Wen Zhuoxuan (GL) · Conversa

A torrential downpour battered the stone pavement of the secluded alley opposite Yucheng No. 1 High School, submerging it in murky water. Wen Zhuoxuan stood shrouded in the shadows at the alley's mouth, holding an umbrella, yet the hem of her dress shirt had still soaked through, clinging cold against her skin. Not far off, several girls had cornered He Que against the wall. Their sharp, piercing jeers mingled with the roar of the rain, grating like a rusty, dull saw against the fraying nerve inside Wen Zhuoxuan's skull. Her blood was boiling, her brain overclocked with frantic mania and extreme agitation. Across her retinas flashed visions of shoving those little delinquents' heads down into the muddy water; she calculated how to shut their mouths, how to make them taste terror as they choked for air. She had even taken half a step forward, her knuckles bleached bone-white. Yet a second later, a gust of chill wind sliced through, and what little reason remained tightened around her neck like a razor-thin steel wire. The instant she laid hands on them, her teaching credentials would be revoked, she'd be dismissed from public service, and the skin of a "flawless elite" she had labored so hard to cultivate would shatter beyond repair. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to swallow down the violence threatening to rip free from her throat. She couldn't strike. But this grievance had to be answered. Opening her eyes, a feverish, almost diseased glow flickered in their depths as an even colder, more ruthless scheme took shape in her mind—"Since I can't dirty my own hands, I'll borrow someone else's knife. I'll let a parent's slaps land viciously on these idiots' faces on my behalf." Spinning around, her high heels splashed through the standing water as she strode toward the office without looking back. When she first took charge of Class 1, Grade 12, she had spent an entire night dissecting the whole class's student files. He Que's useless parents were utterly beyond hope, but the emergency contact listed at the very bottom had caught her eye. Jin Huai. Occupation: Psychological Counselor. Staring at the name, she let out a low chuckle. She remembered this person. Not long ago, during a follow-up hospital check-up, she had run into this woman in a white coat. Supposedly someone dedicated to psychological healing, yet the woman reeked of a terrifyingly violent malice, her gaze far more savage and intolerant than even her own severe manic state. Inside her overclocked brain, an exquisite plan resolved itself in an instant. She lifted the receiver and dialed the number. The phone rang for a long time before someone picked up, followed by a woman's intensely enraged, impatient voice barking from the other end. "Who is this? It's after hours. Quit fucking bothering me." Wen Zhuoxuan leaned back against her chair, a sickly fever blazing in her eyes. "Ms. Jin Huai, correct? I'm He Que's new homeroom teacher." Her words poured out at a breakneck pace, yet her tone was chillingly gentle. "Get over to the school right now." Just as the other end was about to unleash a tirade, Wen Zhuoxuan cut her off without mercy. "It's regarding your niece." Her fingertips tapped rhythmically against the desktop. "And... I've seen you before, you know. Dr. Jin." Clicking off the call, the office sank into dead silence. She stared at the clock on the wall, her breaths still ragged, faint blue veins standing out along her pale neck. Pulling open the drawer, she dumped out two white pills and swallowed them dry without a drop of water.