Pègre - Chapitre 17
"Little fellow," the principal seemed to enjoy calling him that, "your analysis just now made a lot of sense, but if..."
If we needed that kind of analysis, why would we need to come to you? Our dean may have white hair, but his intellect hasn't declined.
He was able to analyze these situations. You're still holding back.
"Impressive! Impressive! No wonder he's a shrewd person who's cultivated for many years," Leng Xin thought to herself, but outwardly...
He remained unmoved.
--
---Magpie Bridge Fairy
Reply [27]: At this time, only the three of them remained in the infirmary. The principal waited for a while, and seeing that he still did not speak, he sighed.
"Leng Xin, you should know what the consequences would be if what Liu Qi said got out. We didn't even hide such things."
"Can't you trust us if we're keeping it from you?"
I remain indifferent or silent.
"Alright!" The principal took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind, and was about to say something when the dean anxiously called out...
He uttered a sound: "Principal!" clearly stopping him from continuing. The principal gave a wry smile: "Do you still think everything is just..."
"A coincidence?" The dean's expression changed, and he finally lowered his head and fell silent.
The principal stretched out his right hand and slowly raised it in front of Leng Xin: "Look!"
A snow-white bandage was wrapped around his right index finger. "Principal, what happened to your hand?" Leng Xin asked.
The principal remained silent, nodding to the dean. The dean stepped forward, took a pair of scissors, and cut the bandage, one loop at a time.
The man removed the bandages, revealing the wound beneath. Leng Xin was startled upon seeing the wound. The principal pointed...
It was noticeably shorter; a person's index finger has three joints, but the principal's index finger had lost the third joint near the tip.
The fingertips were a bloody mess, exposing the bare white bone; it seemed a section had been chopped off.
"What's going on?" Leng Xin asked.
"I don't know either," the principal said with a wry smile.
"How could you not know?" Although Leng Xin asked this question, she had already realized that this was no ordinary injury.
Well, it's very likely related to what they're investigating.
The principal shook his head: "It's just that strange. I was injured, but I had no idea it. Because when I was injured..."
"Class is in session."
“And I happened to see everything,” the dean said.
That happened on Thursday afternoon this week.
That afternoon, the dean passed by the teaching building and suddenly remembered that the president was giving a class. The president was a well-known figure in the country.
This scholar's lectures are rich and engaging, not only enjoyed by students but also greatly benefiting many teachers.
However, the dean happens to be poor at lecturing. The dean is a renowned scholar in China and a leading authority in neurology, but...
His classes, however, were incredibly boring. Therefore, he decided to learn from the principal's teaching experience. In order not to disturb the principal's lessons...
During class, he stood outside the window and secretly listened. The classroom window wasn't closed, so the sounds inside were very clear. Strange.
However, after listening for a long time, he only heard a lot of creaking sounds, as if someone inside was moving tables and chairs.
He moved about, but no one spoke. After listening for another two or three minutes, he couldn't resist peeking out the window to see what was going on.
What happened?
The scene that appeared before him was utterly incomprehensible. The principal was indeed lecturing from the podium, but only...
He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, but no sound came out. There were over 50 students sitting below the podium, and the dean began to hear...
The sound came from these students. What the dean found incomprehensible was precisely the students' actions.
There were enough chairs in the classroom for the students to sit on, and even extra chairs were available, yet the students were all squatting.
On the ground. They squatted in a rather difficult position, similar to a basic skill in Chinese martial arts: squatting.
Horse stance. Their legs are spread apart, thighs and calves forming a 90-degree angle, arms extended straight forward. If that were all...
The dean probably thought the principal and students were having some kind of activity. But what was even stranger was that the students' legs...
There was a chair in each room. University chairs, while not as luxurious and spacious as executive chairs, were still very sturdy and heavy.
These chairs are designed to withstand at least 100 kilograms of human weight. And these chairs are currently placed on the students' laps.
The creaking sound came from these chairs.
A chair is not a living being, so it cannot move on its own. If a chair suddenly makes a sound, it must be caused by a person.
Its behavior made it speak. This is common sense, and it's common sense that the dean had developed from birth until that day. He had never...
I never doubted that.
However, what happened that day seemed to prove that the dean's understanding was wrong.
The chairs made a sound, and it was definitely not made by anyone. At the time, the students, although...
They assumed this posture, but each one of them stared blankly, expressionless, and remained silent. Aside from placing the chairs on their laps...
Apart from their heads, no other part of their bodies came into contact with the chair. Throughout the entire session, these students remained motionless, like statues.
It wasn't moving. The reason the dean didn't notice was because something was indeed moving in the classroom.
The moving things were the chairs. They swayed from side to side on the students' legs, the whole structure twisting and deforming, previously...
That's how the dean heard the sound coming from.
It's already quite strange for one chair to be like this, but for more than 50 chairs to be like this together, with absolutely no movement underneath them...
For the students, this scene was absolutely horrifying.
Moreover, these chairs don't move mechanically; on the contrary, they are remarkably flexible, almost as if they possess life. External manipulation...
Even with high sensitivity, this effect cannot be achieved.
More than 50 chairs sang in unison, producing a harsh and unpleasant sound.
It was afternoon, the sun was shining brightly, but the dean's hands and feet were ice-cold. Even when he was a child, walking alone late at night...
He had never been so afraid in the pitch-black alley.
His lips were so dry from fear that they developed a chapped crust, but he still couldn't help but keep watching.
He discovered something else from it.
The sound of the chairs was certainly unpleasant, but it was remarkably synchronized, and always began after a short pause.
It was as if that brief pause was a signal, a signal that made the chair make a sound.
And in this brief pause, a small sound always emerges.
"Crunch crunch"
The sound was the same, but even sharper and more piercing.
The voice came from the podium.
The dean's attention had been drawn to the students and chairs below the podium until he noticed this sharp, piercing whisper.
Yin looked up at the podium and suddenly realized: Why is the principal so indifferent to all of this?
Thinking about this, he felt a cold sweat break out inside his body.
---Magpie Bridge Fairy
Reply [28]: The principal stood on the podium, and at first glance, there was nothing unusual about him. He was writing on the blackboard with one hand while lecturing.
.
Although he was lecturing, his gaze was vacant, his face expressionless, and although his mouth opened and closed, nothing came out.
No sound came out.
The shrill voice came from the podium.
Although the dean was old, his eyesight was still good. He followed the sound and found a small white figure on the podium.
The object swayed from side to side, its swaying motion remarkably similar to that of those chairs. Every few minutes, it would emit a sharp, piercing sound.
The sound reached their ears, and then the chairs below echoed with a synchronized scream.
The dean rubbed his eyes, then rubbed them again, ran to the edge of the corridor for a while to get some cool air, and then came back to look at them for a bit.
Finally, I realized I wasn't mistaken: that little white thing was actually a piece of chalk!
The principal was still mechanically writing on the blackboard when the dean naturally looked at his hand, wanting to see what he was using to write.
Chalk, isn't it just as strange?
Upon closer inspection, his heart nearly leaped out of his throat: the chalk the principal used for writing wasn't chalk at all! He was...
With his right index finger, he left lines of bright red writing on the blackboard. His fingertip was already bloody and mangled, but he...
As if oblivious to the pain, he continued writing, always uttering the same two words—"logic."
The entire blackboard was filled with bright red "logic," and the dean felt a wave of dizziness, barely managing to stay upright by leaning against the wall. He had a kind of...
He felt like vomiting. Then he heard a hoarse, strange scream. About a minute later, he realized...
The scream came from himself.
His scream startled both living and non-living things in the classroom, and for a brief moment, they were all in absolute silence.