January 28, 2021, 7:23 p.m., at the base.
“I’ll go, I’ll go! I’m a foreigner—I want to see what a Chinese high school parent-teacher conference looks like!” Xie Pingzhi shot her hand high into the air, barely containing her excitement.
“No can do. You’d never understand Chinese high schools. I went to Hebei Hengshui myself, so I’ll go.” Yan Zhao slammed her pen down on the table with a sharp crack, her argument airtight. She was quite looking forward to seeing Xiao Ye’s progress in chemistry at the conference.
Xie Pingzhi wasn’t one to back down. She shot back immediately, “Hengshui’s nothing special! The Netherlands gets called Europe’s Hengshui, but even they snap to attention and salute when Germany comes up.”
“Heh, you didn’t even study in Germany. Besides, someone with romance on the brain shouldn’t set foot on campus and lead the kids astray.”
“Don’t slander me! I’m just dropping off some fish for Zhong Qing at the Alchemy Department!”
“Did I say that person was Zhong Qing?” Yan Zhao arched an eyebrow.
“I’m pretty curious about this parent-teacher conference myself. If I get the chance, I’ll do my best to be a good parent.” Zhou Xianhui sat apart from the skirmish, sipping her hot tea with a warm, gentle smile.
Ye Jingqiu—known as Xiao Qiu to her friends—was nearing the end of her first semester as a high school senior. The parent-teacher conference loomed as the final hurdle before winter break.
In years past, Classmate Xiao Ye had gone alone, and even Homeroom Teacher Xu, her nominal guardian, had hated to say much. But now things were different. If Teacher Xu hadn’t insisted—repeatedly—that only one parent was needed, the entire Team One would probably have piled into cars and raced over in high spirits.
Which was why they were now arguing over who would attend the meeting the next morning.
Oh, and “they” didn’t include Captain Shi.
Captain Shi had always been aloof, avoiding people unless absolutely necessary. For her, holing up in the Training Room all day was probably the better option.
So everyone had silently struck Shi Zui from the list of candidates.
Xie Pingzhi and Yan Zhao were still locked in a heated debate over “Europe’s Hengshui,” while Zhou Xianhui smiled serenely over her tea, content to let them wear each other out. But Ye Jingqiu, fresh from school, had a strange look on her face. She cautiously unfolded a sheet of paper, calling a halt to the war without a single shot fired:
“Um… maybe you should all look at my report card before deciding if you want to go?”
“No problem at all, Classmate Xiao Qiu! I’d go no matter what you scored!” Xie Pingzhi was the first to rush over, thumping her chest with solemn conviction. She even shot Yan Zhao a sidelong glance to needle her rival. “Unlike some people who always obsess over rankings and scores… um?”
Xie Pingzhi froze mid-sentence.
Yan Zhao sauntered over at a leisurely pace, smirking. “What’s the matter, Xie Pingzhi? Didn’t you say you’d go no matter what… um?”
Their eyes lingered on the report card for what felt like ages, turning them to stone. Ye Jingqiu stared at the ceiling, and the living room plunged into silence. Shi Zui, who had been quietly turning pages nearby, suddenly found the room blissfully quiet and glanced up at the pair.
It was a long while before Xie Pingzhi hesitantly read aloud the numbers: “174, 895, 26379… is this the number to call for score checks?”
Ye Jingqiu shrank back into the room a little, clutching the report card, utterly mortified. “That’s the score.”
“…”
Ye Jingqiu clutched the report card tighter and explained in a tiny voice: “So, Chinese, math, and English are 17, 4, and 89. I slept through half of chemistry, but I still got a 79—that’s progress!”
Xie Pingzhi struggled to keep her voice even, but the flood of questions burst out anyway: “Okay, Chinese at 17 is one thing, but how did you get a 4 in math???”
Yan Zhao crumbled. “What do you mean ‘Chinese at 19 is one thing’? This isn’t something you can just shrug off!”
Ye Jingqiu quivered. “I slept through both. Chinese was just random bubbling on the answer sheet, and math was only one fill-in-the-blank.”
Yan Zhao, the specially invited tutor, felt like weeping. “So this time you’re still…”
Ye Jingqiu coughed twice. “Dead last.”
The room fell deathly silent; no one dared make a sound. After what felt like an eternity, Xie Pingzhi, Yan Zhao, and Zhou Xianhui whipped their heads around in unison, their gazes locking onto Captain Shi—who sat apart from the chaos, quietly watching the spectacle.
Shi Zui: “……What?”
~~~
Winter crept in gradually, and Shanghai’s temperatures dropped without fanfare. The campus shrubs no longer gleamed with summer’s vibrant green; only the pines and cypresses beneath the teaching building stayed lush and evergreen.
The winter midday sun lacked its usual glare, and the classroom curtains hung open. Sunlight glinted off the Senior Year Class 3 plaque on the glass. Homeroom Teacher Xu Qinghe stood at the podium, calmly underscoring the importance of winter break.
“So, you still nodded off the moment you stepped into the exam room?” The parent-teacher conference had ended, and Shi Zui turned to her sullen little teammate beside her.
Ye Jingqiu, slouched in the seat next to her, sneaked a glance at the captain. “Yeah… but I’m never sleepy when I’m doing homework.”
Shi Zui nodded. She was methodically sorting the test papers on the desk—categorizing question sheets and answer forms, even arranging the homework by subject. It stood in stark contrast to Ye Jingqiu’s habit of just folding everything haphazardly and stuffing it into her bag. The sight made Ye Jingqiu feel a twinge of guilt.
“Your psych test results from last week were normal, so it’s probably not a physical issue,” Shi Zui said as she clipped the papers together. “Don’t stress—we’ll narrow it down step by step.”
According to Ye Jingqiu, exam rooms held some strange power over her. The instant the bell rang, an uncontrollable drowsiness washed over her.
When Xie Pingzhi first heard about it, she’d been horrified and dragged Ye Jingqiu straight to a psychologist, terrified that school had triggered some mental health crisis.
But it didn’t seem to be that.
Ye Jingqiu let out a long sigh, her tone laced with worry. “Gaokao’s only half a year away. I hope I don’t sleep through the whole thing.”
Sometimes she felt like a bizarre contradiction: dead set on studying hard for Gaokao, yet utterly unable to stay awake during the exams themselves.
Xie Pingzhi had suggested transferring to an overseas branch instead. The base had a handy entrance at Lake Michigan, after all, so she could even commute back to 209 at night. Ye Jingqiu had given it serious thought before deciding to heed her inner drive and keep grinding away at her textbooks.
She just hadn’t expected the grind to produce nothing but naps.
Ye Jingqiu felt like bursting into tears, her profound sadness a secret buried deep in her heart.
The parents had trickled out until nearly all were gone. With the area deserted, Shi Zui pondered for a moment. “Falling asleep uncontrollably during the exam? It sounds like the fallout from triggering some condition—or maybe it’s tied to the elements.”
Ye Jingqiu blinked in surprise. Before she could muster a response, the homeroom teacher—who had somehow finished seeing off the other parents—approached her with polite deference. “Ye Jingqiu’s sister, do you have a moment later?”
Sister?
Ye Jingqiu stood there in a daze, but Shi Zui was already on her feet, giving a gracious nod before strolling out with the teacher.
The captain seemed utterly at ease with the title.
Ye Jingqiu thought to herself, not for the first time, that the captain truly handled everything with effortless grace.
Once outside the classroom, Shi Zui and Teacher Xu came to a halt. Xu Qinghe wasted no time on small talk, blurting out her concerns. “Xiao Qiu’s sister, how has Xiao Qiu been doing at home lately? She slept through nearly every one of her final exams. Is she just fed up with school?”
Shi Zui shook her head. “No issues there—she’s been diligent at home. As for the sleeping, our neighbors have been pretty noisy lately. It might’ve disrupted her rest.”
Loteria and Yan Zhao next door bickered in small spats every three days and full-blown rows every five. Captain Shi’s offhand excuse rang true enough.
Teacher Xu let out a long breath of relief. “That’s a relief, that’s a relief. Ever since Xu Xianyue took medical leave, I’ve been so worried about Xiao Qiu. I even suggested pairing her with a new deskmate a while back, but she refused and insisted on sitting alone.”
Shi Zui paused, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected to hear Xu Xianyue’s name from this teacher after nearly half a year.
Xu Xianyue, rescued from the Golden Hall, remained in a bizarre state—like she’d been forced into absolute hibernation. Her body temperature and metabolic rate hovered at the brink of death.
Few dared touch Autumn’s instinct potion; even agents of Shi Zui’s caliber suffered brutal side effects. As for why Ye Jingqiu had only shown brief alcohol-like intoxication after taking it, the Base still had no answers.
Xu Xianyue was still asleep in a Life Pod in the Instinct and Ability Department. Ye Jingqiu visited her often. The Base had told the school that Xu Xianyue was unwell and needed to take leave; she’d been moved to a distant relative’s home to recover.
Teacher Xu rambled on about Ye Jingqiu’s situation for a good while. At the end, she sighed with sudden emotion. “Xiao Qiu seems to get along with everyone, but I’ve always felt like she wasn’t truly happy. Thank goodness she’s finally found her family now.”
When handling Xiao Qiu’s household registration update, Shi Zui had borrowed Yan’s name, claiming to be the daughter of Ye Jingqiu’s mother’s old friend—someone who’d spent years searching before finally tracking her down.
Sensing the deeper meaning in those words, Shi Zui nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of her.”
~~~
By now it was nearing noon. School maintenance staff were repairing classroom wiring in preparation for sealing the campus for the holiday break. Many rooms stood empty, and the once-bustling grounds had fallen quiet.
Scattered groups of parents and students dotted the paths, heading home. Shi Zui and Ye Jingqiu walked side by side toward the parking lot, chatting idly about winter training plans.
“Sounds a tad busier than summer break?” Ye Jingqiu tugged at her backpack strap. “Sigh. I hope the teachers are right about college being a breeze—hey! Captain! What are you doing?!”
Shi Zui snatched Ye Jingqiu’s backpack and pinned down her little teammate’s every attempt to wriggle free with one hand. “Carrying your bag. It’s what parents do.”
Ye Jingqiu followed the captain’s gaze and spotted plenty of parents lugging thick stacks of books for their kids. She gave a helpless laugh. “Those are the star pupils cramming for winter break sprints. My bag’s not heavy!”
“Next time you say that, hide the evidence first.” Shi Zui pointed to the red welt on Ye Jingqiu’s right hand, offering a friendly nudge. “Otherwise, your protests won’t convince anyone.”
“Still no! I’m an adult! Captain, give it back.” Ye Jingqiu flailed for the strap, mortified at the thought of burdening the captain like this.
Shi Zui dodged with a casual lift. “An adult of eighteen years and three months?”
Ye Jingqiu fell silent, resorting to her final plea. “Captain, I can carry it myself. We’re not exactly a normal parent and kid, after all.”
Shi Zui halted, turning with a puzzled echo. “Not a normal parent-child relationship? What’s so abnormal about it?”
Ye Jingqiu: “…”
Don’t ask questions like that with such a straight face, Captain!
After some futile struggling, Ye Jingqiu tried a gentler tack. “We’re not blood-related…”
“So your rule for who can help you is blood ties?” Shi Zui hummed thoughtfully, neatly twisting her little teammate’s words.
Aether had lately grown adept at parsing her speech patterns, but cat-teasing progress remained stalled. Captain Shi had regretfully shelved that pursuit for skill-building—only to stumble upon a familiar thrill with her little teammate.
Yeah, it fit perfectly.
Defeated, Ye Jingqiu hung her head. “Captain, that’s not what I meant. You know you’re my guardian.”
Shi Zui nodded. “Good.”
She showed zero signs of handing the bag back.
In a fit of frustrated spite, defeated student Ye Jingqiu lashed out. She glanced toward a distant classmate. “Look, my classmate and her parent are still tugging and holding hands over there! You’re not gonna copy that too, are you, Captain?”
Shi Zui’s sharp ears caught the scene. She glanced over and let out a soft chuckle. “Of course I can. But are you sure you want me to?”
Ye Jingqiu froze. She’d banked on the captain’s personality—expecting a frown after one look, letting her seize the verbal high ground and snag her bag back. But the captain was smiling?
Just then, the tussling pair began drifting their way. Faint sobs reached Ye Jingqiu’s ears.
“I don’t wanna go to cram school! Let go! Waaah!”
“No way—you signed up for it yourself!”
Ye Jingqiu: “…”
Miscalculation. She’d forgotten the Primary Department was holding parent meetings today too.
Shi Zui: “So, want your backpack back now?”
“Nope.”
Ye Jingqiu was overcome with grief and fury. She jabbed a finger at the pine tree and cried out in despair, “I don’t want to live anymore! Come on, drop a pinecone and smash me dead right now!”
No sooner had the words left her lips than a pinecone came crashing down with a thud.
The Will Ring’s Rampage Value suddenly shot up, the numbers spinning wildly before finally settling on a three-digit figure.
Shi Zui came to an abrupt halt and locked eyes with Ye Jingqiu. The exact same realization dawned on both of them at once.
Ye Jingqiu fought to contain the thrill bubbling up inside her. Gazing tentatively at the pine tree, she said, “How about one more, just to test?”
In that instant, the branches rustled, and another pinecone dropped with a plop.
Ye Jingqiu: “!!!”
Her Word Manifestation—it seemed she could use it without limits now!
