Jia Tingting! Swinging Is Forbidden at School!

Yuanmeng Middle School, Ninth Grade Division. Jia Tingting's academic performance was far from ideal. She was the very person Class Monitor Fang had spoken of—the one being tormented by the "Exam King." As an upcoming graduate with merely 281 days left until the high school entrance exam of Tinghai City in the Eastern Federation… Once, she had been the pride of her parents and teachers. Over the past year or so, however, her grades had gone into free fall, prompting even her teachers to ask whether something had happened at home. Everyone who saw Jia Tingting gave her earnest admonitions and stern lectures, telling her that time waits for no one, that she had to buckle down and fight—the hundred-percent key admission rate couldn't lose its golden record on her account! In truth, she had tried hard. In class, she strained her eyes wide open; outside class, she buried her head in problem sets. Yet for some reason, the harder she tried, the unluckier she became. She had clearly worked through mountains of practice questions, but every time an exam came around, her scores mysteriously regressed. Her homeroom teacher told her she needed to learn how to adjust her studying flexibly, so Jia Tingting asked what actually counted as "flexible," and how she was supposed to make up for falling behind if she didn't study. When pressed, the homeroom teacher had only knitted his brows and offered vague, profound-sounding remarks about how she "lacked comprehension." In reality, Jia Tingting could already tell that the teacher was out of ideas as well. Sure enough, after struggling for a long while, the homeroom teacher could only squeeze out: "What were you doing earlier?" A fallen prodigy was probably just like this. Yet she could not pinpoint the reason herself. …The greater the pressure grew, the lazier a person became. Spacing out during evening self-study and morning reading sessions turned into the moments Jia Tingting savored the most. Such a life had persisted for an entire year. Anxiety caused auditory hallucinations to inexplicably invade Jia Tingting's brain. Her ears were flooded with another voice. "…At this hour, you're going to sleep? Have you sorted out the approach to the final math problem? Other families' kids study until one or two in the morning before going to bed." "…Have you no shame? Well? Don't you feel ashamed? Who are you doing justice to?" A greasy, piercing voice seemed to churn inside her brain, making her temples throb with a dull ache. It left Jia Tingting tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. …So she turned on her desk lamp and studied through the night. Her mother caught sight of this. She felt both puzzled and pleasantly surprised, but could not resist speaking up to remind her: "Tingting, don't study too late. Make sure to rest." "It's just the high school entrance exam. If things really don't work out… it's okay." "Yeah, I know." Standing far back at the bedroom doorway, her mother could not see that Jia Tingting's eyes were faintly streaked with blood, her expression tortured and twisted. "…" The day after pulling that all-nighter, summer vacation ended, and the new semester officially began. To seize more study time, their grade level's term started in late August, about a week earlier than the other students. They were still the same familiar classmates, still the same familiar teachers. Yet she constantly felt the teachers looked at her with strange eyes, and seven or eight other classmates often watched her while whispering among themselves, their glances cold, tinged with gloating mockery, and loaded with condescending disdain. Only a rare, fragmentary whisper would burrow into her brain like an insect, blending together with the hallucinations she heard at night. "…Look, she's spacing out again." "…She really can't cut it anymore, can she…" —*Clatter!* A hazy voice, seemingly near yet far, felt like warm breath at her ear even as it buzzed deep within her skull. Jia Tingting bolted up from her seat, unable to hold back a loud shout: "What are you all saying!" She snapped her head around, looking in all directions, only to find bewildered, stunned classmates whose gazes all focused squarely on her. On the podium, the math teacher, abruptly interrupted mid-lecture, was also staring at her blankly. "—J-Jia Tingting, do you have some objection to the lesson?" In the classroom, a dense sea of heads pressed in like dark storm clouds. Jia Tingting's expression stiffened. A chill shot straight from the crown of her head down to her heels. That was right—it was class time. Everyone was too busy listening intently to the lecture. …Then where had the whispered discussions she heard come from? Afterward, the homeroom teacher summoned her parents with deep concern, and the three adults looked at her together, sighing. Their pitying attitude made Jia Tingting profoundly uncomfortable. "The school psychologist has taken leave recently." "We suggest taking her to the hospital for a checkup." Listening to the homeroom teacher's suggestion, Jia Tingting finally realized that she was "sick." And quite seriously sick, at that. No wonder the teachers looked at her with such eyes. Though a pile of medication was prescribed, her schoolwork could not be neglected; she still had to attend classes as usual. Jia Tingting did not know how others perceived her. They smiled at her, but the smiles were hollow; they were polite to her, yet the looks in their eyes always made her uneasy. —Were those also hallucinations? Even though she kept up with her daily medication—drinking two or three glasses of water just to swallow a heap of pills whose purposes she did not know, taking them until she felt dread, taking them until she nearly threw up… Her auditory hallucinations showed not the slightest sign of easing. "There is a problem with your study attitude." "What is your value?" "If you don't get into a key high school, your life is over." "Everyone else can do it, so why can't you?" "Right now your primary task is studying, only studying! Everything else is a distraction. Don't go to art classes anymore… learning that is useless!" "—It's all for your own good!" Hallucinations of every kind surrounded Jia Tingting at every waking moment. While she washed up, while she got practice questions wrong, while she wanted to take a break… She felt herself teetering on the verge of a breakdown. Her face grew more haggard by the day. Looking into the mirror at her own reflection, she saw a person wearing a school uniform, devoid of facial features. Gradually, facial features formed on the figure in the mirror. It took the appearance of "Jia Tingting." "Jia Tingting" said to Jia Tingting: "You can't even handle this little bit of pressure?" "What?" "The least stressful phase of life is when you're in school. If you can't even withstand this much pressure… you're not qualified to face the rest of your life!" In a corner of the mirror, the wall behind Jia Tingting was reflected. Densely packed across the wall were the certificates she had earned in the past—"Three-Good Student," "Outstanding Class Cadre." Having been first place from childhood onward, she had once been a spirited, proud girl. When had it started… It seemed to be from last year, when classes were reshuffled and she was transferred into the high-pressure elite class. There, everyone was a prodigy, battering her self-confidence into ruins. If she had never entered that class, would her life now have turned out entirely different… "…Why?" The "self" in the mirror asked coldly, its voice carrying an overlay of overlapping tones. Within that chorus were her mother's earnest reminders, her classmates' chilly whispers, and her teachers' disappointed urgings— Ultimately, all of these coalesced into "her own" interrogation of herself: "Why couldn't you work a little harder?" "Is Yuanmeng Middle School's hundred-percent key rate really going to be broken by you?" "Everyone else is moving forward. Only you… are stuck in place! How shameful!" "Shameful…" "Jia Tingting" froze where she stood. An inexplicable, burning sense of shame and indignation welled up in her chest. Subconsciously backing away two steps, she bumped into the wall full of certificates. "Over the next few days, no matter what, you must study like your life depends on it." "In the start-of-term exam, you have to break into the top thirty of the class, even if it means cheating!" "Otherwise…" The cold voice issued its final urging. It did not finish the sentence. Yet in the next instant, two trails of pitch-black tears flowed from the eyes of this "Jia Tingting" in the mirror. It looked like black blood, but even more like ink. The scene was extraordinarily terrifying, yet for some reason, Jia Tingting felt only coldness and suffocation, not fear. "I will keep watching you, urging you on—" Leaving behind those final words, it vanished from Jia Tingting's sight. …From then on, this "self" was everywhere. It was inside every book, coldly supervising alongside the figures on the textbook covers; it manifested as a shadow on the blackboard behind the teachers, perpetually staring at Jia Tingting. Like the strictest tutor, it supervised Jia Tingting's studies. It was as if… It did not intend to harm Jia Tingting; it was merely doing what was "good" for her. Yet this only made Jia Tingting's academic pressure heavier and her efficiency even lower. September arrived, and the school arranged a test for the students. After the test, everyone compared their answers, some rejoicing while others fretted. Looking at the sea of red crosses across her test papers, Jia Tingting's heart almost died. Her vision blurred. The hallucinations of "herself" by her ear grew louder, no longer consisting of idle chatter or interrogations, but delivering prophecies in an urgent tone. It prophesied a worthless, discarded future—predicting that Jia Tingting was destined to be swept into some dark corner like garbage, left to rot and reek. "No…" The voice said— *This is who you are, Jia Tingting. This is your end.* "Stop talking!" Under the crushing weight, Jia Tingting's breakdown finally reached the brink. Once again, she lost control. Fortunately, her voice was drowned out by the bell marking the end of class. "One, two, one!" "One, two, one!" "Set sail and ride the wind! High fighting spirit! Love our Class Three! Forge brilliance together!" "One! Two! Three! Four! One, two, three, four!" "…" Earth-shattering slogans echoed from the sports field, accompanied by the brisk drumbeats and rhythm of the broadcast. The students were doing their running drill. Dazed and disoriented, Jia Tingting hid in an old restroom in a remote corner of the campus. There was no one here—only the gurgle of running water and the slapping sound of the wind stirring the heavy plastic curtains. "Who… who are you, really?" Before the restroom mirror, Jia Tingting looked at her reflection. Where was any trace of the spirited girl from the past? Her eyes were filled with red veins. "I am you." The "Jia Tingting" in the mirror broke into a ferocious smile toward the outside. "Do you still remember your past pride? Do you still remember your past high spirits? Do you still remember everything you cast aside?" "Look at your pitiful state right now. If your past self knew, how disappointed would she be?" "Anyone can be first place. Why aren't you first?" "—Isn't it simply because you aren't working hard enough!" "Do you do justice to the parents who worked so hard to put you through school?" "Do you do justice to the teachers who feel disappointed in you?" "Do you do justice to the past you, who harbored grand ambitions?" "—Do you do justice to me?" The roaring interrogation halted there. The Jia Tingting in the mirror lost her facial features once more. Under Jia Tingting's blank, dazed gaze, the faceless figure in the school uniform stepped out of the mirror, stride by stride. It walked up to Jia Tingting's side, leaning against her ear to murmur in a low whisper like the seduction of a demon: "I gave you a chance." "A failure at the bottom of the rankings only deserves to become a stepping stone and nourishment for the strong." "Those whose grades aren't good enough, those who drag down Yuanmeng Middle School's key admission rate—" "People like that do not deserve to breathe the air of this world!" "Do not deserve…" Jia Tingting stood frozen, merely repeating the words. Incomparable shame, guilt, and a massive wave of sorrow engulfed her. She had lost nearly all reason, sunk so deep into these negative emotions that she could not pull herself free. "Your parents, your teachers, your classmates—they must all think so too." The murmur by her ear continued: "You are their disgrace. You are garbage they feel ashamed to mention to anyone… You hold everyone back. Why are you still alive?" The accusations from all those people resurfaced in Jia Tingting's mind. She felt that disappointment, and she felt that weight… that heavy love. Cold. There was a pure, bone-chilling cold. Without her realizing it, Jia Tingting's uniform had become soaked through. It was cold wearing it, and cold taking it off. —Just like the heavy burdens she felt pressed onto her shoulders. If… If I weren't around, would everyone be happy? No one would hold Yuanmeng Middle School back. Her desk mate would be paired with someone with better grades. The teachers wouldn't be disappointed, and her parents wouldn't be ashamed. It seemed like a happy ending for all. "Yeah… why am I still alive?" A hint of confusion appeared on Jia Tingting's face. It really would be better to be relieved of it all once and for all. Isn't there a saying: the sooner you go, the sooner you return? —Maybe, after the ordeal of bitter studying at Yuanmeng Middle School, she had already served her sentence in hell and could go straight to heaven? The faceless figure also nodded with satisfaction: "Then—go die!" "…Die?" Jia Tingting suddenly froze. "Die die die die die die…" The faceless figure's whisper by her ear dissolved into countless rippling echoes, as if everyone was urging Jia Tingting on— Die! "Right there, die in that unnoticed corner." "Don't affect the other students." The faceless figure raised its hand, pointing toward the furthest stall of the restroom. A tightly shut narrow door slowly swung open, revealing a white rope hanging from the ceiling beam, swaying gently. Following behind the faceless figure in the Yuanmeng uniform step for step, Jia Tingting slowly walked over. "…!" The instant her hand touched the rope, Jia Tingting felt as though struck by lightning, her whole body shuddering. The auditory hallucinations of the past days receded like an ebbing tide. She heard slightly different voices. "That's…" *"Actually, you could consider signing up for an art training boot camp. If you go the specialty student route, you should still be able to get into a decent high school."* *"Of course, whether to sign up is entirely up to you. As long as you study hard, no matter what score you get in the end, you will always be a pride to your teachers."* *"Life is measured on a long scale; there's no need to fight for every single day. As long as you don't give up on yourself, your day to shine will come sooner or later."* —That was the advice her homeroom teacher had offered her. *"Tingting, if studying really feels too overwhelming, Mom will arrange a leave of absence for you, and we'll rest properly at home, okay?"* *"Haven't you wanted that yellow rabbit plushie for a long time? Look what this is—Dad bought it back for you, the extra-large one!"* —That was the kind, gentle demeanor of her parents before her. *"Tingting, are you alright?"* *"These are my math notes. I'm lending them to you; maybe they'll help."* —Those were the words of classmates who genuinely cared about her. Why… Why was it completely different from her memories—even diametrically opposed? Where was the urging? Where was the coercion? Where was everyone's discrimination, coldness, and shame toward her? Jia Tingting was lost in confusion. Could it be that everyone had never been like that at all—that she had merely overthought things, placing all the pressure onto herself? —Which was her own hallucination, and which was real? "Naturally, none of that exists!" Accompanied by a ferocious shriek, those images vanished, and the faceless figure occupied Jia Tingting's entire field of vision. It closed in on Jia Tingting, its voice exceedingly hurried: "You are just too tired, too desperate for everyone's approval." "But cruel reality cannot be altered!" As it spoke, the faceless figure scratched at its chest and neck with sharp fingernails. Only upon closer inspection did it become clear that those were not sharp fingertips at all… They were black gel pens growing directly out of the flesh of its hands! Sharp pen tips tore through flesh. Skin was ripped apart; blood vessels were severed. Yet no blood flowed out. Streaming down its chest, neck, and face was thick, faintly shimmering pitch-black ink. *Drip, drop…* The ink struck the white tile floor, splashing into blooming petals diluted by water. They did not disperse, but wound and writhed across the ground, automatically outlining an intricate pattern packed with obscure incantations in the gaps between lines. It looked like a sacrificial rite. And standing in the center of the pattern, the sacrificial failure—was naturally the dazed Jia Tingting. The faceless figure stood behind Jia Tingting, resting both hands on her shoulders and whispering softly into her ear. A solemn voice chanted like a hymn at a grand ceremony: "Bird in the cage, oh, when will you fly?" It questioned Jia Tingting. Without waiting for her reply, it spoke again, raising its pitch: "If fly you cannot—better that we die!" Better to die! Like a marionette on strings, Jia Tingting's mind froze. Her hands rose uncontrollably, reaching toward the white rope suspended in midair. At the same time, rising onto her tiptoes with her upper body leaning forward, she poked her head through— So tired… An exhaustion born from the depths of her heart left her completely unable to lift her gaze. At age eleven, Jia Tingting had vowed to get into Tinghai University. Now, however, she only wanted to take proper leave and get a good sleep. Only… *I don't deserve to live.* Originally, such a thought had permeated her brain, governing all her actions. Yet in the deepest recesses of her heart, another voice seemed to echo imperceptibly: *No…* *Don't… want… to die…* It was just that this voice was buried beneath countless emotions, unable to reach Jia Tingting's conscious mind. *Save… save… me…* *I don't want to die…* Purely by coincidence, yet seemingly fated— Beneath her feet, upon the restroom's white ceramic tiles, lay a passage of crimson "last words" invisible to both her and the Exam King. These "last words" were glowing, resonating in profound harmony with Jia Tingting at this very moment. Yet no one knew, and no one noticed. The rope was already around her neck. Every movement Jia Tingting made was like a puppet on strings, thoroughly dominated by the figure beside her, and then… bent on seeking death. Her breath slowly gave out, and the sensation of suffocation surged up. Clearly sensing her strength draining away rapidly, the agonizing sensation made Jia Tingting's legs kick in midair. *Someone… someone save me…* Her mind was extraordinarily clear, yet it was only the last flicker of consciousness. Only the faceless figure stood satisfied at the side, admiring its masterpiece. Its form grew taller, the sacrificial pattern drawn in ink beneath its feet glowing faintly as it chanted that question once more: "Bird in the cage, oh, when will you fly?" In the next instant— With a loud *crash*, the sound of shattering glass rang out. Like a flash of lightning descending from the heavens, a whirling piece of iron sliced through midair, severing the white rope in a single stroke. Jia Tingting dropped down, her flushed face coughing incessantly. "Who goes there!" The faceless figure shrieked instantly. As the air vibrated, it looked sharply ahead. Only then did it realize that the thing that had spun through the air to sever the rope was merely… A bench leg someone had casually snapped off in some unknown classroom or office?! Just then, a cursing voice sounded from outside the restroom. "Snapping someone's wings with your own hands, locking the bird in a cage, and then asking when it's going to fly?" "—What kind of birdbrained logic is that!" The moment the words fell— *Boom—!* The restroom door that the faceless figure had locked was kicked open with a single blow. The falling door threw up woodchips and dust. Two uninvited guests burst through side by side. "Surprise inspection! I'm a teacher!" "Let's see which little rascal is hiding here skipping the running drill!" Bai Zhou held up the employee badge on his chest, his gaze sweeping the restroom. In a single glance, he spotted the faceless figure in the school uniform and Jia Tingting collapsed on the floor, coughing loudly. Lowering the badge, he raised a finger to point at the two of them and bellowed: "Jia Tingting! Swinging is forbidden in the school restroom!" "And that shameless one over there—" "Violating school rules! You two are busted!"