased former head of the Chinese Language teaching group.

At that time, Teacher Yan still had a full head of hair,

holding a half-piece of chalk, turning sideways to write on the blackboard.

A line of small text was written on the back of the photo in ink:

*Autumn 1986, Commemorating the Chinese Language Group's Open Class.*

Shen Qingqiu remembered when she first started working,

Teacher Yan had personally taught her how to write lesson plans and how to engage students in class.

Later, Teacher Yan was diagnosed with lung cancer and passed away suddenly.

Many people attended the funeral, but as time passed,

the number of times his name was mentioned in the office was now few and far between.

Her fingertip traced Teacher Yan's young smiling face in the photo,

a chilling shiver abruptly shot up her spine to the back of her head.

"So this is... the process of being forgotten."

Shen Qingqiu's nose suddenly stung,

and Lin Que's words about "Ultimate Death" were no longer empty talk on paper,

but transformed into the names in these dusty albums,

echoing heavily in her ears.

She squatted on the floor, flipping through album after album.

This place buried the history of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School,

and also countless "names" that were once vibrant.

There was the young Physical Education Teacher who was consumed by a sudden fire while trying to save students.

There was the School Doctor who insisted on delivering study materials to students during a Special Period and ultimately collapsed at their post.

And decades ago, the student who remained forever eighteen due to an accident... Unknowingly, dusk fell.

Shen Qingqiu stood up, her legs and feet numb,

hugging dozens of selected photos.

She hadn't turned on the light; there was only the faint yellow light filtering in from the corridor.

In this silence, she seemed to hear countless voices whispering in her ear.

This kid,

what he's putting on isn't a performance; it's clearly a memorial service.

The next day,

the Program Review Meeting.

The atmosphere in the conference room was somewhat stiff.

Li Ze, as the Student Council representative, frowned deeply, looking troubled.

The gala was imminent,

but all they had received from Lin Que and Teacher Shen so far

was just a title and some old photos.

Sitting at the head were the Vice Principal in charge of moral education and Dean of Students Fei Yuncheng.

"This... isn't quite appropriate, is it?"

The Vice Principal put down the black and white photos. They showed the old school gate, which had already been torn down,

and an old man sitting at the entrance of the Guardhouse smoking a pipe.

—That was Elder Wang, who had guarded the gate for over thirty years.

The Vice Principal knocked on the table.

"Teacher Shen, I understand now.

You mean that the core of Lin Que's performance is death and forgetting,

and he intends to display photos of these... deceased people at the New Year's Gala?

Isn't that a bit too heavy?"

Fei Yuncheng was also hesitant. Although he admired Lin Que,

this concerned the school's image:

"That's right, Teacher Shen.

If it were just us hosting it, like in previous years, it would be fine, but Municipal Leaders will be attending this time.

Shouldn't we be showcasing something vibrant and energetic?

If we make everyone on stage and off weep, that's bad luck."

Li Ze immediately seized the opportunity and pushed a proposal onto the center of the table:

"Principal, Director Fei, I believe this isn't just risky, it's utter nonsense!

The New Year's Gala is a day for celebration. If we don't present something uplifting,

are we supposed to make the Municipal Leaders cry with us?

Just in case, our Student Council prepared an alternative plan overnight.

Student Zhao Zichen, who is also a first prize winner of the Jieyou Cup,

will perform 'A Young China' with the School Band.

That's what you call vitality, that's the spirit of our No. 1 High School!"

His words,

not only provided an alternative plan but also brought in Zhao Zichen, another Jieyou Cup winner,

and elevated the matter to the level of "Collective Honor,"

instantly positioning Shen Qingqiu's and Lin Que's individual expression against the collective interest.

All eyes turned to Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu sat there,

tightly clutching the manila envelope containing the photos.

If it were before, she probably would have compromised,

and asked Lin Que to switch to a safer performance.

But the chilling sensation from the archives last night still lingered on her fingertips.

"Leaders."

Shen Qingqiu stood up, not looking at Li Ze, but directly into the Vice Principal's eyes.

"I've been thinking, what is the essence of education?

Is it just telling children how wonderful the world is and how happy we should be?"

"We always teach them how to win, how to score high marks,

but no one ever teaches them how to face loss, how to face death."

Shen Qingqiu gently placed the photo of Teacher Yan on the table.

"This is Teacher Yan.

Everyone here knows him. By my count... he's been gone for nearly three years.

He was once Jiangcheng's most outstanding Chinese Language Teacher, but now, how many people still mention him?

If even we forget,

then the traces he left in this world will truly be completely erased."

"Lin Que's performance isn't meant to make people cry; it's meant to make people remember.

Remember those who contributed and existed."

Facing Li Ze's unconvinced gaze, she spoke clearly and forcefully.

"'A Young China' is excellent; it tells us to look forward.

But a nation that only looks forward and forgets the road it traveled has no roots.

A school that only displays vitality but dares not face solemnity has a spirit that is flimsy.

Therefore,

Leaders, what exactly are we choosing today?

Are we choosing a group of youths who only shout slogans and instantly forget their origins,

or are we choosing a group of flesh-and-blood people who truly understand gratitude and reverence?!"

The conference room fell into dead silence.

Fei Yuncheng looked at the photo, his eyes turning slightly red.

Teacher Yan used to be his mentor as well.

After a long time,

the Vice Principal sighed and waved his hand:

"Fine. Since Teacher Shen insists so strongly, then... let's try it.

But you must control the tone; don't let it turn into a memorial service."

Li Ze opened his mouth, wanting to object,

but seeing the Vice Principal silently staring at the photo,

he wisely swallowed his words.

Walking out of the conference room, Shen Qingqiu realized her palms were covered in sweat.

The class dismissal bell had just rung when Shen Qingqiu returned to the office.

She was about to call Lin Que over when she saw him stroll in through the back door,

gently placing a bottle of yogurt on her desk.

"Teacher."

Lin Que leaned lazily against the desk, lowering his voice.

"It must be tiring arguing with a group of people who only care about the overall effect."

Shen Qingqiu was stunned.

"Why are you here?"

"I came to see if there were any new instructions after the review meeting."

Seeing his mischievous expression, Shen Qingqiu irritably picked up the yogurt:

"You're quite well-informed.

I tried my best to convince the school leaders. I'm telling you, Lin Que, if you dare mess up the performance, I will seriously melt down your first prize winner trophy."

Lin Que pointed to the manila envelope in her hand.

"When the time comes, you should prepare a handkerchief."

"Also, I sent the background music to your email. I'll need you to find someone to sync the music and photos."

"Why don't you do it yourself?"

"I'm busy."

Lin Que said righteously.

"I need to familiarize myself with the script and build up my emotions so I don't let down Teacher Shen's trust!"

"Fine."

Shen Qingqiu held the yogurt and shook it in the air.

"I'll take this job."

...