Chapter 29 – Unspeakable

“Beep—”

It was the prolonged sound of a machine starting up.

Yan Ru still wanted to struggle, but it was futile.

That gentle voice whispered in his ear, “Go to sleep. Maybe when you wake up, everything will be over.”

Everything will be over?

What a lovely wish. Hopefully, when he wakes up, everything really will end smoothly.

Yan Ru sneered inwardly, gritting his teeth on the surface, a look of brutality and defiance spreading across his face.

Making him look like a real murderer.

He felt the helmet on his head begin to operate, warmth flowing from the top of his head and spreading through his body, making him relax involuntarily. It felt as if he were lying on a cloud—comfortable beyond words.

The seat tilted slightly, adjusting to a reclined position.

The voices around him quietly faded away, and Yan Ru’s consciousness gradually blurred.

He felt as if he had become a cloud, a gust of wind, a drop of rain—shedding his heavy physical form, weightless, free, moving as he pleased.

A layer of white light enveloped his surroundings, and he couldn’t see anything clearly. If he couldn’t see, he might as well close his eyes.

His consciousness soared into the distant clouds, growing fainter and fainter.

He gradually forgot his name, his identity, and all his past experiences. None of it mattered anymore.

After all, it was all just unpleasant things. Maybe forgetting was for the better.

It was as if life had returned to its origin.

Or perhaps this was just a carefree, beautiful dream.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before the white light suddenly became blinding, forcibly pulling him out of the comfortable embrace of the clouds. He felt as though he had endured a long, grueling journey, his eyelids unbearably heavy, yet he had no choice but to wake up under that harsh light.

Like a weary bird returning to the forest, his drifting consciousness settled back into his heavy body.

Amidst the jostling, he struggled to open his heavy eyelids.

The surroundings were noisy—men coughing, children crying, women soothing—all blending into an unpleasant background noise.

This scene was familiar, yet he couldn’t quite place it.

His head ached… Fragmented memories suddenly flooded his mind, and in a daze, he remembered: His name was Qin Yuezhang, and he was a psychologist.

The next day, Xu Anran announced the weekend camping trip to the class.

To be honest, camping held little appeal for the children here. We all knew exactly what it was like to live under the open sky.

But the activity was still met with enthusiasm from the students.

New teachers—college students at that—young, attractive, and full of charm, were impossible not to be drawn to.

“But we can’t take too many people, because the teachers need to ensure your safety. And you’ll need your parents’ permission,” Xu Anran added with a satisfied smile, pleased by the students’ excitement.

The moment he finished speaking, the class erupted in groans.

Just as Xu Anran was about to reassure them, someone from the crowd suddenly shouted, “Yan Ru won’t have a problem then, since he doesn’t have parents!”

The class froze for a second before bursting into laughter.

Here we go again.

I glanced at Yan Ru out of the corner of my eye, only to meet his gaze directly.

His dark eyes were filled with something called sorrow.

I was about to comfort him when Qi Youxuan, sitting in front of Yan Ru, abruptly stood up and coldly stared at the person who had spoken: “What’s so funny about that?”

Her tone held no emotion, no accusation or malicious agreement—just a genuine question about why those words were supposed to be funny.

The speaker was left awkward, looking around before shrinking into himself and refusing to answer.

But did he realize he was wrong? Not at all.

His eyes silently conveyed that everyone else could joke and laugh—why couldn’t he?

Xu Anran quickly stepped in to mediate, waving at Qi Youxuan to sit down. “From now on, no one is allowed to say such things in class!”

The students exchanged glances, some muttering under their breath, “Why should we listen to you? You’re just a volunteer teacher.”

Xu Anran cleared his throat and tapped the blackboard, redirecting the students’ attention to him. “Students who are sure they can participate can register with the class monitor by Friday.”

The minor incident ended there.

Qi Youxuan sat back down and turned to Yan Ru, saying softly, “Don’t mind them. Some people just have poisonous tongues.”

Yan Ru smiled at her. Those same dark eyes that had just been staring at me now turned gratefully toward Qi Youxuan.

The lift of his smile made his pupils appear even deeper, and his sharp brows softened.

My hand, hanging at my side, clenched involuntarily.

An inexplicable anger and dissatisfaction abruptly surged up. I didn’t even know what I was so upset about.

Qi Youxuan was just carrying out her mission to gain Yan Ru’s trust, wasn’t she?

But I realized—I just didn’t want Yan Ru to trust them. I didn’t want him forming bonds of trust or intimacy with anyone.

Why?

Was I worried they would disrupt my plans?

No.

A cold voice in the depths of my heart calmly said—He should only trust me.

I was startled by this sudden thought. My chest trembled, boiling blood rushing from my veins back into my brain, a deafening ringing filling my ears, drowning out the outside world.

But no matter how fast my heart raced, it would eventually calm down. And as my pulse steadied, the idea slowly became less unacceptable.

He really should only trust me.

Even… He could become a part of my plan.

From the very beginning until now, wasn’t I the one who had walked alongside him?

Because of this thought, I was in a daze—no, exhilarated—for the rest of the day. So much so that when I got up after class to go to the restroom, and Yan Ru called out to me from behind, I didn’t catch what he said.

When I asked him to repeat himself, he just shook his head and fell silent. I didn’t press further and turned to leave.

The walk from the classroom to the restroom wasn’t far, and because classes were staggered, there weren’t many people inside.

I headed for a urinal and was just about to undo my pants when someone stood next to me.

A whole row of urinals, and he had to pick the one beside me?

I ignored it, ready to move away, only for someone else to quickly step up on my other side.

Something was wrong.

I lifted my gaze and realized the person who had first stood next to me was none other than Sun Danhao.

This was trouble.

I let go of my waistband and turned around. The restroom door had somehow been closed, and apart from the two beside me, three other boys stood behind me, staring at me with cold provocation.

Someone outside pushed against the door, but of course, it didn’t open. A muffled grumble came from the other side.

Sun Danhao’s narrow eyes locked onto me, and he barked at the door, “Fuck off!”

Silence followed.