Chapter 80: The Art of Magical Storytelling

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Third High School, Grade Office.

Guan Junyuan, with a headache, hurriedly dismissed the nine homeroom teachers.

In the first round of distribution, they had bought twelve hats, which was an awkward number to divide among the classes. So, in the second round, he had learned his lesson—apart from the ones students bought themselves, there were exactly thirty-six hats left, four for each class, not too many, not too few. That seemed fair and reasonable, didn’t it?

But no, that wouldn’t do!

The first class’s teacher argued that their class had the most students—one more than the others—so why should they get the same share?

The second class’s teacher complained that in the fourth class, three students had already bought their own hats, and he’d heard that some were even extravagant enough to put them on their pets. Given how students interacted and exchanged favors, those hats could easily cover more than ten people’s needs—so why should their class get the same as others?

The third class’s teacher said, “I’m so fierce, Director, can’t you just show a little favoritism?”

The fourth class’s teacher chimed in, “Look, Director, I’ve been your loyal subordinate for years. I followed you wholeheartedly in the first wave of hat-buying—even if I don’t have merit, I have put in the effort. Letting others have the same as me—how is that fair?”

Every argument was so convincing, every reason so sound, that Guan Junyuan had to exhaust his eloquence just to kindly scold this group away.

Only then did he notice, lingering behind the crowd, was an outsider.

A tall, thin man, his face full of whiskers, yet lacking even a trace of ferocity. This was Ling Du, Deputy Director of Center 110.

“Didn’t we agree? There are just over twenty days left until the college entrance exam. Shouldn’t all the computer time go to the students right now?” Guan Junyuan greeted him, rubbing his bald head.

“It’s not about computer time,” Ling Du waved his hand. “I’m here to... ask for a favor.”

Guan Junyuan: “...”

He was silent for several seconds before he realized what this was about.

A favor?

Earlier that day, he had used his connections to reach out to the police, borrowing exchange materials from them. After all, the police had plenty of confiscated contraband from black market smuggling. The police had graciously agreed, and without their help, he wouldn’t have been able to gather the needed supplies for the latest transaction. At the time, he’d said he owed them a favor. Never had he thought that karma would come knocking so soon!

“What do you need help with?” Guan Junyuan rubbed his face and asked.

“I want to borrow two students from you...”

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“No way! Absolutely not!” Guan Junyuan refused, cutting him off immediately.

Ling Du hadn’t even explained, but Guan Junyuan already knew what this was about.

Of course, it was that matter!

“Are you kidding? These are seniors about to take the college entrance exam in just over twenty days. If anything happens that affects their mood, their grades, or their futures, will you take responsibility? Or should I?”

“It’s just that little issue with the shoe cult, isn’t it? Without their testimony, you can’t handle the case? Besides, you already have their statements. What more is there to say?” Guan Junyuan, relying fully on his teacher’s gift of gab, launched into a relentless tirade, hoping to drive away his opponent with a barrage of words.

But... Ling Du simply dug at his ear, his bearded face exuding helplessness. “I’m not here for their testimony—there’s really nothing left to ask. I want... to let them meet the suspect.”

“Meet—are you out of your mind!” Guan Junyuan leapt up, like a bright moon rising over the horizon. “That’s even more impossible!”

==========

“The radiant sun is vanishing,

The gods of faith are retreating,

The boundless Dharma cannot spread,

The phoenix reborn from fire wails in anguish,

How can a withered bodhi tree bear witness to enlightenment,

Who will listen to the weight of sin,

As the bloodthirsty star of calamity approaches,

Cruel and serene destruction...”

As Ye Chao and Fang Ju, following a prison guard pushing a meal cart, entered the special detention center under the watchful supervision of Guan Junyuan and Ling Du, they heard an old voice reciting in a strange, sing-song tone.

Halfway between singing and speaking, yet not quite either...

“Bang!” A sudden crack of a wooden plank broke the rhythm, the old voice continued:

“This disaster poem describes precisely the agony, confusion, and loss of humanity after the catastrophe! There’s no going back to what life was, to those days of worry-free abundance, to the neon lights and lavish banquets...”

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“Last time, we spoke of how the Chu family, left with no choice, abandoned their home and business, took new names, and joined the westward exodus to the barren Gobi. Halfway there, they were scattered by mutated beastmen. The family was separated and reunited, over and over, through moments of joy and sorrow, until they finally met again outside Lancheng.”

“They should have been overjoyed, yet they discovered that their last bit of property had been swept away by their agent. Their vast wealth vanished like smoke. In an age of disaster and chaos, who still cared about boy idols or celebrities...”

“With no other choice, the family entered the city in search of a livelihood. But, as fate would have it, misfortune struck.”

“The moment they entered Lanzhou, they encountered a patrol—ragtag, their uniforms a motley mess, looking more like a band of thugs than soldiers. It turned out that, though Lancheng hadn’t fallen, a schemer had already seized power, and these were his men.”

“The leader, with narrow, triangular eyes, eyed Chu Ran’s beauty and couldn’t help but leap down from his mount, grabbing him and bursting into laughter, setting him on his saddle. ‘Pretty boy, come home with me and serve your master.’ Chu Ran, of course, refused, struggling with all his might.”

“The captain snarled, ‘If you won’t obey, I’ll kill your parents and sisters!’ He raised his spiked club and struck Chu’s second sister on the head. Her brains burst out, and she died on the spot.”

“Poor Chu’s second sister—she was at least a trainee in a girl group. Maybe not a stunning beauty, but still worthy of pity. Yet she perished just like that.”

“Chu’s father and mother, petrified with fear, threw themselves over their daughter’s corpse, sobbing uncontrollably. The captain, however, raised his club and, with one blow each, finished them off.”

“Watching as his family was wiped out before his eyes, Chu Ran glanced at the long knife at the captain’s waist, thinking to seize it and fight back. Even if he couldn’t succeed, he could at least cut his own throat, so the family could die together. Yet, after several changes of expression, he finally gritted his teeth, ‘Please, master, don’t kill me. I’ll go, I’ll go!’ Alas, for him: the grand houses become wild grass, all for the sake of a forbidden song.”

“Hehehe...” From the cells on both sides of the corridor came waves of knowing, wicked laughter.

“Hahahaha!” Somewhere unseen, Alpha Ji tumbled in midair, laughing so hard she shook like a flower in the wind.

“Brilliant! This parody is absolutely brilliant! Who would’ve thought there’d be such high-quality fanfiction after the apocalypse... Wait, no, this isn’t fanfiction, it’s plagiarism! It’s only been thirty-six years, not even fifty yet!”

Ye Chao couldn’t see what was so funny, and simply looked on in confusion.

The storyteller was a white-haired old man. Though his clothes were ragged, his silhouette still retained a certain ethereal air.

“Meng Old Man! If you keep spouting nonsense, I’ll have you locked up in solitary!” Ling Du banged the cell door with his baton to silence the laughter.

“There’s no radio, no TV, no internet here. How else are we supposed to get through the days if not by telling stories?” Old Meng replied, bowing in submission.

“This voice... it sounds familiar...” Alpha Ji, perched on Ye Chao’s forehead, muttered in confusion. Suddenly, she let out a strange shriek.

The old man turned, and only then did she see that, while his silhouette was ethereal from behind, his face was ghastly beyond words...

One eye was huge, the other small, the large one lidless, the eyeball rolling wildly in its socket; his nostrils flared upwards like a skull. Half of his face was simply missing—not the upper or lower, nor the left or right, but the front half... as if he had survived a terrible car crash.