Cat 151: Triplets?

Chapter 151: Triplets?

In the end, Yan Jiyun was dragged back to the classroom by the persistent, traditional little class monitor, but received no punishment.

Applause. Truly outstanding.

He shot the class monitor a bitter glare, watching his experience card balance drain away like running water.

The class monitor was entirely unfazed by his glare. After returning to his seat, he resumed work on his embroidery.

Yan Jiyun simply couldn’t manage any more stitching. He placed his drawing of a little black cat in front of the class monitor. “Class monitor, can you do the embroidery for me?”

The class monitor was, after all, a little stickler for rules. “No, this is your own assignment. You have to finish it yourself.”

Yan Jiyun pressed his hands together, making himself look as innocent as possible. “Please, pretty please, I really don’t know how! I’ve already stabbed myself twice! If I poke myself again, my hand will be ruined. You’re the nicest person, class monitor, help me with this, won’t you? My piece is really easy—look!”

The class monitor was still just a kid; under such an enthusiastic barrage from Yan Jiyun, his resolve began to waver. “Well… let me have a look.”

Yan Jiyun immediately placed his embroidery cloth in front of him. “Can you tell what it is?”

The class monitor hesitated before saying, “A mouse?”

Yan Jiyun felt the class monitor’s only purpose was to thwart him. “It’s a cat—a black cat! Look again—see the body, the tail, the color? Isn’t it cool?”

The class monitor furrowed his brow. “Oh… I guess it is pretty cool.”

Cool, my foot.

Yan Jiyun said, “Class monitor, you’ve seriously wounded my tender little heart. If you don’t help me finish this black cat, I’ll be so sad.”

He fixed the class monitor with a pitiful look.

Finally, the class monitor gave in. “Fine, I’ll help you fix the drawing first.”

Yan Jiyun replied, “Mm, as long as you help me, I’ll like it no matter what it turns into.” NPCs are just like AIs; their drawing skills are way above his. He could be generous. He didn’t mind.

“All right.” The class monitor seemed pleased by this remark and picked up a pen to amend the drawing for him.

A few minutes later, the black cat on the embroidery cloth no longer resembled a crude sketch of a mouse; it had transformed into a vivid black cat leaping off the fabric, armor-clad in an exceptionally cool style.

The class monitor regretted, “This is the best I can do.”

Yan Jiyun: …

He really was an NPC—a genius. Yan Jiyun’s own drawing couldn’t even be called sloppy in comparison; it was so embarrassing, he wished he could crawl into a hole.

He seized the opportunity. “Now that you’ve made it like this, there’s no way I can pull it off. Why don’t you help me finish it? The teacher isn’t around anyway.”

The class monitor sighed like a little adult. “I’ll help you stitch the outline, but you have to fill in the colors yourself.”

Yan Jiyun nodded perfunctorily. “Okkk.” One step at a time. If he’d gotten the class monitor to finish the drawing, he could certainly coax him into finishing the embroidery.

This class monitor really was good at everything. Wasn’t that just the perfect echo of Teacher Qu’s “genius” setting?

Could he be the young Teacher Qu?

Then how did the poisoning incident fit in?

This little class monitor, so old-fashioned, warm-hearted, and soft, didn’t seem at all like a child with a dark heart. He couldn’t imagine this personality poisoning anyone.

Yan Jiyun dragged his chair over to the class monitor’s side, propped his chin in his hand, and turned his head to study him. “How did you get your name?”

He still didn’t know the class monitor’s name.

The class monitor replied, “My parents gave it to me.”

Yan Jiyun: …That made sense.

Still, sitting closer had its perks—he could see the name stitched on the collar of the class monitor’s left sleeve.

Yan Weilán.

Yan Jiyun said, “Don’t you think your name has a few too many strokes?”

Class monitor: “It’s fine. I’m used to writing it.”

Yan Jiyun pointed at the name on the collar. “Did you stitch this yourself?”

Class monitor: “No, my mother did.”

Yan Jiyun slipped into praise mode. “No wonder you’re so good at embroidery—you must’ve learned from your mom. She did a beautiful job. You’re so talented; if you keep it up, you’ll become a master, a precious cultural heirloom-bearer.”

The class monitor’s eyes lit up at the mention of his mother. “Yes, my mom is incredible. She taught me everything I know about embroidery.”

He seemed like a child growing up in sweetness and warmth, nothing like Teacher Qu’s background.

Of course, personality could run the spectrum from the very worst to the best. In the end, it all came down to human nature.

Though the class monitor was rigid to the point of being downright cute, Yan Jiyun still kept him on his list of suspects.

After swiftly finishing his own piece, the class monitor began working on Yan Jiyun’s armored black cat. The actual embroidery was quite basic, but the finished product was truly pleasing.

Of course, one class period was nowhere near enough to make the cat’s armor shine. Instead, the finished piece looked more like a black cat in a winter sweater.

Silently, the class monitor handed it to Yan Jiyun. “Time was too short. This is the best I could do.”

Yan Jiyun: “It’s great.” A far cry from stabbing himself with the needle.

Time flew by. The craft teacher returned unexpectedly, asking whether anyone had finished but didn’t collect the work; instead, she let the students take their pieces home.

Although Yan Jiyun wasted a lot of experience cards this class, he had gained quite a bit so far.

Upon learning that the embroidery wouldn’t need to be turned in, he immediately handed it back to the class monitor, making up a reason on the spot: “Class monitor, can you make it even more impressive?”

The class monitor, caught off guard as the embroidery was pushed into his arms, asked, “Why won’t you do it yourself?”

Yan Jiyun: “Yours looks so much better.”

The class monitor reluctantly agreed. “All right.” Just as he was about to say something else, Yan Jiyun had already dashed off to the front of the room. He saw him talking happily with someone from the next class, pursed his lips, and said nothing more.

Yan Jiyun had actually just run into Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi—everyone was using this period to gather information.

The five of them found a quiet spot to meet and shared what they’d learned.

Lan Mo, who was in Class 1, spoke first. “We have 41 kids in my class. Counting me out, that’s 40; not sure how many are players, but there are about 35 actual NPCs. I’ve been watching the kids who answer actively or act up in class, but none of them stood out much. What’s worth noting: one classmate has had a cough and apparently was sick recently.”

Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi were both in Class 2, and Gu Wenzhu was taking the lead. He reported more systematically, starting with what had happened in the infirmary.

Gu Wenzhu said, “When we got to the infirmary, the kid who’d passed out suddenly went berserk. The doctor and nurse couldn’t hold him down—even sedatives didn’t work. The kid ran off and we chased him to the back of the cafeteria building, where he was face-to-face with a stray dog through the fence, snarling. After the dog ran off, he noticed us, which triggered a side quest.”

Yan Jiyun asked, “Did you finish the side quest?”

Lan Mo nodded. “We did. The rabid kid chased us and almost bit us. We stunned him and managed to get away. Then teachers showed up because of the commotion, and a PE teacher knocked the kid out and the doctor sent him to the hospital. The three of us got caught and sent back—when we passed by your class, you probably saw us.”

Indeed, the three had been dragged back to their own classes by the two homeroom teachers, as uniformly as if in a parade.

Qi Feng commented, “The NPCs in this scenario can handle us very easily. They can counter everything we try.”

Gu Wenzhu said, “Yeah, it’s a pain. Not the same as the high school scenario, but it makes sense for a primary school.”

Yan Jiyun asked, “Any standout students in your class? I remember your class also had a student who was poisoned.”

Gu Wenzhu said, “Poisoned? I’d say it’s more like rabies. Can poisoning cause rabies?”

Yan Jiyun explained, “Qi Feng and I found a multiple case file in the clinic. Four students had fainting and vomiting in the past half-month. The rabid kid you mentioned is called Zhou Zhou—he collapsed twice, but we don’t know if both times were rabies. Class 1’s Yu Fei and Class 2’s Qian Duoduo also had the same symptoms. The one from Class 4 is called Liu Xueying; since we have no one in that class, we can only try to gather info from the side.”

Gu Wenzhu said, “Qian Duoduo is the class monitor in our class.” He was quick to gather information.

Lan Mo said, “Yu Fei is the class monitor for us, too.”

Yan Jiyun looked at Qi Feng. “Zhou Zhou too?”

Qi Feng nodded. “Yes, but after he got sick, he became vice monitor.”

He and Qiu Xi had been listening. Qiu Xi didn’t speak much, but with Gu Wenzhu summarizing, the two of them worked as a fixed team. Thankfully, the wretched game hadn’t forced them apart.

Gu Wenzhu said, “If that’s the case, Liu Xueying in Class 4 might also be a class monitor. Every class monitor in each class seems to have fainted. It could very well be poisoning, and Zhou Zhou may genuinely have had rabies. That just leaves the class monitors for Class 3 and Class 5.”

Everyone immediately looked at Yan Jiyun of Class 3.

Yan Jiyun said, “I just had a crafts class and got to know our class monitor a bit. He’s a quiet, gentle little boy, a bit soft-hearted. The kids in our class listen to him. He’s smart, but he doesn’t strike me as the type to cause trouble.”

Lan Mo said, “We can’t rely on instinct, though.”

Yan Jiyun didn’t protest. Lan Mo was right, but his own instincts were rarely wrong—and he saw no need to explain it.

Qi Feng said, “Next, we should make contact with Class 5’s monitor. I’m close to Class 5 and can keep an eye on him.”

Yan Jiyun said, “School’s nearly over for the day—just one last period.”

Qi Feng said, “Right. I’ve checked out how this school operates—it’s a fully enclosed boarding school. After classes end at five, there’s time for dinner and showers, then self-study from seven to eight twenty, lights out at eight fifty. Also, at night there will be lots of teacher and dorm proctor inspections.”

Everyone understood: if they wanted to sneak out at night, they’d need to avoid the teachers and proctors, who’d be especially tough in this scenario.

It made perfect sense. No matter how tough a third-grader was, they’d never beat an adult.

Qi Feng asked Lan Mo, “Have you seen Shi Yan?”

Lan Mo replied, “No.”

Shi Yan?

Yan Jiyun knew Shi Yan was a teammate of Qi Feng’s and Lan Mo’s, all of whom had been in the Mingya High School instance and hadn’t been transported to the Mermaid scenario—nor had they seen Shi Yan or He Yuanle here.

Qi Feng said, “Looks like only players from the Mermaid scenario got put into this one.”

Yan Jiyun speculated that, assuming these scenarios went in order—elementary, middle, then high—they might run into Shi Yan and He Yuanle again. Of course, it would depend on how they pushed the main storyline forward.

With these discussions settled, they split up to finish the next class and planned to meet in the cafeteria afterward, trying their best not to separate.

Yan Jiyun, meanwhile, had his own plan. He couldn’t keep attending class; his experience card reserves wouldn’t last the entire afternoon and evening. But he couldn’t tell Qi Feng and the others about this.

He saw the Class 5 students heading downstairs. “What’s the next class for Class 5?”

Qi Feng replied, “PE.”

In truth, he was prepared to do more than he had claimed.

Yan Jiyun said, “I’m going to tail the Class 5 monitor, you guys head back to class.”

Qi Feng said, “We agreed I would go.”

Yan Jiyun said, “It’s fine. I don’t like staying in the classroom. Our monitor’s very disciplined—he’ll never sneak out to look for me. Nothing will happen this period. No need to argue, my hearing’s better than yours. I can sit farther back and avoid the teacher just fine.”

Yan Jiyun was the type to act on his own. Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi knew it, so they didn’t object. Lan Mo opened his mouth, wanting Yan Jiyun to stay and keep watch, but, trusting the newcomer’s ability, Qi Feng stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

Qi Feng said, “All right.”

He’d never met a newcomer who’d managed to play the game up to a quest upgrade—Yan Jiyun was the first.

Gu Wenzhu added, “I’m close by. I’ll keep a close eye on Class 3.”

Yan Jiyun felt his teammates’ trust. “Then I’ll get moving before class starts.”

He’d scouted the school earlier and knew where to hide. On his way to the infirmary with Qi Feng, he’d already spotted the PE equipment room as a perfect location.

He quietly followed the Class 5 students as they collected equipment, then found a spot to crouch as the others left. When the coast was clear, he shifted back into a cat, shook out his fur, and slipped out through a window smashed by a student’s stray basketball.

Just as he’d expected, his body shrank accordingly; now he was a four-month-old kitten, at a stage of active growth.

Standing on the sun-dried ground, Yan Jiyun took a long, deep breath. He no longer needed to worry about exhausting his experience cards—he felt relieved. The only downside: whenever he transformed, he grew sleepy, kittens at this age needing sixteen hours of sleep daily.

[Be Human If You Want] livestream chat:

“I thought a six-month-old kitten was peak cuteness, but now the system made him four months—so tiny!”

“Aww, so adorable! Another day of relentless kitten addiction.”

“Any expert know this instance? Which kid is Teacher Qu’s avatar? I’m burning with curiosity. My money’s on the Class 3 monitor.”

“The instance has upgraded—storyline completely changed. This is a whole new scenario. I doubt any viewer can solve it now.”

“Just got a DM about the mermaid instance being updated—new plot triggered. Anyone know the details?”

“Buddy, you’re in the right stream! Allow me, loyal shoveler, to fill you in. It all started yesterday at 2 PM—”

“Came via DM. Why do I see everything from a black cat’s POV? Did the system glitch?”

“So many new siblings! Let me take you through the story. Two months ago—there was a dark and stormy night, I clicked into a stream—”

Yan Jiyun had promised his teammates to watch Class 5 and would not slack off. But all he had to do was find a good spot within their activity zone and keep watch.

But now a huge problem presented itself: which one was Class 5, Grade 3?

Why were so many classes taking PE at once—second grade, fourth, fifth, even sixth?

Was the rotten system just messing with him?

There were four classes total. The fifth and sixth graders were tall, so easy to spot. The second graders were tiny and could be discounted, but between the other two classes, figuring out which was Class 3(5) would take some deduction. Kids these days grow so fast—the third graders could be as tall as, or taller than, fourth graders.

Combined, the two classes had seventy or eighty kids, all supervised by teachers. Keeping tabs on them both wasn’t so taxing.

There had just been rain; water still clung to the grass and low trees by the sports field. Yan Jiyun, afraid of catching a cold if he got wet, only emerged after the PE bell rang. He squeezed beneath the bleachers about thirty meters from the field—a spot sheltered from the rain.

After the rain, the sun came out. Sunset slanted across Yan Jiyun, soaking him in warmth. He couldn’t help but yawn—no surprise, the sunlight was putting him to sleep.

He listened to the little kids chattering around him, the PE teacher scolding them to stop horsing around, only for the noise to swirl up again in a never-ending cycle.

Class 3 and Class 4 had almost identical lesson plans—he genuinely couldn’t tell which was which just by listening.

Not until halfway through the period, when someone mentioned seeing Zhou Zhou barking like a dog—speculating whether he had rabies or was simply crazy—did Yan Jiyun lazily glance toward the source of the voice and finally figure out which group was Class 5. But who was their class monitor? The PE secretary was easy to pick out—a bit dark-skinned; maybe they could bond over it.

Once he had the right group, he observed the Class 5 students from afar. They were currently doing three-legged races and having a grand time.

Until someone shouted, “Yan Wei Orange, hurry up!”

Yan Wei Orange?

The name sounded familiar. Too far to make out the face—he was a little nearsighted and mostly relied on hearing and smell, though that didn’t mean his eyesight was actually bad; compared to other cats, it was great—just a tad below the 5.0 human standard, so he managed fine without glasses.

The sun had dried most of the field; Yan Jiyun wasn’t about to jump down—children could be dangerous to animals. He decided to wait until the class let out and observe more closely as they passed.

Ah, the sun was so nice.

And the breeze so gentle.

He couldn’t resist dozing off.

Yan Jiyun shut his eyes; ever since he’d turned into a child, he’d struggled to stay awake. If that last class hadn’t poked his finger, he’d have slept on his desk.

But this was different: no one was watching him, no one was forcing him to embroider; he was free. With a bit of time left before Class 5 finished, he could nap a little. He wouldn’t sleep too deeply anyway.

Eyelids drooping, he thought, just a short nap.

Hoo… hoo… hoo…

[Be Human If You Want] livestream chat:

“Zzzzz~”

“Zzzzz~”

“Zzzzz~”

“Why are all the messages in this stream automated zzz spam?”

“Quit breaking the pattern! Don’t disturb the sleeping kitten!”

“Come on, spam away! I just want to watch the kitten sleep. Man, I could watch forever—so soothing!”

Yan Jiyun dozed and dozed, until a shrill end-of-class bell jarred him awake. He opened his eyes and struggled to pull himself together.

But—

Where were the Class 5 students?

Had he really slept that deeply?

Had they all left without him noticing?

Now he was wide awake—and finally understood what made this instance so tough: at this age, with such limited stamina, you couldn’t simply “power up” at will!

He glanced across the field and almost jumped in shock.

The Class 5 kids hadn’t left—they’d been led to the farthest corner of the soccer field by the PE teacher and were now lining up to leave.

Yan Jiyun dashed from beneath the bleachers and headed for the first floor of the teaching building. Whether they went to the cafeteria or dorms, they’d have to pass this route. The class monitors always wore small leader badges, so he’d recognize them.

He found a subtle hiding spot, tucked behind an osmanthus tree and a nearby recycling bin.

After just one PE class, the kids were all flushed, chattering about the lesson, evening plans, or dinner.

After filtering out irrelevant chatter, Yan Jiyun once again heard the name Yan Wei Orange and recognized the boy’s voice. What caught his attention was the similarity to his own class monitor’s voice, something only he, with his exceptional hearing, could have detected. Ordinary people would easily have mistaken one for the other.

Peering past the bin, he finally saw the child’s face—Yan Jiyun was stunned.

WTF?

The kid looked exactly like the class monitor.

Without hearing him speak, you’d have thought Yan Wei Orange and the class monitor were a pair of twins!

It was obvious now.

As always, the game didn’t let players down—even if both the class monitor and Yan Wei Orange were avatars of Teacher Qu, only one would be the real one.

God, this was tough.

As the kids began to file out, Yan Jiyun prepared to regroup with his “shoveler.”

At that moment, Yan Wei Orange paused in the school foyer and didn’t leave. Yan Jiyun couldn’t slip away just yet—his target was right in front of the trash bin.

Who was he waiting for?

Minutes ticked by before the person he awaited finally arrived—it was his twin brother, the class monitor.

Yan Jiyun was about to sidle up to eavesdrop when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted yet another identical class monitor bounding merrily down the stairs—

A second boy, identical to the class monitor!

Were they triplets?

Gritting his teeth, Yan Jiyun thought: Great. Classic rotten game style.