Chapter 17: The Mourning Bell

The room fell silent in an instant. Shi Zui swiftly withdrew her right hand, abandoning any pretense of upholding her so-called communication principles.

She forced a calm tone. “You can get up on your own.”

But Ye Jingqiu proved just as shameless as Aether, slumping fully onto the floor with a feeble voice. “I have no strength left, Captain. Help me up?”

She had finally glimpsed the captain’s true nature! Xie Pingzhi had been right after all. The captain might seem cold and distant on the surface, but she actually cared a great deal about her teammates!

Ye Jingqiu had never spent time around someone as aloof and tight-lipped as the captain, so over the past few days, she had been quietly probing ways to overcome her instinctive fear. Little did she know she wouldn’t need to anymore—the captain was no different from Teacher Xiao Xu or A-Xie. In some ways, she was just as approachable.

Shi Zui felt heat rising to her face, as though she were back on that day when Ning Wan had caught her playing with the little cat—a prickling sense of embarrassment she just couldn’t shake.

She strove to keep her voice steady and normal. “Get up yourself.”

Yet to Ye Jingqiu’s ears, it carried a hollow bluster. She lay there comfortably on the ground, firm in her resolve.

“No!”

“Get up yourself.”

“I need the captain’s help.”

“Yourself.”

“I need the captain’s help.”

Shi Zui went silent for two seconds, chalking up Ye Jingqiu’s sudden cheekiness to her own shortcomings as a guardian figure.

There was an old saying about give-an-inch-take-a-mile. She had been too lenient with Ye Jingqiu these past few days, and now the girl had plunged headfirst into rebellion.

Without a second thought, she activated her Wrist Ring and fired off a quick message to someone, her tone turning frosty in an instant. “Fine. Then stay down.”

It was the picture of a parent who had reached the absolute limit of their patience and decided to wash their hands of it.

Ye Jingqiu’s heart skipped a beat. She caught a whiff of something ominous—an air of “judgment.”

She scrambled to her feet in a flash, slipping into a practiced expression of remorse, eyes downcast as she tried to salvage the situation. “Captain! Captain, I was wrong!”

Shi Zui let out a cold chuckle. “Too late.”

“I’ve already asked Aether to deliver some review materials to the Alchemy Department. Yan Zhao will come pick you up shortly.” The captain took a step back, her face an emotionless mask as she issued her ultimatum. “By six o’clock this afternoon, you have to finish two full sets of test papers.”

Ye Jingqiu: …She had overplayed her hand.

Captain! How could you be so heartless!

~~~

Five hours later, in the acting minister’s office of the Alchemy Department.

Yan Zhao leisurely unrolled a sheet of parchment.

These scrolls, soaked in lime water and put through processes like scraping, drying, and polishing, were exquisite. The finest ones—vellum—allowed quill ink to bloom with the rich, saturated hues of an oil painting, making them the perfect medium for preserving knowledge.

European nations had begun using them for legal documents around the third century, but Western Awakeners had employed such animal-skin paper far earlier. Alchemists inscribed the secret histories of battles between Awakeners and Exotic Beasts onto them in cipher, then sealed them away in Silver Boxes so future generations could study the Elemental Weapons used to hunt those beasts.

The Alchemy Department housed hundreds of these little boxes. Unfortunately, the Western ciphers were notoriously cryptic, often laced with ancient Hebrew or Latin, which gave even the department’s scholars splitting headaches.

Yan Zhao was currently translating one such secret history. Awakeners often took up specific hobbies to soothe their Rampage Values, and as a northerner from China who had studied abroad before awakening her Instinct and joining the base’s Alchemy Department, she found the task entertaining. With her fluency in multiple languages, Department Head Yan treated translation as a delightful pastime.

But to Ye Jingqiu, who sat beside her with a furrowed brow, it looked like an insurmountable ancient riddle.

“Sigh.”

Another heavy sigh escaped her lips. With the six o’clock deadline looming ever closer, Ye Jingqiu fidgeted like a little old man fretting over his fate.

She feared the captain even more now. In her mind, she had lumped Shi Zui together with Homeroom Teacher Xu, tagging them both as T0-tier “untouchable terrors.”

Amused, Yan Zhao set aside the steel pen she had used for years and turned to the despondent Classmate Xiao Qiu struggling with her worksheets. “Are the Shanghai Gaokao questions really this tough? You’ve been at it all afternoon, Classmate Xiao Qiu.”

Ye Jingqiu slumped in defeat. “But I really don’t want to do them, Teacher Yan.”

“There’s no huge issue if you decide to skip the Gaokao altogether. You could always study abroad for a degree—and the base has branches in countries all over the world.” Yan Zhao had long seen through Xiao Qiu’s facade. “But you’re not truly against it, are you? I get the sense this is more of an obsession for you.”

“It’s not the Gaokao itself,” Ye Jingqiu replied. Sensing the shift toward a counseling session, she set aside her hefty stack of 53 Test Papers, leaned back in her chair, and twirled her pen.

Yan Zhao tucked her own pen away and prompted her. “Then what?”

“A longing for that kind of school life?” Ye Jingqiu pondered. “The Gaokao feels like the period at the end of that journey—like the ancient imperial exams.”

She patted her head, her tone turning unconsciously wistful. “Ugh, I don’t even know what nonsense I’m spouting. Maybe it’s some subconscious urge? Like the compulsion to slay Exotic Beasts with my own hands.”

Yan Zhao picked up on the odd note in Xiao Qiu’s voice. When she had said that last bit, her expression had bordered on regretful.

So what exactly was she regretting?

Yan Zhao tamped down her curiosity and seized the moment to steer the mood back on track.

“The base’s Anniversary Banquet is just two weeks away. The Administrative Department has already started setting up in the Ceremony Hall.” She pointed at the blank test paper in Ye Jingqiu’s hands, dangling a carrot. “Why not get the translation done before Captain Shi comes to pick you up? I’ll take you around tonight.”

“Thank you so much, Teacher Yan! I’ll dive right in after a quick breather.” Ye Jingqiu flopped face-first onto the desk, rolling her cheek against the 53 Test Papers before letting out a long, mournful wail. “I hate Qin Shihuang! Why couldn’t he have lived a few more years and unified the whole world?”

If only there had been uniform tracks and scripts, she wouldn’t have to bother with English, Japanese, or French!

“Every language has its own beauty,” Yan Zhao said, switching tactics to appeal to higher values now that threats and bribes had failed. “And every context brings its own interpretations.”

“Hm?” Ye Jingqiu perked up, drawn in despite herself, and let out a curious hum.

Yan Zhao thought her strategy had achieved initial success, so she simply grabbed Xiao Qiu’s exercise booklet and pointed to one sentence. “For example, this one actually has lots of possible translations.”

Ye Jingqiu followed Yan Zhao’s gaze to a line of small print at the bottom of the 53 Exercise Book page: no one but you.

It was the title of a song by some Canadian singer—romantic, in a way.

Yan Zhao tapped the page, her tone encouraging. “If it were you, how would you interpret this sentence?”

She looked at Ye Jingqiu, hoping the girl might catch a glimpse of the language’s beauty and nuance.

But the soon-to-be senior thought for a few seconds and gave the interpretation that fit her own context best: “The whole class was super quiet, but you were the loudest.”

Yan Zhao: “…”

Impervious as ever.

“Do the problems,” Yan Zhao said expressionlessly, rapping the desk. “You’re staying put tonight.”

~~~

July 22, 2020—the Greater Heat.

At seven in the evening, darkness hadn’t fully settled over the base’s space, but lights like flowing lumens had already been switched on throughout.

Ye Jingqiu stood with Shi Zui in one corner of the ceremony hall, waiting for the event to begin. The base she’d grown familiar with over the past half month felt like it had shed its skin; she couldn’t recognize a single inch of it.

The ceremony hall, prepared by the Administrative Department over two weeks, now exuded a grand and elegant air. Somber black solid-wood floors gleamed, reflecting the countless massive crystal chandeliers overhead. The walls bore famous works copied by base members—oil paintings that preserved vivid colors while concealing odd symbols.

Tonight marked the base’s anniversary banquet, celebrating its founding. Aside from a handful of Action Division agents stuck on duty, most members could enjoy a leisurely dinner before kicking off one of the year’s rare five-day holidays.

These people worked year-round, after all, in a manner of speaking. Even if someone was lounging on a beach during a statutory holiday, a beep from the Will Ring would yank them right back.

No wonder A-Xie’s eyes had lit up at the mention of time off.

The banquet had no dress code, but plenty wore formal attire, ready to show off a little on the dance floor. Exotic beasts, however, didn’t pick their days to cause trouble. Ye Jingqiu had every reason to believe that the moment Aether raised the alarm, these agents—who’d been toasting and laughing one second—could draw their waist knives and sidearms the next, high heels or evening gowns in hand, and charge through the teleportation gate.

Ye Jingqiu had simply slipped into an Action Division custom uniform. A shiny tin badge gleamed on her left chest, embossed with eight gold characters:

Action Department Team One, Ye Jingqiu.

It gave her a rare sense of belonging.

“A-Xie and Captain Shi said they’d be back tonight, right?” With the official banquet time approaching, Ye Jingqiu scanned left and right but saw no sign of the people she’d anticipated for half a month.

Welcoming music still played in the hall—light melodies from clarinet and piano. Not everyone had arrived yet, leaving the space somewhat noisy. So Shi Zui tilted slightly toward her little teammate. “Nine PM flight. They’ll probably get in around eleven.”

“That’s pretty late,” Ye Jingqiu said with a smile, swirling the red-wine-like liquid in her cup—the orange juice Yan Zhao had just handed her. “Won’t they miss the banquet?”

Shi Zui nodded but said nothing more.

Their corner of the ceremony hall fell quiet once again, adrift in a sea of hushed conversations. Ye Jingqiu stole a glance at Shi Zui. Was it her imagination, or had the captain’s mood been softened a bit by the base’s festive air? She didn’t seem quite so icy tonight.

Ye Jingqiu wasn’t sure anymore if what had happened last time at the Instinct Department lab door had been good or bad.

On the positive side, the captain had grown even stricter with her since then. On the negative? During this half month’s training, she’d clearly felt herself growing closer to the captain.

Couldn’t figure it out.

She let out a deep sigh, realizing she still had a long way to go when it came to dealing with her “successor guardian.”

Minutes from the start, the screen at the center of the auditorium slid slowly open. Amid the bustling crowd, Administrative Department members tinkered with projection gear pulsing with elemental aura. Anniversaries always opened with the Base Leader’s address, but Ying Tian was away on business and would have to appear remotely.

That’s when Fang Tingling arrived, steps hurried as if searching for something. Ye Jingqiu waved frantically. The usually gentle Fang Tingling gave her a quick greeting before hurrying over to Shi Zui. The two bent their heads in low conversation.

Ye Jingqiu caught a whiff of something off, but before she could ask, the distant screen finished its brief test. Administrative Department Minister Sanjima waved toward it. The symphony wrapped up, and the chatter dropped like a receding wave, leaving utter silence.

Showtime. A poised elderly man with a ramrod-straight back appeared abruptly on the screen. The hall held its breath for two seconds—then erupted in applause.

Ye Jingqiu’s attention snapped away. She clapped along in a daze, reading unspoken reverence on the faces around her.

The applause tapered off, but the members’ enthusiasm hung thick in the air. Ye Jingqiu spotted Yan Zhao and Loteria standing nearby, everyday expressions set aside as they watched the elder intently.

Base Leader Ying Tian smiled, his black hair impeccable. He wore a finely tailored pure-black suit, its stand collar accentuating long, distinct lines, a golden daisy pinned neatly to his chest pocket.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Ying Tian’s words came with a smile, his deep, resonant voice rolling through the hall in waves, carrying an oddly soothing calm.

But the instant he spoke, the elder seemed to remember something.

He turned abruptly toward one corner of the ceremony hall, teasing, “Oh, and this year we add ‘children.'”

Good-natured chuckles rippled through the room. They knew he meant the new arrival, Xiao Qiu—they’d gotten a basic sense of her over the past half month.

Ye Jingqiu wasn’t the timid type. She met the glances head-on and laughed along, her fondness for the old man shooting through the roof.

Ying Tian’s gaze swept back over the hall’s members as he withdrew his look and began his address, slow and steady.

Ye Jingqiu listened quietly, peripheral vision lingering on Shi Zui and Fang Tingling, still whispering in the distance.

The room remained deathly silent, every member’s gaze locked intently on the screen as if frozen in place. In the distance, the grandfather clock’s hour hand crept forward slowly, its brass gears meshing without a sound, while no one paid any heed to the passage of time.

In the blink of an eye, the opening ceremony neared its close. A relaxed smile spread across Ying Tian’s face as he pressed his hands downward lightly and spoke in a cheerful tone:

“Then now, it’s time to welcome the 113th year we’ve spent together.”

The atmosphere in the hall surged to a fever pitch. The symphony orchestra struck up once more, brass and percussion igniting a lively rhythm. Even the base members, usually so serious or cautious, held their breath, their eyes drawn irresistibly to the countdown on the screen.

Ten, nine, eight—

Shi Zui, Loteria, Minister Sanjima, Yi Fengyan, Ying Tian… the Will Rings of the Center Group members vibrated three times in rapid succession at the exact same moment.

Seven, six, five, four—

Ying Tian, visible on the right side of the screen, frowned slightly.

Three, two, one!

The gears ground to a halt, the hour hand pointing squarely at the number eight.

“Dong—”

But the bell toll rang out before any cheers could erupt.

Dull and ponderous, it evoked the low, mournful chant of a pastor at a dismal twilight.

The entire venue fell utterly silent. In that final second, everyone stifled their celebratory shouts and stood frozen, staring as one toward the window where the Mourning Bell—unrung for four long years—tolled once more.

Three somber strokes, proclaiming Death.

Fang Tingling was the only one in the hall to react. Her worst nightmare had become reality; decorum forgotten, she clutched desperately at Shi Zui’s shoulder, trembling as she choked back the sob rising in her throat.

The elderly man on the screen gripped the microphone and let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m terribly sorry, but tonight’s Anniversary Banquet must be paused for now,” said Ying Tian, his voice laced with sorrow now that he knew the truth. “We have tragic news: one of our friends has passed from this world.”

An inexplicable dread washed over Ye Jingqiu once again, her heart suddenly pounding like a war drum.

On instinct, she glanced down at the message on her Will Ring. The small text seemed to drip with fresh blood:

“Action Department Ninth Combat Team Captain Shi Wen, Death.”