Chapter 2: Hush! A Secret That Must Not Be Spoken

Old Shen was already over sixty years old. By rights, he should have retired, but the school saw how dedicated he was and kept him on. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, and when he saw Zhang Xiaofan from Class 4, he was so startled the cigarette fell from his mouth.

He waved his hand, saying, "It's nothing, nothing. I'm just burning for fun." With that, he was about to leave.

Zhang Xiaofan frowned. So many students from their Class 4 had died, yet not a single genuine person had come to check on them. Even the homeroom teacher only dropped by occasionally. Now, finally seeing someone come by, Zhang Xiaofan felt a surge of suspicion.

He wanted to help Old Shen into the classroom for a rest, but the old man refused, insisting he needed to patrol.

Zhang Xiaofan knew the old man must know something.

He spoke earnestly: "Grandpa Shen, you've been here for so many years. I believe you're a good person—otherwise, the students wouldn't respect you so much. I do too; I've always seen you as my second uncle."

Old Shen clutched the ghost money in his hand and sighed, "No need to say more. I have to go."

Zhang Xiaofan grew anxious and blurted out, "Grandpa Shen, our class used to have sixty-two people. Now only forty-four are left. Don’t you all know?"

Old Shen halted, staring intently at Zhang Xiaofan for a long moment before revealing his yellowed teeth and saying, "Everyone dies eventually..."

Zhang Xiaofan nodded. "That's true, but in our class, all these deaths happened within a month. The school didn’t notice, and no one else seems to know. Why?"

Old Shen's expression changed dramatically. He glanced around, threw the ghost money aside, and said, "I have things to do."

Zhang Xiaofan realized this was his only chance. He hurried forward to block Old Shen, speaking solemnly: "Grandpa Shen, if our class keeps dying, there’ll be no one left. I’ve investigated—this kind of thing has happened before. Tell me, what’s really going on?"

"I don’t know anything." With that, Old Shen tried to turn and run.

Zhang Xiaofan grabbed his hand, stubbornly insisting, "If you don’t tell me, I’ll die too. I really see you as family."

Old Shen seemed to be weighing something. Finally, he nodded and suddenly whispered, "Shh! It’s a secret that cannot be spoken. But there’s a poem—perhaps you’ve heard it: 'Sea mist veils a hundred towers, mountain doors hide flowers and bamboo. Birds return, villages fall silent, a serene feast in empty woods. No ghosts or gods deceive—scholars must be self-respecting.'"

"What does it mean?" Zhang Xiaofan looked at Old Shen in surprise, but the old man shook free, then hurriedly ran off.

He seemed terrified Zhang Xiaofan might chase after him. Zhang Xiaofan frowned—what did Old Shen mean by all this?

Suddenly, a cold wind swept through Class 4’s classroom, lifting the ghost money from the ground, sending a chill through Zhang Xiaofan. He quickly left.

The next morning, Zhang Xiaofan was awakened by Jiang Jiewei, who dragged him over to show his phone. "Bad news—someone died in the classroom again."

Zhang Xiaofan scrambled up in shock. "Impossible! Who died?"

Jiang Jiewei replied, "Some students went to the classroom early and found Old Shen hanging in our class."

Zhang Xiaofan’s mind buzzed in chaos.

Impossible. Yesterday he’d just spoken with Old Shen.

At that moment, Zhang Xiaofan sensed he’d stumbled onto something. Old Shen had seemed perfectly fine—how could he be dead? When Zhang Xiaofan saw him yesterday, there were no signs he might commit suicide. After all, someone planning to kill themselves wouldn’t be burning ghost money.

Suddenly, inspiration struck him: if it wasn’t suicide, then it was murder. Who did it?

He recalled the poem Old Shen had told him the day before. Old Shen clearly had something he couldn’t say, but only left him those poetic lines.

Could it be that telling Zhang Xiaofan the poem was what led to Old Shen’s death?

"Come on, let’s go look at the classroom."

Zhang Xiaofan quickly dressed and headed to school with Jiang Jiewei. By then, the police had taken Old Shen’s body down, and to their surprise, these were real police officers this time.

They questioned each student and finally concluded Old Shen had committed suicide because he couldn’t cope. As for why he chose their classroom, the police explained it was simply because there were fewer people there at night. None of the students believed the police’s explanation, but no one said much.

Now, every student in the class was either a killer or dead; death had become commonplace.

What frustrated Zhang Xiaofan was that, despite Old Shen’s death, the school showed little reaction—not even a warning for students to be more careful. Zhang Xiaofan couldn’t shake the feeling that all these events might have something to do with the school administration.

The police left quickly. Zhang Xiaofan gathered Hu Xiaotian, Jiang Jiewei, Xu Xiaolong, and Zhou Jian, and wrote out Old Shen’s poem.

"Everyone, look—what do you think this poem means?" Zhang Xiaofan asked.

"Sea mist veils a hundred towers, mountain doors hide flowers and bamboo. Birds return, villages fall silent, a serene feast in empty woods. No ghosts or gods deceive—scholars must be self-respecting." Hu Xiaotian recited the lines, sighing, "What a fine poem."

"Cut the nonsense, I’m not asking if it’s good," Zhang Xiaofan retorted with a roll of his eyes.

Zhou Jian frowned. "Where did you find this poem?"

Zhang Xiaofan explained about Old Shen, then added, "I suspect Old Shen died because he told me these lines."

His words sent chills down the spines of the other students. Zhou Jian said gravely, "I’ll study these lines carefully."

He and Xu Xiaolong returned to their seats.

As Zhang Xiaofan studied the poem, he suddenly looked up to see Su Qianqian entering, followed by Song Feng and his gang.

"Su Qianqian, still won’t accept me? What’s so great about Zhang Xiaofan, really." As he spoke, Song Feng glanced over at Zhang Xiaofan and said with a mocking smile, "Well, looks like the villain showed up early."

Zhang Xiaofan immediately walked over, put his arm around Su Qianqian, and said, "Don’t be afraid."

"Bah, I don’t see what’s so good about you," Song Feng said disdainfully.

Zhang Xiaofan replied, "Song Feng, don’t push your luck. If you bother Su Qianqian again, I’ll make you pay."

"Zhang Xiaofan, don’t think you’re tough just because you’ve got a little group around you. Even if that kung fu guy Zhou Jian joined you, he’d still be no match." As he spoke, Song Feng raised his hand, and a swirl of white mist appeared, followed by a layer of frost.

Zhang Xiaofan’s pupils narrowed. Song Feng had gained some sort of power.

Behind Song Feng, his followers wore arrogant expressions, especially Xu Da and Ma Xiaotian, who looked particularly smug.

"Xiaofan, what are you showing off for? Aren’t you supposed to know kung fu? If you’ve got guts, let’s fight," Xu Da sneered.

"I bet he wouldn’t dare. Ha ha..." Ma Xiaotian chimed in.

The two were Song Feng’s top enforcers, always at his side.