Thanks to Teacher Li’s masterful sophistry and his generous “perfect score” as a homeroom teacher to turn the tide, Yu Suheng’s final grade managed to hover right at 65.
A narrow pass. Barely qualified.
Having reached the passing line, the punishment was naturally waived. A score just five points above the minimum wouldn’t cause the dungeon’s mechanics to impact Yu Suheng too much. All in all, Teacher Li’s backroom dealing had been highly effective.
Ever since Teacher Rabbit had been forced to hand over those humiliating 30 points, she had been sitting in the corner with the dazed expression of a creature whose soul had been betrayed. Yu Suheng felt a measure of sympathy for her; after all, he knew exactly what kind of mental damage that caused.
As for the culprit himself, Li Xin, he swayed back to the podium and sat down. Crossing his legs, he pretended to flip through a manual. If he’d been wearing a pair of glasses, he really would have looked the part.
As it neared 11:00 PM, the NPC students finally began to trickle in one after another. Their “projects” were a bizarre array of things, none of which were remotely normal. One of them included the student who had tattooed his own stomach. Out of curiosity, Li Xin leaned in for a closer look, but the student had been so vicious with the needle that Li Xin saw nothing but a mess of blood.
Teacher Rabbit, however, was extremely satisfied with this bloody “masterpiece,” and immediately inked a 90 on the grade sheet.
As the NPCs filed in one by one—the passing ones looking numb, the failing ones looking hollow—it became difficult to tell whose fate was actually worse.
Once the NPCs had mostly finished, the players who had managed to survive another day in the building finally arrived, tardy. Their complexions weren’t great, Li Feng’s being the most obvious; he was deathly pale, looking as if he’d suffered significant blood loss. Li Xin surveyed him coolly, his gaze eventually resting on the player’s thigh. Judging by the torn fabric of his pants, he had been dragged or clawed by something, with the wound located at the ankle. It didn’t look deep, but it was impossible to tell if there were other lingering effects.
Exhausted, the players just wanted to complete the so-called assessment task as quickly as possible. Li Xin took a rough look—these players had all completed their projects based on the interests they’d listed, but they’d clearly cut corners, making the work look incredibly crude to create the appearance of “not having put in much effort.”
Li Xin wasn’t surprised; he was actually quite understanding. Whether or not Li Feng’s method would work was anyone’s guess. In the City of Wishes dungeon, there was no “optimal solution”; everything was a gamble on a slim possibility. He and Yu Suheng had won their bet; now it was a matter of luck for the others.
The group submitted three pieces: a shapeless mess made from someone’s torn-up bedsheet, a painting smeared with blood, and another work of “wild cursive” calligraphy that shared a similar aesthetic to the blood-stained painting. Li Xin tried to identify the characters, suspecting they were actually using the guise of calligraphy to curse at them.
Just as he was suspiciously staring at the piece that might “harbor hidden secrets,” Teacher Rabbit was already beside them, lecturing them with great dissatisfaction before waving a hand dismissively: all of them failed.
Players: …Does anyone get this feeling? There’s this helpless sense of returning to school for an exam.
The players’ expressions of utter disbelief were too comical. Li Xin gave up on analyzing the calligraphy and stayed on the sidelines to watch the show.
Li Feng, living up to his reputation as a social butterfly, took one look at that hopeless score of 50 and rolled his eyes, refusing to accept defeat. He grabbed the edge of the podium and began to wail. Li Xin noticed he was clutching something in his hand, glancing at it furtively while he sobbed. Teacher Rabbit was clearly annoyed; several times, Li Xin suspected she might throw the whole lot of them out, but for some reason, she never did.
Li Feng, who had discarded his dignity years ago in the school of hard knocks, saw an opening and wailed even louder. Seeing this, Lin Zhuanghong and Liu Heng went all-out too, crowding the podium completely.
Teacher Rabbit’s veins began to bulge.
Li Xin clicked his tongue, preparing to leave the battlefield to them. However, before he could slip away, a hand pressed against his back. Li Xin turned his head, surprised to find Yu Suheng standing behind him.
Li Xin raised an eyebrow, intending to say something, but Yu Suheng’s action not only blocked Li Xin’s path but also caught Teacher Rabbit’s attention. The eyes of the human and the monster met. Teacher Rabbit suddenly broke into a smile, turned, and shoved the grade sheet into Li Xin’s hands.
“Teacher Li, you are the homeroom teacher. Since the students have objections to their grades, why don’t you grade them as well?”
Li Xin: …
Aside from the score he’d forcibly rigged for Yu Suheng, Li Xin had never graded a single student and didn’t want to deal with this sudden disaster. But the fire had shifted, and when Li Xin looked up, he was met with three miserable, long faces. Huh, they’re actually quite funny.
However, Li Xin was known for being impervious to both soft and hard tactics. He didn’t even lift an eyelid at their sob story. Just as he was about to toss the grade sheet onto the table, a voice echoed in his mind:
[Grade them. You still have use for them.]
A flash of surprise crossed Li Xin’s eyes. He didn’t turn his head, merely stopping his movement and pretending to look down and appreciate the eyesore items on the table, while his gaze drifted aside, intentionally or not.
The voice had no extra fluctuations, but it seemed slightly different from what he usually heard. It felt… more real.
Li Xin lowered his eyes, unexpected that such a turn of events would occur, but he adapted quickly to this alternative form of communication. He answered meaningfully in his mind: [Oh… is Student Yu asking me for a favor?]
He didn’t say yes or no. To him, writing a number was trivial, but compared to the risks he’d be taking, he was more interested in seeing this person’s reaction.
There was a long silence in his mind. Li Xin wasn’t in a hurry. He spun his pen once, letting it hover over the form as if ready to write. Liu Feng and the others became instantly tense, terrified that this temperamental NPC might hand out a zero.
[Haven’t decided yet? Then I might just write anything,] Li Xin chuckled. [My dear handsome student, you should know that as a teacher, giving fake grades carries risks. Besides, if an NPC like me inexplicably gives them high scores, it’s very easy to draw suspicion.]
This time, Yu Suheng finally answered: [They won’t be suspicious. Li Feng has a prop that raises NPC affinity.]
The subtext was: The reason it didn’t work for me earlier was because you’re a fake NPC.
Li Xin looked up at the nervous Li Feng and chuckled inwardly: [Then he just has bad luck. But in a place where people are betting their lives at any moment, bad luck is the same as a death sentence.]
Clearly, Li Xin didn’t plan to give in. Just because he’d done a few good deeds over the last few days didn’t mean he was a philanthropist. Yu Suheng had anticipated this result. He had no interest in debating further and asked directly: [Your price.]
[Alright, Student Yu is even softer-hearted than I thought.] Li Xin sighed, but didn’t beat around the bush: [In that case, see you tonight.]
[Fine.]
No more words echoed in his mind. Li Xin looked at the disastrous scores of the group, couldn’t be bothered to calculate anything, and gave everyone a 90. Li Xin forged ahead smoothly, though Teacher Rabbit’s expression was indescribable—her entire face written with doubt regarding Li Xin’s taste.
Teacher Li, whose aesthetic was being questioned by a monster, didn’t care at all. After dismissing the students, he glanced at the grade sheet and realized one name was missing. Looking at the only empty slot on the list, Li Xin suddenly found it interesting. With only five minutes left, Teacher Rabbit also noticed one was missing. She wore a strange smile and said in a tone of feigned pity: “Ah… one student hasn’t finished. But then again, he does have three hobbies.”
“Probably got delayed by something,” Li Xin answered nonchalantly. “In that case, there’s no grade, right? I recall there’s a penalty for that.”
Teacher Rabbit smiled: “Naturally.”
She didn’t disclose the nature of the punishment, but judging by her expression, it wouldn’t be pretty. Unable to pry any more information out of her, Li Xin felt a flicker of pity, but then he thought of something and murmured to himself before lazily sending one last thought into his mind: [Just to be clear, this Feng Hao can’t be saved.]
Not long after, Yu Suheng, whom he thought had already disconnected the link, answered calmly: [I know. You can’t save someone who is hell-bent on dying.]
There wasn’t a hint of sympathy in Yu Suheng’s voice when he said this—it was identical to the tone he’d used when asking Li Xin for help. This gave Li Xin a very strange feeling. It was as if this person didn’t care much about whether these people lived or died; he just happened to encounter them, happened to have a way to help, so he did. If he couldn’t save them, it didn’t matter.
Li Xin’s gaze flickered to Yu Suheng, who was sitting in the corner. His eyes were filled with undisguised interest. In truth, ever since their collision in the infirmary last night, Li Xin had been observing him.
He was certain Yu Suheng recognized him. Although the other party hadn’t initiated the topic, he also made no move to conceal it. Yu Suheng wasn’t a man with a good temper. To test his boundaries, Li Xin had deliberately pushed his luck, making demands that were borderline aggressive. Yet, facing these constant probes, Yu Suheng displayed an “out of patience” expression, but backed down time and again.
It wasn’t because he was afraid of conflict, but because he knew that following Li Xin’s bait would lead him into a trap. Yu Suheng remained wary of all his suggestions, and even Li Xin’s attempts to lead him had little effect. At this point, it was more than just “recognizing” him—the man knew him extremely well.
A man who knew him well enough to play along, yet intentionally pretended not to know him—there was only one conclusion: he was certain Li Xin wouldn’t recognize him.
Why was he so confident?
Li Xin lowered his eyes, giving himself an answer: He knows I have amnesia. And looking at Yu Suheng’s attitude, he likely knew a bit more than that.
Li Xin’s judgment rarely failed him. He spun the ballpoint pen around his long, slender fingers until it landed steadily in his palm. His lowered eyes were contemplative. For some reason, he had a gut feeling that his amnesia hadn’t been caused by Yu Suheng—or at least, it wasn’t something that person had orchestrated single-handedly.
That man was like a guard, standing at a distance neither too close nor too far, watching him. Neither intimate nor estranged.
Keeping at arm’s length.
Li Xin chewed over the phrase. Before he could think it through, he heard a flurry of messy footsteps at the door.
“Don’t come over! Save me!!”
With that hysterical plea for help, Feng Hao crashed into the classroom, his body covered in blood-stained scrapes. Li Xin watched the scene with a strange expression, unable to stop the thought from crossing his mind: No way, he survived that? Who said none of these players have any luck? Isn’t this just proof?
An old man in gardener’s clothes was blocked outside the classroom. He glared sinisterly at his escaped prey. Perhaps realizing the opportunity was lost, he soon dragged his heavy feet away.
Lin Zhuanghong and the others saw the same scene; their expressions were as dark as the bottom of a pot.
“This piece of trash is still alive?” Liu Heng gritted his teeth, his voice low. “Didn’t he get dragged away by that fake cleaner after he betrayed us? And now, after pissing off a gardener, he’s still alive?”
“This guy is loaded with props,” Li Feng frowned. “With his intelligence and strength, if he isn’t the ‘Chosen One’ of the City of Wishes, I suspect he’s got some big backer.”
But annoyed as they were, “Chosen One” or “big backer”—alive was alive. As Li Xin said, in a place where one gambled with their life, luck was part of one’s strength.
In the final minute, Feng Hao submitted his work. He kept his head down, acting guilty and timid as he pulled an item from his pocket and placed it on the podium.
It was a small piece of bone, still sticking with fresh flesh. Patterns had been carved into it with a knife. At first glance, it looked like a miniature model.
But at that moment, no one was paying attention to Feng Hao’s carving skills. Looking at the familiar bone, the players’ faces turned incredibly vivid. Li Xin, in particular, recognized the origin of the bone instantly. He couldn’t help but let out a “ha” and nearly laughed out loud:
He’d seen shameless people before, but never anything this brazen.
As for the owner of the bone… no, the former owner—Liu Heng jumped up, absolutely beside himself with rage:
“F*ck! You shameless piece of trash, isn’t that the finger bone I had smashed off yesterday?!”