This Spiritual Energy is Lethal!
Chapter 487: The Head Teacher’s Textbook

Chapter 487: Chapter 487: The Head Teacher’s Textbook

Chen Ke was scratching his head at the stairwell when a familiar male voice came through.

"Chen Ke? Is nobody home?"

Chen Ke looked up and saw that the door of the house opposite was actually open. A middle-aged man, dressed in black suit pants and a faded blue shirt, with an old-fashioned side-parted hairstyle, and wearing black-framed glasses was standing at the doorway, waving at him.

Chen Ke was taken aback—he’d never expected to encounter him here.

"Teacher... Teacher Zhou..." Chen Ke took a sharp breath in. An indescribable chill ran down his spine, and his head buzzed as though he’d been electrocuted, frozen in place.

Teacher Zhou had been Chen Ke’s junior high class advisor, teaching Chinese. A kind middle-aged man in his forties, lean and tall. Chen Ke still remembered his silhouette, back to the students, with one hand holding a book and the other clutching a piece of chalk while writing on the blackboard.

"Has your mother not returned from grocery shopping yet?" Teacher Zhou asked.

"Yeah, my dad hasn’t gotten off work either," Chen Ke replied.

This Teacher Zhou actually recognized Chen Ke, which meant that he was merely something constructed by the space based on Chen Ke’s subconscious.

Firstly, Teacher Zhou didn’t live across from Chen Ke, and the question he’d just asked was a common conversation Chen Ke had with neighbors in his elementary school days.

Back then, parents were very busy, and Chen Ke, who was in sixth grade, often ate at his neighbor’s house after school. In the ’90s, neighborly relationships weren’t as indifferent as they are today and there were many children around.

Chen Ke also remembered that during the summer vacations, the neighborhood was noisy with children running around. One child would be cycling, followed by three or four others running behind, all holding toys—both humorous and adorable.

"Oh, you can eat at my place," Teacher Zhou said.

"No, that’s okay, Teacher," Chen Ke said.

"Alright, as you wish. I’m going back to mark assignments," Teacher Zhou said with a smile.

"Okay, Teacher Zhou, goodbye Teacher Zhou," Chen Ke nodded and curiously glanced into Teacher Zhou’s house.

The living room was somewhat dark; the greenish twilight outside shone through the windows, giving off a very unsafe feeling.

But there seemed to be an orange lamp on in the inner room, with a sliver of orange light spilling out from an even further room.

Teacher Zhou turned to enter the house but suddenly stopped. It was as if he remembered something and he turned back to greet Chen Ke again.

"Right, Chen Ke, the end of the semester is approaching. Don’t you plan to review a bit?" Teacher Zhou asked.

"Oh? Is it the end of the semester already...?" Chen Ke chuckled, not knowing why, although the other was fake, he still felt willing to engage in conversation.

"Yes, it’s almost the end of the semester. Time is tight," admonished Teacher Zhou. "The middle school exams may not be as critical as the college entrance exams, but scoring well allows you to attend a good high school, and that makes the road ahead much easier."

Exams indeed had the power to change one’s destiny. Get into a good high school and then a good university, and by your twenties, you could work for capitalists in a relatively comfortable manner.

Even though it was akin to being a dog, at least you could enter tall office buildings, tap away at a keyboard, and even slack off browsing the internet.

If you don’t have an impressive diploma, then most people would likely only be able to do very low-end and tiring physical labor—delivering parcels, delivering food, or standing at a counter, hawking goods...

"Teacher... I’m doing pretty well, but the outside world is a bit different from what we’re taught in school," Chen Ke said with a smile.

"Oh, how is it different?" Teacher Zhou asked.

"In class, you say to be true to our words and actions, to speak the truth, to pursue our dreams, that everyone in the world is equal, life is priceless, and to live each day well is to do justice to our entire lives," Chen Ke said.

"That’s right, is there something wrong with that?" Teacher Zhou asked.

"After entering society, I’ve felt that sometimes telling lies is more useful than telling the truth, having a practical goal is more reliable than having a grand dream, the world is not equal for everyone, each person’s starting point and endpoint is different, and life... life has a price tag... There are too many people and things that prevent us from living as ourselves, sometimes I really feel like I’m just a tool for others," Chen Ke said, spreading his hands.

"Having such doubts is very normal, Chen Ke," Teacher Zhou said, squatting down.

"You see, the world doesn’t operate like it’s taught in the classroom. With 7.9 billion people all having their thoughts, there are barriers and conflicts between individuals, organizations, nations, and ethnic groups. How can we expect everyone to be equal?" Teacher Zhou added.

"Though it’s cruel to say, in this world, those who can truly live as they wish are few. Most people’s lives are merely for engaging in production, serving as kindling to fuel the world’s fire. There’s limited space by the fire, not enough for everyone," Teacher Zhou taught.

"But why can’t we make the fire a little bigger... so everyone can sit down?" Chen Ke asked.

"Because we lack enough fuel to keep the fire burning continuously, so we have to keep producing more people to throw into it," Teacher Zhou said.

"People tell lies to protect their genuine thoughts; most have to fight with all their might just to live. At 30 years old, you must work desperately to earn money for when you’re 60. That’s the real face of the world, Chen Ke. This civilized world isn’t prepared for everyone, even if you’re just kindling, you should be grateful," Teacher Zhou said.

"Then why don’t you teach these things in the classroom?" Chen Ke asked.

"Because you were all young at that time, how could I let you become disappointed with the world?" Teacher Zhou said with a smile.

"Disappointment is much better than despair," Chen Ke shook his head.

"Right, Chen Ke, do you want to review a bit? You’ve probably forgotten almost everything from this semester’s key points," Teacher Zhou asked.

"Key points? Teacher Zhou, besides composition, reading comprehension, and classical Chinese, what else can you teach me?" Chen Ke countered.

Teacher Zhou stood up, signaling Chen Ke to follow him inside.

"These are things you originally knew, but you were too playful and have surely forgotten quite a bit; I’ve got them all written down in the papers, come and have a look," Teacher Zhou said as he walked.

Chen Ke followed him into the house, where the view from the window was surprisingly the school playground, but the sky was rolling with green clouds, the entire space-time contorted by Chen Ke’s memories.

Teacher Zhou led Chen Ke into a small room lit by a desk lamp; it was a bedroom that had been converted into a study. Two rows of bookcases stood against the walls, and a small desk was piled with a stack of winter vacation homework.

"Is this... junior high homework..." Chen Ke mused to himself, recognizing the familiar horizontally bound booklet, which had been a nightmare in his past.

Teacher Zhou did not touch the homework but opened one of the desk drawers, pulled out a textbook, and handed it to Chen Ke.

"Have a look," Teacher Zhou said with a smile.

Chen Ke looked at the textbook in his hand, the cover not labeled with Chinese, Mathematics, or English, but with "Future Observation."