Chapter 160: Students still have to attend classes, as expected.

The first lesson was a Chinese language class.

On the whiteboard, the teacher writes curvilinear letters that you can't understand, and you try to listen to even a little bit.

If you listen to it more often, you might be able to understand some of it better.

You try hard to find some patterns in the teacher's pronunciation: Is the "circle" always at the beginning of the sentence? Does the character with the tail represent the interjection "ah"?

...Okay, you admit you're keeping yourself occupied, otherwise you'd fall asleep. But after a few minutes, you completely give up on deciphering the language. You watch the teacher's pen move back and forth on the whiteboard, eyes wide, maintaining a smile.

You don't understand anything. Even if you don't understand anything.

Yet you still sat ramrod straight. You stared intently at the teacher's face, nodding slightly in sync with her intonation—pretending to listen attentively was effortless for most students at Huaguo University. Even if you didn't know she was lecturing on a Thai text or digressing to tell some anecdotes, you maintained the posture expected of a listener.

Students should act like students; it's the simplest way to stay away from danger. Just like in your student life, apart from the universally acknowledged top students, most teachers will deliberately call on those students who are looking down and clearly not paying attention to answer questions. As long as you remain confident, the teacher will skip you and might even leave you with a good impression that "this child is very attentive in class."

A dozen minutes later, the teacher finished her lecture. She turned around and turned off the light shining on the whiteboard, then said a series of sentences. Everyone started flipping through their books, picking up pens, and discussing in small groups.

It seems she's handing the class over to the students. So how are you going to use this time? Just as you're lost in thought, you notice the teacher turn around, pick something up from the lectern, and walk towards you.

You suddenly feel a little nervous.

After all, there are exceptions to the aforementioned situation: the teacher might appreciate a student who always keeps their head up and follows her train of thought, and call out your name with anticipation. In this case, if you reveal that you've been daydreaming, you'll face even stronger criticism than those students who weren't paying attention to begin with.

The teacher, however, simply smiled gently at you as she moved closer. Even so, your stomach involuntarily tightened.

You don't know what she's trying to do. Is she going to test you in front of everyone? Is she going to make you read a passage in Cantonese? You try to stay calm, your hands on the desk, your fingertips clenching slightly.

Unexpectedly, she simply smiled and stopped at your table, gently placing a small booklet in front of you. The cover was a simple blue, printed with the six characters "Basic Thai Practice Book," along with a line of Thai characters indicating the subtitle.

She bent down and whispered in her not-so-fluent, soft voice, "This was originally for you. Take your time, no rush. Keep going, study hard."

You look up at her in surprise, and she smiles again: "If I don't help you find teaching materials, how can I be considered a teacher? I've collected some, and this flower language textbook is the best. You should be able to catch up with us quickly."

This is amazing!

You nodded quickly and thanked him repeatedly, saying, "Thank you, teacher."

She waved her hand: "Kopukunka, you can sit down and write."

She walked away, and you sat on the chair, touching the cover of your workbook, suddenly feeling a sense of relief.

It seems your situation at school is much better than you think. The teachers here know you don't speak Cantonese, and even the Chinese teacher is willing to patiently prepare teaching materials for you. This means that language difficulties are probably not your biggest crisis at this school.

However... it's not always the case.

Anyway, let's study hard first. You turn to the first page—starting with the rules of pinyin, and then moving on to basic vocabulary like "hello," "thank you," and "my name is..." The content is indeed simple and straightforward, guiding you step by step to explore the dialect and helping you understand it better.

The first lesson passed quickly while you were engrossed in doing your exercises.

You look up and see the students already putting away their books, and the teacher calling roll on the podium. You also put your hands together in thanks and say, "Kopukkunka."

The teacher nodded slightly at you, looking like she was optimistic about you and encouraging you.

As the teacher left, the students picked up their books, pulled up their chairs, and their black leather shoes clicked on the ground as they moved in unison.

The courses here are all taught in shifts. The second class is "Yingyu" (a type of Chinese slang), which is a required course, so you will have to switch to the Yingyu classroom with everyone else.

But you feel relaxed, after all, it's a language you can understand.

The English teacher was an older woman with her hair tied back and clipped with a flower-shaped hair clip. Her features looked somewhat serious, but her first words were accompanied by a gentle smile—or rather, you wouldn't see any woman speaking without a warm smile: "Today's group assignment is on how to introduce your country to foreigners."

"Everyone needs to work together to complete this task, and then we can share our findings on stage."

You raised an eyebrow; even in a dungeon, this way of teaching suddenly seemed interesting to you.

The teacher asked you to form your own teams, so of course you chose to team up with Meiling and the others.

The class was quickly divided into six groups, and you, Meiling, Huimin, and two other girls were assigned to one group.

This kind of situation, where you have to give a presentation, is a huge undertaking for them, but it's not a difficult task for you.

After all, you're a seasoned veteran of the overseas Chinese community now!

You figured there had to be a class where you could excel and make the teacher like and notice you, so you spoke directly in your sweet talk, saying, "Well... we can make an outline first, dividing it into several parts. The first part introduces the country, the second part talks about the culture, and the third part talks about daily life."

Meiling and the others were surprised that your eloquence was so good. Coupled with yesterday's experience, Meiling and Huimin took the lead in expressing their agreement, and the other two naturally had no objections.

The group task progressed quickly. You naturally took on the roles of "structural planning" and "language polishing," and while other groups were still debating how to begin, your group had already started writing the second paragraph.

The two girls, who were originally quiet and somewhat disapproving of you, were noticeably more relaxed. They would occasionally ask you in a low voice how to write sentences, and you would help them adjust them little by little, even drawing some simple diagrams along the way.

You don't need to show anything special, but everyone can see that you're handling things with ease.

The English teacher walked around the classroom, nodding approvingly. When she came to your group, she stopped, looked at the page you had written, nodded repeatedly, and then said to you, "You did a very good job."

You put your palms together and bowed your head: "Thank you."

She looked at you, suddenly smiled, and slowly said in the language of flowers, "Keep it up, and study Thai well too." After saying that, she patted Meiling's shoulder and walked to the next group.

You were taken aback, not expecting her to know the language of flowers. This was a good thing, yet it also left you with a slightly uneasy feeling.

There are quite a few people of flower lineage in this country, but the language of flowers isn't very widely known. However, as a teacher, it's common to know a second foreign language. For now, don't worry about whether this experience fits the dungeon's situation or is a trap designed for you; focus on the lesson content.

Later, your group performed exceptionally well during the class presentation.

Although you wrote most of the text, you didn't take credit. You let Meiling start; she's a very generous and confident girl who earned your group a lot of points for warming up the audience. Huimin and the other girls then reported on their presentations in turn, with one of them even showing photos of Thai dance that she found on her phone when introducing the culture.

Finally, you took the written conclusion and clearly stated the last few sentences.

The whole class applauded. The teacher, standing at the podium, said, "This group's content was very complete, and their teamwork was excellent." She smiled at you all, then gave you a special look: "Especially the new student, she adapted very quickly. Very good."

You bowed again like a robot with your hands clasped in prayer.

There are only four classes in a morning. There are no long breaks between classes or afternoon self-study sessions. As a result, half of the time is gone.

You feel pretty good. The teacher is friendly, and the course content is very simple—frankly speaking, there's no pressure from exams, so you can do whatever you want.

The third period is science class. Because "you" chose humanities, your schedule does not separate physics, chemistry, biology, etc. into more detailed courses. Instead, they are all called science class, which serves as a transitional learning experience before entering M5 year.

You passed by the science lab this morning, and that's where you are now.

You carried your boxes and lined up to collect the tools you needed for the experiment from the teacher. When you changed into your lab coat, you saw student assistants carrying two extra large boxes for the teacher.

What's inside? You looked at it curiously for a while. You soon found out.

The air conditioning in the lab was on full blast, and even though the lab coat was thick, I still sneezed several times.

The teacher adjusted the projector on the podium and played a teaching video of an anatomical procedure. In the video, the operator's movements were fluid, as if handling a still life model rather than a real living being.

You stare at the moment the frog's abdomen is cut open on the screen, your brow furrowing involuntarily. The video continues playing, the operator methodically cutting open the abdominal wall, then peeling back the tissue to remove the blood vessels attached to the internal organs.

This scene is so vivid. Is it really good for high school students to learn this? You're not an educator, but based on your own educational experience, you find it somewhat unacceptable.

But it's not up to you to decide.

The teacher looked at you and said a few words, then Meiling raised her hand, and she was then placed next to you.

"Today is biology class," Meiling translated the teacher's casual words. "We're going to learn about the frog's digestive system. Please work in pairs and be careful. If you're a new student and not familiar with it, your group member can guide you through the process."

Okay, even if the course content is a bit difficult for you, it's alright because you have familiar classmates to help you complete it. And the teacher seems to be willing to take extra care of you, just like the teachers in the previous two classes, so you have no reason to continue complaining.

Meiling is sitting next to you. She has already put on her gloves, looking eager and ready to go.

She likes it when you can help her get more participation points in her English class, and she also likes to be a leader to help you learn. She gently patted your shoulder, and her big sister confidence returned: "Don't be afraid, I'll do the work, you...you can take care of the drawing."

You nodded.

The teacher opened the two large boxes and distributed the dissection materials one by one. Your group's frog was placed in a transparent plastic bag. Its damp skin clung to the bag, giving it a dull, damp, grayish-white appearance. It looked very energetic, and even though Meiling was holding it, it kept kicking its legs and making a rustling sound.

Meiling picked up the syringe, held the frog in her hands, and killed it with precision and ruthlessness.

She quickly placed the frog on the mat.

For some reason, you're a little afraid to look at its face—even though you've seen all sorts of gruesome corpses—and just stare down at the pen in your hand.

“Don’t be nervous,” she said, almost excitedly, “I’ve killed it, completely dead.” She looked at you, then suddenly realized, “Don’t worry, we’ve learned the proper way to kill laboratory animals before, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

You want to say, "It's okay, I know this is part of the course content," but the words get stuck in your throat, turning into a hesitant nod.

You have a very bad feeling.

But you still raised your head after all; after all, this was a classroom, and you couldn't perform too poorly. When your gaze inadvertently fell on the frog's face—

You froze instantly.

A frog's eyes roll back, its black pupils slanted upwards, which should theoretically suggest a lifeless, unconscious state. Yet, you feel as if it's staring at you. It's a strange sense of focus. But even when it's alive, its irregular pupils, unlike those of mammals, would make it seem colder and more devoid of warmth. Shouldn't the eyes of a dead animal be even more inorganic?

You immediately turned your head away, your heart pounding. The classroom lights reflected a cold, white light onto the stainless steel surgical tray, and you could only tell yourself—it's just a matter of angle, just a matter of lighting.

It is light falling on the pupil; external factors cause the eyeball to focus.

Don't overthink it, let's continue with the lesson.

Meiling had already grasped the scalpel and skillfully followed the steps in the video to fix the frog's hind limbs. She used tweezers to lift the abdominal skin and made the first incision between the skin and muscle layer.

You don't want to see the process, but you have to. So you force yourself to focus more on your notebook, drawing out the structure that Meiling broke down, which helps to ease your discomfort.

As instructed by the teacher, we were to draw the skeleton with a black pen, the blood vessels with a red pen, and the entire digestive system with a blue pen.

"Okay, now it's the stomach," Meiling said as she operated. She was being considerate; she thought you were afraid to look because of fear, so she was telling you which step you were at by listing the dishes.

She continued to use tweezers to clean the impurities around her intestines.

You lower your head and do as instructed, but suddenly you catch a glimpse of a small black mass inside the frog's abdominal cavity out of the corner of your eye.

hiss.

Do you remember what was supposed to be inside the frog's stomach in the video the teacher showed? This black thing isn't a liver, nor is it a necrotic, oxygen-deprived heart; it doesn't resemble any of the organs mentioned in the video at all.

It was irregularly embedded at the end of the digestive tract, its color a dark, shiny black. If I had to describe it... it looked more like a burnt pebble.

You gently touched Meiling's hand.

She paused, noticing your expression, and stopped what she was doing. You gestured for her to look inside. She leaned forward and peeked, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, this? It's nothing. You see it every time you dissect it; these animals always have it inside their bellies."

"There will always be?" you repeated softly.

She nodded and said, "The teacher said it was a naturally formed 'internal mineral,' but I don't know what it is. Anyway, it wasn't on the test."

You remain silent.

Where do so many stones come from?

If it only happens once, it's a normal anomaly; but if it happens every time, it's practically telling you that this is the rule of anomalies.

Seeing Meiling's nonchalant attitude, you suppressed your disgust, took the scissors, and carefully cut a small, distinctive slit along the edge of the frog's skin.

Meiling was puzzled by this but didn't stop you. She just looked at you and chose to believe you: "Anyway, you have the ability. If you want to do this, then do it."

You didn't answer, but just whispered, "Don't tell anyone."

Anatomy lessons may seem to cover a lot of material, but they actually take quite a while to complete. A class passes by quietly and attentively.

A few minutes before the bell rang, the teacher went to the front to take attendance, confirm that each group had completed taking photos and labeling, and told the students to put the dissected frogs back into the uniform plastic boxes for "uniform processing".

You watch as the students dump the frogs back into the plastic boxes like rotten meat, and the piles of frogs, their bellies all exposed, create a scene... somewhat like a slaughterhouse.

Even if this is a high school, not a professional medical university, are there no ethical constraints on how experimental animals are treated?

After class, you pretended to have left something in the lab and went back. You saw the teacher holding a plastic box, humming a song, so you quietly followed her, passing through the corner of the teaching building, and walked to the laboratory supplies recycling room.

You would assume the frogs would be sent to some processing center, or at least frozen or incinerated.

But the teacher simply opened the door, lifted the lid of a blue trash can, and dumped all the frogs inside.

With a "clatter," the dissected frog carcass was piled up at the bottom of the bucket like waste paper, its belly ripped open, its eyes all rolled upwards.

The teacher closed the lid, clapped his hands, and left.

This isn't right. Even if few people in real life would feel any sympathy for a furless and unlovable frog, this is a dungeon. There's definitely something wrong with this.

Forgetting you still had class to attend, you rushed over, lifted the lid, and started rummaging through the lattice.

As you search, you tell yourself, "Just to confirm that stone..."

Because you are really panicked.

Like most young people, you only handle raw meat when cooking, and sometimes you don't even touch it with your hands, just throwing pre-cut meat chunks or slices from the supermarket directly into the pot. But now, you have to rummage through clumps of soft, soggy, cold, dead meat to find your frog.

And that's not all. You're pretty sure your gut is telling you to hurry, even faster.

As you turn over each frog, you look deep into its abdominal cavity, and just as Meiling said, every frog has those black, ominous gallstones.

You thought about taking all the frogs with you—but no, as you learned yesterday, the culture here isn't about saving all living beings, but about each having its own destiny.

You're unsure if this is related to your connection with the little frog, but the clues you've found point to this. Therefore, you are solely responsible for your frog.

Finally, you found it. The frog you marked was at the very bottom of the trash can, its marks almost completely obscured by the slime and grime from the other frogs.

You take a deep breath, put it in your lab coat pocket, and quickly walk around to—well, let's go to the school's back garden. There's a quiet patch of grass there, a few banana trees, wildflowers hidden among the grass, and a cement platform whose purpose you don't know.

You dug a shallow hole and put the frog in it.

Is that all? You thought of the offering table on Jinglian's table.

So you simply piled up a small platform with pebbles, stuck a few leaves on it, and gathered some small flowers from the surrounding area, piling them up in front of this little grave mound.

You knelt down and, imitating what you'd seen online, stammered out a few words of thanks in Thai. You weren't sure if you'd mispronounced anything, but you were very earnest.

"I'm sorry, thank you. Thank you for showing us the wonders of medicine and biology. May you leap out of the pond in your next life, free and no longer controlled."

"I don't know what you are, but I want to give you a good ending."

You also used your phone to play some mantras for salvation.

In an instant, the cold, oppressive feeling that had been weighing on you completely vanished. Whew, you really got through that ordeal.

But...you can't help but wonder, what about the others? Apparently, this is how they've always abandoned these animals.

Is it because you are an "outsider" that you have to handle these small animals with such fear and trepidation? If you don't think too much about it and just assume that the animals can be left to the teacher to handle, what will happen to you?

The school bell rang, and you were suddenly startled. You jumped up, brushed the dirt off your clothes, and ran back to the school building.

The next class is a Buddhist studies class, which is also "your" elective course.

The teacher was beautiful, serene, and dignified. She was dressed in traditional clothing and surrounded by her students. When she saw you arrive late, she didn't say anything, but simply lowered her eyes and gestured with her hands in a lotus-like shape, inviting you to sit on your own prayer cushion.

Haha, these students have reserved a spot for you in the first inner circle, right in front of the teacher.

You were in so much pain that you had no choice but to sit cross-legged like everyone else.

In a room filled with the smoke from incense, ethereal sounds played from a stereo.

Strangely, you were certain that the teacher was speaking Thai, but you gradually became able to understand it.

Okay, you know now, you've fallen for it again.

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Author's Note: There will be another chapter today (Tuesday). This chapter mainly serves as a transition and sets the atmosphere, but the wording may be revised later, though the main content will remain the same. Love it!!