"In the Northerhere is a fish, called the Kun, I do not know how many thousand li in size..."

  During the m reading session the day, Li Huangxuan loudly recited the cssical text. Zhuang Zi'ang, oher hand, unfolded a piece of paper and quietly began writing a self-refle essay. He had enjoyed his moment of freedom yesterday, but when you do something wrong, you should accept the sequences.

  As expected, before the css was over, their homeroom teacher, Zhang Zhiyuan, appeared at the door.

  "Zhuang Zi'ang, e with me to the office."

  The teachers' office was very quiet, with only two or three teachers hunched over their desks, preparing lessons.

  Zhang Zhiyuan unscrewed his thermos and took a sip of his goji berry tea. Before he could even speak, Zhuang Zi'ang proactively handed him the self-refle essay.

  A full thousand words, freshly written, the ink still wet. The writing was eloquent, filled with cssical allusions.

  "Zhuang Zi'ang, do you even know what you're doing? Where did you run off to yesterday afternoon?" Zhang Zhiyuan smmed his hand on the desk.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Zhang. I knorong," Zhuang Zi'ang admitted sincerely.

  "You are the most outstanding student iire grade, and now you've done something so eous. As your homeroom teacher, I am deeply disappointed."

  "Your as are not only irresponsible to yourself but also to your parents and teachers. You've set a ive example for your cssmates."

  "Don't think that writing a self-criticism paper will absolve you of your wrongdoing. I don't think you've realized the gravity of your mistake."

  ...

  Zhang Zhiyuaured Zhuang Zi'ang, his words sharp and to the point. His striess stemmed from his deep care for his students. He didn't want the best student in his css to go astray.

  Although he was being scolded, Zhuang Zi'a a sense of relief. He could clearly feel his teacher's and care for him. It's a pity he might not be able to repay this debt of gratitude to his teacher.

  Finally, when Zhang Zhiyuan tired himself out and started drinking his tea again, Zhuang Zi'ang found an opening to speak. Since he couldn't fide in his parents for the time being, his homeroom teacher became the best person to talk to.

  At this point, the other teachers had also left. The office was y, save for the two of them.

  "Mr. Zhang, I took a sick leave the day before yesterday. You were the one roved my leave request," Zhuang Zi'ang said, his eyes reddening.

  Zhang Zhiyuan's brow furrowed. "Is there something wrong with your health?"

  "Mr. Zhang, you are the teacher I respect the most. I don't want to hide anything from you. I have a very serious illness," Zhuang Zi'ang said, his lower lip trembling untrolbly.

  "What... what do you mean?" Zhang Zhiyuan sehat something was wrong.

  Zhuang Zi'ang steadied himself, then took out the diagnosis report from his pocket, unfolded it, and pced it in front of Zhang Zhiyuan.

  Zhang Zhiyuan's expression ged drastically as he sed the report, as if a bolt of lightning had struck him.

  "No, this must be an erroneous diagnosis. Zhuang Zi'ang, don't worry. I'll take you for a sed opinion. There must be a mistake."

  Zhuang Zi'ang shook his head. "Mr. Zhang, it's not a misdiagnosis. I've been having nosebleeds for the past six months."

  "How could this happen? You're oeen!" Zhang Zhiyuan struggled to prehend. Although everyone faces death eventually, for this young man, that should have been a far-off reality. He had a whole promising life ahead of him that he hadn't yet experienced.

  "Mr. Zhang, I don't want to be pitied or looked upon with pity. I just want to live out my remaining time on my own terms," Zhuang Zi'ang pleaded.

  "What do your parents say? Are they allowing you to tinue your studies?" Zhang Zhiyuan asked, his tone filled with sorrow.

  "I want to be with my teachers and cssmates."

  pared to his parents, Zhuang Zi'a a stronger e with his teachers and cssmates. He didn't say directly that he only had three months left. And he definitely couldn't tell his teacher that he was hiding such a big thing from his family.

  As the homeroom teacher, Zhang Zhiyuahat Zhuang Zi'ang's family situation was plicated. He couldn't even fathom how such a troubled family could produce su outstanding child, one who could face life ah with such equanimity.

  Zhuang Zi'ang gave a deep bow to Zhang Zhiyuan. "Mr. Zhang, I knorong about yesterday. I won't let it happen again."

  Zhang Zhiyuan's ung. "It's okay, I'm not bming you. If you feel uo attend css, you e to me for a leave request." He could uand that Zhuang Zi'ang, having grown up in su enviro, must have suppressed a lot of iurmoil.

  When faced with a life-or-death situation, it was uandable to want to release those emotions. He, as the homeroom teacher, hadn't shown enough for his student. If he had discovered Zhuang Zi'ang's dition earlier and gotten him proper treatment, would there have been a different oute?

  "Mr. Zhang, I don't want to be the css president anymore. Please choose audent."

  "Alright. You o rex and not put any pressure on yourself. Cooperate with the doctor's treatment. Don't give up until the st possible moment." Zhang Zhiyuan could only offer these words of fort, even though he himself didn't believe them.

  Zhuang Zi'ang picked up the diagnosis report from the desk, carefully folded it, and put it ba his pocket. His movements were slow, as if he were perf a solemn ritual.

  "Zhuang Zi'ang, in the meantime, tiending csses. If you experieny disfort, let me know immediately," Zhang Zhiyuan said, with a heavy heart. He uood Zhuang Zi'ang's desire, as the top student in the grade, to graduate with his css. But his duty as a teacher also filled him with deep self-recrimination and worry.

  "Thank you, Mr. Zhang. I might fall short of your expectations," Zhuang Zi'ang said, tears welling up in his eyes. He bowed to Zhang Zhiyuan again.

  "No, you've always beeudent I'm most proud of," Zhang Zhiyuan choked out.

  Su outstanding student, always bringing honor to the css and the school. He would undoubtedly have bee a remarkable individual with great achievements after graduating aering the world. What a pity, such talent would be tragically cut short.

  Suppressing his sadness, Zhuang Zi'ang remembered something and asked Zhang Zhiyuan for firmation, "Mr. Zhang, rade only has 22 csses, right?"

  Zhang Zhiyuan uzzled. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

  "I met a girl yesterday who said she was in Css 23."

  "Don't dwell ohings. Go back to ow!"

  Zhang Zhiyuan assumed that Zhuang Zi'ang was asking such strange questions because of the trauma he had just experienced. He tried to remain calm and not make the atmosphere overly somber, trying to treat Zhuang Zi'ang as normally as possible.

  Just as Zhuang Zi'ang himself had requested, not showing him pity was the greatest respect he could show him.

  Zhuang Zi'ang bowed deeply to Zhang Zhiyuan again and then, with a heavy heart, left the teachers' office.

  Zhang Zhiyuan watched him walk away, and only then did his long-suppressed emotions overflow. He smmed his fist on the desk. The man in his forties wept untrolbly, his eyes red and swollen.

  Not just the best student in the css, but aeen-year-old fag su unfair twist of fate would move ao tears.

  After leaving the office, Zhuang Zi'ang didn't go directly back to Css 9. Instead, he walked up the stairs, all the way to the fifth floor. He firmed with his owhat Css 22 was the st one. Beyond that were only vat s.

  Little Butterfly, who are you really? Where did you e from?