Hint

Yun Lan then extinguished the screen, and sleep finally washed over the banks. He turned over, sinking into a dreamless darkness, his brow unfurrowed, completely unprepared for the sweet and surging "consequences" that were quietly taking root, destined to run through the rest of his years.

The light of Monday morning was a gray-white that had yet to fully wake, passing through the window at the end of the corridor and casting long, slanted patches of light onto the clean floor. The door to Class 1-B was left ajar, and faint, morning-typical sounds drifted from within. The moment Yun Lan pushed the door open, those sounds faltered slightly; several gazes swept over him instinctively before quickly sliding away.

He did not pause his steps, walking toward his seat, his gaze like wind skimming over water, gathering the scene in the classroom into his heart.

Tetsuya Hamaguchi sat in the second-to-last row by the window—that classic spot. His back was straight, the edges of the English textbook spread before him already slightly curled, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the pages. His world seemed isolated by an invisible barrier, the surrounding bustle merely blurred background noise. Sunlight fell on one side of his shoulder, illuminating the dust motes floating slowly in the air, and highlighting the near-stubborn stillness between his brows. He was the best footnote for "quiet" itself.

The exact opposite vitality was steaming in the other corner of the classroom. With Ryota Beppu at the center, three or four boys were gathered together, arms waving, laughter short and loud. They were sharing the results of the weekend's ball game or gaming records, their body language exaggerated, slapping each other on the shoulders, enjoying the last bit of unrestrained, youthful leisure before class. Beppu's voice was the loudest, carrying a kind of innate, infectious heat, as if he were a small, glowing body dispelling the lethargy typical of a Monday morning.

"Ahem."

A clear, gentle cough sounded; it wasn't loud, but it carried a peculiar penetrating power. Honami Ichinose stood by the podium, her hands resting lightly in front of her, her gaze sweeping over the classroom calmly. The noise subsided like a receding tide, and most people's eyes focused on her.

"Um, before class starts, Lan-kun has something he wants to tell everyone," she tilted slightly, gesturing toward Yun Lan, her tone maintaining just the right amount of politeness and distance. "Could you all please listen for a moment?"

"What could be so important that it has to be said now?" Mako Amikura looked up, the pen she was twirling stopped, her brows slightly furrowed, her tone carrying the impatience of being interrupted. She seemed to have been in the middle of discussing some fashion magazine with the person at the next desk, her interest piqued.

"Alright, alright..." Chihiro Shiranami, sitting next to her, seemed startled by this slightly sharp questioning, her voice as thin as a mosquito's as she gently tugged at Amikura's sleeve. "Let's just listen to what he has to say."

Yun Lan didn't mind these small ripples. He stood up from his seat, walked to Ichinose's side, and faced the whole class. His posture was very relaxed, perhaps even overly indifferent, as if he were only announcing something as trivial as a change in the cleaning duty roster.

"It's actually nothing important." He began, his voice not loud, yet clearly reaching every corner. "I just hope that within these three years, everyone can properly uphold the image a student should have." He paused, his gaze sweeping calmly over faces that were curious, confused, or indifferent. "Lateness, leaving early, or even absences—try not to let these happen. That is all."

Concise and to the point, no explanation, no mobilization, not even the tone of encouragement or expectation usually found at the end of such speeches. After finishing, he nodded slightly toward Honami Ichinose, then turned and headed straight back to his seat to sit down, picking up the stationery on his desk to fiddle with, as if he had just completed an insignificant routine task.

A moment of silence fell over the classroom, followed by a low buzz of discussion, mixed with a few indistinct chuckles. Most people soon cast this small interlude to the back of their minds, immersing themselves once again in their own pre-class time.

However, Ryuji Kanzaki, sitting to Yun Lan's right, turned slightly. He pushed up the bridge of his glasses, his gaze behind the lenses sharp and focused, and asked in a low voice: "What did you mean by what you just said?" He wasn't asking for the literal meaning, but probing for the subtext that might be hidden beneath that flat tone.

Yun Lan didn't answer immediately, instead placing the pen in his hand gently onto his open notebook, making a faint "tap" sound. He turned his head to look at Kanzaki, the blurred barrier in his eyes from when he faced the class fading, replaced by a hint of realization that seemed to say, "I knew you would ask."

"Literal meaning." Yun Lan repeated, though his tone was a bit more serious than before. "I want everyone to properly play the part of a 'good student'." He used a slightly heavier tone on the word "play."

Ryuji Kanzaki's brows furrowed imperceptibly. He leaned forward, lowered his voice, and pressed: "Is there really no other meaning? At a time like this, to suddenly emphasize 'the image a student should have'..."

Yun Lan was silent for two seconds, his gaze cast toward the gray-blue sky outside the window, as if weighing something. Then, he turned back, his voice dropping even lower, audible only to the two of them: "I believe you also feel that it's unreasonable for this school to give everyone 100,000 points a month, right?"

Ryuji Kanzaki's eyes froze instantly. He slowly leaned back into his chair, but his gaze remained locked on Yun Lan's face. He nodded, his voice equally low and serious: "Yes. This is far beyond the scope of living allowances for an ordinary high school. The school's expenditure structure is clearly abnormal. And the promise that one can choose to enter a top university or a prestigious company upon graduation... such a promise lacks sufficient realistic support and binding mechanisms; it's more like..." He weighed his words, "...an overly generous condition."

"Overly generous conditions often mean there is an invisible price to be paid." Yun Lan took up the thread, his voice calm and waveless. "Maintaining a surface of 'normality' and 'excellence' might be the most basic and easily overlooked requirement. I don't think the rules here are as loose as they appear."

Ryuji Kanzaki looked at him thoughtfully: "So, you are reminding everyone to at least not leave any handles in terms of basic behavioral norms? The school might use this to increase or decrease points?"

"What do you think the surveillance cameras inside the classroom are for? If you already have an answer in your heart, then why not test the teacher during class later?" Yun Lan said slowly.

Ryuji Kanzaki was very smart. As the heir to a conglomerate, he was already excellent; all he lacked was a small hint. With Yun Lan's suggestion and guidance, uncovering the truth was not a difficult task.