Chapter 909: Home Visit

Heimu went down the stairs.

Heimu pushed open the Teaching Building's main gate.

Sunlight.

Low morning glories in the flower bed.

The purple‑black scooter at the school gate.

Heimu straddled it.

Heimu snapped the helmet onto her head.

The engine roared.

The tires screeched a sharp whine against the concrete.

The body of the vehicle shot forward.

Heimu didn't believe it.

If one try fails, she tries twice; if twice fails, she tries three times. She'll eventually turn the Painted World's broken Rule upside down.

A mere cluster of data death animation dares to replay before Heimu?

School gate.

Kesi Mo was standing with arms crossed beside the gatepost, his ice‑blue shoulder pads reflecting dazzling spots in the noon sun, his cloak fluttering lightly in the wind.

At that moment, a "whoosh" sounded in her ear as a Black Shadow darted past her.

It was too fast.

So fast that only a vague outline was captured:

The lingering silhouette of gray‑white long hair, the hem of a teacher's uniform stretched into a straight line by the wind, and the black short‑heeled boots that tapped the ground.

Then a hurried voice lingered in the air: "If something comes up, you watch over Ge Lei Xiu!"

Kesi Mo remained in place, keeping his arms crossed, not even moving a finger.

The scooter's engine roared from outside the school gate, then sped away, finally vanishing around the corner at the end of the street.

Heimu slowly turned her head, looking toward the direction where the sound disappeared.

The warm orange geometric pattern on the fully enclosed helmet visor flickered slowly three times.

She opened her mouth.

Finally, a few extremely concise characters squeezed out from beneath the visor.

"... watch over whom?"

No one answered her.

The school gate was empty, only the low morning glories in the flower bed swayed perfunctorily in the noon breeze.

The perspective shifted back to Heimu.

In the restroom.

Heimu stood before the sink mirror, hands braced on the edge of the marble countertop, head lowered, gazing at the clean white ceramic basin.

The faucet was not turned on, yet she could hear a loose faucet in the adjacent stall dripping, each drop hitting the tile rhythmically like a metronome.

She lifted her head, looking at herself in the mirror.

Her cool white skin appeared even whiter under the fluorescent light, and the lazy smile at the corner of her mouth had vanished.

She stared at herself in the mirror, and the person in the mirror stared back.

Neither of them felt like speaking.

Seven or eight times.

She used the rewind function seven or eight times.

Each time the procedure was similar: rush to Hua's house, push the door, the corpse was still warm, Hua appeared at the doorway on time, then rewind.

The differences lay only in some minute details.

Once she entered without knocking, and the corpse remained in the same spot.

Another time she crouched downstairs at Hua's house in advance, waited for nothing, and after going upstairs found the person already dead in the living room.

Once she tried to block Hua at the door, but when Hua saw blood seeping from the living‑room direction, she bypassed her and rushed in, moving so fast Heimu couldn't react.

The same ending.

The same time of death.

The same pair of eyes Hua had when standing at the doorway, shifting from ice‑blue to gray‑white.

Heimu lifted her right hand from the countertop, gently pressing her fingertip against her own temple.

She had seen it coming.

This is not an obstacle that can be bypassed by speed or a time difference.

It is a mechanism.

A forced Plot Node hard‑coded into the Painted World's underlying Rule.

The only difference is whether you change the way you fight this BOSS.

Change the method.

She lowered her hand from the temple, lifted her head, and looked back at the mirror.

The person in the mirror's mouth corner slowly lifted a little.

"Teacher?"

Hua's voice came from beside her, tentative and cautious, "Are you all right?"

Heimu turned her head, looking at Hua standing beside the sink.

A slate‑blue low ponytail, ice‑blue eyes, and a neatly buttoned school uniform collar.

Heimu stared at her for two seconds.

Then the plan quickly formed in her mind, concise and efficient, fully complying with the existing Rule of the Painted World, requiring no extra system permissions.

She smiled and turned toward Hua.

She switched herself from the "Task executor constantly plagued by repeated rollbacks, frazzled and overwhelmed" mode to the "gentle, affable, diligent and responsible good teacher" mode.

"Hua."

She adjusted her voice to match this mode's frequency, "The teacher suddenly remembered something."

Hua tilted their head, and the confusion in their ice‑blue eyes deepened.

Heimu, who had just been staring solemnly at the mirror, now smiled brightly at her; the shift was so sudden that she was a little unsure what expression to make.

Yet she habitually straightened up and responded with the standard obedient student posture.

"Please, go ahead."

Heimu stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Hua's shoulder.

She lowered her head slightly, aligning her gaze level with Hua's eyes.

"It's like this. Hua, your performance in class lately—"

She deliberately paused, letting the silence hang for two seconds, "exceptionally excellent. Attentive in lectures, notes neat, homework completion high. Moreover, as Class Monitor, you have also greatly assisted the teacher in class management."

Hua's eyelashes fluttered.

Heimu's tone was sincere, exactly that of a teacher earnestly praising a student.

While saying this, she was rapidly scanning her mental "teacher speech repertoire."

It seems those materials were not read in vain.

Hua's face began reddening at a visibly rapid pace.

Starting from the base of the ears, a light pink spread upward, first covering the earlobes, then sweeping across the cheeks.

Her lips moved slightly, as if to say "No, no, teacher, you're overpraising me," but the sound stuck in her throat, producing only a vague sigh.

She lowered her eyes, eyelashes casting two flickering shadows on her face, and her fingers unconsciously twisted the edge of her school uniform skirt.

Heimu mentally logged an assist; Hua's reaction—panic mixed with a hint of embarrassment, and that embarrassment tinged with a secret delight—perfectly matched the predicted personality.

A normally silent, restrained good student, when praised face‑to‑face by a teacher, has their defenses drop to zero instantly.

"So then,"

Heimu continued, giving Hua's shoulder two gentle pats, "I would like to find a time to visit your home for a home visit. Talk face‑to‑face with your family, tell them about your excellent performance at school. That way, your family can also be proud of you."

"Home…home visit?!"

Hua's voice rose by half an octave.

She jerked her head up, ice‑blue eyes wide open, the pink flush on her face shifting from light to deep pink at a visibly rapid rate.

"Te‑teacher, there's no need to make it so troublesome! My father—he rarely speaks, and the house is never really tidied—it's a mess—truly, especially messy—what I mean is, you're so busy and yet you'd have to carve out time—"

"No trouble."

Heimu smiled and cut her off.

The smile remained gentle, but the tone added an uncompromising certainty.

"I also happen to want to meet your father. I heard his health has been poor lately, so I could also pay a visit. Communication between teacher and parents is important for a student's growth, right, Hua?"

Paired with that almost luminous gentle smile, the impact was maximized.

Hua opened his mouth.