Thank you @Pixi for the Kofi.
Yuying University
Chapter 513: Graduation Ceremony 4
In front of the curtain, the vice-principal stepped aside from the podium and turned to look behind him.
Under the pale lights, his face wore an exaggerated smile, and his voice was high-pitched. “Let’s welcome this year’s outstanding graduate to give a speech!”
A sparse round of applause echoed under the empty dome.
Beneath the parted curtain, a figure slowly emerged from the darkness.
Under the bated breath of all the graduates, a young man slowly walked onto the stage.
From the audience below, several sharp gasps were heard.
Yun Bilan’s pupils constricted, and in her extreme astonishment, she almost stood up but was quickly held down by the people beside her.
“…”
Their expressions were grave as they shook their heads slightly.
Not far from their seats stood several student council members wearing armbands. They seemed to have noticed the commotion, and their dark, cold eyes were looking in this direction.
Yun Bilan quickly calmed down and shook her head to signal she was fine.
Although the imminent danger was gone, the group’s solemn expressions did not improve in the slightest. They turned to look forward once more.
Behind the podium stood a person they were all very familiar with.
A tall figure, handsome features, impossible to mistake… it was Wen Jianyan, who had been separated from them by accident and whom they had been unable to contact for some reason.
Although the smile on his lips was still familiar, the aura he exuded was completely different from their memory.
Cold, eerie, like a ghost.
His once fair skin had lost all color, turning a cold, bluish-white. His eyes, which were a light amber in the light, were now bottomless pits of black.
Even more striking than his face was the armband he wore.
The three words “Student Council” on it were almost piercing to the eyes.
Could it be…
A terrible guess rose in their hearts. They didn’t want to believe it, but every detail they saw made it impossible to deny.
Just as their minds were in turmoil, the young man’s elegant voice came from above:
“Teachers, fellow students, good evening. As this school’s outstanding graduate, I will be speaking on behalf of everyone to express our gratitude to our alma mater—”
Wen Jianyan stood at the podium, delivering his speech at an unhurried pace.
Although there was no prepared script in front of him, for him, handling this type of occasion required no reference.
He could rattle off such platitudes without even needing to think.
“…In these four academic years, the students have been harmonious, friendly, and mutually supportive, especially the members of the student council and the clubs. The teachers have been noble, leading by example, and treating every student equally…”
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[?]
[?]
[Is this kid giving a speech or cussing people out?]
[LMAO, he’s a max-level expert in sarcasm!]
While his mouth kept moving, Wen Jianyan surveyed the entire venue.
Student council members stood on both sides of the stage, some standing motionless, others patrolling methodically. The anchors sat properly in the chairs before the stage, listening to his “speech.”
Looking out, in the vast, empty space, the number of student council members even surpassed that of the anchors. Their pale faces turned, silently monitoring, creating an almost suffocating sense of pressure.
Wen Jianyan quickly located his teammates.
Hugo, Wei Cheng, Tian Ye, and Yun Bilan sat side by side. Even Arnold, who had teamed up with them midway, was there. They were all leaning forward, their eyes fixed on him with expressions of shock and amazement. Even Hugo, who was usually the most composed, had his brows tightly furrowed, looking very grave.
Wen Jianyan was stung by their gazes.
He knew his current state was bizarre and he couldn’t explain it, which was bound to cause them unnecessary fear. But, aside from a slight feeling of guilt, Wen Jianyan felt more confusion.
Their reaction was a bit too much.
Indeed. In an instance, when teammates were in certain special areas, they couldn’t maintain contact with others. However, once they left that scene, communication should have been restored.
The reason Wen Jianyan hadn’t been sure of the cause before was that he didn’t know if Hugo and the others had truly left the “memory” or if they had entered another similar scene, which was why they couldn’t receive his messages.
But from his teammates’ current reactions, it was clear they had tried to contact him multiple times after leaving the “memory”—and just like Wen Jianyan, all their messages had vanished without a trace, receiving no reply.
Strange.
Could it be that because he was now so deeply integrated with the instance, he couldn’t communicate with his teammates via their phones?
That’s not right.
Wen Jianyan’s brow furrowed even deeper.
After all, he had previously called Orange Candy, who was sleeping in the artificial lake, and the call had gone through perfectly fine.
So what was going on?
Although his mind was racing, Wen Jianyan continued to speak eloquently.
“—In any case, we must thank our alma mater for providing us with a safe shelter and for creating opportunities for us to learn and grow…”
He refocused his attention and glanced to the side.
The vice-principal’s smiling face was close by. He was staring at him intently, without blinking, which was incredibly creepy and made one’s scalp tingle.
Although Wen Jianyan didn’t know why communication between him and his team was cut off, it wasn’t the most pressing issue right now.
Wen Jianyan discreetly opened his livestream interface.
In the small, brown flowerpot, the apple sapling had unknowingly grown tall and lush. The green leaves rustled without any wind, and several apples hung from the branches.
Three in total.
Each one was bright red, plump, and looked ready to burst with juice.
Below the flowerpot was the unmoving countdown timer.
[22:35:11]
After another 22 hours in the instance, another apple would ripen.
For an anchor of Wen Jianyan’s current level, the uses of his talent could accumulate over time.
Otherwise, Mason wouldn’t have been able to hoard such a massive number of [Copies].
About two or three instances ago, Wen Jianyan had become aware of the potential side effects of his talent and began to deliberately reduce its use. However, as his anchor level increased, the talent’s cooldown time shortened, and so, the growth rate of the [Fruit of Lies] began to exceed his rate of consumption.
Before entering Yuying Comprehensive University, he already had one fruit on his sapling, and now, there were three on the branches.
“…”
Wen Jianyan stared at the three apples bending the branch, his pupils reflecting a hint of red from the fruit’s surface. He could hear his heart pounding wildly.
To get himself and everyone else out of this instance, he had to stop this graduation ceremony.
“…In any case, we have all gained a lot during our four years at this school. Most of us have been nurtured into useful pillars of society and are about to face even greater challenges.”
Wen Jianyan looked up, once again surveying the gymnasium before him. His gaze swept over the menacing student council members and the nervously waiting anchors, formulating his plan.
His talent’s duration was very short. Even if he rolled a great success, the distorted reality would only last for a minute at most.
This meant he had to use it at the most critical moment.
That would be when the graduation ceremony was about to end, on the verge of the instance closing.
“In conclusion—”
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan’s voice stopped abruptly.
Even as his mind was racing, his “speech” had continued, but now it had inexplicably halted.
His throat felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible force, and he couldn’t utter another syllable. In an instant, the entire gymnasium fell into a brief, dead silence.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze was locked on the audience. His pupils widened slightly, as if he had seen something.
In the “Integrity First” livestream chat, the viewers were equally baffled, their comments filled with confusion.
[?]
[?]
[What happened?]
[Why did the anchor suddenly stop?]
This pause only lasted for a brief three seconds. Almost in the next instant, Wen Jianyan picked up where he left off, his voice smooth and eloquent, as if the brief silence had never happened.
“In conclusion, as long as we work together and always stay sharp, we will surely be able to walk the path we want and achieve the results we desire.
Happy graduation to everyone.”
Below the stage.
“His speech… is not just a speech,” Hugo suddenly said.
“…?”
Tian Ye was taken aback and subconsciously glanced at Wen Jianyan on the stage.
The man’s face was a distinct bluish-white under the light, and he exuded a cold aura. He looked nothing like a living person.
Beside them, Su Cheng remained silent, simply staring at the stage with dark eyes, his thoughts unreadable.
After the speech ended, the vice-principal walked forward with a smile. He stood at the podium and was the first to applaud. “Well said.”
Following his lead, a sparse applause sounded from below the stage.
“Alright, although it’s sad to part, all good things must come to an end. Next, I will award diplomas to the students who have completed their graduation theses with passing grades. Students who receive their diplomas may graduate from this school.”
As he finished speaking, two student council members came forward, each holding a stack of blood-red documents.
Seeing this, some of the anchors couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.
It was clear they all knew the condition for clearing [Yuying Comprehensive University]—they could leave the instance as long as they graduated smoothly.
But another group of anchors turned deathly pale.
Although they had arrived at the gymnasium within the specified time, some had not completed their theses, while others had completed them but failed to get a passing grade.
Even though they had long suspected they might not meet the clearing conditions, they had come here clinging to a final shred of hope.
And now, that last shred of hope was shattered.
They knew that they would probably never be able to leave this instance.
“Next, students whose ID numbers I call, please come up to the stage.”
The vice-principal reached into his coat and pulled out a blood-red piece of paper. With a smile, he began to call out the anchors’ student ID numbers one by one.
Wen Jianyan lifted his eyelids and glanced again in the direction he had just been looking.
In front of the stage were neat rows of chairs.
The anchors sat in their seats—some anxious, some calm, some despairing, some hopeful. Their expressions varied, but they all waited quietly for their names to be called.
And in one of those chairs sat a very familiar figure.
No, rather than a figure, it was…
A back view.
It sat there, motionless, with its back to the stage.
No face, just the back of a dark head. It looked so strange and out of place, yet among all the anchors and NPCs present, no one else besides him seemed to see this bizarre back view.
Wen Jianyan unconsciously tightened his fingers, his palm cold and clammy.
He remembered this back view.
He had seen this eerie figure in the empty movie theater before the end of the film A Day in the Life of Wang Ni.
During his speech just now, he had seen this figure in the audience, sitting in the last row.
But now…
Wen Jianyan’s gaze fell on the back view, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
The back view was now sitting in the third row from the front.
Just like last time, “it” was getting closer.
But this time, there was no scene about to end that Wen Jianyan could escape from.
One by one, the student ID numbers were called. Apart from those who hadn’t completed their theses or hadn’t passed, all the other anchors had been called to the front of the stage.
“Alright, that’s all the graduates.”
The vice-principal beamed.
The remaining anchors stayed in their seats, their faces pale with despair as they awaited the tragic fate that was about to befall them.
“Congratulations on qualifying for graduation and becoming graduates of Yuying Comprehensive University!”
But before the anchors could breathe a sigh of relief, the smile on the vice-principal’s lips widened.
It was supposed to be a happy expression, but on his face, it looked exceptionally eerie and unsettling, making one’s heart race with unease.
“However, due to upcoming large-scale structural adjustments in our school, we are short on teaching staff, and some of the students in this graduating class are exceptionally qualified…”
The vice-principal’s voice was enthusiastic and high-pitched.
“Therefore, to solve everyone’s employment issues, after a unified discussion, the school has decided to offer teaching positions to the outstanding members of this graduating class!”
This announcement was like a bolt from the blue. The anchors standing on the stage paled.
They weren’t stupid.
They all knew that graduating successfully was one thing, but being kept behind and “offered a teaching position” was another matter entirely.
This wasn’t a benefit; it was a death knell, representing being trapped in the instance forever!
As if completely oblivious to the students’ ugly expressions, the vice-principal smilingly took a blood-red paper from a student council member—
The words on it were not [Diploma], but [Employee Contract]!
He walked toward the first person with the contract and handed over the red paper with the person’s name on it.
“…”
—The selection has begun. Just as I thought.
Wen Jianyan’s heart sank.
His earlier guess was confirmed, but he felt no joy.
At the same time, he also noticed the vice-principal’s wording… “upcoming large-scale structural adjustments in our school”? What did that mean?
For some reason, a strong sense of unease rose in Wen Jianyan’s heart.
Unlike Wen Jianyan, who had anticipated this, the other anchors were clearly not taking this well.
“What?!” The anchor at the front of the line turned ashen. He glared at the vice-principal and the [Employee Contract] in his hand, his back arched, ready to resist. “No, I’m not signing, don’t even think about—”
He had barely gotten the words out when his expression suddenly changed from defiance to sheer terror.
As if controlled by some invisible force, the anchor’s hand slowly rose, inch by inch, and stiffly reached for the contract.
“No!”
The anchor’s pupils constricted, his face deathly white. He seemed to be resisting with all his might, but could only watch helplessly as his hand reached out and pressed down hard.
“No, no, no, no—”
A blood-red handprint appeared at the end of the employee contract.
How could this be?!
All the anchors’ faces changed.
But the vice-principal seemed unfazed, as if this was a common occurrence. He smiled and extended a hand to the anchor. “After the graduation ceremony, you will officially join our teaching staff. Welcome, welcome.”
The anchor who had just pressed his handprint stared at his hand in a daze, as if he hadn’t recovered from what just happened. He stood motionless, like a soulless puppet, until a student council member came forward and asked him to leave.
“…”
Wen Jianyan raised his eyes and met the gaze of his teammates not far away.
In this scene, neither side could speak or draw too much attention. Their gazes could only meet in mid-air for a fleeting moment before parting.
He took a deep breath, retracted his gaze, and subconsciously glanced down at the area below the stage.
—That cold, eerie back view was now in the first row.
But unlike the previous times, this time, under Wen Jianyan’s gaze, the back view broke its usual pattern and slowly stood up! The hair on his body instantly stood on end, and a cold sweat broke out on his back.
The appearance of this back view was completely unexpected. He didn’t know what it was, why it appeared now, or what impact its appearance would have on his upcoming plan.
Because it was unknown, it was dangerous.
Beside him, the strange “signing ceremony” continued.
One, two, three…
One contract after another was handed out. The anchors who were passed over were drenched in cold sweat, breathing sighs of relief as if they had survived a disaster. Those who were “chosen” resisted with all their might.
But unfortunately, such resistance was often futile.
Not only because there were too many student council members and school teachers watching menacingly, but more importantly, because the “promises” they had made earlier were taking effect.
[I I pledge, I willingly offer my flesh and blood.]
[I pledge, I willingly offer my mind and spirit.]
[I pledge, I willingly offer everything I have.]
Soon, the vice-principal walked toward the next anchor.
It was Su Cheng.
“…………”
Wen Jianyan’s fingers, hanging by his side, twitched, but he forced them still.
Not yet.
Su Cheng looked up and gave him a deep look. Unlike the others, he seemed to have already accepted the situation and had no intention of putting up a futile struggle. He obediently raised his hand and pressed his handprint on the contract.
After doing this, he didn’t even wait for a student council member to come forward before turning and walking off the stage.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze moved down and fell on the spot where Su Cheng had just been standing. He was suddenly taken aback.
On the empty floor lay a small, neatly folded piece of paper.
He didn’t know when it had been dropped there.
Wen Jianyan’s heart skipped a beat.
He glanced down from the corner of his eye. The vice-principal had already moved on to the next anchor and didn’t seem to have seen it.
Wen Jianyan’s heart pounded. He nonchalantly shifted his body and walked toward the paper.
In his peripheral vision, he saw that the back view that had stood up from the first row was still moving.
It was backing up toward the stage.
Step by step.
By the time Wen Jianyan stepped on the piece of paper, the back view was already standing in front of the stage.
Wen Jianyan bent down and picked up the paper.
The back view stepped onto the stairs.
In the blink of an eye, the distance between them had shortened. Wen Jianyan could almost feel the hair-raisingly cold aura from the other. The hair on his arms stood on end, his palms were slick with sticky cold sweat, and his fingertips trembled with urgency.
The back view was only three meters away from Wen Jianyan.
Wen Jianyan unfolded the paper.
The paper seemed to be torn from some document; its edges were ragged. On the back were two large, scrawled words:
[TAPE].
…Tape?
Wen Jianyan froze.
What tape—
Wait.
As if he had a sudden realization, he gasped sharply, a shiver running through his entire body.
When he was previously choosing his graduation thesis, the first subject Wen Jianyan had signed up for was “Film Appreciation.” He had chosen the last and only movie tape he knew very little about as his thesis topic.
Thank You, Teacher.
However, because the film appreciation teacher had a strong hatred for him, Wen Jianyan was forced to re-register for a dance class.
No, that’s not accurate.
To change subjects, one had to go through the academic advisor.
But because Wen Jianyan also had a feud with the female teacher in red, he didn’t choose that method. Instead, he went directly to the dance teacher’s desk to register.
This meant that he had never actually been completely removed from the film appreciation class; he had merely added another one.
And because of that, the Thank You, Teacher tape had been in his pocket all this time!!
“Tap.”
A heel tapped the ground, making a faint sound.
In Wen Jianyan’s peripheral vision, he saw a pair of feet stop in front of him.
He clenched his jaw, his hands not stopping. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the old tape, and tore open the packaging.
“…Crick.”
The faint sound of bones turning was heard.
Faster, faster.
He bit his fingertip hard, squeezing out the dark, cold blood from the wound. A drop fell with a “drip,” landing right in the center of the tape.
The next second, the drop of blood was rapidly absorbed.
Wen Jianyan knew this meant the [TAPE] had recognized his status as an examinee.
“Whirr…”
He wasn’t sure if it was an illusion, but he heard the sound of a film reel turning in his ears again.
Darkness descended over him.
