It was afternoon, during the last class period, and the hallway was nearly empty.
The only sound that could be heard was the noisy chatter coming from inside the classroom.
Su Yao hesitated.
If she pushed the door open now, she might be mistaken for a teacher arriving.
Everyone inside was in high spirits; if she spoiled the mood, she’d definitely attract some unwanted attention, which would be terribly awkward.
Just thinking about that scene made the hairs on her neck stand on end.
So Su Yao decided to wait until the timing was right before going in.
As for when that would be… she’d figure it out later.
Leaning against the back door, she listened carefully.
The noise inside was different from usual—it sounded like a full rehearsal was underway?
A stage play didn’t only involve actors; there were also performers specifically responsible for props, which were a crucial part of the production and often determined whether the program would be more captivating.
At this moment, they were indeed practicing the prop performance.
Unfamiliar commands were called out one after another, followed by scolding and laughter whenever mistakes happened, then several people eagerly offered their ideas before starting all over again.
The process was somewhat lengthy.
After all, this was only the first day, so many errors and oversights needed on-the-fly fixes.
They kept shouting “cut!” to pause, creating a stifling and uncomfortable atmosphere, which made Su Yao frown deeply as she listened from outside.
What kind of nonsense was this!
As the author of the new script, Su Yao couldn’t help but be interested.
She listened attentively and began to imagine what kind of scene it might be.
It was a fairy tale romance, about a certain Goddess of Death…
The activity room was an old classroom repurposed for other uses.
The front door creaked open, startling Su Yao.
Within five seconds, she made eight false moves before the person inside stepped out—it was none other than Zhang Li, the class counselor.
Zhang Li came out smiling, but when she saw Su Yao standing stiffly alone against the wall, her smile immediately faded, and she hurriedly pretended she had just returned from the restroom, feeling a sudden pang of unease.
Her smile vanished in an instant, and in a low voice, she called out to Su Yao, who was about to slip back into the classroom.
“Su Yao, come to the office with me for a moment.”
From the activity room, they walked to Zhang Li’s office.
As the counselor, Zhang Li’s office was located in the teaching building of the major she taught.
Fortunately, it wasn’t far—just a short walk down the stairs and a few steps.
The two entered the office, one after the other.
At this hour, another female teacher was still there, but luckily, she wasn’t Su Yao’s instructor, and her seat was quite far away.
After exchanging greetings with Zhang Li, she didn’t pry any further.
The presence of others made Su Yao even more reserved.
Zhang Li sat down and, as usual, told Su Yao to pick a seat.
Pretending to tidy her desk, Zhang Li was actually thinking about how to approach Su Yao.
Yesterday, Mu Nanqiu had suddenly asked to borrow someone and specifically named Su Yao.
That was strange.
Plus, Su Yao herself was full of mysteries, which sparked many speculations in Zhang Li’s mind.
At first, Zhang Li thought Su Yao might have bought a fake identity to enroll in school—there had been cases in recent years where people used illegal connections to replace others and get into good universities.
But IDs couldn’t be easily faked.
Though the photos showed some differences, key features confirmed it was the same person. She had also thought Su Yao might belong to a special group, but the “aunt Flo” incident convinced Zhang Li that Su Yao was biologically female.
Facing a student who was biologically female but socially male, especially one so sensitive, nervous, and easily triggered, Zhang Li’s usual experience didn’t apply.
She had to communicate with Su Yao very cautiously.
Zhang Li genuinely wanted to help Su Yao resolve her “psychological issues.” This wasn’t just out of fear that something might go wrong someday, but because, as a teacher and elder, and sitting in the counselor position, she felt it was her duty.
Some colleagues who had worked for two or three terms advised her not to get involved in such matters—just mind her own business.
She thought they were right, but she just couldn’t resist.
Taking a quick look at Su Yao today, seeing no missing limbs, Zhang Li felt relieved.
It was hard to say what she might do if Su Yao disappeared for an hour or two.
But when her eyes landed on the camera, Zhang Li’s gaze lingered a few seconds longer.
She knew quality when she saw it—this camera wasn’t cheap, certainly not something Su Yao would normally have.
Where could it have come from?
After pondering, Zhang Li decided it could only be Mu Nanqiu.
She knew Mu Nanqiu used to dabble in these kinds of gadgets.
What puzzled Zhang Li most was how Mu Nanqiu, this young lady of high status, had come to be involved with Su Yao.
Zhang Li had met Mu Nanqiu because of her troublesome younger sister, who attended the art academy next door and was classmates with Hua Mingye.
They were close, and through them, Zhang Li had come to know Mu Nanqiu.
Come to think of it, her sister’s gaze toward her had felt increasingly strange lately.
Not wanting to dwell on irrelevant thoughts, Zhang Li pushed aside unimportant matters and glanced at the camera again before turning to Su Yao and asking,
“Su Yao, how do you feel about the atmosphere in the class?”
“Huh?”
Su Yao was surprised.
Zhang Li didn’t start by asking why she wasn’t in the classroom or what she had been doing, but instead asked about the class atmosphere…
That question was so abstract and hard to answer.
She preferred true-or-false questions the most, since they only required a right or wrong answer.
Next were multiple-choice questions, which allowed guesses based on probability.
Then came fill-in-the-blank questions, which let her infer answers from context.
Lastly were open-ended questions—especially those like when Chuan Ge arranged a meet after school and wanted her to back him up, and then someone asked her opinion on the matter.
What opinion could she possibly have?
After a long pause, Su Yao could only reply with three words.
“Pretty good.”
“…”
Zhang Li realized she might have asked a silly question and smiled awkwardly.
She switched tactics.
“The teachers told you before that they hoped you would get involved, and we saw you working on the coloring. But now the teachers have a new idea. Of course, it’s up to you whether you agree. No one will force you.”
“…”
This time, Su Yao was silent.
After waiting for a moment, Zhang Li figured waiting for her to respond would be as pointless as before, so she continued.
“In high school, it was always study, study, study—buried in books. This is your first time experiencing such a rich, fulfilling festival atmosphere. It’s fresh, and everyone’s enthusiasm is high. The teachers want to leave some good memories for everyone because this kind of passion is hard to come by later. So, we hope you can take some photos for everyone. How about that?”
“Huh?”
Su Yao was stunned.