NFM Chapter 43

The rooftop of the third teaching building.

The rooftop of the third teaching building was the highest point in all of Minghua High School. Every evening, when the heavy iron door was opened and one ascended the steps, they could see the enormous, perfectly round, orange-red sun slowly sinking behind the railing.

It was a truly beautiful sight. Large, fiery clouds dyed the azure sky an orange hue, not painted with delicate strokes but with bold, sweeping ones. In such a sunset, even the person turning back would seem to be touched by the sunlight, glowing, and their trembling voice would carry the scent of oranges.

He didn’t take long to reach the rooftop. Pulling out the key he had stolen earlier, he unlocked the tightly sealed iron door, walked up the long staircase, step by step, with practiced ease, as if he had done it countless times, or as if fate had arranged it all long ago.

Two months ago, on a similarly rainy night, Yan Xi had died. He hadn’t seen the rumored dismembered body, but upon returning to school, he had seen the indelible crimson bloodstains on the floor tiles.

Because he had never witnessed the truth, he always lacked a sense of reality about it, as if Yan Xi could still be seen walking out of the classroom, head down, shoulders hunched, carefully making his way, afraid of bumping into someone.

Someone who didn’t even dare to bump into strangers, who didn’t even greet his classmates, someone timid, afraid of the dark and ghosts—how could he have had the courage to die?

Wasn’t the one who once had the courage to die… himself? Only…

“Hey… would you like to read my novel?”

After being placed in Class C, overwhelmed by the immense sense of failure in both academics and family, Xu Chi, on the day before the Mid-Autumn Festival holiday, faced with his parents’ text message telling him “not to disturb them,” packed up his last book and, after the entire class had left the classroom, walked alone to the rooftop.

Only, at the moment before he was about to jump, he heard an anxious voice from behind: “Xu Chi!”

Turning around, he saw a boy holding a broom, panting, beads of sweat on his forehead, looking rather comical.

He knew this person—the class’s famous good guy, who had taken on a friend’s duty that day, so he stayed behind after everyone else had left.

He thought this person would say something like “life is precious,” but instead, after calling out his name, the boy seemed to choke on his words, and after a long pause, stammered: “Would you… like to read my novel?”

Read a novel?

It should have been a comical scene. Although the two were classmates, one was reclusive, the other introverted, and before that day, they had known nothing about each other beyond their names.

Yet, as if bewitched, he followed him down. The novel was written in a dark red notebook, a school mystery novel, with phrasing that clearly showed the author’s deep influence by Japanese novels.

It told a story: a series of murders had occurred in the school, all because of a bullied boy’s revenge. Yan Xi watched him flip through the pages, somewhat embarrassed, and said, “Isn’t it strange that I write this kind of novel? Haha…”

The story was unfinished, stopping at Chapter Seven: The Volume of Pride. Xu Chi then asked him, “Who will be killed in this chapter?”

Yan Xi thought for a moment and said, “It’s that boy, after all, he killed someone, and shouldn’t escape the law.”

“If possible, I want to become China’s Keigo Higashino,” Yan Xi said. “After I get into university, I’ll start writing… you’ll have to be my first reader.”

“Once you get into university, you won’t want to write anymore.”

“How could that be? Isn’t getting into a good university about going beyond high school and realizing your dreams? I won’t give up until I achieve that goal,” Yan Xi argued. “Isn’t it because of goals that people live?”

The way he argued was so naive and foolish, yet so optimistic, as if he were glowing, completely unlike his usual timid self.

Xu Chi didn’t know if the boy who always sat silently behind him had noticed his intentions that day when he walked out of the classroom, or if the back of his head, always staring at the blackboard, had given him a feeling of “never coming back.”

Perhaps that idiot, who even wrote his novel so haphazardly, had just acted on a premonition he didn’t understand, rushing up to the rooftop without thinking, and under the constraints of his introverted and socially awkward personality, blurted out, “Would you like to read my novel?”

Perhaps he himself never expected that his thoughtless, foolish words would, in that moment, be like a beam of light, shining from the horizon into the deep waters, onto his classmate who was sinking into the abyss.

As for the later misunderstandings that drove them apart, the anger that made him hang up on Yan Xi’s late-night call, and the next day when he saw the news of Yan Xi’s suicide by jumping, that was all in the future.

After transferring back to Class C to investigate Yan Xi’s death, questioning Shen You, who had spread the rumors, only to find her drowned after leaving, and using a little trick to scare Tang Feng, causing him to commit suicide under psychological pressure—that was also in the future.

After these two seemingly coincidental deaths, Xu Chi held the only relic Yan Xi left him—the dark red notebook.

It was the last relic in this world left by the boy who dreamed of becoming “China’s Keigo Higashino.”

It was also his final work.

He couldn’t do anything for him. Death was like a lamp being extinguished; all revenge was just a futile roar, an unattainable wail that existed in reality. But there was one thing he could do—perfect Yan Xi’s flawed novel of murder methods and turn it into reality.

To take revenge on those people, on his own irreparable past, and on the future the boy could no longer have. And after it all ended—the one who would ultimately be punished would be himself.

When he used the mechanism to topple those rows of bookshelves, there was no turning back.

The last of the seven deadly sins was pride. He had misunderstood Yan Xi, using “pride” as an excuse to cut ties; he had also used “pride” as an excuse to hang up on the last call Yan Xi made before his death.

He didn’t know how desperate Yan Xi had been at that moment.

After it all ended, he would choose death. He would jump from the building, just as Yan Xi had done that day on the rooftop.

Now, Yu Xingjian had been executed. When he saw the gruesome scene on the flagpole, his head began to throb, and his heart clenched incessantly.

It was as if… something unexpected had happened.

It was as if… something was about to emerge.

In the heavy rain, Xu Chi, dressed in his blue and white school uniform, stood by the railing, looking down at the tiles more than ten meters below.

It was the place where his only friend had once lain.

He wondered what Yan Xi had felt when he stood here, ready to jump.

Was he afraid of heights? Afraid of the dark? Did he think… it would hurt?

He had heard that people who jump from buildings die instantly, their necks broken, so they don’t feel intense pain. When Xu Chi had first come across this morbid fact, he had scoffed.

But now he hoped that this fact had indeed been true for Yan Xi.

He had heard that at the moment of falling from a great height, people think of many things from their lives. The past would flash before their eyes like a slideshow. As he fell from the rooftop, Xu Chi thought of many things.

He thought of when he had been promoted to Class B, telling Yan Xi, who was still in Class C, “I’ll wait for you in Class B.”

He thought of the time he had waited all night under the neon lights with a gift, but Yan Xi, locked at home by his quarreling parents, hadn’t come.

He thought of the time in the office when he had seen Yu Xingjian feigning concern for Yan Xi. He had held onto his ridiculous pride and self-respect, refusing to ask or listen to any explanation.

He thought Yan Xi must have hated him, right? Someone as timid as him, in the underworld, alone… would he be afraid?

If one became a ghost, would they still be afraid of other ghosts?

If he became a ghost, would other ghosts bully him?

At the moment he leapt from the rooftop, he didn’t think it was a pity to jump. He just regretted that it was a rainy night, and he couldn’t see the sunset.

And… he remembered the strange young teacher who had said to him, “If you get the chance, go somewhere beyond Yangshui City.”

But he was too deeply mired in sin, beyond redemption, and had lost the chance to leave this place.

Ah…

He wanted to be punished. He needed to be punished.

What he wanted was that person’s revenge.

Then.

Soft footsteps stopped beside him. Xu Chi turned and saw a blood-red Yan Xi.

He stood there, his face pale and cold, his expression venomous. He looked at him like the god of vengeance in myth, Vali, looking at his fated enemy, Hod.

Under the gaze of those venomous eyes, Xu Chi suddenly felt…

Relieved.

“You’ve come,” he said slowly, as if about to cry.

Come and kill me, do everything you want to me, take your revenge, vent your anger on me—

Just like you’ve always done.

He walked step by step toward the blood-red Yan Xi, not as if walking to an execution ground, but as if walking to his paradise.

Finally, he stood before the blood-red Yan Xi.

And closed his eyes.

The feeling of weightlessness came suddenly. What followed was an endless fall.

The blood-red Yan Xi pushed him down.

And he, in yet another cycle, had completed his revenge and atonement!

He was about to plunge into the abyss, and with his death, blood would burst forth, and the evil spirit Xu Chi would awaken.

But at that very moment—

His arm was tightly grasped by something.

In the pouring rain, he looked up and saw a white figure firmly holding his hand.

A pale face, drenched by the rain, an introverted expression…

His lips moved, but even as he was dragged back onto the rooftop, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

…Yan Xi!

He lay by the rooftop, gripping his arm with all his might. Where their skin touched, Yan Xi’s hand was emitting a hissing white smoke.

He was being burned by the baleful aura emanating from Xu Chi.

Worse still, on the other side of the rooftop stood a venomous Yan Xi in a red coat.

“Hold on tight…” he heard the white Yan Xi’s pained voice, “I’ll soon…”

Why?

His lips moved, but at that moment, the blood-red Yan Xi arrived beside them!

He seemed very displeased with the white Yan Xi’s interference. This person had robbed him of the chance to gain more power from Xu Chi’s death.

He stomped hard on the white Yan Xi’s back!

At the moment of contact, Yan Xi let out a painful whimper. His back emitted more white smoke.

He was about to dissipate.

Then came another stomp, and another.

He was in pain, but he never let go. With his repeated efforts, Xu Chi was finally dragged back onto the rooftop!

The red Yan Xi let out an extremely dissatisfied screech. He looked venomously at the two, but didn’t dare approach Xu Chi, only letting out a furious, guttural growl.

Finally, he remembered a trump card.

“Xu Chi! I want you to die!” he shouted, “You owe me!”

But for the first time in all the cycles, Xu Chi, who would always be shaken by these words, didn’t respond.

Xu Chi looked dazedly at the Yan Xi before him, crawling toward him with all his might, but the closer he got, the weaker Yan Xi became.

Yan Xi’s figure grew paler and more translucent. He stood before Xu Chi, desperately mouthing words.

Taking physical form had used up his last energy. He was about to dissipate.

“…Yan Xi—!”

Xu Chi, tears streaming down his face, tried to grab his hand, but his arm passed through him.

Just before Yan Xi dissipated, he understood his lip movements.

‘This time… I finally caught you.’

Ah…

‘Live on.’

Then, he mustered the strength to raise his right hand, trying to touch Xu Chi’s tear-streaked face.

But…

Ahh—

The last thing he saw was the nearly dissipated pure white figure. Perhaps due to overusing his energy, the bloodstains on his white clothes were also fading, shrinking, almost disappearing.

When the bloodstains completely vanished, he would die.

Because he no longer had any regrets in this world.

Before Xu Chi could let out another helpless wail, a voice came from behind him.

It was the voice of the substitute teacher, Lin Huai.

“Do you want to save him?” the man said.

He nodded unconsciously, and the man behind him said, “Good.”

The next moment, he looked down and saw a hand piercing through his chest.

It was Lin Huai’s hand.

“The wish of the last coin is fulfilled here,” Lin Huai smiled beautifully. “Xu Chi…”

“I want you to die.”