Fu Changxun and Dong Zi had been wandering outside all morning, aimlessly strolling the school grounds.
If this weren’t a danger-ridden game instance, it could almost be called a date.
“I remember back then…” Fu Changxun said softly, “There were always couples walking under the campus trees. The dean would hide in the boxwood bushes and jump out to catch them in the act.”
Dong Zi, pulled along by the memory, pictured the scene as Fu Changxun spoke.
They had walked like this before, side by side. But back then, it was one-sided—Dong Zi had harbored feelings in silence, while the other had remained oblivious.
Fu Changxun only now realized how Dong Zi had felt. Not too late—thankfully, not too late.
“Hold on.”
Just as that thought crossed his mind, Fu Changxun suddenly frowned in suspicion. “So… you had impure thoughts about me back then? That early?”
Dong Zi was caught off guard. “Uh…”
Fu Changxun had only been joking, but once he got confirmation, he was genuinely surprised. He turned toward Dong Zi. “Wait—really? My god. We were in our second year of high school! What exactly were you thinking? Can I get an interview?”
Dong Zi’s ears turned red. “What do you mean, ‘what was I thinking’? Having a first love in high school is totally normal!”
“Ohhh, so I was your first love,” Fu Changxun grinned, eyes curling into crescents. “I’m honored.”
This time, Dong Zi’s blush spread from his ears all the way across his cheeks, his whole face steadily heating up.
When the two of them finally returned to the classroom, Cheng En had come to terms with the situation. He calmly asked, “So I’m going to die soon, and you guys traveled back from the future to save me. Was it my homeroom teacher who asked you to do it? …Wait, what’s wrong with your face?”
He paused mid-sentence, suddenly noticing how red Dong Zi’s face was and immediately assumed something was wrong.
Fu Changxun gave Dong Zi a sideways glance, then teased, “Nothing. He’s just allergic to romance.”
Cheng En: “Huh?”
Still just a first-year kid, he didn’t understand the adult innuendo. Fu Changxun shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Go on.”
“Oh, right. I just wanted to ask—was it really my homeroom teacher who asked you to help me? What did she offer as payment? If it’s something serious, can I cover the cost instead?” Cheng En asked earnestly.
Fu Changxun turned serious. “No need. To you guys, it’s a small thing. But for us, it’s actually quite important. All you need to know is—if you stay alive, it benefits us both.”
Dong Zi’s blush finally faded. He asked Cheng En to find a quiet spot where they wouldn’t be disturbed, and said seriously, “You need to learn how to fight.”
Straight-A student. Mild temperament. Never complains, never resists. Cheng En: “…”
F-fight?
Fu Changxun said, “Yeah. Fight. Let me make it clear: you died because they beat you to death. If you don’t learn how to fight, when the day comes, you’re still going to die the same way.”
“I… I have to start training now?” Cheng En still hadn’t fully processed the fact that he was going to die.
Fu Changxun checked the calendar and nodded decisively. “Yup, right now. Otherwise, it’ll be too late. Your death date’s coming up fast. And honestly, we don’t have that much time to hang around.”
The instance lasted a total of ten days. To resolve this ghost story, they had, at most, five days left.
And they needed to save three days to handle the remaining ghost stories. They were on a tight schedule.
Cheng En was shoved onto the battlefield like a duck forced onto a perch. “O-okay…”
Since this was a crash course in fighting, Dong Zi’s training regimen was brutally intense—borderline military. Every dirty trick and cheap shot he knew, he dumped on Cheng En without reservation. Watching from the side, Fu Changxun realized just how lenient Dong Zi had been when he’d trained him. It was like he’d gone easy to the point of letting an entire ocean slip through the cracks.
Cheng En skipped evening study sessions just to train. He met Dong Zi in a secluded corner behind the track, where he learned how to throw punches, where to aim to cause the most pain, and other street-fighting techniques.
At the same time, Fu Changxun’s psychological coaching worked wonders.
At first, whenever Cheng En heard the words “You’re going to die,” his heart would clench. It sounded like a curse.
But after Fu Changxun repeated “You’re going to die soon” eight hundred times a day, he was practically desensitized.
Yeah, I’m gonna die soon.
Everyone dies eventually. He just happened to know the date ahead of time. And more importantly, he had a chance to prepare. That was way better than dying without ever seeing it coming. Especially since there were people helping him now.
“Thank you, both of you.” On the third day of training, after an intense lunch session, Cheng En looked down at his sore but slightly stronger arms and spoke from the heart.
Fu Changxun sat on the ground and waved it off. “Don’t mention it. You staying alive is the biggest thanks you could give us.”
Solving the ghost story and clearing the instance—that was their real goal.
Besides, over these past few days…
He and Dong Zi had basically relived their high school years. When they weren’t training Cheng En, they wandered the campus together—and had a damn good time doing it.
Cheng En was a pure, good kid. To this day, he still hadn’t figured out what kind of relationship the two of them really had.
But they weren’t about to go out of their way to explain—or drop hints.
That said, with Cheng En skipping classes so often—barely showing up for any of the core subjects—the homeroom teacher eventually caught on. After yet another absence, she grew concerned.
Worried that one of her best students might be slipping down a bad path, she found a moment to pull Cheng En aside for a private conversation in her office.
Cheng En knew why she’d called him. Standing in front of her desk, he was clearly at a loss.
How was he supposed to explain that a model student had suddenly started learning to fight? Did that mean he’d gone bad?
That’s what teachers always assumed, right?
The female homeroom teacher frowned with concern. “Cheng En, is it your health or your mental state? Why haven’t you been yourself in class lately?”
Cheng En looked at the gentle teacher… then over at Fu Changxun, who was standing beside her, invisible to her eyes. Nervously, he started fidgeting with his fingers.
“No worries. Just tell her you’ve been training because someone’s been bullying you,” Fu Changxun said. “Be blunt. A few years from now, your teacher will still regret it. She’ll wish you’d learned to fight back—maybe then you wouldn’t have died.”
Cheng En: “…”
Easier said than done. He couldn’t bring himself to say it—especially when it came to something like bullying…
The teacher’s voice softened even further. “Is there something bothering you? Something you don’t feel comfortable talking about?”
“I… well, lately—cough—I heard…” Cheng En nearly spilled the beans about the two ghostly figures following him around. Thankfully, he slammed on the brakes at the last second. “I heard someone’s planning to jump me after school.”
The teacher’s expression shifted. She looked up in shock. “Jump you? Are they trying to start a fight?”
Cheng En nodded. “That’s what I heard. So I’ve been working on strengthening myself.”
“Strengthening… ah, training…”
She repeated it a few times, sounding dazed, clearly not connecting the dots.
In the mess of that clumsy explanation, she completely forgot to ask: “Where did you hear that?”
Still, Cheng En was a top student—and a top student learns fast, even when it comes to fighting. The teacher could only assume he was secretly working on self-improvement outside her knowledge. Strengthening himself. Becoming more capable.
It was honestly kind of heartwarming. Embarrassingly so.
By the time she finished looping through her thoughts, she let out a relieved breath. “I trust you, Cheng En. I just hope you won’t let me down, alright?”
Cheng En gave an awkward laugh. “Of course. I’m only learning this stuff for self-defense. I won’t go picking fights, I promise. You don’t need to worry.”
The teacher gave him a worried wave and sent him off.
Once outside, Dong Zi smiled. “Still training tonight?”
“Definitely!” Cheng En replied with gritted teeth, full of resolve.
Fu Changxun chuckled. “Good, good. Gotta admire the conviction. But no more combat training tonight—we’ve got something more important.”
They brought him to the equipment storage room—the cursed place where it all began—and told him: tomorrow was the day.
Cheng En couldn’t hide his anxiety. “Tomorrow? That’s… when I’m supposed to die, right?”
“Yep. Tomorrow’s the date.” Fu Changxun sighed. “You need to clear this place out. There’s too much dangerous stuff lying around. All these hard, sharp objects… even a freak accident could kill you. We need to play it safe—shift whatever we can.”
Anything solid, heavy, or sharp could end up being fatal. They had to get rid of it in advance.
But since Fu Changxun and Dong Zi couldn’t directly touch people—or maintain contact with physical objects for long—clearing the room was up to Cheng En. He’d have to go through every piece of equipment himself.
And since his life was on the line, Cheng En was highly motivated from the start.
If this room hadn’t been so packed, maybe people would’ve walked in on time that day. Maybe he wouldn’t have died.
But the fact was—he had died here, in this very storage room.
Determined and meticulous, Cheng En crammed every hard object he could lift into tight corners. The ones too heavy to move, he shoved into the wall’s edge, doing his best to eliminate every hazard.
If he’d had more time, he honestly looked like he’d try to wrap the entire room in foam padding.
In that anxious atmosphere, the next day finally arrived. Cheng En went to class as usual.
Just as they’d predicted, his classmates were whispering among themselves. Before long, someone came over and spoke coldly, “After class. Equipment room. Someone’s waiting for you.”
Cheng En wanted to ask more, but the guy cut him off, annoyed. “Why’re you asking so many questions?”
“I’m scared to go,” Cheng En admitted honestly.
The boy sneered. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t show up, your life’s gonna get a whole lot worse.”
Cheng En: “…”
Honestly, this kind of threat was so juvenile it was almost laughable—like something from grade school.
But he still went. Not because of the threat, but because if he didn’t face it now—didn’t tear the roots out—he’d never be free. They’d just keep coming for him.
And if he was going to be dramatic about it: his death should be his decision. No one else got to dictate it.
When the appointed time came, Cheng En was already waiting in the storage room. He double-checked the edges of every piece of equipment. At noon, right on cue, a group of students marched over with all the swagger of a gang showdown.
“That’s them,” Fu Changxun said, arms crossed. “They’re here to corner you.”
Cheng En looked at the rich-kid ringleader, fists clenched tightly—he was ready. He’d done everything he could to prepare for this moment.
If he died, then so be it. But if he survived… that meant he’d won.
One day at a time. Every day alive was a victory.
