Chapter 139: Not in a Dream

(1)

The piercing siren of the ambulance cut sharply through the noisy school grounds.

All the students were hurried back to their classrooms by their homeroom teachers, except for Class 3-5 of the ninth grade, whose students still leaned over the railing, peering down below.

But soon, the head teacher came running up, out of breath.

Usually gentle, today she was unusually anxious, urging the students to return to their classrooms immediately and not leave during lunch break.

The sun was veiled by soft clouds, making the breeze drifting through the window carry a chill that made the skin tighten.

“Someone really jumped off…”

Zhu Ying couldn’t believe it as she propped her chin in her hand, tilting her head to look at An Jing quietly.

“Xiao Jing, is this really happening?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, someone really jumped, and we actually saw someone die… It feels like a dream, so unreal.”

“Most people never encounter something like this, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real…”

An Jing answered somewhat dismissively, but seeing the pleading look in Zhu Ying’s eyes, she swallowed the teasing words she had prepared.

“I’ve heard news like this before, but never seen it with my own eyes. And our school isn’t even one of those with super high academic pressure… Actually, our homeroom teacher’s been acting strange today. Usually she’s moody but not to this extent—from sending you all out to get haircuts this morning, to yelling at her son in the office at noon…”

“Ahem…”

An Jing scratched her head, trying to find the right words.

“I think this is actually normal. When… people can’t control their emotions, this happens. There’s a saying, right? When you’re unlucky, you keep being unlucky. Good things never come in pairs, but bad things come one after another.”

“Is that so… Hah. Maybe I just dreamed too much today,” Zhu Ying said, tugging at her hair.

“So tired. It feels like I’m still dreaming.”

“Don’t worry, this is definitely not a dream.”

“But… how can I be sure this isn’t a dream?”

Zhu Ying tiredly poked An Jing’s cheek.

“This morning, I didn’t even know when I slipped into a dream.”

“Hmm… I’ll try.”

An Jing’s calm eyes suddenly glowed gold as she lifted the wrist wearing a bracelet.

“Put your hand here and try it.”

“Hm? Like this?”

“Yes, I’ll try to see if I can…”

Before An Jing could finish, Zhu Ying suddenly felt the classroom grow overwhelmingly noisy, as if all the students’ thoughts flooded into her mind at once, like standing in the busiest, liveliest street.

But Zhu Ying didn’t feel overwhelmed—she actually felt strangely comforted.

Her tense heart finally relaxed a little.

“I hear it… so many voices.”

“That proves this isn’t a dream.”

The golden glow in An Jing’s eyes faded slowly.

“Because you can’t use telepathy in dreams, you know that, right?”

“Hmm, but why not?”

“I don’t know either.”

An Jing scratched her head.

“I guess it’s like this: in reality, we have two layers—a surface we show outwardly, and our inner hearts. But in dreams, we communicate directly from heart to heart, without being able to go deeper.”

“Makes sense.”

Zhu Ying exhaled in relief.

“Phew, that’s reassuring.”

“Ahem, but I have to go to the bathroom…”

“Pfft, you need to go to the bathroom even in such a short time?”

“Once you need it, you need it… It’s really annoying!”

“An Jing! What are you getting up for?”

Zhang Qiqi, sitting on the podium, looked at An Jing.

“To go to the bathroom!”

“No, the head teacher just said no one’s allowed out!”

Zhang Qiqi’s eyes rolled mischievously.

“Hey, do you want me to pee my pants? It’s just going to the bathroom!”

“Why don’t you just pee into a soda bottle?”

“No way! You don’t know An Jing’s nineteen centimeters, no bottle can hold that!”

“Exactly, exactly!”

Led by Sun Wei, some boys started teasing her, while An Jing’s legs squeezed tighter and tighter, and her stomach began hurting—she was about to burst when Zhang Qiqi finally stopped teasing.

“Go quickly. Don’t linger outside.”

“Got it!”

An Jing dashed out like the wind and didn’t return for a full five minutes.

Zhu Ying’s muted phone suddenly vibrated.

She opened it to see a text from An Jing: “Help! Bring a pack to the bathroom, I’m on the fifth floor!”

The abrupt message stunned Zhu Ying.

At first, she thought An Jing forgot toilet paper, but then she realized—it was probably that time of the month.

“Qiqi, I’m going to the bathroom.” Zhu Ying raised her hand slightly and winked at Zhang Qiqi.

There’s an unspoken understanding between girls.

Zhang Qiqi immediately understood and stifled a laugh while teasing: “You’re here? Go then. Why hasn’t An Jing come back yet? Maybe she got hers too?”

Zhu Ying smiled playfully and didn’t explain, but quickened her pace out of the classroom.

She only broke into a run when she reached the stairs.

“Counting the days, Xiao Jing’s period seems to have been late by several days this time…”

***

(2)

The soft, comfortable protection was truly a godsend.

Especially at times like this, An Jing almost wanted to kneel before the inventor of sanitary pads—she couldn’t imagine how women endured without them.

“My flow isn’t heavy, so I usually use these.”

“My flow was heavy the first few times, so I might need to change again later with my own kind.”

An Jing shook the water droplets off her hands and wobbled up to lean against the corridor railing, looking down.

The ambulance had already driven away, and the homeroom teacher was nowhere to be seen—probably went with the ambulance.

But An Jing thought that even jumping from just the fourth floor would leave little chance of survival.

And he hadn’t fallen into a flowerbed for a cushion—he landed headfirst…

Zhu Ying’s expression was dazed as she sighed softly: “I’ve never felt death so close before.”

“Yeah… We even talked a bit this morning.”

An Jing was also affected by Zhu Ying’s mood, resting her chin on her hand with a hint of melancholy.

“A vibrant life just ended in vain.”

“What are those people on the ground doing?”

“They’re probably cleaning the bloodstains—the blood is so dark, not like in movies.”

“Yeah… Let’s go back to the classroom. Seeing that mark makes me uncomfortable.”

An Jing nodded, about to respond, when the school intercom rang from all directions: “All students return to classrooms and wait for homeroom teacher’s instructions. All students return to classrooms and wait for homeroom teacher’s instructions…”

“Let’s go back!”

Zhu Ying lightly patted An Jing’s back.

“Maybe there won’t be class this afternoon.”

“Ah? No way.”

“There’s been a death, so no classes is normal.”

“Then we get half a day off today.”

***

(3)

The teacher responsible for informing Class 3-5 was the head teacher.

Although she smiled calmly, her furrowed brow revealed some worry.

She held a piece of chalk, tapping it against the blackboard with a clicking sound.

“Due to today’s incident, the school has decided to dismiss all students early. But note, this doesn’t mean you’re free to play. Once dismissed, you must go straight home and not linger outside. Tomorrow’s schedule is uncertain; wait for a text notification tonight. This is my number—write it down. If you don’t receive a notification, call me.”

The classroom immediately filled with the sounds of pages flipping and pens scratching paper.

Although the student who jumped was from the first year, to the ninth graders this was still a distant, unfamiliar matter.

In contrast, getting out early today was definitely something to celebrate.

As for the death—it would probably just be idle gossip on the way home. Maybe after two or three days, this would be completely forgotten.

After all, everyone’s ordinary, mundane life had to go on.

“Everyone, clean up the trash around your desks. The trash monitors will take it out. There’s no need to clean today otherwise. Let’s all get moving and start tidying up.”

The head teacher clapped her hands, and the students immediately busied themselves.

Some on duty asked if they should erase the blackboard, but the reply was to leave it as is.

So, even when the last student left and the classroom door was about to be locked, the string of phone numbers remained on the blackboard.

At noon, the classroom was empty, the desks piled high with test papers and textbooks, but devoid of human presence.

The cold stillness made Zhu Ying sneeze under the sunlight.

“Qiqi, shall we head down?”

“Okay, I’ll lock the door!” Zhang Qiqi nodded, slammed the door shut, and slid the orange-yellow key into the lock, turning it before pocketing it.

Other classrooms still had some activity, but not many. Most students had left, and those remaining were just finishing up.

Though the head teacher urged everyone to go home quickly, Zhou Chao still dragged Fang Qiang and the others to the arcade.

As for An Jing, she wanted to go too, but stayed behind to wait for Zhu Ying—today, Zhu Ying didn’t seem in the mood for gaming.

“Midday, the school’s so empty, it feels weird…”

Zhu Ying mumbled softly, slipping her small hand into the pocket of An Jing’s jacket.

“It’s like we already graduated.”

An Jing smiled lightly.

“Phew, an early dismissal today. Let’s go home and play games! Seems like the teachers didn’t even assign homework.”

“Don’t really feel like playing…”

“Then how about I text Huihui Jie?”

“Hm?”

“Ask her to take us out for a drive?”

“Tsk tsk, you two are like a married couple already—”

Zhang Qiqi shook her head and stepped away, “How come you act like you’re already a wife?”

“If anyone’s getting married, it’s Xiao Jing coming into my family!”

“By the way, didn’t ancient times’ live-in sons-in-law have to change their surname?”