Chapter 7: Stealth Through the Archives

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[Ten seconds left...]

Written above: Teacher, I understand what you meant now—the most captivating flowers often bloom only for a fleeting moment, presenting themselves to the world in their most vibrant hues...

Bang!

As I stared at the note, something fell outside the infirmary window. In my field of vision, a figure flashed by, dropping from above and landing with a muffled thud.

My hands trembled as I looked at the bottom right corner of the page. The name written there was stained red by the art teacher’s blood, but the letters were still clear—Liu Yan!

The moment I saw that name, all the details I’d overlooked suddenly came into sharp focus.

That sense of something being wrong—it was all about the details I’d failed to notice!

[Game Over!]

The note fluttered to the floor as the art teacher regained consciousness. Her face was pale as she looked at me, a hint of bewilderment in her eyes.

I ignored her confusion and asked, “Teacher, did your injury have something to do with Liu Yan?”

Her gaze wavered, but she answered, “Liu Yan is very talented in art. Isn’t the art college entrance exam coming up soon? I encouraged her to create impressive pieces. She didn’t let me down—she produced a few good works, but none were truly stunning. Not until this morning did I realize that her paintings were actually...”

“She used her own blood as paint, didn’t she?” The teacher faltered, and I finished her sentence.

She looked at me in astonishment. “How do you know?”

“I also know you didn’t try to take your own life. You were accidentally injured trying to take Liu Yan’s art knife away...”

As I spoke, the art teacher grew anxious. She grabbed my hand and pleaded, “Tong Yang, since you understand, please, I beg you—don’t tell anyone. It would ruin Liu Yan’s future!”

Her future?

I gave a bitter, hollow laugh. What future? In high school, what future is there to speak of?

“Teacher, even if I don’t say anything, the other art students will, won’t they? Besides, Liu Yan, she—”

“What about her?” The teacher’s grip on my hand tightened, a clear sign of how much she cared for Liu Yan.

“She jumped from the building.”

The teacher’s hand loosened its grip. Her eyes shimmered with tears as she murmured, “Why? Why couldn’t she see a way out?”

I glanced at the teacher, then turned to leave. As for the crowd gathering outside, I had no interest in them anymore.

Arriving at the office, I found it nearly empty due to Liu Yan’s incident. I located my homeroom teacher’s desk and found the previous psychological survey forms.

As expected, Liu Yan’s form was marked with an “X,” and beside it was written: “Depressive tendency.”

I could picture Liu Yan slashing her own arm with the art knife, using her fresh blood as pigment to create the most captivating paintings.

To fulfill the art teacher’s expectations, she omitted all other colors, using only her own blood—until the teacher stopped her.

But no one had expected that in the end, she would still complete her most beautiful work with her own blood, a painting that also claimed her life.

“The most captivating flowers often bloom only for a fleeting moment, presenting themselves to the world in their most vibrant hues...”

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I looked at the prompt on the screen and sighed.

In the end, I’d fallen into a trap of my own making.

The most captivating flowers bloom only for a fleeting moment—wasn’t that the very instant Liu Yan’s body struck the ground?

Presenting themselves in the most vibrant colors to the world...

Liu Yan had used her own blood to make everyone remember her, to remember her final, and most profound, work.

From the very beginning, I’d been wrong. I thought the captivating flower referred to the school beauty, and compounded by Fatty’s description, I became even more convinced.

But I hadn’t realized that this clue pointed only to an ending, only to a single piece of art.

Death continued to harvest lives mercilessly at my side, and I still hadn’t managed to stop it even once.

I didn’t know how to describe my feelings—should I be glad that I wasn’t the one who died, or should I mourn the fact that I failed to prevent yet another death?

But I am no god. I am no savior.

That sense of helplessness washed over me once more.

No! I can’t just give up like this. If I do, the next to die could very well be me. I can’t die!

Since this game chose me, I have to see it through to the end!

I pulled myself together and thought it through. If I wanted to beat this game, I’d have to understand it first—its rules, its secrets.

Maybe the Student Council’s archive room held some clues.

With that thought, my gaze landed on the class monitor, Ye Xinran.

Today was Friday, and tomorrow was Saturday. Normally, seniors would have extra classes, but the Student Council was exempt—perhaps this was my opportunity.

After class, I found Ye Xinran. She seemed surprised that I’d sought her out, but still followed me outside.

“Monitor, could you do me a favor?”

I didn’t really expect her to agree, but it was the only way I might get access to the Student Council archives.

“What kind of favor?”

“I want to check out the Student Council archive room.”

“Alright. After school, just follow my lead!”

I’d expected Ye Xinran to be surprised, maybe even to scold me, but to my astonishment she agreed—not only that, she said she had a way to get in.

While I stood there in disbelief, Ye Xinran had already headed inside.

At that moment, Fatty Zhang Wenhui sidled up, his eyes leering. “Tong Yang, not bad! You and the monitor, huh? When did that happen?”

“Get lost! We were just discussing study matters!” I shot him a glare.

But Fatty kept at it, “Is that so? Well, let me warn you, the monitor is Li Moran’s girl. You’d better not get yourself into trouble!”

Li Moran? I truly couldn’t stand that guy, always throwing his weight around as Student Council President.

After school, I did as Ye Xinran had instructed and waited beside the Student Council building. I waited over an hour. The school had all but emptied out, yet there was still no sign of Ye Xinran.

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I was baffled! Ye Xinran didn’t seem the type to play games.

Just then, my phone vibrated. A chill ran down my spine. Wasn’t it supposed to be once per day? Why now?

I quickly checked my phone. The screen read: [Who told you to wait at the front door? We’re going in through the back!]

The message was actually from Ye Xinran! I instantly relaxed.

Pocketing my phone, I quietly slipped around to the back door of the Student Council building. There was no one in sight.

Puzzled, I checked my phone again—yes, the message had come from Ye Xinran.

At that moment, I saw a group of people emerging from the back door. I hurriedly hid myself among the overgrown shrubs nearby—fortunately, the landscaping here was so neglected that it could easily conceal me.

I peeked at the group as they left and saw that Li Moran was leading them.

What was Ye Xinran playing at? Had I really waited here all this time only to run into Li Moran?

If I hadn’t reacted quickly, I would have been caught red-handed!

Was Ye Xinran setting me up?

I was about to leave when I saw Ye Xinran appear. She glanced around at the back door, probably looking for me. I quickly emerged from the shrubbery.

“Why are you only just now getting here?” I complained as soon as I approached.

Ye Xinran rolled her eyes. “Those people hadn’t left yet—if we’d gone in, it would’ve been a death sentence!”

“No more chit-chat, let’s go!” Without another word, she pulled me inside through the back door.

The empty Student Council building echoed with nothing but our footsteps.

The atmosphere was unnerving.

Ye Xinran whispered, “The archive room is on the third floor. Li Moran and his group have left, but who knows if they’ll come back. You need to hurry.”

I nodded.

Ye Xinran led me to the archive room door and whispered, “Wait here. I’ll go get the key.”

I nodded in agreement.

Through the window, I could see row upon row of files—my head throbbed at the thought of searching through them all.

As I mulled over my options, there was a soft click.

The door… opened on its own.

I heard the sound of the lock turning and quickly called out to Ye Xinran, who hadn’t gone far, “Monitor, no need to fetch the key.”

With that, I reached out and twisted the doorknob.

Click.