Chapter 428: The Story of Zhao Zhao Zixuan

I lived in a small county town in the north, and my high school was the county's No. 1 High School.

Like most schools, it had its share of strange legends.

For example, the land was once a mass grave, and the school was built atop it to suppress wandering spirits with the students' yang energy; beneath the foundation were carved talismanic Eight Trigrams arrays to ward off evil.

Another tale claimed that before the school was built, this place had been a bustling food street, where a vicious vendor poisoned his dishes, causing a mass death event.

At this, Wu Xian shrugged.

Schools, hospitals, and funeral homes are classic locations for ghost stories.

Zhao Zhao Zixuan rubbed his face.

"But I'm not interested in these stories. Building on a mass grave was just because the land was cheap, and the food poisoning rumor was just a lie the school spread to scare us away from street vendors."

"I'm exhausted. I don't have the energy to chat with classmates about nonsense."

"Senior year is brutal—morning study starts at six, evening study ends at ten, and we get only half a day off each week."

"I'm a day student—I bike to school every day, which means I wake up at five and don't get to bed until eleven at the earliest. In winter, the wind cuts my face like a knife."

"All this endless studying didn't make me learn more."

"Lack of sleep, unbearable stress—I was always dazed in class, half-asleep, half-awake. The only point of being at school was to extend my attendance record so others could boast, 'These students are so hardworking.'"

"The teachers always had grim faces. Whenever I tried to rest, they'd appear just in time to scold me with the same tired lectures, as if wanting a nap after six hours of sleep was a grave sin."

"My classmates wore the same blank, tired expressions, but sometimes they'd still act up—maybe because their lives had moments of joy too."

"My parents were busy too. At first, they cooked for me despite my early mornings and late nights, but after a while, every morning I woke up to find only coins on the table—I had to buy all my meals outside. Sometimes I wouldn't see them for days, and even when I did, there was no warmth."

"This life felt like hell to me."

These words weighed heavily on the listeners.

Xiong Gang sighed repeatedly, each story from Zhao Zhao Zixuan deepening his regret—he hadn't saved this child.

Gong Gong Xiujuan empathized with his suffering, but Fu Liang Jian'an, due to the generation gap, couldn't understand his anguish.

Wu Xian shook his head slightly. Fuyuan City's high schools weren't this intense, and back when he was in school, he was good at finding joy for himself—so much so that teachers saw him as a thorn in their side.

Zhao Zhao Zixuan changed his tone.

"In those days, the only warmth I found came from a small restaurant outside school."

"The place looked run-down, with few customers—mostly elderly folks. The owner was a kind-looking old woman who always had my meal ready when I came."

"The food was cheap and suited my taste. She treated me well. Whenever the school needed parental involvement, I'd go to her for help. After entering senior year, she was the only person who ever showed me kindness."

"This numb existence lasted for how long, I don't know."

"Then one day, I fainted from exhaustion. When I woke up in the hospital, everything changed."

Zhao Zhao Zixuan's voice grew lighter. "The teachers never scolded me again. I could rest on my desk whenever I couldn't hold on."

"My classmates became friendlier, approaching me to make friends. Though sometimes their glances at me were strange, my school life finally had some joy."

"My mother started cooking for me again. Every morning and night, I ate hot meals. Maybe it was my imagination, but her cooking tasted better—each dish was delicious. Still, because of time constraints, I rarely saw them."

"With my mood improving, I even felt my mind sharpening, and my grades began rising steadily."

"The only flaw in this beautiful time was that the old woman's restaurant closed. But I didn't care much—I no longer needed her comfort."

"But gradually, I noticed something was off in my life."

"Wherever I went, I kept seeing the corpses of small animals—pigeons, cats, dogs, chickens, ducks—all decapitated."

"The cafeteria lady complained that some of the school's ingredients had gone missing—mostly chicken and duck heads."

"My classmates' warmth turned to fear and distance. The teachers' concern shifted to pity. Maybe it was a lingering effect of my fainting spell—I often lost chunks of memory."

"Even stranger—my home, my clothes, began to smell foul. My sheets and bedding hadn't been changed in ages…"

These anomalies.

Made Zhao Zhao Zixuan feel a quiet unease.

But his crushing workload consumed all his time and energy. He had neither the ability nor the time to investigate the cause—he could only drift day after day.

Until one day.

The school was holding a motivational rally.

Zhao Zhao Zixuan and his classmates had to go to the school basement to move equipment to the stage.

But the moment he entered the basement, he fainted. When he woke up in the hospital again, he reeked of foul odor. Back at school, everyone avoided him—as if he were a plague-bringer. He found his teacher and asked what had happened.

His homeroom teacher patted his shoulder with a look of pity. "I know your parents' deaths hit you hard, but you can't go on like this. If you need help, come to me—I and your classmates will support you."

"My parents died?" Zhao Zhao Zixuan was stunned. "When? Why didn't I know?"

The homeroom teacher widened his eyes. "Your parents passed away three months ago—a factory accident. Both of them died in it. You fainted and were hospitalized at the time…"

Zhao Zhao Zixuan stopped hearing anything after that.

A sudden, nameless grief surged in his chest.

Beneath the grief lay a thread of terror.

If his parents had been dead all along, then who had been cooking for him these past three months?

(End of chapter)