The White-robed Instructors usually didn’t share a room with the children; they often lived in another courtyard.
Yan You’s nightly patrol routes never once came near the Instructors’ courtyard. He had never seen anything like this before.
The man said nothing, standing calmly in place, like a statue.
Yan You stood up, scooped Ling Lingqi into his arms, and carefully backed away until he reached his own bed. His dark eyes fixed on the motionless Instructor.
He slowly lifted the quilt and lay down inside.
“Squeak—” The door quietly opened, and the moonlight outside spilled softly into the room.
The Instructor’s footsteps were silent, mixing with the children’s steady breathing, creating an eerie atmosphere.
Shadows fell across Yan You’s pale face.
A cold yet gentle hand brushed along his cheek, sending tiny goosebumps across his skin.
Yan You heard the mysterious Instructor’s puzzled muttering, but he couldn’t make out the words. Sleep washed over him like a tide; his nerves didn’t sense danger, only a rare comfort and ease.
Yan You closed his eyes and sank into slumber.
Mistake.
***
Yesterday, Qu Fengyin shouted that everyone in the county town shared the same face—gentle and refined, the face of a scholar.
Yan You immediately thought of the Scripture House’s Lecture Hall.
Although he only occasionally came to the Scripture House to check in, he had at least attended classes there for a couple of days.
Yan You was severely face-blind, worse at recognizing faces than remembering the Beidou subway map—which was at least somewhat easier.
But to be so face-blind that he couldn’t even recall the face of a statue was truly amusing; an experience he would find hard to forget.
In Yan You’s memory, the school’s Lecture Hall housed a statue of the Sage.
If the county town had to pick one face to represent it, only the revered face of the Sage deserved that honor.
It should be known that most classical texts didn’t have modern punctuation; everyone’s understanding could differ based on sentence breaks.
One extremely famous example from the past was the phrase “民可使由之不可使知之” (“The people can be made to follow but cannot be made to understand”).
Different punctuations implied very different governance philosophies, and the teachers lecturing the students naturally adopted the interpretation they supported.
Within the Scripture House, every commentary and interpretation of the scriptures came from the Sage’s statue in the Lecture Hall.
This was an immensely important figure.
The entire county town was filled with traces of this Sage.
The townsfolk could only see the Sage’s statue during the Spring Festival; at other times, it was forbidden to view it.
Of course, Yan You himself had been to the Lecture Hall many times and often played at the foot of the statue, but he never noticed anything unusual.
Yet now, after telling Qu Fengyin about the scholar’s face, curiosity inevitably took hold, and they decided to go take a look.
So these two—one a half-trained novice in supernatural matters, the other a materialistic child—entered the Scripture House to seek out the Sage.
Bringing Qu Fengyin to the Scripture House for the first time required many twists and turns; Yan You had to keep some things secret.
But now that they had formed an alliance, Yan You stopped pretending.
He boldly led the Jinyiwei straight through the Scripture House’s main gate.
The Scripture House’s gatekeeper sat in a small pavilion by the door, looking dazed.
Yan You ran over, lifted his head with a smile: “Uncle, I’m the new county magistrate. I’ve come specially to visit the only Scripture House in the county town.”
The gatekeeper blinked slowly, seeming rather dim-witted, and repeated: “New county magistrate? What happened to the old one?”
Yan You kept a straight face, heart steady: “The old magistrate got promoted. I’m taking over the county now.”
The gatekeeper nodded sluggishly: “Greetings, new county magistrate.”
Yan You nodded with the air of a seasoned commander.
He beckoned Qu Fengyin to enter the Scripture House with him.
The gatekeeper watched their backs for a moment, then suddenly called out: “New county magistrate, we’ll all be relying on you from now on!”
Yan You turned in surprise. The gatekeeper had somehow moved to the edge of the pavilion; his face was blurred, only the intense gaze upon Yan You remained clear.
Yan You was silent for a moment. The quiet air seemed to shift. Then he loudly replied: “I understand!”
In the blurred vision, the gatekeeper returned to his seat.
Yan You and Qu Fengyin exchanged a glance, both sensing something strange. But since they were already here, they had to investigate. Gritting their teeth, they moved forward.
It was early morning.
Inside the Scripture House, morning exercise had just ended, and students lined up orderly to enter the classrooms.
They ran a lap around the Scripture House, followed by morning recitations of the classics. Their faces were now mostly alike, like ripened fruit on the verge of falling.
The two passed through corridors, like parallel lines that would never meet the throng of students.
Outside of class, the Scripture House was always quiet, occasionally punctuated by bird calls. But if you listened carefully, the intervals between the bird chirps were always exactly the same.
The Sage’s statue was at the center of the Scripture House, inside the Lecture Hall.
Yan You moved against the flow, passing countless students who silently moved downstream.
Suddenly, he felt Qu Fengyin pat his shoulder.
He turned slightly, confused.
Qu Fengyin’s face was extremely tense; he swallowed hard.
The surrounding silence was profound, broken only by the steady footsteps.
Qu Fengyin mouthed words, and Yan You struggled to make out “eyes.”
A drop of sweat slid down Qu Fengyin’s masked face.
In the sunlight, countless students had silently gathered by the classroom doors and windows, standing still, their black and white eyes unblinking, staring at Qu Fengyin.
With each step Qu Fengyin took forward, those countless gazes wound around him like threads, tangling him.
The faces of passing students twisted like sunflowers; one blank, expressionless face after another calmly watched Qu Fengyin.
Cold sweat drenched Qu Fengyin, his muscles tense.
Yan You quickened his pace without showing it.
Things were getting worse; the students around them slowly turned their heads, one by one—faces like carved masks—coldly staring.
The two groups moved in opposite directions.
Yet those terrifying faces seemed to break free from their restraints, advancing toward Qu Fengyin.
Their bodies moved forward into the classroom, but their heads were pulled by something else.
The unnerving necks twisted more and more—
Bones cracked loudly, sharp and brittle sounds echoing ominously in the quiet Scripture House.
Finally, a piercing twisting noise rang out!
In the shocked eyes of Yan You and Qu Fengyin, a corpse slowly collapsed before them, its head twisted a full 180 degrees.
It was like a signal; order instantly dissolved into chaos.
Yan You decisively grabbed Qu Fengyin and dashed toward the Lecture Hall.
Amid heavy breaths, only their hurried footsteps could be heard.
They charged through the crowd like lead geese driving a flock, pulling the entire orderly group away.
Countless people changed direction, blindly falling behind them. The eyes seemed to have substance, falling from their sockets and clinging to their skin, inching along.
Yan You’s short legs were at a disadvantage running. Qu Fengyin took a deep breath and lifted the child onto his shoulders.
The pursuers let out a startled cry.
Within the silent courtyard, the chaotic footsteps merged into a fractured, horrifying symphony!
The crowd grew thicker, clinging closely behind them, the clustered heads sticking together like clumps of eggs.
“Don’t let them catch up!”
Qu Fengyin’s twin hooks slashed out, the sharp points sweeping through bodies. Blood splattered onto Qu Fengyin’s face, adding a few frightening hues.
The Chief of Jin Yi Wei was strong and agile. With Yan You riding on his shoulder, he grabbed a nearby tree branch and swept away reaching arms as if clearing dust.
The intense exertion squeezed Yan You’s lungs; his heart worked overtime to pump blood for his body.
The narrow corridor’s air was suffocating.
Soft, writhing flesh pressed into one another like a gigantic hand. Under the command of a central mind, this hand groped blindly in the passageway, trying to seize its prey.
Yan You panted sharply, suddenly remembering a method.
He began loudly reciting the Sage’s Teachings.
Qu Fengyin stepped over those writhing masses, chanting alongside him, his voice hoarse and breath ragged.
One phrase, two phrases, three, four.
Their faint voices merged together; their pursuers’ pace began to slow, the refined faces and grotesque masks blending momentarily.
A magnificent building loomed ahead; Yan You’s eyes lit up.
The Lecture Hall!
***
Qu Fengyin moved in perfect sync, pushing off with both legs and bouncing off a pair of hands to leap out of the corridor.
Suddenly, the view opened wide; the pursuers were blocked at the corridor entrance, their bodies intertwined, writhing like a swarm of insects.
Yan You jumped down from Qu Fengyin’s shoulders and pulled his lockpicks from behind his ear.
The echoes of the Sage’s Words arose one after another.
Like the most devout believers worshipping their deity.
The crisp clinks of metal striking metal mingled together, surreal and unrestrained.
Yan You’s movements were skillful and light, his fingers dancing.
“Click—”
With that soft sound, Yan You’s eyes widened excitedly.
He flung the door open: “Ling Lingba!”
Qu Fengyin lunged fiercely through the gap.
“Bang!”