coobybook Chapter 260 [Empire] Do I look a lot like Wen Ya like this?
Chapter 260 [Empire] Do I look a lot like Wen Ya like this?
With the joint efforts of teachers and students, this batch of wheat seeds was successfully wiped out, and not a single one germinated.
I sat there, listening to the teacher sigh softly while my classmates discussed each other's failed attempts with regret or resignation. Glancing at the seeds still dormant in their petri dishes, I felt an indescribable sense of absurdity.
Except for the green seedling in my hand.
My eyes fell on my desk, staring at the young seedling with green tiles.
You can tell at first glance that this thing is not wheat.
"Still no one succeeded?" The teacher sighed, with a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"Yeah," a classmate sitting in the front row grumbled, "It won't germinate at all. I suspect there was something wrong with the seeds from the beginning."
"But someone else managed to sprout it." Another classmate suddenly turned his head and looked in my direction, with a hint of dissatisfaction in his tone, "Look at him!"
Instantly, several eyes turned towards me. I didn't look up, just staring at the seedlings in front of me, feeling a strange chill in my heart.
"What kind of sprout is this?" someone muttered, a hint of doubt in their tone. "Does this thing look like wheat?"
"Don't say that," another classmate whispered, a hint of inquiry in his voice, "Maybe it's a mutation?"
Mutation? I scoffed, but said nothing. Mutation simply couldn't explain this thing's existence. It was an alien. From the moment it sprouted, it had nothing to do with our original plan, nothing to do with wheat. I knew clearly that it wasn't wheat at all, but something far more dangerous and complex.
And I am the only one who makes it grow.
The teacher's gaze lingered on my desk for a moment, a mixture of caution and complex emotions. The green seedlings stood out in the sunlight, and his brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to discern something from them.
"This..." He hesitated for a moment and finally didn't continue.
After a moment, he just whispered a reminder: "Observe its growth process carefully and record every change. Especially...where there are abnormalities." His tone was more cautious than usual, but it was concealed in the deliberate calmness and did not attract the attention of others.
I nodded without saying anything more, and there was nothing I could say.
Regardless, he clearly had reservations about this seedling, not questioning why it was the only one to germinate, nor denying its existence. He simply told me to be "cautious," silently reminding me not to let it become a bigger problem.
The clamor and heat of the cafeteria enveloped me, yet the place felt eerily empty. People milled about, the chatter of conversation rising and falling. Only then did I realize, belatedly, that I had arrived at this school without a single familiar face.
I looked up at the bustling crowd of students, then down at my plate, feeling lost yet calm. Strangers passed by like a tide, unable to stir up even a trace of emotion.
Maybe I have changed.
Perhaps it was my past experiences that changed me. They were too real, too brutal, teaching me to distance myself from strangers and no longer harboring the same anticipation for unfamiliar classmates. As I lowered my head to eat, my mind kept replaying the military training organized by the school—that baptism of cruelty and death.
The casualties that time were too heavy.
The wildly growing plants turned into terrifying killing machines, ruthlessly harvesting everything in their path.
Screams and cries mingled, and blood stained the ground beneath my feet. I still remember the plant's branches coming so close to me, the cold spikes nearly slitting my throat...
And I eventually lost my perception and my sanity.
Later, I survived, but some people were not so lucky.
The surviving sister of the pair returned to campus alive. I had seen the look in her eyes—lifeless, so empty it made my heart tremble. It was as if her eyes were telling me that fate had taken away everything, leaving only a shell standing there.
Those pupils that were once full of innocence were so empty and lifeless, as if a part of the soul had been taken away with the departure of his sister.
That look was like an endless abyss, and I still can't forget it.
Perhaps that was the moment that changed me. Facing these unfamiliar classmates, I became apathetic and distant, even too lazy to actively make friends. Because I knew that in this world, too many relationships are merely fleeting encounters, and too many people are merely fleeting passersby.
Sitting at an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria, I looked down at my plate, my fingers unconsciously running across the surface. Those unfamiliar faces and noisy voices still surrounded me, yet they seemed to be separated by a thick layer of glass, unable to truly approach. I calmly accepted this loneliness, even feeling that it was more real than being among the crowd.
Do I look very Wen Ya like this?
As soon as this thought came to mind, I almost laughed at myself. My lips couldn't help but curl up slightly, but I quickly suppressed it. It was just a thought, but it made me feel a little funny, and a little inexplicably guilty.
He was always like that, gentle and distant, like an unapproachable mountain. No matter how bustling the world, he always managed to maintain an untouchable stability, seemingly restrained and distant from all emotions. And now, sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria, I had no interest in the people and things around me, not even the slightest desire to get close. I was actually somewhat similar to him.
I think it's kind of funny, though.
He and I are not the same. I'm just too lazy to deal with these people. After all I've been through, I've simply learned to be more cautious and restrained, that's all. And Wen Ya... his aloofness and coldness come from the bottom of his heart, as if it were innate.
My distance was more of an acquired self-protection, completely different from his calm and indifferent attitude. But even so, I couldn't help but compare our two attitudes in my mind, and in the end I was a little amused and embarrassed.
The vague amusement still lingered in my heart. I reached out and poked the food on my plate, and the corners of my mouth couldn't help but curl up again. Perhaps Wen Ya and I do resemble each other, but who wants to admit that they've become like someone else?
"It really looks like it." I murmured to myself.