He just became the last Celestial Master, and the school beauty is already calling him "Dad&quo

Lin Yue's back was covered in a layer of cold sweat.

She continued reading.

The girl lowered her head, placed her schoolbag on the creaking wooden bed, and began to make the bed.

The bed sheets were old and faded from washing.

But they were stacked neatly.

The girl applying lipstick finally looked up and sized her up from head to toe: "What does your family do?"

"I...my family farms."

The three girls exchanged a glance.

There was no sympathy, no goodwill, and not even basic curiosity in those eyes.

There is only a condescending scrutiny and an indifference etched into the bones.

The girl who was eating sunflower seeds finally shifted her attention away from the seeds and scanned the clean, faded patched school uniform from head to toe.

"You're alright looking."

"But their clothes are so shabby."

Done.

The three of them laughed at the same time.

The laugh wasn't loud, but Lin Yue heard it clearly.

She had seen this kind of laughter in the interrogation room and heard it in the accounts of victims of school bullying.

The girl kept her head down and didn't reply.

She quietly tucked the four corners of the sheet under the mattress, her movements slow but very careful.

Lin Yue stood in the center of this old dormitory room, which was less than 20 square meters.

My gaze shifted from the girl who was making her bed with her head down to her three roommates who were chatting and laughing.

She is a systematically trained criminal investigator.

Her professional instincts told her that the so-called "accidental fire" back then was definitely not just a safety accident caused by aging circuits.

This dormitory might harbor something even more terrifying than a ghost!

Lin Yue was right.

Time was fast-forwarded in this memory.

The scene changes frame by frame.

The three girls in the dormitory completely ignored the girl in the patched school uniform.

No.

They're even worse than invisible people.

Lin Yue watched as the one who was eating sunflower seeds poured dirty water onto her bed, and the one who was applying lipstick trampled her school uniform, which was drying on the balcony, into the mud.

The one who flips through magazines is even worse.

After turning off the lights late at night, he stuffed a centipede, which he had caught from who-knows-where, under her pillow.

A girl was bitten awake in the middle of the night.

When I jumped up from the bed, I bumped into the beam of the upper bunk.

He bumped his forehead and got a cut.

Blood flowed down his brow bone, obscuring half of his eye.

The three roommates huddled under their blankets, laughing so hard they were doubled over.

The girl squatted by the bed, one hand covering her forehead, the other hand tightly gripping the corner of the blanket.

But the senior student didn't cry.

I didn't shed a single tear from beginning to end.

Lin Yue's fingernails dug into her palm.

As a police officer, she felt a tightness in her chest from the silent, persistent malice before her.

My blood pressure was also soaring.

The screen then switched again.

classroom.

A young male teacher stood on the podium, wearing a faded white shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his forearms.

He looked to be in his early twenties.

He has regular facial features and a slender build.

He habitually pushes up his black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose when he speaks.

Lin Yue stared at that face.

Although she looked more than 20 years younger and had lost over 100 pounds of fat, she recognized her at a glance as none other than the head of the teaching department.

At that time, he was not the director yet, but just a young homeroom teacher who had just been assigned to No. 3 Middle School.

The bell rang, signaling the end of get out of class.

The students poured out in twos and threes.

The girl, clutching her textbooks, walked towards the door with her head down.

As she passed the podium, the young homeroom teacher called out to her.

The girl stopped in her tracks.

The young homeroom teacher took a paper packet from the teacher's desk drawer and handed it to him: "Use this to wipe the wound on your forehead."

"The iodine solution in the school clinic is not good, so I bought this from an outside pharmacy."

The girl looked up.

For the first time, those eyes, which had been lowered, looked directly at the person in front of them.

Lin Yue saw what was in those eyes.

It's not gratitude.

It's the bewilderment and cautiousness of someone who has been in darkness for too long when suddenly illuminated by a beam of light.

"Thank you... thank you, teacher."

The girl reached out and took the paper package.

All ten fingers were covered in chilblains, the cracks turning a dark red.

The young homeroom teacher pushed up his glasses, his voice calm but full of concern.

"I've heard about what happened in the dorms. I'll talk to them. If you need anything in the future, just come to my office."

The girl clutched the paper package, her knuckles slightly red.

She nodded and turned to leave.

When I reached the classroom door, my steps slowed noticeably, and I turned back to look at the thin figure in front of the podium.

Lin Yue stood in the corner at the back of the classroom, her arms crossed over her chest.

The subsequent memory fragments became even more densely packed.

The young homeroom teacher did indeed talk to the three roommates.

They gave him a lecture, and the effect was immediate.

At least there's been much less overt bullying.

After that, the girl started appearing frequently at the office door.

At first it was about questions, then it was about submitting assignments.

Later on, no reason was needed to hand in homework anymore.

She just went there and sat down.

I sat quietly in the corner of the office, in a folding chair, doing my homework.

The young homeroom teacher was grading papers across from them, and neither of them spoke.

But Lin Yue noticed that when the girl was doing her homework, she would occasionally look up and peek at the person opposite her.

Then she quickly lowered her head, her ears turning red.

Lin Yue closed her eyes briefly.

She already knew what was going to happen next.

The video sped up again.

Spring goes and winter comes.

There was an extra thermos in the office; a girl had brought it from the cafeteria.

A bunch of unidentified wildflowers, tied with straw rope, was placed on the homeroom teacher's desk in an empty ink bottle.

Everything is sliding in an extremely dangerous direction.

On a rainy night.

The office lights were on, the curtains were drawn tightly, and the scene abruptly cut to complete darkness.

I can't see anything.

But Lin Yue knows everything.

A seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl from a poor family who was bullied by everyone at school.

The only person who was kind to her was her homeroom teacher.

The key point is that the age gap between the two is not very large.

That era.

In this closed campus environment.

This goodwill and dependence were destined from the very beginning to become distorted and cross boundaries until they got out of control.

After the darkness.

The screen lit up again.

I don't know how much time passed.

The girl stood by the tap downstairs in the dormitory building, bending over and dry heaving.

He couldn't spit anything out.

His complexion was sallow.

The school uniform was already noticeably too tight around the waist.

My roommate, who was eating sunflower seeds, walked by and glanced sideways at her slightly protruding belly.

His mouth was slightly crooked.

That very night, everyone in the dormitory building knew that the girl in room 404 with the patch on her clothes was pregnant.

Lin Yue clenched her fist.

The next scene made her blood rush to her head.

The three roommates no longer sabotage each other behind their backs.

This time it's face-to-face.

The guy applying lipstick grabbed the girl's hair and dragged her off the bed.

"You shameless slut!"

"No wonder you're always going to the teacher's office!"

"So she went there to seduce men!"

"Do your parents even know they raised such a worthless wretch?"

The girl was thrown to the ground.

The back of his head hit the concrete floor with a dull thud.

She curled up, her hands tightly protecting her stomach.

They did not retaliate.

There was no crying or shouting.

They didn't even beg for mercy.

He lay there silently curled up on the cold ground, enduring everything...