Notice

Qin Yu gathered the twenty letters together and read them once more, but still couldn’t make sense of them, so she asked for clarification.

She waved a sheet of paper before her eyes. “Mumu, what on earth are all these?”

Looking at Qin Yu, she replied, “These are the pieces I posted on my blog. They seem to be quite interested in them.”

“The specific circumstances. Could you please explain in detail?” Qin Yu emphasized each word.

She nodded and said, “I’ve been writing essays on my blog, and I don’t know how they found my writing, but they sent letters—announcements for winter camps, calls for submissions, or literary competitions. Do you understand now?”

Qin Yu tilted her head, furrowed her brows, and said weakly, “Mm, I suppose… I get it! But—”

Just as Mu Qingxi lifted her head, she caught sight of a figure at the classroom window and called out sharply, “Confucius is here, sit up straight!”

She and Qin Yu tidied the chaos on their desk with a speed like the wind. The old teacher entered and said, “Mu Qingxi, come out for a moment.”

Again? Was it because he saw her opening letters?

She followed Confucius into the office. He sat down and pointed to the sofa opposite, “You sit as well.”

Half an hour later, she finally emerged from his office. She’d thought it was something serious, but it was simply questions about her studies, and a reminder not to be distracted by other matters but to focus on her academics.

In the end, the old teacher said, “Mu Qingxi, you’ve been here for three months, always drawing attention. I hope you don’t stir up trouble—put your heart into your studies and work hard. Try not to get involved with Bai Fanhao and Xi Haifei. It won’t be good for you.”

She didn’t know what Bai Fanhao and Xi Haifei had done to offend him. He’d spoken of them as if they were a calamity destined to last a thousand years, yet his final words were so reserved. Even when she pressed him, he wouldn’t say more; it seemed she’d have to uncover the truth herself.

Seeing her return, Qin Yu quickly asked, “Mumu, Confucius didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

She replied with exasperation, “Wei Yu, what do you think he could possibly do to me?”

She expected Qin Yu to give a reasonable answer, but instead Qin Yu said, “I was afraid you’d get assaulted and then murdered, or murdered and then assaulted. You see all these stories now about female students being harmed by teachers…”

Mu Qingxi was speechless. “Wei Yu, just shut it, will you? Is this how you show concern for me? Or are you just hoping I’ll disappear?”

“Hehehe, of course not,” Qin Yu grinned mischievously.

“Thank you, Wei Yu, I’m fine. The old teacher just said my grades are poor and I should focus and not waste time.” She knew Qin Yu genuinely cared, and her heart felt warm.

...

After Qin Yu’s relentless barrage, she finally surrendered and decided to use the art of distraction. “Wei Yu, pick one of these notices and let’s sign up for a winter camp.”

Qin Yu lit up with excitement. “Really? Great! I’ll go home and research them carefully.”

Success—she’d finally managed to divert Qin Yu’s attention. She truly admired her friend’s imagination!

Just as she was about to forget about the notices, Qin Yu nervously said to her, “Mumu, let’s not go to these winter camps or writing competitions. It’s not safe. Who knows if they’re real? If you want to have fun, come to my hometown. There are so many interesting places there.”

She was taken aback, thought for a moment, then replied, “Uh, Wei Yu, when did I say I was going to participate? But I’d still like to visit your hometown.”

Mu Qingxi nodded as she spoke, then glanced over to see Qin Yu grinning slyly. She asked, “Wei Yu, could you please not smile so lasciviously? You’re giving me goosebumps all over!”

Qin Yu stretched and complained, “Ugh, Mumu, it’s been ages since school ended. Let’s go home. Every weekend there’s extra class—I can’t take it anymore. We have to come early tomorrow too. What a miserable senior year this is!”

Watching Qin Yu wave goodbye as she walked away, Mu Qingxi lowered her head with a bitter smile. The misery Qin Yu lamented—wasn’t it her own as well? Unlike others, they couldn’t take weekends off like normal people. With only half a day’s rest, they still clung to their posts, refusing to leave.

She truly wanted to ask them, “Do the cells in your brains ever take a break?”