Unworthy

Wu Changkong hadn't slept well all night.

The next morning, he got up early as usual, practiced his sword as usual, and watched the students do their morning runs by the edge of the field as usual. When Tang Wulin ran past him, he called, "Morning, Teacher Wu." Wu Changkong nodded, but his gaze went beyond the field and settled on the tightly shut window on the third floor of the administration building. Lu Menge hadn't come to work today. Director Long said she had taken sick leave.

Sick leave. When those words came from Director Long's mouth, Wu Changkong's eyelid twitched. Lu Menge had been at Eastsea Academy for so long, yet she had never once taken sick leave. Someone with enough energy to torment everyone on an entire floor suddenly got sick?

He thought of that catlike cry from last night. Before she opened her mouth, she had looked fierce, chin slightly raised and eyes full of certainty, as though she were about to make some declaration. But when she opened her mouth, she made a sound that absolutely did not belong to her—a soft, lilting sound that floated gently upward, like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on. Then she blushed—from her cheekbones to her ears, from her ears to her neck. Her whole body turned red, as though she had been scorched by the backlash of the Heavenfrost Sword. She ran away, not even picking up the coat she had dropped on the ground.

That catlike cry hadn't been intentional. Wu Changkong knew Lu Menge too well—she could be flirtatious, she could be lazy, she could use any teasing tone to tear down everyone's defenses. But she would never make that sort of sound, in that sort of situation, in that sort of way. Unless—it was something drilled into her instincts through repeated training. Like an animal that had been conditioned for a long time, making reflexive responses it could no longer control under certain circumstances.

Who had trained her? How?

Wu Changkong pushed the Heavenfrost Sword into its sheath. The blade slid home with a clear metallic ring.

He decided to find Gu Yue.

Gu Yue was Lu Menge's cousin. Wu Changkong had observed Lu Menge's attitude toward Gu Yue too many times. She brought her lunchboxes twice as often as she did Tang Wulin, stuffed her hands with fruit and snacks without repeating anything, and even chose hair clips herself before placing them on Gu Yue's desk. That care didn't feel like it came from an equal. It was more like an elder sister carrying every responsibility on her own shoulders, using all her strength to protect her younger sister. Behind that elder sister, perhaps there were even more things he didn't understand.

During the lunch break, Wu Changkong stopped Gu Yue at the entrance to the cafeteria.

She had just come out, holding a cup of soy milk—Lu Menge had bought it for her. He recognized the cup. Tang Wulin was walking beside her, discussing the afternoon's combat-class matchups with her. Wu Changkong stepped forward.

"Gu Yue. Can I borrow a moment?"

Gu Yue looked up at him. His brows were pressed lower than usual, his lips drawn into a line, and his fingers unconsciously tapped twice against his sword sheath. Her movement as she drank the soy milk paused for half a beat, then she expressionlessly gave Tang Wulin beside her a look—go on ahead.

Tang Wulin slipped away tactfully.

Wu Changkong led her beneath a ginkgo tree by the edge of the field. There was hardly anyone there during lunch break, and golden leaves rustled overhead.

"Has your sister encountered some kind of trouble lately?"

Gu Yue held the cup of soy milk. Her lashes lowered slightly before she raised her eyes again, her expression as cold as ever. "No. Teacher Lu is fine."

"She didn't come to work today."

"She said she took sick leave."

"She never takes sick leave."

"People get sick." Gu Yue's tone was flat, as though she were reciting a standard answer prepared in advance. She raised the cup and took a sip of soy milk. The rim hid the lower half of her face, leaving only a pair of violet eyes that revealed no emotion.

Wu Changkong didn't back down. He took half a step closer, shortening the distance between them. His tone remained calm, but every word grew heavier. "She came to see me last night. She left without saying anything. That wasn't her."

Gu Yue didn't answer. She transferred the soy milk from her left hand to her right, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the cup before loosening again.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her tone remained detached. "If Teacher Wu has nothing else, I'll go back and study."

She turned sideways to leave. Wu Changkong's voice came from behind her, neither loud nor soft, yet it was like a sword precisely blocking her retreat. "She said you were her cousin."

Gu Yue stopped.

"She said it herself." Wu Changkong didn't catch up. He remained where he was, keeping that neither-too-close-nor-too-distant distance. "I've known her for so long, and she has never mentioned her past to anyone. But she said you were her cousin. When she said it, her expression was different from usual."

Gu Yue stood with her back to him and didn't turn around. Her fingers tightened slightly around the soy milk cup. Condensation on its surface slipped through her fingers and dripped onto the stone pavement at her feet, leaving a small dark circle.

"You're the person closest to her in this academy. If something happened to her—"

"Nothing happened to her."

Gu Yue turned around, her voice slightly louder than before. It wasn't anger. It was the panicked instinct to raise one's voice after being struck somewhere sensitive, trying to hide it. She set the cup of soy milk on a nearby bench with more force than usual. It struck the wood with a dull thud, splashing several drops of soy milk.

"Teacher Wu, what exactly are you trying to do by asking all this?"

"I want to help her."

"She doesn't need your help—"

"That catlike cry last night," Wu Changkong said softly, so softly it was as though he feared shattering something, "wasn't something she wanted to make."

Gu Yue's lips parted slightly, then closed again. She knew exactly what that catlike cry had been about. She had been standing nearby at the time, watching Lu Menge open her mouth to speak, only for the words "little kitty" to strike the wrong chord in her mind, making her meow and embarrass herself beyond all measure. But Gu Yue couldn't reveal the truth. The moment she did, she would be admitting that Lu Menge had never been coerced at all, that every assumption Wu Changkong had made before was nothing but a bubble, and that Lu Menge had allowed those bubbles to remain because she enjoyed the feeling of receiving his special attention.

The truth was too complicated. Too complicated for Gu Yue to sum up with a single sentence like, "You're overthinking it." Besides—she didn't want to sum it up.

Her hesitation became another kind of confirmation in Wu Changkong's eyes.

She was hiding something. She knew the truth, but she couldn't say it. She didn't dare say it.

"Is someone coercing her?"

Gu Yue's entire body went rigid. Her fingers clutched the hem of her school uniform skirt, her knuckles turning white inch by inch. Her teeth clenched tightly, as though she were forcing something inside herself back down. After a long time, she finally squeezed out two words through her teeth. "...No."

"You hesitated just now."

"I didn't—"

"Gu Yue." Wu Changkong suddenly softened his voice. He wasn't good at softening his voice—it wasn't his habit, but he was trying his best to do what this moment needed. He even moved his hand away from the hilt of the Heavenfrost Sword, letting both arms hang naturally by his sides so he wouldn't look so much like an interrogator. "I'm not asking you with any ulterior motive. Not because she's my colleague, not because of academy rules, not for any official reason."

He paused. Wind blew in from the field, filling the gaps between the rustling ginkgo leaves.

"It's because that person—she shouldn't be treated like this."

Gu Yue bit her lower lip.

She bit down hard enough to leave a white mark on it, which slowly filled with blood and turned red. Her hands began to shake—not violently enough to be obvious at a glance, but faintly, starting at her fingertips and spreading bit by bit, like the first crack in ice beneath a crushing weight. She tried to stop the trembling by clutching her skirt tighter, but the tighter she gripped it, the harder her hands shook.

Wu Changkong saw her trembling hands. He placed his hand on his sword hilt, then lowered it again, dropping his voice until only the two of them could hear it.

"Is she being controlled?"

Gu Yue said nothing. Her lashes trembled violently.

"The supplements she uses for cultivation—those Soul Rings—are people using them to force her to do things she doesn't want to do?"

Gu Yue's shoulders suddenly tightened. Her breathing became rapid, the rise and fall of her chest growing greater and greater, as though something inside her were crashing around wildly, unable to find an exit. She stepped back from the bench, the bend of her knees striking its edge, and she fell onto it. Wu Changkong instinctively reached out to support her, but her hand lashed through the air and struck his wrist—not hard, but the motion was full of rejection.

"Stop asking—Teacher Wu, stop asking, I can't say it—"

Her eyes turned red. Not the kind that slowly reddened—it was as though, after holding it in for far too long, a crack had finally been pried open in an instant, and all the emotions blocked behind it surged out together, burning her eyes bright red. She raised a hand to cover her eyes, pressing hard against her eyelids as though she could force the tears back in, but they spilled through her fingers and ran along the heel of her palm into her sleeve.

"You don't understand. You can't help her—no one can help her—"

"I can—"

"You can't!" Gu Yue suddenly lowered her hand and raised her face. Tears had already smeared her whole face. She glared at Wu Changkong with an expression that looked both furious and despairing. "You don't know anything! Do you think what you've seen is everything? Do you know what she's done for me? Do you know those people—"

She suddenly bit her lip and swallowed the rest of the sentence, as though she had said something she shouldn't have. Tears dripped from her chin onto the collar of her school uniform. She wiped them away fiercely with the back of her hand, but more came after she wiped them, and she wiped again. The more she wiped, the more they flowed.

Wu Changkong crouched on one knee in front of her, bringing himself level with her. His voice remained low, but every word seemed to have been chiseled from ice. "Then tell me—what has your sister done?"

Gu Yue looked into his eyes. Those cold blue eyes held no judgment, no morbid curiosity, none of that condescending pity—only a clumsy sincerity, not good at showing itself and yet still trying to reach her. Suddenly, she cried aloud. Not the suppressed, bitten-back crying from before. She truly cried, like floodwaters held back for too long finally smashing through the last barrier.

"She—she first went to find those people because of my tuition—she didn't have to go—the day she came back—"

Her voice broke there. Something seemed to block her throat. She bent forward, both hands clutching her knees, nails digging into her skin. Her body slid from the bench to the ground. With her face buried in her knees, her cries were muffled between her skirt and the fallen leaves, like a small beast swallowing the last pain it couldn't lick clean inside its den.

"She told me it was fine—she said she was just having dinner—she lied to me—she lied to me, every time she said she was just having dinner—but who comes back from dinner with an entire sleeve torn apart? Who has bruises all over her neck and still smiles and says she's fine? She smiled—she was still smiling—she even comforted me and said it didn't hurt—how could it not hurt—"

Gu Yue abruptly raised her face. Tears and snot ran together into her mouth, and she didn't care. Her throat had swollen from crying, making her voice rough and hoarse. Her pauses were a mess, her grammar gone. Only one word after another burst out, as though her heart had been placed on a millstone and ground to pieces before being squeezed out.

"In winter—one time—it was more than ten degrees below zero—she wore that kind of skirt—so thin—when she came back, her lips were purple—her legs were covered in bloody cracks from the cold—I used a hot towel on her—she said she wasn't cold—she was shaking, and she told me she wasn't cold—she still smiled—that night, her fever got so bad she started babbling—she held my hand and said, Gu Yue, run—she was still telling me to run in her dreams—"

Gu Yue grabbed Wu Changkong's arm, her nails digging into his sleeve. Her whole body shook violently. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe, and her throat could no longer form complete syllables, but she kept speaking, as though something were driving her to say it.

"Those people—those people made her imitate animal sounds—if she refused, they put pressure on her—I fought with her—I said, can't you stop going? She said she couldn't—she said she still had to pay my tuition and buy Soul Tools—I said I wouldn't go to school anymore—then she got so angry—she had never been that angry with me before—her face twisted from anger—she said, if you don't go to school, I'll have failed you—I'm alive so you don't have to suffer—but she was the one suffering—"

She cried until her whole body convulsed, pitching forward and knocking her forehead against Wu Changkong's shoulder. Her tears and snot smeared all over his white clothes. A long, crushed sob came from her throat, as though it had been violently torn from the deepest part of her chest.

"She's sick today—not ordinary sick—this morning, she washed her hands for almost as long as it takes to eat a meal—she kept scrubbing—scrubbed until the backs of her hands were covered in bloody cracks—she said her hands weren't clean—then she threw up over the sink—she threw up nothing but acid—she wouldn't let me near her—she said, Gu Yue, don't look—after she finished throwing up, she wiped the floor again—she only opened the door after cleaning it—then she set breakfast in front of me—said the chocolate milk was what I said I wanted yesterday—I looked at her swollen eyes—the marks on her face—and she was still asking whether breakfast tasted good—"

Gu Yue suddenly lifted her face from Wu Changkong's shoulder. Her face was completely soaked with tears and snot, the tip of her nose red as though it had been rubbed raw, her lips trembling violently. Both hands clutched Wu Changkong's lapels so tightly that her knuckles cracked. Her violet eyes had been reddened by tears, all the light in them shattered, leaving only the look of someone completely drowned in terror and despair.

"Teacher Wu—will she die? So many times, so many times when I come back, I'm afraid to open the door—I'm scared that one day she'll give up and be gone—could she get pregnant? I think about it every night—what if she gets pregnant? She loves being clean so much—if there's something filthy inside her stomach—she'll go insane—she really will go insane—"

"But what did we do wrong?" she screamed herself hoarse, her voice rasping as her entire chest heaved with sobs, as though she had poured all the despair forced to its limit into that cry. "Should I not have been born? If there were no me—she wouldn't have to—"

Hearing this, Wu Changkong felt as though something had lodged in his throat. He wanted to say, "It isn't your fault." He wanted to say, "Neither of you did anything wrong." But those words rolled over his tongue several times, and in the end, he couldn't say them. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, his voice would shake. In his life, he had faced countless frontal charges from soul beasts and desperate situations balanced on the edge of life and death, and he had never been afraid. But now, facing a female student kneeling on the ground and clutching his lapels as she cried out, he felt helplessness seeping out from between his bones for the first time. He couldn't help her. He couldn't even protect her sister.

"It isn't your fault." He finally said it, his voice deep and steady. One hand held her shoulder, keeping her from collapsing further. "It isn't either of your faults."

Gu Yue shook her head while clutching his lapels, shaking so hard that her silver hair stuck to her tear-soaked cheeks. Her entire face rejected those words. Then she suddenly raised her head again, as though remembering something even more devastating. Tears surged more fiercely, and her whole face convulsed.

"And you—Teacher Wu—I'm sorry—I'm sorry—Sister told me not to tell you any of this—she said I wasn't allowed to mention a single word to Teacher Wu—she said she was already unclean—she said she wasn't worthy of you—she said someone like Teacher Wu shouldn't get tangled up with her—she said your voice was like winter wind—clean—so clean that she didn't dare stand too close—she said she knew you were good to her, but she couldn't accept it—she wasn't qualified to accept it—she said every time you helped her, she hated herself more, because she had deceived you—she wasn't worth it at all—"

Wu Changkong's body jolted. Not worthy. Unclean. Not qualified. Not worth it. Those words crashed down one after another, making his chest feel stifled. He remembered her smiling and waving at the entrance to the examination room, saying, "Everything's fine." He remembered her holding a thermos cup on the field and calling his name. He remembered the way she muttered to herself while going through the new student files in his office that day. She had always been smiling. Smiling in front of everyone. Smiling in front of her cousin. Smiling in front of him. Beneath that smile, these things had been buried.

Gu Yue buried her face in Wu Changkong's chest, crying until her whole body convulsed. Her throat could no longer make any sound. Her mouth hung open like a fish tossed ashore, and only after a long while did she force out a hoarse, tuneless voice again.

"Teacher Wu—arrange for me to withdraw from school—I told you all of Sister's secrets—if she finds out, she definitely won't want me anymore—she said if I dared tell anyone a single word, then I wouldn't be her sister anymore—but I said it—I said it—I have no face left to stay here—she still has to come to work every day and pretend nothing happened—when she sees you, she'll remember that she's dirty—what will she do? How can I face her? Teacher Wu, please—process my withdrawal—let me go—"

After saying that, she buried her face in his lapels and could no longer say another word. Only her shoulders continued to shake violently.

Wu Changkong knelt on one knee in the pile of fallen ginkgo leaves. One hand supported Gu Yue's shoulder while the other rested on his knee, his knuckles clenched white. He could feel his heartbeat—heavy, slow, pounding against his chest one beat at a time. In his mind, he recited those names one by one—the people he didn't know, the places he had never heard of, the wounds struck beneath that white coat. With every name, he nailed it to the edge of the Heavenfrost Sword. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket—he never used handkerchiefs; Lu Menge had given him this one during the last Teachers' Day, saying he was too cold and needed to carry something soft with him. He placed it in Gu Yue's palm, closing her fingers around the soft cloth one by one.

"You won't withdraw from school." His voice was low, but every word was like magma buried beneath ice for a long time—scalding, solid, beyond dispute. "And your sister won't abandon you. She isn't the kind of person who throws away family."

He stood. His knees were covered in shredded leaves and dirt, and a large patch over the chest of his white clothes had been soaked by tears, but he didn't lower his head to look at it once.

"I won't let her know that you told me about today. You didn't say anything—it was me who investigated on my own."

He looked down at Gu Yue, curled up on the bench, and reached out one last time to gently press a hand against the top of her head.

"Go back to the dorm and wash your face. Then go to class. Don't think about anything."

He turned and headed toward the teachers' apartments. At first, his steps were steady, heavy and powerful, as though every step would leave an imprint in the stone beneath his feet. Once he left the shade of the ginkgo tree, his pace unknowingly grew faster and faster. By the time he reached the corner of the administration building, he was almost striding at a run, his white robe snapping in the wind. The knuckles of the hand gripping the Heavenfrost Sword were white, his bones seeming ready to pierce through his skin. The sheath trembled faintly at his waist—not because the sword was trembling, but because force was running through his wrist. His sword hand had never shaken before. Today, it shook.

Gu Yue sat on the bench beneath the ginkgo tree and slowly wiped the tears and snot from her face with the handkerchief. Once Wu Changkong's white-clad back had completely disappeared around the corner of the teachers' apartments, she buried her face in the handkerchief. Her shoulders started shaking again. This time, she was laughing.

She laughed for a long time, until the muscles in her stomach ached from spasming, until her throat, hoarse from crying, let out a distorted breathy sound. Tears were still flowing, but they were no longer the same kind of tears. She fell backward and lay flat on the bench, staring up at the sky as golden ginkgo leaves drifted down from the branches, landing on her forehead, shoulders, and knees.

"Not worthy of you—good heavens—how did I come up with that?" she muttered softly to herself, the corners of her mouth lifting beyond her control. Her voice was still hoarse, making her sound like a broken gong. "And 'your voice is like winter wind'—was my brain damaged from Lu Menge spanking me too much?"

The more she thought about it, the funnier it became. She rolled over onto her stomach on the bench, buried her face in the handkerchief, and laughed muffledly again. It took a good while before she calmed down. Then she turned over and sat up, brushing ginkgo leaves and dirt from her skirt. Her eyes were still red, and her voice was still hoarse, but the expression on her face no longer resembled that of someone who had just emerged from a breakdown.

She took out her phone and sent Tang Wulin a message. The screen was damp with tears she hadn't wiped clean, and she had to type several times before it went through.

Gu Yue: [He's on his way.]

Tang Wulin replied instantly: Teacher Wu?? Where's he going????

Gu Yue: To save the fallen girl he thinks she is.

There was silence from Tang Wulin's side for a long time. Then he sent a string of question marks and exclamation marks, followed by: Does Teacher Lu know????

Gu Yue thought for a moment before replying: She doesn't know yet. But she'll know soon.

Tang Wulin: Are you okay?? Do you want me to come find you??

Gu Yue: No. I'm by the ancient tree behind the mountain. Don't come over. Remember—if anyone asks about today, you don't know anything.

Tang Wulin: Okay. Be careful.

Gu Yue put her phone back in her pocket, rose from the bench, and headed toward the ancient tree behind the academy with unusually light steps. She probably wouldn't return to the dorm tonight. She needed to hide by the ancient tree for a while—once Lu Menge learned that Wu Changkong had questioned her, she would definitely come to demand an explanation. But Gu Yue wasn't afraid. Tonight, she was going to write a letter. Recipient—Di Tian. Subject—Senior Lu's Recent Situation: A certain Titled Douluo has completed the full mental leap from "colleague" to "protector." I cooperated with the performance today, fully committed to the crying scene, with lines including "not worthy of you" and "your voice is like winter wind." Assessment: he fully believes it and has already gone to the teachers' apartments to confront her. P.S. Senior Lu still doesn't know. Her reaction after finding out remains to be observed. Additional P.S. Please rest assured, Beast God. Senior Lu ate breakfast properly. It was chocolate milk.

After writing it, she leaned against the ancient tree trunk and held the handkerchief Lu Menge had given Wu Changkong up to the moonlight, studying it for a long time. This handkerchief was crucial evidence—next time Lu Menge claimed to be an eight-ring, Gu Yue would pull it out.

"Teacher Lu, Teacher Lu," she said to the handkerchief. Moonlight reflected in her violet eyes, and though her voice was hoarse, she couldn't suppress the laughter in it. "You've only just started paying back what you owe me."