I, who advocate giving up, feel like a disqualified person

"...Let's go play..." "I know...yes..." "Oh..."

The silence after the bell was short-lived, and soon the campus was filled with a lively atmosphere. The bustling crowds of people appeared in the corridors and on the playground, and the atmosphere in the classroom was also affected by this, with subtle fluctuations.

"...Okay, school's over."

For teachers who teach the final class, they sacrifice a "goodbye, teacher" in exchange for a shorter class time. While this is all about finishing the lesson without leaving any loose ends, it feels like an occupational hazard of being a teacher... akin to obsessive-compulsive disorder.

"Let's go..." "It's too late..." "...I didn't attend the class anyway." "...I heard the cakes there are good." "Do you want to play ball?" "It's a club activity..." "...Is this true..."

This scene reminded me of a flock of birds scattering after losing their food.

Of those of us forced to gather here by school rules, how many of us are here because we truly love learning? We're constantly being told to "be united" and "help each other," but in the end, those sitting with me aren't even close in spirit. Classes divided by teachers, parents, and academic performance divide even the seemingly single class into distinct groups. Those deemed superior avoid the inferior, while those labeled problematic are shunned by the more sane. In this mutual disdain, mutual understanding becomes impossible. A seemingly stable relationship can become like that novel if even the slightest conflict of interest arises...

"Falling apart."

Even if the teachers were aware of this, they could only turn a blind eye. All they could do was to let those who were good at learning focus on their studies, and to prevent those who didn't want to learn from disturbing others. How could someone who grew up in an environment that was inherently focused on profit be selfless? Only those who were initially incompatible with that environment could better maintain their original intentions... Unfortunately, as the uncle said, the chances of encountering such people were quite low.

"So..."

I sighed and started to pack the things I needed to take with me.

...........

At this point, not all the students in the teaching building had left. This was partly because it wasn't long before the end of the school day, and partly because there were still a few clubs in the building. So this scene would probably last for about an hour.

However, I did not join the club. All I wanted was to get home as soon as possible and finish reading the novel that interested me.

"Ahaha, that's right...that person..."

"It's not nice to say bad things about people behind their back..."

The lively noises emanating from the clubrooms were never something I envied. Being alone was much easier than being with others... Perhaps it was because I didn't enjoy interacting with others that my mother kept an eye on me for signs of premature love... Perhaps she believed that as long as I was in a relationship, I could talk to others, and talking to others would alleviate her concerns about me.

“...Alas...” I couldn’t help but sigh when I thought of her.

It's not just the teacher; I'm completely baffled by her way of thinking, too. Her assumptions and lack of rigorous thinking and behavior simply don't seem like the mindset of an adult. I still don't understand how my serious and meticulous dad could have fallen for her... because he doesn't seem like someone who only cares about looks. While my mother is certainly beautiful, wouldn't it be difficult to get along with her?

The teacher's office area, which is slightly different from the club area, is not completely quiet, because teachers will also have conversations after school...not about academics, but about life, such as where to go shopping.

In fact, teachers are ordinary people with their own lives, so this is nothing.

"Report...."

I had already seen my homeroom teacher standing at the door, but I still knocked on the door to get her attention.

"come in."

The teacher, with his head down, seemed to be correcting homework. When he looked up and saw it was me, he let me in and then stopped writing.

"Then we'll go first." "It's really hard~"

At the same time, the two teachers who were still in the office also left together, and now there were only two of us left in the office.

"..."

I felt a little nervous... After all, I had promised not to read novels on my phone in class. But this time, out of habit, I couldn't control myself... I went back on my word so suddenly, and even if I got scolded, I wouldn't have any reason to complain.

"Do you like it? Novels."

"Eh?"

I had never imagined that the teacher would talk to me like this. For a moment, I didn't know how to respond and could only look up at her blankly.

“...Yeah, if you don’t like me, why would you do this...” Seeing that I didn’t respond, she seemed to understand that I didn’t want to say more, so she didn’t pursue the matter any further.

"Actually, when I took your phone, I saw some of the content. I thought it was quite interesting. After all, at first glance, it's very different from those shoddy online novels." She took out my phone, "But your phone locked after the screen went black, and I don't know your password, so I could only search for the title on my phone and then take a look."

"...Teacher, have you read it too?" I was really surprised by this, because in my opinion...teachers of this age would not be interested in online novels at all.

"Of course I read it, and because I was reading this novel, I even forgot about grading the essays. Otherwise, why wouldn't I have left yet? Hahaha." She actually laughed as she spoke.

Isn't it because you were waiting for me that you didn't leave?

"This also reminds me of when I was in junior high and high school, when I bought novel magazines. Come to think of it, it seems like I haven't read a novel in a long time."

"Teacher, do you like novels too?"

"I wouldn't say I like it... but if there's one thing it's helped me with, it's that I've developed a love for writing." She sighed thoughtfully. "Honestly, looking at you like this, I think you're a bit like me back then... That's why I want you to avoid following my path and missing out on better educational opportunities."

"..."

"But after talking to your mother, I feel that although she's not easy to communicate with, her views are inexplicably correct... Of course, I'm not advocating for premature love."

"I...I won't." I quickly denied.

"Well... Anyway, you are you, so my expectations of you seem a bit too much. I won't ask you to be any better. But playing with your phone in class is definitely not a good behavior. I hope you can try your best to overcome it." She handed me the phone and said, "Don't look at it in class in the future..."

"Uh-huh..."

I quickly reached out and took it.

"Speaking of which, did you notice anything when you read this novel?" she suddenly asked. "How much did you notice about what was presented in this novel?"

"Huh? Noticed?... I just thought... this novel had a pretty good beginning, very visual. Just a few sentences set the tone of the world in this story."

"Well, that's something most online novels lack these days... Anyway, it doesn't feel like some empty online novel, so I kept reading. It's just that the author hasn't finished yet... The comments are all urging him to update quickly."

"Is that so? I didn't even notice..." I quickly opened my phone and took a look. The message board was exactly as the teacher said.

"Xiaoye, do you know? The ability to organize words is closely related to a person's reading volume, experience, and age. In other words... a ten-year-old can't write like a forty-year-old. The weight and depth revealed between the lines is like the patina of a cultural relic. An experienced person can immediately tell what age group the writing was from."

"Huh? Really? Then teacher, do you already know how old the author of this book is?" The incredible things were gradually revealed under the teacher's guidance, which also aroused my strong interest in it.

"Of course. Speaking of the reading experience alone, there's really nothing wrong with it. The storytelling is well-paced and engaging. However, the choice of words, details, and dialogue still gives me a very youthful vibe. The nouns and settings are also something only young people can understand... So I guess the author is probably also a high school student."

"Oh, that's how it is."

Actually, I don’t find it strange. After all, there are indeed quite a few authors on this website who are high school students.

"Your reaction is quite cold... I think it's quite impressive for a high school student to be able to write like that. It seems his Chinese grades must be pretty good, too. I really want to know who his Chinese teacher is."

The head teacher, who is also a Chinese teacher, was naturally excited about this.

"..."

Now that I have the phone, I have no other reason to stay here. And after hearing her say that, I want to go home and finish reading this novel even more, so I am itching to do it.

"Um, teacher...can I leave now?" I realized my rudeness after I said this, and then added, "I...I have to go home to do my homework..."

"I think you're not doing homework, but reading a novel?" She couldn't help but laugh at my expression. "Don't be so impatient. It's a rare opportunity for me to talk to you for a few more words."

"...Say a few more words..."

Why did things turn out like this...

"Well, because I always feel that I care about this author."

"?"

"If this person is truly a high school student, then judging by the words and the story, he's definitely someone who doesn't fit in with the people around him. A troubled teenager, if you will... not the kind who gets into fights or causes trouble, but someone who doesn't really socialize."

"...not communicating with...people."

In that case, it seems a bit like me.

"That's why I'm worried. I don't know if his teacher has noticed this."

"...But since we don't know who that person is...there's no point in just worrying."

"That's right... It seems I have an occupational disease too. I get worried when I see students with problems." She sighed and took off her glasses. "It's okay... Xiaoye, you can go home and read your novel, but remember to finish your homework."

"...Um...Okay. Goodbye, teacher."

"Goodbye."

The teacher who was kneading his Jingming acupoint with one hand also waved to me.

. . . . . . . . . .

Speaking of the patina of text and judging the author's age by his writing style, "Quiet Flows the Don" by Soviet writer Sholokhov naturally comes to my mind.

Anyone who has read And Quiet Flows the Don wouldn't think it was a work that could be completed by a writer who began writing at nineteen. I agree. Besides his profound understanding of history and society, the most questionable thing about Sholokhov is his ability to meticulously analyze the love between Grigory, Natasha, and Akshinya. It's truly too difficult for a nineteen-year-old. But that's the truth. Perhaps genius really does exist.

The difference between literature and science is that, while you might discover a theorem at nineteen, like the theory of relativity or the law of gravity, truth exists, so it's simply a matter of knowledge, not age. Literature, on the other hand, is a creative process. Creating something that doesn't exist based on one's own reality is incredibly difficult. Without a solid understanding... how could a nineteen-year-old possibly write such a work based solely on talent?

“Do you understand…?”

It's true that stories based on true events feel real and resonate more easily and naturally with readers. However, if you don't alter the actual events and rely solely on your own imagination to construct a story, it will be difficult to move others... and the mentality of the protagonists you portray is based on their own mindsets.

In other words, the world depicted in this novel is what the world looks like in his mind... and the lonely figure walking in the end times may be a true portrayal of himself.

"I'm a little concerned."

On the way down the stairs, I read the prologue of the novel at the risk of falling, and then I had this thought: I want to know who this person is.

Since the teacher had confirmed he was a high school student, it would be nice to get his contact information and have a quick chat with him. I wanted him to finish this novel properly, as there were many readers waiting for him. A quick glance at the update time revealed he hadn't updated in two months.

"But what should I do..."

Even though I know he's a high school student, I still don't know where he is or what his contact information is... In short, finding him is just my idea. It will definitely be difficult to implement, and I don't know how to do it...

So is that it? Anyway, it's someone I have no connection with, so I'll just wait for updates after I finish watching. No expectations, no disappointment, that's all I need.

"etc...."

Why did my mother's face suddenly flash through my mind?

Could it be that I subconsciously overlooked some useful information?

"...Yes."

My mother works at a media company that specializes in online novels. I'm not entirely sure, but maybe I could ask her for help. Even if she's just an editor at the online novel company, it shouldn't be difficult to just ask her to find the authors' contact information. Besides, since he hasn't updated in a while, a quick reminder wouldn't be too much to ask.

“.Oh, I think I can give it a try.”

This seemed to be the first time I truly wanted to accomplish something. However, I had no idea how this initial attempt would affect my life in the future.

The dilemma of being close yet distant

Even though I have reached the age where I should be in love, the love that belongs to me still seems to have not arrived.

Actually, I don’t understand the meaning of love.

So even if it comes, I still won’t be able to notice it.

If first love is simply about marrying and living together, then love after achieving career and status seems much easier, requiring only a comparison of the criteria. If, however, it's simply about following the hormonal turmoil that accompanies secondary sexual characteristics, then first love isn't truly sacred. It's merely a superficial encounter between a shallow woman and a shallow man. Ultimately, even those who experience it still fail to grasp its meaning.

If men and women of this age weren't brought together, the chances of them meeting would be slim. At best, they'd be able to watch anime and read manga novels and imagine romance. However, high schools, on the other hand, have gathered a group of men and women of this age, sharing not just the same floor but the same room. Even though school rules prohibit or discourage dating, many still pair up and then flirt with each other, either privately or publicly.

If that's the case, then what's the point of chasing and intercepting them... After all, even if you separate the people, you can't separate their hearts. What's more, it will leave a bad reputation for the school leaders.

So wouldn’t the best solution be to just abolish high schools?

And I've seen a lot of unfair things.

If something happens to oneself, one would just hope that it is as mild as possible, but if one wants to inflict pain on others, one would not have so many concerns.

Therefore, the instinct of bullying will be infinitely magnified when many people participate, and the means are also varied.

Perhaps it was instinct. After witnessing those things, the first thing I did was not to think about whether the existence of these things was reasonable, but to be glad that such things did not happen to me, and then I began to think about how to avoid encountering similar things.

When something exists, no one seems to question its existence.

"Why do people pick on you? You must be doing something wrong too."

Ah, what a sensible thing to say.

As if it were natural, the mature adults didn't pay the slightest attention to this matter. Rather, since it was so difficult to change, they simply gave up on trying.

So, like everyone else, I celebrated my so-called luck and ignored the suffering of others. Since it has nothing to do with me, why should I pay any attention to it? After all, if I care about others, who will care about me?

Parents...or teachers?

But once again, the facts prove that everything in life is a disaster. No matter how kind a person is, they can never live a peaceful life. And no matter how calm they behave in school, they will still anger someone for some ridiculous reason.

Well, that's the group of guys surrounding me now.

No, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I took the initiative to get close to them.

I do this purely for myself. I've never met anyone I could talk to about anything... maybe it's because I'm too sensitive? I can't seem to let down my guard against the people around me, even though they always greet me with a smile.

I knew exactly what that smile meant. It wasn't because I had such a good relationship with them, but because they were afraid of me... How could a girl who often hung out with that group of people be any good? That's probably what they all thought.

Then, everything seemed the same as before. I was still alone, but without the worries I had before.

So, is there anything else in the environment I am in that would interest me?