The last class on Friday afternoon,

There was always a restless atmosphere in the air.

The sky outside the window was somewhat gloomy, and the old teaching building looked as if it were covered by a huge, suffocating pot.

In the classroom of Grade 11 (3),

The books were piled up like trenches, and everyone was huddled behind them.

Waiting for the inevitable judgment.

Motivational talk before final exams.

As is customary, the likely agenda for this class meeting will be as follows:

Shen Qingqiu came in carrying her report card, her face ashen.

First, they severely criticized the discipline during the morning reading session, then they singled out a few students who ranked at the bottom and "publicly punished" them.

The lecture concluded with the statement, "You are the worst class I have ever taught."

Incidentally, I'll also be assigning tons of weekend test papers.

"Click".

The front door is open.

Shen Qingqiu walked in.

Surprisingly, she didn't have that fearsome blue folder in her hand.

Her expression wasn't as cold and hard as usual today.

Instead, it carried a kind of... indescribable weariness and tranquility.

The whispers in the classroom were instantly silenced.

Dozens of eyes were fixed on the podium.

Shen Qingqiu didn't say anything, picked up the chalk, turned around and wrote two big characters on the blackboard.

【ferry】.

Chalk dust fell in a flurry, she clapped her hands, and turned around.

"This week, everyone's been talking about two books."

Shen Qingqiu paused, scanning the 99% of astonished faces below the podium.

Some people like the wasteland and redemption in "The Ferryman".

Some people are obsessed with the convenience store and the obsession in "The Ferryman".

You two almost had a huge argument during morning reading time about who was better between the two authors.

Luo Ji pushed up his glasses and lowered his head somewhat awkwardly.

Zhang Ya looked around, her eyes filled with a hint of stubbornness.

"Originally, I planned to confiscate all the relevant books and give you a 'refocusing lesson'."

Shen Qingqiu paused, then her lips twitched suddenly and rapidly, like a self-deprecating smile.

"But just a few days ago, I figured it out."

It's better to guide than to suppress. Since your mind has already wandered off, forcing it back onto the exam paper won't help.

She stepped aside, giving up the spot in the center of the podium.

"For this lesson, the podium will be handed over to a student who has unique insights into both books."

Let him come and talk to you about what 'ferrying' means.

Shen Qingqiu's gaze pierced through the layers of books.

It landed precisely on the figure in the last corner of the row.

"Lin Que, the rest is up to you!"

The whole class erupted in uproar.

All eyes were fixed on Lin Que like searchlights.

The pen in Wu Di's hand fell to the ground with a "thud".

His mouth was so wide open it could fit an egg.

"Que... Brother Que?"

Wu Di muttered something under his breath.

"Is Old Shen going to use you as a sacrifice?"

Lin Que sighed.

He slowly stood up and tugged at the slightly wrinkled hem of his school uniform.

Amidst dozens of questioning gazes, he walked at a leisurely pace.

Shen Qingqiu handed him the chalk, then walked straight to the back of the classroom.

I pulled out an empty chair and sat down.

Lin Que held the half-chopped piece of chalk and twirled it between his fingertips.

He didn't rush to speak, but instead placed his hands on the lectern.

Leaning slightly forward, I scanned the row from the first to the last.

"Since Teacher Shen asked me to talk, I'll just chat casually."

Lin Que's voice wasn't loud, carrying that unique air of laziness, yet it inexplicably captivated listeners.

"Judging from the looks in everyone's eyes just now, they were probably all thinking:"

You're a slacker who sleeps all day, what do you know about literature?

A few scattered laughs rang out from below, and the atmosphere relaxed slightly.

"Indeed, I don't understand any literary theory."

Lin Que smiled and casually wrote the word "ferry" on the blackboard.

A horizontal line was drawn, with "Insight" written on the left and "Dream Weaver" on the right.

"But I understand, I'm afraid."

Lin Que pointed to the right.

"Many people say that 'The Ferryman' is about ghosts and creating anxiety."

But what I saw wasn't a ghost, it was a person.

They are those 'people' who, even in death, refuse to let go.

He looked at Zhang Ya in the front row:

"Zhang Ya, you like 'The Ferryman' because Tristan would fight the whole world for Dylan, right?"

Zhang Ya paused for a moment, then nodded subconsciously.

"That is the power of love and courage."

"Yes, that's exactly what we envision."

Lin Que nodded in agreement, then changed the subject.

"But reality is often like what is depicted in 'The Ferryman'."

There's no handsome ferryman to take you across the wilderness, only a cold, impersonal convenience store.

Imagine a lowly official, Zhao, pointing a gun at you and asking, "What regrets do you have?"

"There is a ghost living in the heart of each of us."

Lin Que's voice turned somber, and the laughter in the classroom ceased.

"For Rodgers, this ghost might be the last big problem in physics."

For Liu Hui, it might be that etude she could never play correctly.

Regarding Wu Di…

Lin Que glanced at his best friend.

"It might be that bag of spicy strips that was confiscated."

The serious atmosphere was broken by the mention of spicy strips, and everyone burst into laughter. Wu Di blushed and scratched his head.

"Laughs may be laughable, but the principle remains the same."

Lin Que tapped the blackboard.

"These things are our obsessions."

They haunt us like ghosts, causing anxiety, insomnia, and even self-doubt.

"Jian Shen's 'The Ferryman' is telling us: Don't be afraid, keep moving forward, there will be light."

This is a piece of candy; eating it makes my heart sweet.

"And the dream weaver's 'Soul Ferry'"

It's telling us: stop, look back, acknowledge your fears, acknowledge your powerlessness.

This is a scalpel; cutting open a wound will hurt, but it will allow the pus to be squeezed out.

The classroom was eerily quiet.

Luo Ji took off his glasses and stared thoughtfully at the blackboard.

Zhang Ya bit her lip, her pen hovering over the notebook, hesitant to put it down.

"We are sitting here now,"

Facing the upcoming final exams and the expectations of parents and teachers,