Cat 150: The Little Class Monitor

Chapter 150: The Little Class Monitor

The bell rang for the end of class—

Lan Mo, Gu Wenzhu, and Qiu Xi burst out of their classrooms one after another. Gu Wenzhu, with his bad leg, was a bit behind, but the three immediately spotted the pair standing hand-in-hand in the hallway, being gawked at by both players and NPCs. A crowd of elementary school NPCs mercilessly stood by and mocked the two being punished.

“You guys are so funny, why are you holding hands out here?”

“Are you playing house, like who’s the husband and who’s the wife?”

“Eewww~ So, which one is the husband and which one the wife?”

“What’s it feel like for two boys to hold hands? Are both of you… you know, do you like boys?”

“Are you two dating?”

As Yan Jiyun listened to this barrage, he felt a vein in his forehead bulge—these little brats had absolutely no filter! They said whatever popped into their heads.

Qi Feng shot them a cold glare. Instantly sensing danger, the NPCs scattered—bullies, after all, will always pick the soft target.

Only then did Lan Mo and the others approach.

Lan Mo, grinning, asked, “What are you guys doing out here?”

Qi Feng replied tersely, “Skipping class. Got punished.”

Gu Wenzhu, a bit more serious, asked, “How long?”

Yan Jiyun: “Five minutes. About three left.”

Standing there as a spectacle for the NPCs was just too embarrassing.

Gu Wenzhu asked, “Did you find anything?”

Although all of them were little fresh-faced boys, it was quite amusing to see them seriously discussing strategy—Yan Jiyun’s foul mood after the drenching rain improved a little.

Yan Jiyun told them about the student in Class 6 who fainted and was taken to the infirmary—they could check it out.

This elementary school setting wasn’t too big. Lan Mo said, “You two might as well wait for your punishment to finish. We’ll check the infirmary first so others don’t beat us to it.”

While being punished, Yan Jiyun and Qi Feng seemed “protected.” In different settings, punishment took different forms. In elementary school, it was standing in place, not time deduction—just the sort of thing the system would come up with, attacking players’ dignity.

Of course, both Qi Feng and Yan Jiyun were big-hearted enough for such a small punishment to leave them unfazed.

Still, five minutes of standing idle was a sly way to tick down their play time, and Yan Jiyun ended up using up one more experience card than Qi Feng.

After five minutes, the principal finished verifying their homeroom and set them free—the punishment was over.

They hurried off after Lan Mo and the others toward the infirmary.

As they walked, they discussed how to find Mr. Qu in hiding in this story scene.

Yan Jiyun asked, “So far, only this kid fainted—and it’s your class. Who do you think is most likely a split-off personality of Mr. Qu?”

Qi Feng: “The roles probably don’t repeat, so teachers are out. In the Mermaid instance, Xiao Yue was one of Mr. Qu’s personalities, but he committed suicide.”

Yan Jiyun: “So, Mr. Qu is trying to get rid of his own splits, but we don’t know if he’s the primary.”

Qi Feng: “Mm, and that’s for us to judge. If we go by the last instance, Mr. Qu here is very dangerous, and he’d be a child, just like us.”

Yan Jiyun glanced at Qi Feng’s short arms and legs, a laugh escaping him: “Like this, we’d have trouble dealing with even an ordinary teacher NPC.”

Qi Feng, infected by his grin, smiled slightly. “Yeah, so we group up as much as possible—find clues together.”

Yan Jiyun stole a glance at his shrinking experience cards. He’d definitely team up, but in what identity was anyone’s guess.

He agreed for now, “Alright.”

He’d have to look for an opportunity to switch back to cat form. With Qi Feng there, he felt safe; alone, he had no sense of security.

With so many together, it was hard to slip away—his mind turned over various strategies.

Qi Feng continued, “I’m leaning towards Mr. Qu being a third-grade student. The kid who just fainted isn’t him.”

Yan Jiyun: “How so?”

Qi Feng: “The clue’s too obvious.”

Yan Jiyun: “Agreed.”

The game loved hiding the main quest under layers of misdirection and fake leads—a ruse they’d both seen many times before.

They reached the infirmary, but at the door, heard nothing from inside—not even footsteps. Oddly quiet.

Yan Jiyun pulled Qi Feng back, “Wait. No sound in there; Gu Wenzhu and the others aren’t there either.”

Qi Feng trusted his teammate’s sharp ears and didn’t barge in. They looked through the front window—nobody.

Qi Feng: “Did they move the student?”

Yan Jiyun: “Usually an ambulance comes—maybe this triggered a plot event.”

Qi Feng: “Could be. I’ll check inside. Wait here.”

Yan Jiyun glanced at his much-shorter can opener. “Why not go together?”

Qi Feng: “Don’t worry, I still have my skills.”

Yan Jiyun looked doubtful. “Let’s just go together.”

Qi Feng: “…”

Without more words, they went in.

Inside, they found chaos—pills on the floor, spilled alcohol, crumpled hospital bedding.

The smell of alcohol hung in the air; Yan Jiyun crinkled his nose—too strong.

Qi Feng quickly analyzed the situation: “Looks like a kid lost control in a medical crisis.”

“How do you mean?” Yan Jiyun couldn’t see any sign of a fight, but couldn’t be sure.

Qi Feng explained, “See how the sheets were grabbed? Syringes on the ground, probably tranquilizers, but the needles broke before they could be used.”

Yan Jiyun: “You can tell that?” This was truly a top-level ace.

Qi Feng: “It’s just something I’ve picked up for the game. If you’re interested, try learning too.”

Yan Jiyun grinned. “Maybe later.”

Not to be outdone, he sniffed out other scents and followed them to the back room.

Qi Feng wanted to warn him to be careful, but the door opened before he could.

It was just a medicine storeroom—nothing seemed out of place.

Both scanned the room.

Qi Feng guessed, “Maybe the kid was so ill a teacher rushed him to the hospital, or something unexpected happened.”

Yan Jiyun: “Remember what I asked the Class 6 NPC? They said the kid had fainted twice in a week.”

Qi Feng: “Yeah, but the NPC just said he fainted and didn’t mention the symptoms. And see—foam on the floor here.”

Yan Jiyun: “Hmm, what kind of illness could that be?”

Qi Feng shook his head. “Needs a doctor’s input.”

Yan Jiyun, prepping for a cat-form change later, mused, “It was raining when I arrived—maybe that’s linked? Back in Mingya High, when Mr. Qu no.2 got mad, there was thunder and rain; this time it’s just rain—so Mr. Qu must be sad.”

Qi Feng: “Now it’s sunny, so the fainting kid isn’t the cause. When Gu and the others return, we’ll know more. Let’s check back in class for now.”

Yan Jiyun spotted a medical file on the doctor’s desk.

Case 1: Sep 20, Zhou Zhou, Class 6, sudden fainting.
Case 2: Sep 17, Yu Fei, Class 1, fainted with mouth foaming.
Case 3: Sep 12, Qian Duoduo, Class 2, stomach pain and convulsion, then fainted.
Case 4: Sep 5, Liu Xueying, Class 4, sudden fainting.
Case 5: Sep 5, Zhou Zhou, Class 6, sudden fainting.

Four almost identical cases—so the fainting kid wasn’t alone, but the latest in a string. Zhou Zhou fainted twice.

Qi Feng, seeing Yan Jiyun studying the files, asked, “Any finds?”

Yan Jiyun handed them over. “What do you think?”

Qi Feng: “Doesn’t look like coincidence—the dates are getting closer together.”

Yan Jiyun: “Detective Qi, doesn’t this seem like a culprit escalating, growing bolder as no one notices, striking in ever-shorter intervals?”

Qi Feng paused at the nickname, a rare smile on his lips. “So you’ve worked it out.” He assumed the newbie was teasing him for being so meticulous at the scene.

Yan Jiyun: “I think it’s food poisoning.” (He was just riffing off Qi Feng’s previous secret identity as investigator, and realized it might give him away. Getting to investigate with his can opener was exciting, almost too much so.)

Casting a quick glance, Qi Feng didn’t look suspicious; he probably hadn’t picked up on it.

Qi Feng: “I think so too—someone’s likely poisoning food. At first, it was only fainting; then stomach pain and convulsions, then foaming at the mouth. The dosages are growing. Each case happened after lunch.”

Yan Jiyun noted, “No mass poisoning, so maybe not the cafeteria.”

Qi Feng nodded. “We’ll start by checking students, but should look at the kitchen too.”

Yan Jiyun: “We should check the school’s dining routine—could be after breakfast or lunch. Not sure yet.”

Truthfully, if he hadn’t switched classes first thing to join Qi Feng, their clue-finding progress would’ve lagged.

If not for being assigned to Class 6, the same as Qi Feng and the others, he wouldn’t have been in sync. Refusing the ginger tea and running off just sped him up.

There was no real friction between Qi Feng and Yan Jiyun here; both were quick to fix on a search direction.

Qi Feng bagged the file and said, “Let’s go.”

Yan Jiyun thought of what Han Ruibai had said about Xiao Yue—a dark streak that haunted him, and after failing to escape it, he chose suicide, manipulated by Mr. Qu.

The point was, not all of Mr. Qu’s splits yearned for the light or redemption—some were born entirely from shadow, and those were terrifying.

He’d seen this in films and novels—the “shadow” split formed after being bullied; the main personality led a normal life while, at night, the split went out to hurt women.

After rolling it around in his head, Yan Jiyun muttered, “Xiao Yue was still a good split, controlling his urges, but now we’ve run into one indulging them—and getting worse.”

Qi Feng instantly keyed in: “Exactly, and these six kids are all in different classes. Unlike the Mermaid instance, there’s no elaborate backstory here—kids just act on impulse.”

They raced for the school building just as the warning bell sounded.

If they wanted to keep investigating, they’d have to return to class. If Yan Jiyun went back, he couldn’t change to cat form…

He crunched the numbers—he still had around three hours left for the day. He couldn’t rely solely on Qi Feng for info, especially if the story split them up later.

He and Qi Feng split at the stairs—he returned to Class 3, Qi Feng to Class 6.

Lan Mo, Gu Wenzhu, and Qiu Xi were also caught by the teacher and herded back once class began.

Yan Jiyun: …

He and Qi Feng usually entrusted the three to Gu for his brains, but even he got hauled back—each one of them looking like chicks, it was almost funny.

No matter how capable someone is as an adult, back in a child’s body, they were all a bit helpless and weak.

Lan Mo was the classic rambunctious, irrepressible boy; Gu Wenzhu, skinny and studious, wearying his glasses; Qiu Xi, the prototypical cute class kid—round-faced, bright-eyed.

Apparently, the three had gone somewhere special—during the ruckus at the infirmary, there’d been no trace of them. Maybe they’d triggered a side quest.

Sitting down, Yan Jiyun realized the teacher still hadn’t come. After a delay, the homeroom finally arrived: “This lesson is now handicrafts. Everyone, head to the art room.”

Other kids cheered—it was supposed to be math. The teacher must have taken the fainted student to the nurse and couldn’t return.

Handicrafts class was in another, low three-story building. The art room was on the first floor.

Stepping in, each student found their desk already set up.

What were they doing today?

Embroidery?

The crafts teacher was a gently smiling woman in her early twenties. “Students, today we’re learning embroidery.”

Most of the girls seemed excited, boys not so much.

“Do boys have to embroider? Isn’t that, you know, girlish?”

What a classic little straight-boy line.

“Teacher, I’m scared of needles.”

“Teacher, I want to go to the bathroom!”

Yan Jiyun admired the teacher for sustaining her smile—he himself wouldn’t last a minute.

She held fast. “Whoever needs the bathroom may go now.”

Probably a player, Yan Jiyun guessed, watching a kid dash outside.

The teacher started her lesson—teaching simple stitches.

Yan Jiyun gingerly pinched the needle, terrified of getting stuck.

How could a class be so stressful? It felt like an accident waiting to happen.

He shuffled to the back to avoid notice.

Six kids per long table. He took an end, with four boys packed along the sides.

His table-mates each had their own quirks.

Across sat a perfectly poised, delicate-featured kid; his red scarf was tied just so, movements refined, everyone called him “class monitor.”

Of course—the class monitor, always classically composed.

The boys on the bench jostled and poked each other non-stop.

Finally, the teacher came over: “Those needles are dangerous! Stop roughhousing. Now, I’ll show you how to draw a simple pattern before you begin embroidery.”

Most students behaved pretty well.

Having covered the basics, the teacher left them to draw and stitch.

Yan Jiyun, not wanting to be scolded, sketched a cartoon black cat on his cloth.

It looked bold, almost fierce—he’d just need black thread to finish. But, as usual, the dream was beautiful, reality cruel.

First stitch, he pricked his finger: “…”

Damned game. Wouldn’t even let him survive an elementary handicraft class in peace.

He eyed the class monitor—his embroidery was smooth and practiced, too skillful for a child.

Why so exceptional? It was odd.

A boy this good with a needle was out of place, but as class monitor, it seemed plausible.

Once the teacher left, the unwatched boys started chattering. The monitor stood up. “Quiet.”

Yan Jiyun thought, Surely he’s too delicate for anyone to listen—but like magic, the noisy classroom fell into a hush. The talking never really stopped, but no one dared raise their voice or leave their seat.

The little class monitor was pretty formidable.

Yan Jiyun locked onto him—maybe this was Mr. Qu’s child persona, though that was unconfirmed.

He kept scanning the class, but only the monitor stood out.

The poisoning incidents might escalate; kids from classes 1, 2, 4, and 6 had been targeted—3 and 5, not yet.

If the culprit wanted to keep poisoning, would their next targets be from 3 or 5?

Did Gu Wenzhu’s group notice the names on the case files?

The crafts teacher still hadn’t come back and with the class half over, Yan Jiyun didn’t want to waste his experience card.

Looking at the class monitor, he said, “Monitor, I need to go to the bathroom.”

He nodded: “Go ahead.”

But the monitor put down his sewing, stood up, and followed.

Yan Jiyun only wanted to sneak out and switch to cat form. Why follow?

“You need the bathroom too?” he asked.

The monitor replied, “Teacher told me to watch over everyone. You go, I watch you.”

Yan Jiyun: “There’s no need, really. I’ll be right back. The bathrooms stink, you shouldn’t have to come.”

The monitor stood firm. “If I stay far enough, I won’t smell it.”

Yan Jiyun: … So that was that.

Together, they walked to the bathroom.

As they approached, the homeroom teacher’s voice drifted over: “Yang Shu, run off again and next time it won’t just be cleaning the bathroom.”

The player who’d left for the bathroom was now miserably scrubbing it as punishment.

So the punishment was real?

Yan Jiyun got it now. Mr. Qu’s “childhood” instance seemed mild, but every penalty was genuinely annoying.

The player scowled as he saw Yan Jiyun: “What, you skipping too?”

Feeling the teacher’s eyes, Yan Jiyun protested, “I’m a good student—I’m just here for a bathroom break.”

He finished up quickly, pausing to offer the cleaning player a word of encouragement: “Hang in there, bro!”

Player: … The f*ck!

Unless he cleaned thoroughly, class 3’s homeroom NPC wouldn’t leave. Yan Jiyun figured he’d better get out of sight before being made to return.

But his real problem wasn’t the teacher, it was the monitor—he was shadowed the whole way, foiling his plan to transform.

The monitor stood well back from the door, so Yan Jiyun figured he could sneak around, create enough distance to transform unseen. He’d done this trick before.

Edging away slowly, he counted mentally: One—two—three—run!

But before he’d gone ten paces, the supposedly genteel class monitor darted after him, not just keeping pace—actually outrunning him!

The monitor grabbed his shirt, stretching it taut, forcing him to halt.

Yan Jiyun, frustrated, turned: “Why are you grabbing me?”

The monitor, flushed and panting from his exertion, replied, “You’re not allowed to skip class!”

What a little stickler!