Yumo had a dream.

In the dream, he sat at a worn desk in a dim room, reading a book under the yellow glow of a desk lamp.

He couldn’t turn the pages, look away, or move his body—forced to mechanically read the words before him.

Every time he finished a page, a waxy-pale, bony hand would reach out from the darkness to flip it for him.

He didn’t know whose hand it was. He didn’t understand the book’s contents. He felt no emotions at all. He could only keep reading, page after page.

Until—

TRIIIIIIING!!!

—His phone alarm jolted him awake.

"Tch…"

Groggy, he glanced at the GuaWei phone on his bedside table (his sister’s old hand-me-down)—

"Shit, I’m late!"

---

"How can you, as class monitor, show up this late? What example are you setting for your classmates?!"

"Sorry… I overslept."

"Get to your seat. Now!"

"My bad."

Yumo trudged into class to a spray of acrid spittle from his homeroom teacher. He mumbled apologies, head down, and shuffled to his seat. Zhangyuanzhou, sitting nearby, mouthed something mocking—probably "asshole." Passing Liyu’s desk, her round face scrunched with worry as she whispered, "You okay?" Yumo just shook his head slightly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tanglingxue roll her eyes at him from across the classroom.

What a shitty morning. Weird dreams all night. No one woke him up. Spit in his face from the teacher… And after first period, he still had to finalize tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve gala lineup. During breaks, he checked schedules with each performer. Most shrugged: "Whatever." "You decide." Then came Zhangyuanzhou, set to play an electric guitar solo—

"Oh? If it isn’t *Class Monitor*. What? My stage time? Since when do you get to schedule me?"

—Typical. Zhangyuanzhou had always hated Yumo’s guts.

For the rest, Yumo gritted his teeth and met with the class committee. After a rushed lunchtime discussion, they locked the classroom decorations and final program. As monitor, Yumo got stuck coordinating everything—sacrificing his energy to build a stage for social butterflies to show off. What a sucker.

By afternoon, his monitor duties weren’t done. He had to fulfill his role as chemistry representative. The last class was lab work—he’d assist Ms. Linqinglan with prep and keep order.

Ms. Linqinglan had a supermodel’s face. Beneath her white lab coat, a vertical-striped turtleneck sweater hugged her ample curves. A knee-length charcoal skirt covered legs sheathed in black stockings, tapering smoothly into sleek heeled boots—like a work of art.

Every guy in class stole glances at her face, chest, legs—except Yumo. He was busy collecting lab reports.

But for Yumo, this wasn’t a chore.

Today’s lab was shared with the neighboring class. He alone handled reports for both. And in that other class sat someone special to every boy:

The school flower.

A cliché straight out of campus novels, urban dramas, coming-of-age stories.

"Ethereal." "Bright eyes, white teeth." "Graceful as a willow." Overused phrases for describing school beauties—but Jing Yiqiu truly deserved them. She was prettier than most heroines in books.

"Um… Jing, your report?"

"Here. Thanks."

Jing Yiqiu—the neighboring class’s school flower—gave Yumo a clear, gentle smile. He knew it was just her polite, top-student nature, but his chest still warmed a little.

That warmth vanished with the dismissal bell.

"Rep, stay behind. Others are dismissed."

"Got it…"

As chemistry rep, he had to tidy up for the teacher. Jing Yiqiu, of course, skipped out laughing with friends the moment the bell rang. *The school flower secretly loving the plain protagonist?* That only happened in novels.

Ms. Linqinglan was a prodigy—skipped grades, studied abroad at a top university. Barely past twenty, she already taught chemistry at this prestigious high school. Proof of her brilliance. Add stunning looks and mature charm, and she was popular with students and staff alike.

…But to Yumo, she was just trouble.

"I’m leaving this to you. No problems, right? I’ve got things to do… Don’t forget to help me inventory the new reagents tomorrow."

"Hey—"

Yumo sensed zero passion for teaching in her. She tossed him the lab keys, stuffed her lab coat into a cabinet, and left with disinterest—her expression sour.

Safety protocols required teachers to supervise hazardous chemicals. Even if she didn’t handle them herself, she should’ve stayed to watch. Was she just irresponsible? Or did she trust him too much? Just… leaving?

"Aren’t you scared I’ll steal dangerous stuff…?"

Grumbling, Yumo still finished meticulously. Tomorrow meant more unpaid labor for her. And he still had the gala to handle.

*(New Year’s gala… Just a stage for over-energetic kids to show off.)*

*(Home… Right. Yuxin’s middle school has one too. She’ll definitely perform. Mom and Dad will go watch.)*

*(As monitor, I can’t bail early… Ugh. Fine. Let’s just get it done.)*

…

…

He thought the day couldn’t get worse. Then, during evening self-study, he heard worse news in the homeroom teacher’s office.

"Yumo, about what you told me—Liyu being bullied in class."

"Yes, regarding that—"

"I questioned those girls. They all denied it."

"Of course they’d deny it, but—"

"They’re top students. And you have no proof."

"That’s why I came to you! Even without proof, at least—"

"Ah, well. You’re the monitor. Handle it. Year-end’s busy. I’m stretched thin."

"Uh…"

Yumo’s eyes flicked to the teacher’s desk. Forms for a senior teaching position sat neatly stacked.

*Wow. You’re* really *swamped.*

Yumo tried arguing further, but the teacher’s mind was elsewhere. The talk went nowhere.

And just like that, the day ended.

After evening self-study, exhausted as usual, Yumo took his detour under the bridge to clear his head. But someone was already there.

That person… Wasn’t she the homeless woman he’d seen yesterday morning? Had she made the bridge her home?

"*Eyesore*" flashed in his mind—then he pushed it away. Everyone had their struggles. She must’ve been through hell to end up like this. He’d head home tonight…

---

"Today sucked. Not one good thing happened."

Yumo typed on his phone from bed. The chat window held a near-year-long online friendship.

【Same. People just force their opinions on me. Today too… Forget it. Pointless to talk about.】

"Have you tried making them listen to *your* opinion?"

【No use. The thing is… they’re *right*. I can’t argue. Even I agree deep down. That’s why it’s so frustrating.】

"I get it…"

His chat partner’s ID was "Seeping Liner"—sounded like a model-kit hobbyist. Gender blank. He didn’t care. They’d met in a comment section under their favorite rock band’s new album. Added WeChat on a whim. Became regulars.

If Yumo had anyone to vent to in this messed-up life, it was the person behind "Seeping Liner." They chatted most nights before bed. Both guarded their privacy fiercely—never shared real details, never pried. No plans to meet offline.

(For the record, Yumo’s ID was "Faust.")

【Anyway, goodnight. Things suck, but life goes on.】

"Thanks. You too."

Yumo put down his phone and closed his eyes.

---

Meanwhile, Zhangyuanzhou—home early—was voice-chatting with his gaming buddies.

"Smoke grenade on Site A! Smoke it! Fuck, are you trolling me?!"

【Sorry sorry, bro! Coming—】

…

…

…

【Speaking of which… you really hate the monitor, huh?】

"Huh? Problem?"

【Nah, just curious. It’s not just ’cause you dislike him, is it?】

"None of your business. Need a reason?"

【Chill, chill! Just asking—oh shit, enemies at mid!】

"I see them…"

【…】

"…"

【…】

"…It’s ’cause of Ling Xue."

【Huh? Tanglingxue?】

"She once told me that dirt-poor monitor was handsome. I just… I seriously don’t get it! She won’t even go out to eat with me. Never complimented me once. Why does that loser—fuck!"

【Whoa… Wait, you two aren’t dating?】

"Wish we were. Just mutual friends for now… Tch. Who knows. She seems totally uninterested in relationships."

【Oh…】

"…"

【…】

"…Fuck. Just thinking about it pisses me off. The more I talk, the more I can’t swallow this. Wait. I’m gonna mess with him tomorrow."