“What is this?! What on earth is this?!”
Zhang Wenda’s pupils dilated as he stared at those percentage figures, his heart pounding wildly.
“What is a high‑density parasitic cyst cluster? What is a protein‑like humic polymer?”
He had no idea, but one thing was certain: these substances could never exist inside a human body!
And that short‑haired female teacher before him—she wasn’t human at all!
“If she’s not human, then what kind of being is she?” The thought made Zhang Wenda’s scalp tingle, his breathing growing rapid.
He had clung to a faint hope that, no matter how strange the Youth Center was, a school full of students couldn’t be fundamentally wrong.
But he was spectacularly wrong—ridiculously so—the teachers in this school were not human!
“Calm down, calm down, don’t panic, take a few deep breaths, no freaking out.” Zhang Wenda pinched his thigh sharply to steady himself.
Throughout the class, his body remained tense, ready to react to any danger that might arise.
Unknowingly, through Zhang Wenda’s long, agonizing vigilance, one class period passed.
Fortunately, during this lesson, the inhuman female teacher hadn’t caused any emergencies.
Only when that unknowable teacher left the classroom with the textbook did Zhang Wenda let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank goodness—she was really just teaching. Whatever she is, she isn’t threatening me right now, as long as she doesn’t come after me.”
With the start of break time, the bustling sounds of the corridor returned.
Seeing the normalcy all around, Zhang Wenda’s tense heart eased somewhat. But just as he lifted a hand to wipe sweat from his brow, a sudden thought popped into his mind.
“Wait, that’s not right. If every rule at the Youth Center is designed to facilitate extraction of material from these goblinoid beings, then why disguise a monster as a teacher to educate us?”
A host of terrifying possibilities flooded his mind—that the entire school was a food breeding ground, or worse.
At the thought, he couldn’t sit still, writhing in anxiety.
At that moment, Pan Dongzi bumped over, shifting Zhang Wenda’s wooden desk to the left a bit. He said with a hungry look in his eyes, “Mouse, everyone says roasted sparrows are delicious—when are we eating them again?”
“You only ever think about food.” Zhang Wenda pushed him off his desk, then pulled a lollipop from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. “Tell me, has anything happened in this school recently?”
“Like… besides classes and homework? Or any rumors about the school?” Zhang Wenda tried to probe for clues.
“Classes and homework? Rumors? What are you asking? I don’t get it.”
Just as Zhang Wenda was about to elaborate, a student with three red stripes on his shoulder entered.
“Zhang Wenda, Teacher Ouyang wants you to go to the teachers’ office.”
“Teacher Ouyang? Who’s that?”
“The one who just gave us class—that’s Teacher Ouyang.” Pan Dongzi’s words sent Zhang Wenda’s mood plunging. “Damn! She really called me in!”
Though he dreaded it, Zhang Wenda nonetheless stood up with heavy steps—he already knew the consequences of breaking the rules.
As the bell rang, the corridor emptied in an instant, leaving Zhang Wenda alone in the eerily quiet hallway.
Fingering the red scar on his arm through his uniform, Zhang Wenda’s tense heart eased slightly—if she meant to harm him, he still had room to fight back.
After hesitating a moment, he finally reached the teachers’ office door. It was a massive wooden door, its feet taller than he was by perhaps fivefold. He swallowed hard and knocked.
With a creak, the door opened slowly, revealing Teacher Ouyang at her desk, writing something.
She wore a floral dress and had short hair—everything appeared normal.
But when she turned around, Zhang Wenda noticed her head looked slightly large—though on closer inspection, that seemed like just an illusion.
Yet the memory of those detected substance ratios told him that this so‑called Teacher Ouyang definitely had something wrong, triggering his utmost caution.
“Teacher Ouyang, I—I heard you called me?” Zhang Wenda forced out the words.
“Hmm, don’t be nervous. Teacher didn’t call you here for not doing homework. Want a candy?” A thumb‑sized White Rabbit candy was extended toward Zhang Wenda.
Zhang Wenda looked at her kind face, then at the candy in her hand, and shook his head rationally. “Thank you, I don’t eat candy.”
“You don’t eat candy?” Upon hearing that, Ouyang’s face immediately showed a look of surprise.
“How come you seem like a different person? You actually don’t eat candy? Weren’t you the one who loved candy the most?”
The faint scent of sandalwood drifted into Zhang Wenda’s nose again.
When her hand, cold as ice, reached out and pressed on Zhang Wenda’s arm, goosebumps instantly covered his skin.
Zhang Wenda slowly looked up with difficulty, only to see a woman’s face filling almost his entire vision, looking down at him with a rigid, porcelain-like smile.
“Because… because I have cavities…”
“Is that so? Cavities, huh? I see. Then yes, you should eat less candy.”
When he felt the hand on his arm finally release, Zhang Wenda, who had nearly suffocated, let out a sigh of relief.
“Wenda, have you encountered something recently? Why haven’t you written a single word of your homework?”
The faint sandalwood fragrance wafted over again, making sweat bead on Zhang Wenda’s forehead.
“I haven’t encountered anything.”
“Oh? Really? But from what I know, that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
Hearing that, Zhang Wenda’s heart pounded wildly. What did she know? What was she trying to do?
Just as the atmosphere in the office grew heavy, Zhang Wenda suddenly felt a heavy pressure on his left shoulder, so strong it nearly dislocated his arm.
Clutching his arm, he quickly turned around—and was met with an unexpected face.