013 Exposed (Second Update)

Mingzhou First High School had chartered an entire passenger jet, carrying the whole grade of students to Fenghua City. Fenghua City lay at the other end of the planet, and the estimated flight time was five hours.

After takeoff, Zhong Yun closed his eyes as if to nap, though the chatter of classmates filled his ears. At last, they had a chance to go on a school trip, and the students were all elated, eagerly discussing which places they planned to visit.

The itinerary was thoughtfully arranged: aside from a collective activity on the first day, students were free to explore as they pleased, so long as they returned to their lodgings at the appointed time.

Tian Hai, seated beside him, was making plans with Chen Wen—first day here, second day there—occasionally asking Zhong Yun for his opinion. Zhong Yun simply nodded, not paying much attention.

Their schedule was quickly set. Ever since Chen Wen and Zhong Yun had tasted Xiao Qing’s cooking, they’d shamelessly stuck together, thus forming a trio.

At that moment, the atmosphere in the cabin began to shift subtly; the voices grew quieter, and the boys cast furtive glances as if plotting something.

Zhong Yun sensed the odd mood and looked around in confusion, wondering if something had happened.

Suddenly, a boy sprang to his feet, his chest heaving with nervousness. He left his seat and walked toward a group of girls who had been whispering.

The entire cabin fell silent, everyone’s gaze fixed on the boy.

The girls exchanged knowing glances, their eyes sparkling.

Zhong Yun realized what was happening and couldn't help but admire the boy's courage.

At last, the boy stopped at the seat of a girl with a single braid beside her ear. He spoke, awkwardly, “Um…” He rubbed his hands together, sweat pouring from his forehead—clearly tense to the extreme.

Say it, hurry up. The onlookers willed him silently.

The girl blushed, her eyes glimmering with encouragement as she glanced at him.

“I want to go see the sea of flowers with you,” the boy blurted out, his voice so loud it could be heard in the next cabin.

After he spoke, he stood frozen, face taut with anxiety, awaiting her reply.

“Say yes!” Tian Hai teased, stirring up the others. Students chimed in, “Yes, say yes!”

Amid whistles and urging from friends, the girl nodded demurely.

The boy was ecstatic, nearly leaping into the air as he bounded back to his seat, grinning ear to ear. The other boys, full of envy and jealousy, protested in mock outrage.

With an example set, the rest followed suit; boys seized the opportunity to invite their crushes.

Watching the lively scene, Zhong Yun suddenly sighed, “How wonderful to be young.”

Chen Wen overheard and burst out laughing, “Look at you, pretending to be wise already.”

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Zhong Yun shot him a look. “Don’t compare me to Fei Yingming.”

A strange light flashed in Chen Wen’s eyes. “You know Fei Yingming?”

“I’ve met him once.”

“That guy really is annoying,” Chen Wen said with a knowing smile, jerking his chin toward the opposite side. “Aren’t you going to try?”

Zhong Yun followed his gaze. Liu Yunqi sat quietly in a corner, earphones in, absorbed in a book, serene and undisturbed by the commotion around her.

He shrugged. “I’d like to, but I thought you two would be lonely without me.”

As they spoke, Xiao Ruo, seated in front, suddenly stood up, excited. “I have good news to announce!”

Everyone quieted.

“It must have something to do with A Mu,” Chen Wen murmured, and sure enough, Xiao Ruo declared loudly, “Just now, A Mu released a new song!”

“Really?” several girls exclaimed in delight.

Xiao Ruo nodded. “Really. Please enjoy, ‘Tide.’” She took out her player, turning the volume to the maximum.

Everyone listened intently. A Mu’s previous song had captivated them, and now, what surprise would he bring?

Even Tian Hai, the die-hard fan of Ming Yunyu, couldn’t help but anticipate.

A thin, silky flute melody began, rising and falling before settling.

Zheng—

A heart-stopping note from a guzheng resounded, as if plucked from the listeners’ hearts, igniting their blood.

A flurry of rapid, rain-like plucking launched a surging prelude.

Everyone felt as if they were lost on a lonely boat in a stormy sea, tossed in darkness by giant waves, every moment threatened with disaster, their hearts in their throats.

The music softened; the tide calmed. All breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, a monstrous wave crashed without warning, overwhelming the boat with destructive force.

Everyone was thrown into the water, struggling in the tumult, when yet another wave struck.

Despair set in, but just as the crest threatened to engulf them, a ray of sunlight pierced the darkness, shining upon their bodies, illuminating their hearts.

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When the final note faded into silence, everyone awoke as if from a dream, abruptly returned to reality, sighing with a sense of loss.

“So exhilarating,” Tian Hai murmured, wiping sweat from his brow.

“I’ve never heard this before either,” Chen Wen muttered.

Zhong Yun, curious, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Whether it’s ‘Blue Mingchuan River’ or this ‘Tide,’ they’re both new Jialan pieces, never heard before—do you know what that means?”

Zhong Yun shook his head.

“What does it mean?” Tian Hai asked.

“There are only 297 existing Jialan pieces in our country, each has been covered countless times by singers, and every one is already a classic.

“Many have tried composing in the Jialan style, but none have managed to capture its unique flavor.

“But A Mu has done it. If both songs were written by him, he’s the first in thousands of years.

“Maybe A Mu is a descendant of the Jialan people,” Tian Hai ventured boldly.

“Or perhaps he acquired some never-before-released Jialan pieces through a special channel,” Zhong Yun suggested.

Suddenly, Chen Wen seemed to realize something, gazing at Zhong Yun with a strange look that made him uncomfortable.

Chen Wen suddenly asked Tian Hai, “Don’t you feel hot?”

“That song was too intense. You’re no different—your shirt’s soaked, everyone’s the same,” Tian Hai replied, fanning his sleeve.

Chen Wen pointed at Zhong Yun. “That guy hasn’t sweated a drop.”

Tian Hai leaned in close. “That’s odd. I know—you have auditory dysfunction.”

“You’re the one with auditory dysfunction,” Zhong Yun laughed and scolded. “My sweat glands aren’t as developed as yours.” Then he “shushed” them, “The homeroom teacher has something to say.”

Chen Wen and Tian Hai looked over. Sure enough, the teacher was walking down the aisle, clapping to draw students’ attention. “Those who’ve formed groups, come register with me.”

Seeing it was nothing important, Zhong Yun took the opportunity to close his eyes again and feign sleep, relieved—he’d nearly slipped up just now.