High school students set up for Halloween Party where trick or treats happen..

Leonie is a student writer and the vice- president of their school’s literary club where she already published diverse creative fiction and nonfiction output. That summer, their school opened a competition about writing a story- blog where it will be followed by the school’s students and others who find the story very powerful. The student who will win the competition shall be given full scholar for the coming school year. With the power of the quill, she will write a story where she could change her life.

The language learning course which tested the ability of the students' minds to read, and comprehend a certain text, acknowledged the variety of literary pieces across the world, expressed one's sentiments, and viewpoints through creative writing, and gave up a speech to the public with a required self-confidence and charisma had conquered the class of Yeats.

"English Time!" a classmate exclaimed.

"Ugh. Why on earth..." Noah said, lying her head onto the armrest.

The teacher had arrived with her male student who assisted her to carry on her stationery materials and left afterwards. 

She expressed her warmest greeting to the class, "Good morning, everyone."

"Gooood Morningggg, Ma'am Rhea," the entire students responded in dullness, deliberately prolonging the words.

"Again, good morning, Yeats."

"Good Morning, Ma'am Rhea! We are happy to see you today!"

The teacher nodded, and commanded them, "Okay, you may now take your seats."

"So Yeats, in this period, we would be having an activity, and I'm sure you would definitely love to hate this one."

The students plastered a counterfeit grin on their faces as they listened to their teacher's introduction. It looked as if their incoming task would be an "easy yet a lazy job" for them.

"You will be composing an original poetry! Isn't beautiful? A form of art of regurgitating all your personal experiences, feelings, aspirations, and showing off your ideals and visions of the world around us by using a piece of paper and a pen. What lies ahead of our future? Who shall be the one to pass this on for the next generation. It's only you, the young ones. As our beloved national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal quoted, 'The youth is the hope of our nation'," Ma'am Rhea Azuela dramatically spoke, and her fists were firmly closed.

Everyone groaned with the exemption of Ma'am Rhea whose energy was trying hard to somehow radiate the entire classroom.

"Hmm... Okay, you only have two options: To create or not to create. My role as a teacher is simply taking down of your grades and morals in your report card. If you want a failing grade, why not? I'll give it to you. Other than that, what does youth always say? You only live once, eh? So, I won't stop you from not submitting your requirement," Ma'am Rhea shrugged.

"Anyways, for those who wished to conform to the task, listen up. Before you start writing, I would love to give a bit of a background about our today's lesson. I'm sure most of you familiar with them. We've known different lyrical poems, epic poems and etcetera. Now, I'll ask you. What is haiku? Anyone?"

"Just give me a gist of it."

Students were staring at each other's eyes, and no one dared to speak. Few were looking at the white board. Most were avoiding an eye contact from their instructor. Some of them were gaping at the outside of the room. Ma'am Rhea whined and continued.

"Guys, you have to talk. Remember, this is an English class. You have to hone your communication skills. How are you going supposed to learn if you don't utilize your mouths? Ha? Come on. No answers are wrong in language. It's more on thoughts and ideas that we should express. You should be engaging more on interaction. And pretty please, let's help each other out. Don't leave me hanging guys, Okay?"

"Now, any thoughts from this group?" she asked, looking at the first row. Ma'am Rhea was about to choose her lucky victim when one of her students raised her right hand, "Ma'am."

"Yes, Miss? What do you think? What is haiku?"

"May I go to the comfort room?" the wench replied.

Some of the senior high students were retaining their soon-to-be-bursted laughter. Ma'am Rhea sighed, and said, "Yes, you may."

The young lass stood up straight, and said, "But, If I am not mistaken, haiku refers to a five-seven-five syllable count in a one three-phrase stanza. It is also originated in Japan."

"Again, thank you for your permission, Ma'am."

The schoolgirl went to the school comfort room, leaving the entire class in amusement. Ma'am Rhea snapped her fingers to get back her little ones' focus.

"That's my girl! She got it right. Finally, someone saved you from danger, eh?" the teacher cunningly grinned, and the student were then relieved. 

"And since this is a surprise activity, you need not to compose a haiku. Still, it is included in your quarterly exams. Instead, I challenge you to write a poem. Freestyle. Whether you want to have your piece that consists of a rhyme, or a regular meter. It's up to you. Make sure it has three stanzas. Do you understand me, Yeats?"

Dassah lifted up her hand up, and called, "Ma'am."

"Yes, Miss Dassah?"

"What would the topic be about?" the student asked.

"Hmm... Good question," Ma'am Rhea nodded, and began considering a great theme for her class's written poetry. Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped up. She smiled and responded to her student.

"It should be based on your personal experience. For example, your bonding with your family and friends. Maybe you want to write about your life as a student, and whatsoever. The sky's the limit."

"So, any questions?"

The class replied, "None."

"Okay. You may now start. And please let me check your composition before the bell rings whether it is done or not. I'll give a plus point and a secret award for those who could create a finished piece," Ma'am Rhea announced, and sat down on her chair to relax her voluptuous legs.

"Ma'am, what is the reward?" one man asked.

"It won't be confidential anymore, if I'll tell you, mister," she said.

The students proceeded writing on their mandatory art work. Creative juices were flooding up inside of their right brains. Tearing papers were echoing everywhere in the section. Loud mental groans from every school teens dominated in the class. Frustration mixed with determination to make a possible masterpiece were obviously transparent on their hopeless faces. Dassah who eventually ended her write-up stood up from her armchair, and submitted it to her English teacher. 

Ma'am Rhea was impressed, and took her ample time to read her three-stanza poem. As she perused Dassah's work, she smiled in delight.

"Miss Quinn."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"I have a dumb question," the instructor said. She glanced at her unknowing student in mischief, and continued her talk.

" Are you in love?"

"NO WAY, MA'AM," Dassah yelled at her teacher. Her classmates instantly shifted their gaze at the two. She became flustered, and softly spoke, "Umm... Sorry, ma'am. I was just shocked. But, no, I am not, ma'am."

"And what makes you think that I'm uh..."

Ma'am Rhea replied, still smiling, "In love?"

Dassah slowly nodded in embarrassment,"Uh-huh."

"It's just my assumption. It seems the message of your poem conveys about a clichè romance like this love at first sight kind of scene. Ah. Reminds me of my first young love,"  Ma'am Rhea Azuela said, feeling the nostalgia of her past teen era.

"And, what's even more interesting is that I instructed you to have a poem that talks about your life encounters." Dassah's teacher continued.

"Then, I thought I might be wrong, so which is why I asked you."

Dassah again nodded as an abiding servant, and the English teacher spoke again herself, "So, mind if I ask you the story behind this piece of yours?"

"Um... Sure, Ma'am. But, it already says it all," Dassah said.

"It's basically this. I met a guy at a convenience store, and I did not forsee anything that we would see each other for the second time around. And for me, I was happy it happened for the both of us."

Ma'am Rhea could no longer hide her squeals, and let it out without any reservation.

"Oh, ignore my giggles. The story was too cute. But hey, Miss Quinn. This is your prize," she commented, and gestured her to move closer. Dassah came near to her instructor in obedience.

"You'll present it to the other class."

"Ma'am?!" Dassah exclaimed in terror.

"Shh... Don't tell anyone," she warned the young lady.

"But, but..."

Ma'am Rhea smiled, and said, "You may go back to your seat, Miss Quinn."

Dassah heaved a sigh of defeat, and move herself back to her armchair.  Floating her countless regrets of submitting her poem, the young lady had enough of the trap, and let the situation sail by itself.

Dassah Quinn had left no choice but to stay with a perfect stranger. Yearning for someone who would help them get out of trouble and leave the olden storage room is her gleam of hope. 

In the course of incarceration, Dassah unexpectedly entailed herself in a scheme of discerning the nondescript man, One One.

"It's a good phenomenon, a good phenomenon indeed. It's considered as progress in our education industry. We should support this." Principal Wei was grinning from ear to ear. He continuously praised Principal Meng of Ping Cheng High School.
This was because he knew that the more he praised Principal Meng of Ping Cheng High School now, the greater Principal Meng would fall from grace when the results of the college entrance examination were out.
One could not blame him for doing so. For the sake of his school and students, he could only do that.
Furthermore, he was not the one who asked Principal Meng to gamble it in that way.
In the next year's college entrance examination, Principal Meng had Qiao Nan and Shi Qing, these two good seedlings. This point alone would be sufficient to make Principal Meng happy for a year. 
"Thank you." How could Principal Meng not know that Principal Wei's words were contrary to his thoughts and he was digging a hole for him to fall into? It was just that, at this juncture, he could not say anything. He had to wait for the results to be out. "No matter what, we should dare to try. Humans have to progress."
"Hahaha, fine then. I'll see Principal Meng again. I'll go and check out other schools." Having finished his words, Principal Wei did not intend to remain in this school. He wanted to find out the situation of his students in other schools.
"See you again." Principal Meng nodded and sent Principal Wei off with his eyes.
After Principal Wei left, the form teacher by Principal Meng's side then asked nervously, "Principal Meng, do you think this matter…" Principal Wei was up to no good. He said all that as he apparently did not look up to their batch of college entrance examination candidates this year.
"Alright, clearly, everyone is aware of the situation between the two schools. If he really looks up to our Ping Cheng High School, that'll be as surprising as seeing ghosts in broad daylight." Principal Meng was also on pins and needles.
However, regardless of how unsettled at heart he was, the situation was already cast in stone. He had already placed the chips for this huge gamble. After today, most of the examinations would be over. He could not even regret it if he wanted to, let alone feel uneasy.
"Principal Meng, will there be a surprise?" The form teacher quickly took out a handkerchief. He was wiping it hard on his forehead and face continuously. 
The heat from the sun in the summer of July was very strong. The temperature outside was so high that it could literally boil someone alive. The form teacher who was already troubled and vexed had to listen to the sound of the cicada continuously chirping. He felt so annoyed as if he had a ball of entangled wool in his heart. 
Within a short time, the clothing of the form teacher was so drenched that they were plastered on both his chest and back.
"Alright, I've already done my best in this matter. We'll have to leave the rest to destiny." Principal Meng gave out a long sigh. "We have already kept a very tight rein on this cohort of third-year students. Basically, the teachers have given them all the revision that they could. If we continued to let the form teachers hold the ford in the last seven remaining days, the outcome of the revision would be as such. Even if the outcome is not pleasing, actually, it has nothing much to do with Qiao Nan."
Principal Meng had certainly gambled and he took a huge one. Nevertheless, he was not doing it haphazardly.
At the end of last year, the school had already completed teaching the curriculum of the third-year students. They had already begun with the revision thereafter.
In terms of the revision content and momentum that the subject teachers could give to the students, they had done their utmost. It could be said that if Qiao Nan did not help the third-year students spot questions in the remaining seven days, the subject teachers could not make much of a difference either. These seven days could completely be given to the students for self-study to discover what else was lacking and make up for it.
It was just that, when one suddenly heard that the last critical seven days before the college entrance examination was handed to a second-year student, they felt that it was both unbelievable and unimaginable.
The problem did not lie with time. Instead, it was the identity of Qiao Nan as a second-year student.
"Right, right, right. What the principal said is correct." After the form teacher wiped away the sweat on his head, he thought about it and agreed. If they had not encountered a situation such as Qiao Nan's case, those last seven days would have been arranged by the students themselves. Compared to the revision situation in the past few years, there was not much difference.
"Alright, let's also change to another school to observe the situation. You've seen the results of Qiao Nan's third-year examination papers. I still feel that there is no issue to let Qiao Nan spot the questions. Eventually, we have to see how the students perform on the grounds. It'll be fine as long as no major incidents occur."
Said major incidents included a panic attack that caused students to have insufficient time to attempt the questions, heatstroke, or the students deciding not to attempt major questions.
If these situations did not occur, regardless of how poor the students did this time, it would not be worse than before. At most, they would maintain the same standards.
"Yes, Principal Meng's words make sense. Let's go to another school to take a look." The form teacher felt more assured now, but Principal Meng's tightened brows had not fully eased.
Whether his earlier words were a consolation to himself and the form teacher, or the truth, only Principal Meng himself knew.
The three days of the college entrance examination were truly torturous.
Not to mention that it was terrible for those who participated in the college entrance examination, even their family members at home were nearly driven mad by the hot weather.
There were many who went into the examination hall standing but came out on the stretcher, or vomited and felt dizzy immediately upon leaving the hall.
The weather in July was really terrible. The college entrance examination was also terrible. The combination of the two was extremely terrible.
"Ah, you're not worried at all?" Shi Qing, who was at home, just moved a little and her whole body felt drenched as if she had just come out from the waters.
Qiao Nan paused her writing and rolled her eyes at Shi Qing, who was hoarding the entire fan. "Please, your house is next door and not here. Are you addicted to being lazy? If you really want to stay at my house, fine, bring over the fan in your house!!!"
Shi Qing had been standing in front of the fan and she did not let the fan oscillate. Would Qiao Nan not feel hot?
"Slow." Shi Qing continued to enjoy herself by standing in front of the fan. "I've already hogged it for five minutes and you only discovered it now. So, actually, you'll be fine without the fan. You won't feel hot if you're calm at heart. It's so troublesome to move the fan to and fro my house. I'll perspire so much if I move again. It's too horrible."
"You're not as focused and you're still blaming it on others?" Shi Peng was off work and did not go home first. Instead, he came to the house of the Qiao family to pick his daughter up.
In actual fact, after Shi Peng took on the job in the government sector, to Shi Qing, there were not many changes in her life. At most, she was now sleeping in another bed.
As for her meals, she continued to settle them at the house of the Qiao family.
In terms of cooking, Shi Peng knew a little but not much. Furthermore, Shi Qing and Qiao Nan normally stayed in the school. It was quite troublesome to cook for himself.
Hence, when Shi Qing and Qiao Nan were in school, Qiao Dongliang had an additional meal buddy, namely Shi Peng.
At the sight of the situation, Qiao Nan rolled her eyes with displeasure.
True enough, these two were biological father and daughter. They had the same temperament. Was it that the meals in the Qiao family were extremely nice, or the meals in other people's house were always nicer to the two of them?
"Dad, I'll get some water for you." Upon seeing Shi Peng, the filial Shi Qing immediately went to the kitchen to get a cup of water for Shi Peng. She then wrung a towel after soaking it in well water and passed it to Shi Peng for him to wipe away his sweat.
Facing his daughter's filial behavior, Shi Peng accepted it smilingly. He slowly finished his water.


Qiao Nan: Crap! I am your biological daughter, yet I am treated as if I was picked up from the streets. In fact, you treat me worse than that!

Mother Qiao: Qiao Nan, you are not as pretty or smart as your elder sister. You are not as blessed as her. You have no right to study, marry, or to have your happiness!

Qiao Nan: Why am I not allowed to study, marry, or to seek my happiness? I will find a man right now and marry him!

Qiao Nan is dumbstruck upon discovering that the man right beside her is a powerful figure in the quad—the person who has the most promising prospects to be the future Chief.

Qiao Nan stares at the well-built man in front of her. He has firm abs and cold, chilling eyes. She swallows the lump in her throat as she says her greetings, "Good Morning, Chief!"

December 31, 2019

Fuck. It's just that tonight, I just felt that my high school life in my science school is really ending in just 3 months. I'm happy but sad at the same time, because I won't get to see the usual people that helped me through my darkest times. 

I just studied in that school for only 2 years, and I didn't get to be close to the other people who I find to be interesting. Fuck. Why do I suck at socializing? Why do I freeze when I speak to people? I can't do this anymore. It's my ego that's destroying my life. 

Throughout my 18 years of existence, I always had my ego to be pessimistic, leading me to play safe in all things. To beat my fucking ego is my goal to upcoming decade. This pessimistic whore is always trying to make me think negative things all throughout my course of life. My ego always gave me fucking insecurities which I don't deserve. 

I hate my life. As far as I'm typing this chapter, I began to realize how introvert I have been in front of the students of my school. I didn't even show my funny and confident side. I can't even approach them and ask questions that have been stuck in my head. Shit, shit, shit. What a mess I've done this 2019.

It's hard to leave a solid impression in front of many people in my last year, because there's only 3 months left. I didn't even had time to myself to confess to my crushes. I didn't even manage to spoke to some of my crushes through my 2 years time frame in this school. Fuck. Why are these running in my head all over again? Why am I procrastinating my brain cells in this last day of 2019? What have I done in this decade.

Shit, hopefully this book will have its deserved recognition in the future. This book is the only optimistic thing that my ego has done for me. Not to brag, but I sometimes look up to myself when I became popular in the future. I always imagine what I look like in front of many magazines like Time, Forbes, etc. I wonder how it feels like to be interviewed by various talk show personalities like Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy Fallon, and James Corden. I wonder how does it feel to be in the podcast of Joe Rogan talking inspirational shit about my success, or maybe, I'll be in Ted Talks. Ahhhh, why is it so cool to be famous and highly honored person.

I'm a big dreamer and I always think to myself on ways of achieving success. I really have to work hard into it. Everytime I check out YouTube, I always find it curious on how YouTubers became famous and popular. I often watch their old videos and see how they sparked into success. I saw one YouTuber that has only one popular video, but it led into a domino of success.

Everyday, I always say to myself to never give up and pursue my passion. Writing this book is an example. Even though I'm sleepy as fuck now, I still force myself to pursue and finish this chapter with a good last paragraph. To be honest, my last chapter was terrible. That "just kidding" thing is just a random thing that pops out in my brain.  

I can't believe we are a few hours away from 2020. To be honest, I see this decade as a year of growing as a full human. Of course, for a 17 year old boy like me, this kind of growing comes in physically also, but the mental and emotional part really hit me hard. Man, I'm so glad I got to undergo on the additional 2 years in my Filipino curriculum (K-12), because it lead me to meet people that thought me great life lessons. I even acknowledge the people who I made a little conflict with, because they're the real ones that slap me to reality. They taught me how to be a human without hurting other people's feelings. 

Man, I lowkey love this world. This makes me truly believe that there's a Creator in this universe that controls our way of things in life. It's perfect. Sometimes I get downs, but sooner, I came to realize that "Wow, thank you Lord for giving me this shit. It created a character development within myself."

As 2020 fast approaches to our door, I just want to acknowledge all the things that happen this 2019. Man, it's been a tough year for me, especially to the person I talked about last chapter. Let's just call her Jennifer (not her real name). Jennifer gave me joy that was missing in these past few years of my existence, but she also gave me despair that I never felt in my junior high school life. In fact, she became one of the reasons that inspires me to write this book. She's the woman that made me realize to pursue my passion more. Sadly, she's also the one that broke my heart. 

Nevermind, let's move on. I don't wanna talk shit about her, because I don't want to make her look "antagonizing" in this book, because that's not what she used to be. Maybe, we only had a few misunderstandings that even I didn't manage to realize it. Past is past, and we should not linger to it. I'll just open up about her soon if I'm in the mood of writing into it. Right now, I just wanna enjoy my last 2019 with my 2% phone together with my chill bed. 

I'm glad that this decade will end smoothly. Thank you for giving me friends that I didn't expect to be a big blessing for me. Thank you for the pain and mistakes that happened to me, hopefully it won't happen to me in the next decade. I never expected to have this rollercoaster decade (right now, I mean it literally).

What's up 2020? Bring. It. On.

The daily adventures of Greg, a lazy procrastinator who is battling against his anxiety and depression.

The commotion of the new semester turned into a ruckus after a few days, which had then turned into chaos in the span of the first month. That is to say, nothing had changed at all during this entire month. Being in charge of first graders on her third year as a teacher proved to be a challenge for Hee Yeon Kim, but for reasons she could only describe as &quot;complicated,&quot; she had been forced into this difficult task. To say that her experience was lacking was a gross understatement, and it was near impossible for her to manage the ruckus that the first graders were creating. As such, it became somewhat of a routine for the teachers of adjacent classrooms to intervene and suppress(?)* the children of Class 1-3. Perhaps it was thanks to that, or perhaps the children had simply grown accustomed to school after a month, but they had reached the point where they would calm down just enough for class to start. Hee Yeon had to settle for that. Nonetheless, as soon as breaktime started, the children would resume their chaotic commotion, filling the halls with their voices as Hee Yeon sat next to the window, her head in her hands in an attempt to withstand it all.

'If only they had gym class all morning long…'

But if that were the case, then she would have to be on guard, looking out for potential injuries, which would then cause even more of a psychological strain on her. In her current state of mind, however, she wished for nothing more than to escape from all the noise. When she looked up towards the classroom again, she realized that she had to say something.
&quot;Jihoon, you can't stand on the desk. You'll get hurt!&quot; She warned in her strictest tone. &quot;Heejin, don't get so close to the window! Get down from there! There, in the back! Stop running! What if you fall over?!&quot;
Even in the midst of all the chaos, she couldn't help but notice one of her students sitting quietly, in the middle of the row next to the windows. He had become the talk of the school due to his good looks, and he was the one exception in this classroom of constant cacophony. The boy was always reading. He mainly read textbooks, but sometimes would bring in children's tales from somewhere and read those. During class he would always look at her with bright eyes, listening so intently to what she said that she felt almost awkward under the pressure, but it was thanks to him that she felt proud and satisfied to be a teacher. After all, there wasn't a teacher alive who disliked diligent students.

The boy paid no mind to his teacher's rather open observation of him and just kept on reading. He was quite happy with his current lifestyle. The classes taught him new things every day, satisfying his intellectual curiosity, and every day, the knowledge he gained from his textbooks surprised him. Reading and reaching an understanding of the material in the textbooks, regardless of the curriculum, filled the boy with an almost euphoric kind of joy. This was especially true for afterschool math class, which made him feel jittery. He derived an immense sort of satisfaction with every problem he solved correctly, and as his knowledge increased, he almost felt as if he could organize his thoughts concerning his confusing circumstances.

Just as the boy was about to immerse himself in the joy of studying, someone tapped his shoulders. When he turned around, he saw that it was Jihoon. Though only a month had passed since the start of the new semester, Jihoon already stood out from the rest of the class. To put it nicely, he was a very lively child, but in reality, he was closer to a menace. He could not bring himself to sit quietly during lessons, sprinting out of the classroom to go to the restroom (and if the teacher chased after him, he would always run away with a huge smile on his face, as if he was enjoying a game of tag), and during break time, he would jump from desk to desk, like an action maniac who delighted in the thrill and excitement of dangerous activities. He was also very creative, always coming up with new ways to make the girl who sat next to him cry. All this caused the other kids to practically line up to join Jihoon in his &quot;games,&quot; and he had become infamous within the parents' SNS chatrooms. However, being the only son of a prominent family, no one could really touch him, only increasing the frustration of the victims'(?) parents and homeroom teacher.
This same Jihoon had just approached the boy, apparently nominating(?) him as the next victim, but the boy simply looked at him wide-eyed as if he didn't know what was happening. Jihoon had his back to the group of students who followed him and looked down at him. &quot;They say you look like a plaster cast,&quot; he declared arrogantly. What did that even mean? &quot;My mom saw my sister's drawing and she said it looked like you. That's what a plaster cast is. You're plaster.&quot;

The boy went blank at Jihoon's words, confused at the utter lack of context.

Jihoon was actually referring to a bit of a hot topic among parents for a brief period of time. During the entrance ceremony, the parents had discussed the boy's outstanding looks, and someone had mentioned that he looked &quot;statuesque.&quot; Following this comment, the parents of a student preparing for art school had brought up &quot;Julian,&quot; one of the plaster cast busts used as a drawing model. Of course, parents quickly fell into a typical SNS conversation, adding that their own children were just as pretty, or whose children had better looks, but it appeared that their talks of plaster casts had reached Jihoon's ears. However, being completely unaware of this whole situation, the boy sat there dumbfounded.

&quot;He's plaster face now.&quot; Said Jihoon again, almost triumphantly. At these short, nonsensical words, the students began to clap and laugh uncontrollably. Perhaps the boy's blank expression and reaction had somehow struck them as funny. Following this relatively small incident, the boy had gained the nickname &quot;plaster face,&quot; and when Myeong-su, who was in the classroom next door, found out about this, it became his nickname at the institute as well. When the teacher heard of this, she thought it was rather cute, but she was also concerned that the boy's feelings were hurt by the nickname. It wasn't uncommon for children to feel upset at nicknames they did not like and lose their spirits.

However, the boy paid no mind to it, partly because he wasn't sure whether &quot;plaster face&quot; had enough of a negative connotation to feel upset over it, and partly because he thought it was better than what they had called him back at the peasant town. They had taken to calling him &quot;scrofa**&quot; due to the fact that he scavenged in the forest all day, or just &quot;boar.&quot; Rather than being compared to a pig, covered in mud and oinking all around the place, he preferred being compared to plaster.

****

With the approach of summer, the weather had reached the point where the impatient few had already begun to wear short sleeves outside. Volunteer workers still visited the institute every so often, now that the tough weeds sprouting through the lawn of the yard had grown enough to injure to the children. Though they were promptly eradicated by the volunteers, the teachers still had to warn the children to not go into the grass.

&quot;We'll be off!&quot;

The elementary schoolers shouted out as they got off the institute's van, cheerfully waving to the teacher sitting in the driver's seat. Among the children walking to the gates of the elementary school were the two first graders, Myeong-su and the boy, one third grader, one fifth grader, and two sixth graders. The sixth graders were very composed within and without the boundaries of the institute, and the third and fifth graders followed their every step. True to his status as a carefree, energetic first grader, however, Myeong-su ran into the school grounds, dragging the boy by the hand. The older children did nothing to stop them. Rather, they looked wholly uninterested, their steps seemingly much heavier than those of other students. But Myeong-su was too excited to pay attention to such things, and he just kept on running with the boy, who ran along like a leashed puppy. Though it looked like the boy was forcing himself to go along with Myeong-su, he was actually having just as much fun. He had recently discovered the existence of the school library and was ecstatic at the thought of feasting upon the mighty(?) collections of books within. The fact that all the children from the institute took the van to get to school meant that the boy always arrived before his classmates. Once in the classroom, he left his bag at his seat and headed straight to the library.

&quot;You're first again.&quot; The librarian had just started to open the library, and the boy greeted her, a gleeful smile on his face. &quot;You can go right ahead.&quot;

Having been granted permission, the boy bowed once again to the librarian, who was making her way towards her desk, and ran into the library. The musty scent of the books that had collected overnight filled his nose, and it almost felt sweet to him. He chose three books to read for that day, all relatively thin. His knowledge and comprehension were still not advanced enough for him tackle thicker books, causing him to always reach for the thinner books, meant for the younger students, without caring for their content. Such books mainly came out in series, so he had made it a habit to just go through the books series by series. Though the boy might have been unaware, children's books were not necessarily limited to just biographies and fairy tales, but also included illustrated classical literature and economics, which were enough to satisfy the boy's thirst for knowledge. Thanks to this, he had been able to catch up on his past seven years of no education and quickly learned about the systems of this world, as well as the social environment he was in.

He was also able to fully concentrate on books because they provided an escape from all the sadness and despair that came from being thrown into a completely new society and lifestyle. Or rather, he had no choice but to fully concentrate on books. His memories of the past still haunted him, no matter how much time passed.

****

Once the teachers' morning meeting ended, Hee Yeon went back into her classroom. Her students, who once seemed like water in hot oil, now felt like powder filling up a lidless blender. Though she had no way of knowing when the blender would turn on and scatter the powder everywhere, things were under control as long as she kept a watchful eye on the switch.
Because classes had not started yet, the switch seemed to be half pressed already, though the students attempted, if only a little, to quiet down when the teacher had walked in. Only Jihoon, apparently still in hot oil rather than the blender, spoke loudly to his friend, while the rest of the students remained in their seats and murmured to each other. The children had no way of knowing that their collective murmurs let to a very loud ruckus. Only one student, called 'plaster face' by the other kids even though he looked more like a 'Julian,' paid no mind to the noise and silently read his book. After almost a full semester of knowing him, Hee Yeon thought that he was possibly in the school's top ranks when it came to concentration and attitude towards learning, and though he hadn't stood out that much at the beginning of the semester, he had started to show great improvement in writing composition and math. When the teacher in charge of the afterschool classes spoke to her about the boy, complimenting him greatly in his skills, Hee Yeon's expectations of him had grown even more. Looking at him now, reading his book, it was hard to imagine that he was from an institute.

Just then, the bell rang out, signaling the start of classes.
&quot;Well then!&quot; Announced Hee Yeon. &quot;We'll begin class. Do you know what's for first period?&quot;
&quot;Family learning!&quot;

Hee Yeon smiled despite herself. The students seemed like small birds all singing together. Then she met eyes with 'Julian.' Though she was unsure when it had started, she definitely felt that family learning classes drained her the most, especially when looking at those eyes, filled with such sorrow. The teacher of three years couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt whenever she met those eyes, and she didn't even know why.

&lt;The New Semester (1)&gt; End

*(?) – this is often used when the word used before it conveys the connotation the author wants, but is not fully accurate. For example, teachers likely helped calm the kids down and maybe reprimand them, but they didn't actually physically suppress the students.
**scrofa – from Latin &quot;scrofa,&quot; it literally means &quot;sow.&quot; Typically used to refer to female pigs used for breeding.

A boy who was living an ordinary life in another world suddenly came to the present world.

Social systems, way of life and morals... They have all changed.

How will the boy try to survive?

What kind of life will the boy live?

'Uncle Vinnie, am going to school tomorrow,' Khalayi quipped at the breakfast table. Uncle Vinnie looked at her with a face that seemed to read 'it was about time young lady'. Relieved by her decision, Uncle Vinnie left the breakfast table abruptly to inform the school about the status of her education. Khalayi had attempted to stop him from fussing but he declined by stating that he might as well be done with the preparation before she could change her mind. The week had been one of tug as Uncle Vinnie tried to convince the stubborn 17-year-old to get back to high school and get done with her final year. The 1st term of her final high school year had just begun. Even though she could be considered smart, her school attendance could not be ignored.
 His greatest fear was that her wealth would get into her head at one time and she would decline her school work. Her self-drive impressed him and even though her company wasn't the best, he never had to worry about her grades and school activities. She was among the top 3 students in her school, captain of the football team, and secretary of the Art club. She had won several awards in creative writing. Her only flaw was her assertiveness that reared its head once a while. This had led the school to consider entrusting her with a position as a student leader, to tone down her assertiveness which was applied mainly against the school administration. It was a school custom that tried to curb down trouble-makers by absorbing them as student leaders. Generally, student leaders were never liked due to the fact that they had to side more with the teachers and less with the students. A sort of 'divide and rule' tactic replicated in a tiny system that shapes the workforce.
At one time she had questioned her history teacher about the foundation of the education system which seemed to replicate the colonial master's system. She brought up things like slavery and a colonized mind to question the school leadership system. According to her, absorbing trouble-makers as a student leader was similar to how the colonial masters absorbed some natives as superintendents or chief that reported to them about fellow natives. The teacher was incensed by her inquiry and description. Her opinion was cruelly shut down and branded as a form of rebellion. Another time she argued about the chronological facts of a bible story that her teacher presented, stating that the teacher's fact did not coincide with those in the bible- leaving the teacher livid. All these argumentative episodes were silently suppressed because she was quick to point out that it was an educational discussion and could not be termed as a case of indiscipline. As a result, this and other discussions never made it to Uncle Vinnie's and her grandmother's ears.
To Uncle Vinnie and her grandmother, she was a bubbly and kind girl. However, to the teachers and students, she was a tiny terror sent to torment them. Her innocent looks did not coincide with her energy and sharp tongue. Her two weeks of absence from school had relieved them and they even hoped she would not show up that year. The headmistress felt a headache coming up once she received Uncle Vinnie's call. Her hopes of a peaceful year were dashed. It is just one year, one year of facing off with the little trouble maker. The little episodes of arguments with the teachers, bullying, and incitement of students had not passed her unnoticed. She had had to change the school menu, renovate hostels for students considered of a lower cadre and change the grading system for reasons such as classism as a result of her incitement. The arguments were packaged in a manner that sounded convincing to parents and philanthropic to Uncle Vinnie. Who could believe her if she stated that Khalayi had done it out of boredom and a desire to rile the administration?
To the students, she was an unpredictable tyrant. At one time she was sweet and friendly; other times she was a bully. For her, as long as it suited her situation, you could be a friend or foe, even if the situation was something as shallow as getting a tick out of bullying someone. Her current target was Nasike, a quiet girl who got out of everyone's way and just wanted to live peacefully. That was the order of the day, before the accident and before Nastanje happened. Nastanje relegated this priority to the back of her mind in the 2 weeks that she had been trying to figure her way around all this mystery. She actually liked Khalayi, it was like reincarnated into a character she had never unleashed because her world could never accommodate it. Without the power and money to back her up, she always had to tow the line. Having parents and 5 siblings, she could not afford to add to her parents' trouble. Any form of argument no matter how logical would have been packaged as a rebellion that deserved punishment where the minimal would have been a suspension and the maximum an expulsion. But now, now she had the environment and the opportunity to unleash the wildcat within.
Khalayi's wish wasn't spectacular, just for her to live to the fullest. To live as the person, she always wanted to be, without regret. Nastanje thought it was the easiest wish someone could ever ask her to fulfill. 
'Ah, youth, youth, youth, youth, youth….'  Khalayi kept murmuring, exhilarated. A backpack was strung on her back and a suitcase dragged through the school gate, glasses covering the naughty glint at the corner of her eyes. She smiled innocently and coolly, disarming the teacher on duty and her class teacher who had been standing by the gate watching the students pour in. The relaxed teacher abruptly jumped into an alert mode seconds later after seeing the smile. That smile was never a good sign, not a good sign at all. The teacher exclaimed in his mind. 
'Let's work hard together during this final year, Sir', Khalayi quipped after greeting the class teacher. The teacher hoped it was school-work work hard and not activism-work work hard. The previous three years had not been enough to steel him through the kind of antics the student he loathed and liked at the same time pulled.

Dull, boring, routine do-gooder. 
'No, am not talking dirty with you now because am in the office and i look innocent and everyone thinks am a good person'
Reincarnated in her doppelganger's 19 year old body, 
'it is about time to be a bad girl, unapologetically evil, basely iniquitous'
She smiled innocently, her eyes holding an evil glint.

The characters might irk you. They have no apologies for who they are...

It was 10:00 AM when they finally got up. Mira  still looked a bit drowsy. 
"Come on, let's go for breakfast." Mira said. Isabella followed her down to the Great Hall. Adam was already there along with everyone else. 
Except for Michelle. 
"Where's Michelle?" Isabella asked. 
"It's Saturday.... you can't expect her to be up before noon. And don't wake her up. You don't want to suffer the same wrath as the others who dared disturb her sleep...." Mira shivered at the thought of it. She, along with everyone, felt shivers down her spine. 
"That bad, huh?" Isabella said... at first she thought they were joking but seeing the looks on their faces just made her question what was it that was so bad. 
"Let's not discuss it..." everyone nodded in agreement. Isabella came to the conclusion that perhaps it would be for the best if she never found out what they were all so afraid of.

"So anyways.... Isabella, are you still interested in Quidditch?" Adam asked. "Our seeker left last year. Wanna tryout?" 
"Yes! I played for Ombrelune- my Quidditch team at Beauxbatons." 
"Beauxbatons has houses too?" Jane suddenly jumped in. 
"Yeah. Three. Ombrelune, Bellefeuille, and Papillonlisse. We have house points too. We earn most of them from playing quidditch competitively." 
"Wow... I thought Beauxbatons would have a completely different curriculum but it seems to be mostly the same."
"Well we do learn a lot about music, creative arts and writing. We also focus on learning how to assess a situation instead of immediately casting a spell or hex. So it is sort of different from here." 
"Do you have a sorting hat too?" Jane questioned. She was very curious about Beauxbatons. She had dreamed of going there. 
"No. We have to shoot an arrow, and what ever color sparks the arrow bursts into is your house. Purple for Papillionlisse, Blue for OmbreLune and green for Bellefeuille. The arrow bases your house off of personality and character."
"That's so cool..." jane was about to keep asking questions but Adam stopped her. 
"Alright, more questions later! Isabella, you should come meet the team." Adam got up from the table. 
Isabella followed him after saying something to Jane because she looked disappointed. "I promise I'll answer all your questions later."
That made Jane feel better. 
The rest of the table continued to talk after they left. 
"How good are you?" Adam asked. 
"Pretty good, I've caught the snitch most of the times and my team is usually the winner." She replied. "Professor Bletchley has my record from playing quidditch at Beauxbatons... if you wanna check." 
"Yeah, I was going to head there anyways. "

After a while of walking they came to the Charms classroom. At the end of the classroom, professor Bletchley sat at her desk reading the Daily Prophet. Her eyebrows were stitched together, her lips pressed tight together. Whatever she was reading, must have not been too pleasant. 
"Ah, Smith. Isabella, I hope all is well?" She said. 
"Yes, ma'am." Isabella said. 
"Good.... now Smith. We need to talk about the Ravenclaw quidditch team. Any ideas for recruits?" 
"Actually, that's exactly what I came here to talk about. Isabella said she played Quidditch at her former school, I was wondering if she could play seeker?" He said. 
"Oh! That's a great idea! I saw her record, she was the best seeker in Beauxbatons!" Professor Bletchley exclaimed. Isabella's head was down, a slight blush. "Take her to meet the team and practices. I'm sure she won't disappoint." The Professor glanced at Isabella and smiled. "I'll see you on the field."

The left the classroom, and she followed Adam to well, where ever he was taking her. At first she didn't know but then she saw they turned at a big hallway. At the end was a door with an eagle on it. 
It was the Ravenclaw common room. 
"A prisoner is told "If you tell a lie we will hang you; if you tell the truth we will shoot you." What can he say to save himself?" The eagle said, turning to look at Adam and Isabella. 
Adam thought for a while, he started pacing. 
'Tell a lie... hang you... truth...shoot you...hm' Isabella thought. 
"Oh! He must say, 'You will hang me'". She said. Adam looked at her, his eyes wide.
"Good job." He told her. "Now come on!"
They entered the common room. Most Ravenclaws were at desks, studying, reading or writing. Only a few were chatting over by the fireplace. 
Adam led her to a table where five people were gathered and they were discussing something. 
The one who had been in some of her classes with Ravenclaw, had blond hair and green eyes, he was quite tall and well built too. 
"Adam!" He announced to the group. 
"Sup man." The high fived, fist bumped, something else and a quick hug which was more of a chest bump. It was their special handshake, Isabella assumed. 
"Where's Mira?" He inquired, when he saw Isabella. 
"Hangin with the others." Adam replied. "Alright so, Cal" Right! She had forgotten his name was Cal. "I think I've found our seeker." He told Cal, pointing at Isabella who stood behind him. 
The rest of the people turned to look at Adam. They must have all been older because  Isabella didn't recognize them as third years. A girl, with unruly bright red curly hair and shining big blue eyes stood up. She also wore glasses with a thick black rim. They only made her eyes look bigger. 
"We'll have to see. How about tomorrow, Quidditch field, 7 o'clock sharp in the morning. I already booked the field for practice."
"Sounds good." Adam said. Isabella stepped forward. "Her name's Isabella, she the-" she didn't let him finish. 
"Transfer from Beauxbatons. Isabella Dumont. Nice to meet y'all." She didn't want to seem shy or timid so she decided it was best to speak up and not let Adam do the introductions for her. 
"Name's Darcy. Darcy Barts. I'm a chaser and Captain of this team." She extended her hand. Darcy had a firm hand shake. Darcy was a 6th year. She started to introduce the other team members. Mary Haden, (5th year) a dark skinned girl with dreadlocks. She was a beater. Lucy Wade, (5th year) whose long blond hair was tied back into a beautiful french braid, was a Chaser along with James Casey (who went by Jace, 4th year). He had a messy undercut hairstyle and very interesting grey eyes. Cal Leuze (pronounced "lose") was a beater. Adam stayed to chat with the team, but Isabella left, deciding it'd be a good time to find the others.

Isabella Dumont is entering third year at Hogwarts. She was transferring from Beauxbatons (the french magic school) to Hogwarts. It was her mother’s decision. To her mother, Hogwarts is a complete mess. The views are stunning and all, and the Ravenclaw tower is most certainly magnificent with all the books she could possibly read and great friends but there’s only one big issue bothering her. And that’s Nicolas (Nick) Potter. 
50 years ago Harry Potter (Nick’s) grandfather defeated Lord Voldemort, a powerful evil wizard. And now Nick is attending Hogwarts, and according to Isabella he just thinks he’s the greatest, but he’s really just another annoying boy. 
But what will prevail in their relationship as Nick starts to show interest in Isabella?






(Harry Potter Fanfic)

In the heart of the city stood a magnificent building.
The office of the Lord of Mo Immortal Castle's secretary, the Lady of the Castle, was on the top floor. The huge French windows offered a panoramic view of the city, and especially in the evening, the night lights in the city's central district could make a person feel nostalgic.
It was eight o'clock in the morning.
A woman with her hair pinned up and wearing black old-fashioned attire stood in front of a window, her eyebrows knitted and her gaze a little blank.
Upon reaching the office, the Lady had received bad news — her subordinate Ah You's life sign had disappeared!
Everyone who worked at Mo Immortal Castle had their souls branded by the Lord, which allowed them to be monitored using a unique life detector. If a life sign suddenly disappeared, it meant one of two things: either the soul brand had been cleansed, or the person was dead…
The Lady of the Castle had been well aware of Ah You's plan since it had been her idea to send Ah You to take revenge on Song Qingshu.
In the end, both Song Qingshu and Ah You's soul brands had disappeared!
Just because of one Song Qingshu, she had actually lost her two beloved generals…
The Lady of the Castle found it hard to accept this result.
Furthermore, she didn't dare assume that Song Qingshu was truly dead.
According to the life detector, Song Qingshu's soul brand had vanished, but they couldn't rule out the possibility that this guy might have found a way to remove it.
While she was pondering this, the clear glass of the French window turned hazy. Seeing the black shadow that appeared in the window, the Lady's eyes widened and she bowed slightly with some trepidation. "Lord!"
As the black shadow spoke, its voice echoed repeatedly as it seemed to come out of an ethereal void. "I see that Song Qingshu's soul brand has disappeared. Is he dead then?" 
Lowering her head, the Lady of the Castle solemnly answered, "We have yet to confirm it."
"This time, because of a mere foot soldier, we've again lost two top generals. You must reflect on this…"
"Yes, Lord."
The Lady clasped her fists in a salute to the black shadow. "This subordinate will uncover the truth as soon as possible. I'll personally bring people to investigate right away. If Song Qingshu is truly dead, we should be able to find traces of the body-dissolving fluid at the coordinates where his life sign vanished."
"Actually, I had always suspected that there was someone supporting him behind the scenes. The deaths of Great Saint and Second Saint back then, as well as Third Saint's betrayal, is a warning to us. You must be very careful this time. From now on, no more mistakes are allowed in my Mo Immortal Castle…"
"Lord, please rest assured. Even if there is someone behind Song Qingshu, not just anyone can shake Mo Immortal Castle's current foundations — given the Lord's strength, as long as we can find the stone ghost mask, it'll only be a matter of time before you conquer the world."
The Lord nodded. "Mm, the matter of the stone ghost mask must be clearly investigated as soon as possible."
Just then, the black shadow of the Lord on the French window unexpectedly shuddered, and then there was a miserable "Ah!" cry in the void. Right after that, the black shadow didn't even say farewell before directly dissipating into nothingness.
The Lady of the Castle was completely dumbfounded!
Had the Lord come under attack?
"Lord? Lord?"
The Lady tried to call him twice.
After about ten seconds or so, the black shadow reappeared on the French window, and she heard the voice of the Lord in the void once again. "… It was nothing, just a little accident. My long range projector ran out of battery! The newbie forgot to charge it last night, and he even spilled coffee on my pants! Fortunately, they're waterproof!"
The Lady: "…"
...
Considering the relationship between Headmaster Jin of No. 59 High School and Headmaster Chen of No. 60 High School, both of whom were from the same sect, the relationship between the two schools was actually quite close. It was just that over the last few years, the students had started to become more competitive with each other. However, since the last spirit sword exchange meet, the relationship between the two schools had improved significantly.
Somehow, Wang Ling felt very strange seeing He Bufeng and Tang Jingze again.
In No. 59 High School back then, one had been the fearsome Senior Buliang, and the other was the president of the student union who had always been able to find fault with others. After the four-day spirit sword exchange meet, both their bad dispositions had similarly disappeared. Since then, they had embarked on the study road day after day, sticking to the path of cultivation core values.
The first two classes in the morning were Teacher Pan's Dao talismans course.
The pace of study in both schools was pretty much the same. There was no pressure for He Bufeng to learn at all, while Tang Jingze was an old senior who was about to graduate, and so knew the high school curriculum like the back of his hand.
"After the first few weeks of study, I believe everyone has an appropriate understanding of the four main talismans. The focus of the midterm exam will be the guiding talisman, which is a function-type talisman. Today, I'm going to talk to you about utilizing the extended functions of talismans."
At this point, everyone basically already knew that Teacher Pan was going to start teaching outside of the class syllabus again.
"What I'm going to talk to you about today is the meditation talisman."
Hearing this, Wang Ling couldn't help raising his eyebrow. This was a talisman that was very difficult to make. Meditation could project something relevant from the future into the air and help a person gain some enlightenment on what would be in store for them. But the chances of succeeding in this was extremely low due to the high degree of difficulty involved in making the meditation talisman.
After mixing cinnabar and spirit water together, Teacher Pan spread open the yellow talisman paper and began to conduct a preliminary demonstration. She focused her spirit energy into the writing brush and furrowed her brow as she carefully wrote on the yellow paper to ensure that there was no mistake in the sigils — the slightest error could directly lead to the meditation talisman not working.
After about three minutes, Teacher Pan put the brush aside and injected spirit energy into the yellow talisman. "Everyone, watch carefully…"
A moment later, the yellow talisman danced in the air and projected the image of a pretty, colorful skirt, which was a little out of sync with Teacher Pan's solemn and staid style…
She pushed up her glasses. "This is a magic skirt that I bought on Moubao[1] a few days ago."
The demonstration had been successful, but what did the pretty skirt symbolize? Even Teacher Pan herself wasn't very clear on what kind of story would happen around the skirt. The meditation talisman could show keys things of the future, but a person had to use their imagination to guess what they represented.
After that, Teacher Pan distributed a set of tools for making talismans to each student. "Now, students, try it for yourselves based on the earlier procedure."
The classroom erupted in activity once again.
The spell for the meditation talisman was intricate and really tested a person's finesse at writing; if the thickness of the written sigils was just a little different, the spell could fail.
Even Tang Jingze, the old senior from No. 59 High School, had wasted several sheets of yellow talisman papers, and he couldn't help but frown; this was too difficult!
But in an inadvertent attempt, the yellow talisman on Dopey Guo's desk suddenly hummed and gave out a burst of light.
Master of Dopey looked at the floating yellow talisman in disbelief. "Did… did I do it?"
Everyone's eyes were fixed on the air… a brief moment later, a faint image appeared.
"What's this?"
Feather Lin stared curiously at the object that had appeared; it looked a lot like a mushroom fungus with a head on both ends. The top was shaped like a mouth, while there was a small hole in the bottom, and the entire thing looked very glossy…
"…" When all the boys saw it, they were immediately stunned.
Master of Dopey coughed. "Do you know the taisui mushroom? This thing is our family's ancestral roulingzhi[2]!"
Wang Ling: "…" I cannot f*cking believe you!
[1] Moubao is probably a play on Taobao, the giant Chinese online shopping website.
[2] This is based on a hilarious story where a local reporter had been sent to a small village to investigate a strange fungi-like object which villagers had dug up. A villager claimed it was a type of lingzhi mushroom called the taisui. What the villagers and reporter didn't realize was that this mystery mushroom was in fact a masturbation toy with an artificial vagina on one end and an artificial anus on the other. Needless to say, after the news report aired, it was an instant hit, and the word roulingzhi, or 'fleshy lingzhi mushroom,' was coined in recognition of this comedy gold.


As a cultivation genius who has achieved a new realm every two years since he was a year old, Wang Ling is a near-invincible existence with prowess far beyond his control. But now that he’s sixteen, he faces his greatest battle yet - Senior High School. With one challenge after another popping up, his plans for a low-key high school life seem further and further away...
Wang Ling: I just want to eat my crispy noodle snacks in peace...
Father Wang: If you're careless enough to destroy the country, it’s coming out of your pocket money. 
Wang Ling: It’s not my fault that the backlash from punching me kills you.
Please support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/henyeetranslationsDLIK
If we hit certain milestones, we will release more chapters in a mass release!
Tags: comedy, school, cultivation, tsundere, popular culture, almighty protagonist, action

Indeed, Mo Lang's 10-minute piece was eyed by teachers in every major music academy as a potential exam question as soon as it debuted. It was exam time, after all; the teachers had to get creative.
Every year, outstanding pieces were used as exam questions, and Mo Lang's was a shoo-in. He was a master to begin with, and the song was top-notch. The piece was impossible to pass on.
Ever since he had advanced in age, Mo Lang only released a song every two or three years, and every release was a curveball. Teachers immediately saw potential in "Legend" as a possible critical analysis or rearrangement question or essay topic. 
Just as music students from different departments had suspected, the complexity of the piece was Mo Lang's way of showing off. The questions asked by Mo Lang's piece were all tough ones. The average student struggled to answer one of them, let alone every single question.
Many students started brainstorming. Since they knew that Master Mo Lang's piece was a likely exam question, they had to prepare in advance.
Should they seek outside help?
Yet folks who had made their presence known on similar occasions in the past—tutors from music cram schools and the authors of prominent textbooks—kept a much lower profile this time around.
The leading cram school tutors were at a loss too. There didn't seem to be an easy solution.
They didn't dare comment on the piece. We barely understand it. Who are we to counsel others? What if we're wrong? That'd be career suicide.
The composer was Mo Lang, after all. What a legendary figure. His technique was beyond the grasp of the average musician.
Should they ask Mo Lang himself, then?
Stop bullsh*tting!
Was it so easy to gain access to a master musician who was a national treasure? Not to mention that Mo Lang was quite old. He had limited energy and his body couldn't keep up. There was only so much he could do.
After pondering the matter repeatedly, the students realized that approaching Fang Zhao was the easiest move.
Fang Zhao was young, so there wasn't a generation gap to consider. Plus, Fang Zhao had been involved in the composing of the song. He was somewhat of an authority too.
The students of Qi'an Academy of Music were the first to reach out to Fang Zhao. They were all "senior alum" this and "senior alum" that, fully taking advantage of the old-boy connection.
It wasn't only the students. The teachers who planned on using "Legend" as an exam question also consulted Fang Zhao.
As for Fang Zhao, he didn't mind offering his thoughts. It was easy for him. When he had been working on the song with Mo Lang, they had had wide-ranging discussions. He knew Mo Lang's creative philosophy well. The only thing was that Mo Lang was still the author of the song. Whether or not he should speak up, how much he should reveal—these were matters he still had to consult Venerable Mo on.
Mo Lang was actually quite delighted when Fang Zhao reached out.
"This is a good thing!"
From Mo Lang's perspective, his body couldn't cope, so it was impossible for him to lecture at length. But if it were up to him to choose someone to speak on the topic, his first choice would be Fang Zhao.
He didn't think that Fang Zhao's young age reflected a lack of ability. The old man had gotten a good sense of how much Fang Zhao knew when the young composer had still been on Planet Wai. As far as he was concerned, Fang Zhao would do just fine as a lecturer. 
Mo Lang already enjoyed considerable stature and prestige. He had no intention of holding back his talent and knowledge at this stage. He was more than willing to share his wisdom and insight with the next generation.
It wasn't that Mo Lang ever withheld in his teaching, but now that he was so advanced in age, and he had gained new insight during the creative process for "Legend." Why leave any stone unturned at this stage?
Passing the torch, a key theme in his work, was very important to him.
As a teacher, he had the responsibility to spread his knowledge, train disciples, and dispel confusion. The future of the industry depended on the next generation. Mo Lang hoped to see innovation and breakthroughs in all musical genres.
"Fang Zhao, do speak up!" Mo Lang was very supportive. "If I weren't encumbered by my poor health, I'd go on a global lecture tour!"
After receiving Mo Lang's go-ahead, Fang Zhao approached HuangArt for a venue where he could broadcast his lecture live.
Yes, he could have lectured from his dorm room, but HuangArt had professional lecture halls for live broadcasts. The rent wasn't that expensive. As long as one could secure a room, the rest was easy. The only requirement for booking a lecture hall was that one had to broadcast through HuangArt's own website.
The leadership at HuangArt wasn't about to stall Fang Zhao on this matter, not to mention that he had Mo Lang's backing. His request was approved immediately and he was allocated a prime lecture hall that had recently been upgraded with live broadcast equipment.
Once he got approval, Fang Zhao studied his own class schedule and decided on a timetable for his lectures.
Tentatively, there were three lectures scheduled, each lasting an hour. They were free to watch.
This was what the HuangArt officials in charge of the school's online curriculum had suggested.
Given Fang Zhao's current seniority, he wouldn't be able to command a very high viewing fee. Mo Lang also had to be taken into consideration. The fee couldn't be too low, out of respect for Mo Lang's stature. Still, Fang Zhao wasn't short of cash, so they decided to keep things simple and make the lectures free. Master-level teachers had done the same in the past. It was a form of pro bono work, a token of encouragement and support for young musicians.
The news of Fang Zhao's upcoming online lectures on "Legend" was first spread by the students of QiMu and HuangArt. Students from the leading music academies in other continents soon caught wind from chat groups and online forums.
Many folks tuned in to partake in the spectacle. The lectures were free, after all. Giving them a listen didn't cost a cent. But there were also folks that felt that there was no such thing as a free lunch. Fang Zhao was bound to withhold the good stuff, so the lectures were a waste of time.
It was up to the masses to decide whether or not to tune in. Fang Zhao couldn't force the issue.
The three lectures were scheduled for three separate days, but cumulatively, they would not last more than three hours. Fang Zhao showed Mo Lang his lecture outline.
"You've done a decent job. Just stick to this outline. Knock 'em dead! I will tune in."
While Mo Lang was only listening in on the lectures, he occasionally posted a thought or two. He couldn't physically deliver a full lecture now, but he was still fully capable of offering a thought or two every lecture.
But that got some of Mo Lang's disciples jealous. "Teacher is playing favorites!"
Mo Lang had so many students. In terms of seniority, stature, and academic achievement, any one of them was far superior to Fang Zhao.
But Mo Lang had no patience for the jealousy. "What can I do? On the matter of this piece alone, Fang Zhao knows me the best. He also has enough professional knowledge to lecture on the topic. You guys don't know me well enough. You can't capture what I want to convey."
Several of Mo Lang's disciples were incredulous. They also tuned in to Fang Zhao's lectures.
During the first lecture, Fang Zhao focused on the background of the song and its artistic merits.
"Is that the case? Is that what Teacher Mo meant?" asked one of Mo Lang's former students.
But every time a disciple posed such a challenge, they were inevitably shot down by Mo Lang. "Indeed. That's exactly what I meant!"
So much so that the more they listened to Fang Zhao's lectures, the less they questioned. Or maybe they simply kept their thoughts to themselves. So that's what Venerable Mo was thinking. I could never tell. Has age changed his perspective?
It wasn't just Mo Lang's former students. Many folks tuned in to Fang Zhao's lectures to enjoy a good show or with skepticism, but gradually, they realized that this Fang Zhao fella's lectures were very high quality. They were all gems.
Fang Zhao's gaming and acting fans got word of the lectures and started tuning in too.
"Even though I couldn't understand a single sentence, I still felt that it was kick-ass."
"So Zhao God is truly a music professional! I thought it was a joke."
Out of the online audience of some 20 million for Fang Zhao's first lecture, only one-tenth were music students. The remaining viewers were either fans or random spectators.
On day two, Fang Zhao moved on to composition technique. The number of music professionals tuning in jumped by 1 million. Students who had skipped yesterday's lecture showed up today. They realized that Fang Zhao's every utterance might be considered a model answer on their upcoming exams. It was better to hit record first and decipher his words later. Students who were lacking in analytical skills committed the lecture to memory. At least they wouldn't turn in a blank exam.
The number of music professionals tuning in on day two had increased, but the overall viewership actually increased by 20 million! In contrast, 1 million more music professionals wasn't much to write home about.
"The music professionals are a minority here. Most of the viewers are fans of Fang Zhao, no?"
"No wonder producers like to invite top celebrities to join live broadcasts. They have a built-in audience," another viewer lamented.
"What a smart PR move by HuangArt!"
Because the second lecture touched on some key points and important techniques, the music professionals tuning in paid close attention. Those who couldn't keep up with the lecture rewatched the archived video after class.
Fang Zhao was also very focused.
The vocal reminder on Fang Zhao's bracelet sounded before the online audience of some 40 million. "Ding! You have received an important email. Please take a look."
Fang Zhao paused briefly before resuming, but he ignored his bracelet as if he hadn't been interrupted.
But some of the folks watching the lecture took issue.
"It's best that you turn off your notifications while lecturing. It's a form of professional courtesy."
"That's right. We turn off our notifications when we lecture too. Otherwise, your flow and rhythm will be interrupted. We're also concerned about affecting our students."
"Aiya, Fang Zhao is still young, after all. He's inexperienced. He just has to pay attention next time. My fellow professionals tuning in, there's no need to be too harsh." 
Fang Zhao's fans:
"So it turns out the vocal reminder on Zhao God's bracelet is the default one."
"I remember when this voice first came out. Everyone complained it was 'as stiff and emotionless as a stone'."
"I haven't heard the default voice in a long time. So they haven't changed the voice, have they?"
"Hahahaha... My granddad uses the same voice!"
The chitchat continued until the following comment: "Do you guys know what the email he just received is about? If not, check out the press release the Galaxy Awards organizing committee just put out! The winners of the Galaxy Supernova Prize have been announced! Fang Zhao is among the 10 winners!"
"So it's possible that Fang Zhao had set his notifications to mute, but the email from the Galaxy Awards organizers was categorized as extra important? And that's why his vocal reminder was triggered?"
"That can't be it. If it was a message from the Galaxy Awards organizers, why didn't he read the email?"
Mo Lang, who was listening in on the lecture, also noticed the announcement from the Galaxy organizers. He made the connection to the vocal reminder he had just heard during Fang Zhao's lecture. "Ha! This fella is quite something," he blurted with a chuckle.
This was probably the first time in history someone had been able to ignore a prize-notification email from the Galaxy Awards organizers and keep lecturing calmly.
More and more folks searched the internet to verify the news. When they managed to do so, they scrambled back to the online lecture to post comments.
"Zhao God! You've won!"
"You've won a major prize! Aren't you going to take a look?"
"Hurry, check out the email you just received!"
"If it were me, I'd screw the lecture and read the email first!"
"Now this is a masterful display of god-level composure!"
"So the award citation refers to his 'special contribution in curing the Hull virus.' What the heck? Isn't the Galaxy Award an arts prize? They don't have a medical category, do they?"
"New fan? It's a long story. Please conduct a search for news items related to the four chapters of the '100-Year Period of Destruction' series."
More and more folks found out about Fang Zhao's Supernova win, but Fang Zhao continued his lecture at his usual tempo even though the comments section for the online lecture had already been flooded with messages urging him to read his email.
At the retirement home for former government officials in Yanbei.
Great-Grandfather Fang was watching the live broadcast. He learned of Fang Zhao's win through the comments section and confirmed the news on the Galaxy Awards' official website. He was in tears, his voice hoarse from screaming in celebration.
Great-Grandfather Fang felt that this went beyond a family honor. As the only Yanzhou native to win a Supernova Award this year, Fang Zhao was the pride of the continent no doubt, but as one of the major players behind the curing of the Hull virus, he was a credit to all mankind!
"Our Xiao Zhao... How come he's so competent?"
Great-Grandfather Fang's emotions began spiraling out of control. He was so moved that he was covered in tears and snot. He turned his head to discover Great-Grandmother Fang had been filming him all along.
Great-Grandfather Fang: "Burp!"


"Every time background music plays in my head, I feel like there is nothing to be afraid of." —Fang Zhao
Toward the end of the apocalyptic period, Fang Zhao lost his life. However, instead of dying, he found himself 500 years later in the body of a young and aspiring composer who shared the same name. Having received a second chance at life, Fang Zhao sets out to achieve the previous owner's dreams.
Armed with the experience of living through an apocalyptic age and his profession as a composer before that period, Fang Zhao uses his talent, wits, and knowledge to make his mark in the entertainment industry of the future.

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