Chapter 6 A Brief Bloom

I walked up to Ye Xinran. Although what had just happened between us left a trace of awkwardness, I had no other choice if I wanted to complete this game.

“Class monitor, could you do me a favor?”

Ye Xinran looked a little puzzled, her cheeks still tinged with a faint blush.
“What is it?”
“Do you like flowers?”
“Huh?” She looked at me, confusion written all over her face.
I gave an awkward laugh. “I mean, do girls generally like flowers?”
She nodded. “I suppose so. Girls tend to like beautiful things.”
“Thank you.” I offered my thanks and left her desk.

Next, I walked over to Fatty. His real name was Zhang Wenhui, and he was the quintessential homebody.

“Fatty, I need your help with something.”
“What’s up?” He closed the anime he’d been watching and seemed a bit reluctant.
“You must have the school’s top ten beauty rankings, right?”
“What?!” Fatty blurted out, looking nervous.
I smiled. “Don’t be so tense. I just want to know out of curiosity.”
He nodded, then pulled me over to his side and whispered in my ear, “Tong Yang, I didn’t expect you to be a kindred spirit!”
Damn, what kindred spirit? Well, honestly, who doesn’t like pretty girls? Does that make us kindred spirits?
Pah!
Hell! He’s dragging me into this.

“Quick, just tell me!”
Fatty gave a lewd grin, disassembled his phone case, and pulled out a folded piece of paper, pressing it into my palm. He looked around warily. “Just make sure you give it back to me later.”
“No problem!” I hurried back to my seat and unfolded the paper.

Holy crap! Fatty was really something. Not only had he ranked the ten beauties of the school, but he had also matched each one to an anime heroine.

The first name I saw was Ye Xinran. Fatty had written:
“Ye Xinran, neither too distant nor too warm, has the poise of a true leader as class monitor, with a delicate and lovely face, comparable to Haruhi Suzumiya—only Fuko Ibuki can match her!”

Damn, who’s Haruhi Suzumiya?
But then I noticed something that made me laugh—Fatty actually used flowers as metaphors for each girl. No wonder his language grades were so good!
It was perfect. This was just what I needed.

I kept reading. When I reached the entry for our homeroom teacher, I was stunned.

“Chen Xiaoya, a paragon of virtue, strict yet gentle, her mesmerizing figure unmatched. Sadly, she’s completely impervious to advances, and many despair at her indifference. She is like the red spider lily—beautiful yet always alone.”

The corresponding anime character was Kikyo.

The red spider lily?!
I hadn’t expected Fatty to rate the homeroom teacher so highly, using the most tragic yet stunning flower as her metaphor. It was a bit dramatic, but a fitting comparison nonetheless.

But one more entry caught my attention.

“Art teacher Lin Jue’er. With her graceful form she paints wildness from her heart, inciting both fear and attraction—an immortal black rose in the night, best compared to Konan. But alas, this flower is already claimed!”

After reading it all, I returned the paper to Fatty and went back to my seat, deep in thought.
Fatty’s analysis was unique—he compared each girl to a flower and an anime heroine. It may have been a little far-fetched, but there was some truth to his comparisons.

Maybe Fatty was right after all?

Red spider lily, Chen Xiaoya, the homeroom teacher?

Bzz, bzz, bzz...

My phone vibrated.

[Half an hour left...]

I recalled my recent encounter with the homeroom teacher. That look of sorrow—was it the pressure of teaching seniors, pushing her to the brink? Was she struggling to cope?

It was possible. If it was even remotely possible, I had to pay attention.

But then again, she had just conducted a psychological survey for us. Surely she wouldn’t break down before us, would she?

Speaking of that survey, I wanted to take another look. Earlier, I’d only noticed a few students who’d been marked with an “X,” but the identities didn’t match up.

Just then, a classmate burst in, shouting, “Something terrible happened! Someone tried to kill themselves!”

What?!

I leapt to my feet. “Who?!”

“The art teacher, Lin Jue’er, she... she...”

“What happened to her?” Fatty sounded even more anxious than I was.

“She’s in the art room, she’s... she’s...”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I dashed out of the multimedia room, heading straight for the art studio!

I had no idea how fast I was running—if this were gym class, I’d have passed with flying colors.

When I reached the art room, a crowd had already gathered. I squeezed my way in, just in time to see the art teacher’s white blouse stained with blood, her wrist wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage.

A few people from the infirmary were carrying her out on a stretcher.

Other students sat on the floor, pale with fright—these were kids preparing for the art entrance exam, probably scared out of their wits.

I went up to one of our classmates, Liu Yan, who was also preparing for the art exam—she’d know what happened to the teacher.

I grabbed her hand. “Liu Yan, what happened?”

She flinched at first, then, recognizing me, relaxed.

“Teacher... she was just teaching us, talking about how to paint something that stuns everyone, and then... then she just...”

She broke down, covering her face and sobbing.

I looked at the others—most of them were crying, clearly traumatized.

Suddenly, a classmate marched up to Liu Yan and shouted, “It’s your fault, Liu Yan!”

Other students joined in, blaming her before storming off.

I didn’t pay them any mind—I was more focused on the art teacher.
This didn’t fit the game’s rules. The game said “jumping off a building,” but the art teacher had slit her wrists. Was she going to jump as well?

I was suddenly thrown into confusion by this unexpected twist.

But something still felt off.

The crowd began to disperse, and my phone vibrated again.

[Twenty minutes left...]

The bell rang for the next period just as I was checking my phone.

I couldn’t go back to class—if I did, what if someone tried to jump?

Then I remembered—the art teacher had been taken to the infirmary. If she was going to jump, she might do it there!

So the art teacher was still the most likely candidate.

I hurried to the infirmary and peeked inside. The art teacher was lying on a bed, receiving a transfusion. Then I went up to the roof.

The infirmary wasn’t tall—just four stories—but falling from that height was more than enough.

I stood on the roof and scanned the other rooftops. No one was there.

I checked my phone. The countdown ticked on, my heart racing faster and faster.

I started composing a text with my answer, but I knew I couldn’t afford to be wrong—there was only one chance. A mistake would mean failing the game.

But if I answered nothing, that would also be failure.

Panic threatened to overwhelm me.

I forced myself to calm down and reorganize my thoughts.

A captivating flower...
The most stunning things often bloom but briefly...
The red spider lily?

Suddenly, I sent a text to Ye Xinran.

“Class monitor, are you in the classroom?”

She replied quickly: “Tong Yang, where are you? The homeroom teacher’s furious—you’d better get back to class!”

Her message was a relief—a class period was forty minutes, and both Ye Xinran and the homeroom teacher were in the classroom. That ruled them out.

Then who was it? Was it really the art teacher?

No, it couldn’t be—there had to be a detail I’d missed. It wasn’t the art teacher!

A captivating flower...

[One minute left...]

Who was it? Who could it be?

I stood and scanned the rooftops, but with one minute left, no one was in sight.

I had even typed out the answer: Lin Jue’er.

But as I did so, the countdown texts kept coming in.

Suddenly I realized—what if the art teacher chose a building other than the infirmary? Even if I saw her, it might already be too late!

I bolted down the stairs—four floors in just thirty seconds!
I even passed someone on the way down. Afraid it was someone from the infirmary, I covered my face and avoided their gaze.

[Thirty seconds left...]

I rushed into the infirmary and saw the art teacher lying on the bed. My heart plummeted.

It wasn’t the art teacher. Then who?

[Twenty seconds left...]

Suddenly, I noticed a slip of paper beneath the art teacher’s hand.

I hurriedly picked it up and began to read.