235 In Your Dreams!

At dawn, the mist froze on the branches and fell down. Sparse and cold, it was like raindrops in the fog. The morning bell rang and students who had risen early walked to and fro. When they sensed the two youths walking quietly down the road, they stopped and nodded.

"Morning, Concertmaster Ye."

"Good morning."

"Concertmaster Ye, good morning."

When Ye Qingxuan saw girls smiling at him, he would smile too and say, "Good morning."

Like a regular walk, everything was normal and nothing out of sorts. The only thing difference was the briefcases in their hands. They swung along with their steps like a small book bag.

Though Charles had no smile on his face, Ye Qingxuan seemed to be in a good mood. He replied to all of the greetings from the students they passed and even hummed a children’s song he had learned somewhere.

"Lalala, lalala, lalalal!"

The song did not sound very good and carried his characteristic hoarseness. It was like cold wind blowing in the long night through the darkness, sending chills down one’s spine.

As he hummed, the books in the cases hit the sides with rustling sounds like a vague tide. The sounds were small and faint but traveled far. The students moved to the side and watched them leave with troubled eyes.

When the music history department went down in flames, rumors spread through the night.

It seemed like an accident, but everyone appeared to know what had happened. Conspiracy theorists among them believed they had orchestrated this whole thing but many were sympathetic.

However, sympathy was useless.

Sympathy could not be used as food to eat, water to drink, or blankets when it was cold. Sympathy was just sympathy; sadly, anger was not just anger. It could give birth to much more.

"You’re going to the Musician’s Union?" Cullen asked. The next president of the student council finally caught up to them at the square with a bitter expression.

Ye Qingxuan could not help but laugh. "Senior Cullen, since you’re so enthusiastic, we can change and go to the student council."

Cullen’s expression grew even bitterer. "The school board set more regulations yesterday. Modifications and Summoning became a mess from the business. Some teachers from the School of Royalty also talked to me…sorry, we can’t help you."

"Really? That’s a pity." Ye Qingxuan shrugged ‘regretfully.’"We’ll go find the Musician’s Union then."

"Why go to that step? Once you report to the Musician’s Union, this will become magnified." Cullen instantly became more troubled. "You’re all too extreme. If each side took a step back, the problem can be solved. Why make it so extreme?"

Ye Qingxuan just patted his shoulder and said genuinely, "If Bench Guy was here, he’d definitely not say something like that. You know why?" Cullen blanched, causing Ye Qingxuan to chuckle. "Because he knows that the world is never as beautiful as he thinks." He walked past the stunned Cullen and continued toward the school’s main entrance.

Each take a step back? Forgive each other? What a joke! These seemingly fair solutions were the biggest mockery towards fairness.

Why make things so extreme? The moment the history department was burned to ashes, Ye Qingxuan no longer thought about keeping an exit open for himself—there would no longer be any exits. Otherwise, he would abandon himself as well.

The sunlight rose gradually in the morning, and the youth’s smile disappeared gradually. All that remained was indifference, like a vast field of ice. Before him, the school’s main door opened slowly. The copper branches and rusted iron roses entangled around the large iron door scraped against the ground. Behind him, the last bell rang from within the school’s bell tower. The bell was like a tide, washing away the last shred of mist.

The early morning sunlight scattered about, illuminating the youth before the door, and his white hair with a metallic shine.

In an instant, Ye Qingxuan’s muscles pulled taut. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as if something cold was pressed against him and spread through his limbs. The mysterious premonition immobilized him, rooting him to the spot. The feeling of danger echoed within him, intensifying.

A hand pressed down onto his shoulder, pressing down the unsettledness in his heart. Charles stared at the busy street across from the academy and the people drinking their morning tea in the café. Finally, his gaze fell on the figure before the window and grew serious.

"Yezi, it’s Ingmar."

The figure in the café’s window had his back to them, leaning against the chair. The server arrived with a silver platter and handed him coffee. It was high-grade coffee shipped from Asgard by sea, and steamed warmly. There was also a newly received newspaper.

Ingmar opened the newspaper and looked down, reading the news. He did not notice the academy’s door in the distance behind him and the two youths. The bad premonition became more and more obvious in Ye Qingxuan and Charles’ hearts.

Sugar cubes dropped into the coffee—one, two…Each drop of a cube was like a giant rock falling into their hearts, suffocating them. They were only a step away from the school door but in this moment, they suddenly, unreasonably, inexplicably…felt fear.

The world outside the school was filled with danger. There was nothing there, save for a warning: this is it.

Ye Qingxuan fell silent. He understood what Ingmar meant: if they still had any space for turning back in this controversy before this, then it would be over the moment he stepped forward and went to the Musician’s Union. It would be life or death from now on.

Ingmar would use all of his power to kill Ye Qingxuan—to strangle this Eastern concertmaster that had been in his way for so long. Maybe it would be immediately, maybe it would catch him by surprise, maybe a black carriage would fly past when he stepped out the school and crush him on the road…So he should not be so blindly determined.

He must turn back immediately.

"Turn back?" Ye Qingxuan seemed to understand Ingmar’s message and sneered.

"You’re too scared to kill me and too scared to admit your plagiarism. You think that I’ll fall down with just a threat and retreat obediently? Sadly, the world isn’t as beautiful as you think," he thought.

"In your dreams!" Ye Qingxuan stared at Ingmar’s back and gritted his teeth. In the almost glue-like air, he raised his foot and stepped toward the world outside the Academy.

Thud! The light sound was like a hallucination.

The moment the youth stepped out, the danger and pressure on his heart vanished like a hallucination. Nothing happened as if nothing before had happened either.

But in that instant, Ingmar looked down. There was the reflection of a black starry sky in his icy blue eyes. The stars rotated, bringing with it a chilling murderous intent. As the stars rotated, it reflected the image of the two walking into the distance. Countless invisible threads were tangled in them, connecting to their fatal spots.

It seemed as if a casual tug could cause them to fall apart like a broken puppet. The murderous intent shot out from his eyes, but he pushed it down and did not act until the two youths walked out of the proximity of his senses.

"Tsk, just a sheep in wolf’s clothing," came the youth’s soft scoff in the wind.

The originally smooth newspaper had become a crumpled mess in Ingmar’s hands.

"Sir? Sir…" the server asked timidly beside him, "Does the coffee not suit your taste?"

Ingmar raised the coffee emotionlessly and tasted it. He furrowed his brows and set it down. "It’s too sweet," he said. "Give me another cup."

The server picked up the cup and fled as if finally freed.

Ingmar folded up the newspaper again. In just a few seconds, the ink had become a faded yellow like centuries had passed. He squinted as if he was communicating with it.

"It’s me, Ingmar. Yes, there’s something I need to ask of you…"

-

One hour later, someone leaned on the railing of the Musician Union’s second floor and looked at the long line below. He saw two youths and a mocking smile appeared on his face.

"Don’t worry," he said quietly to the alchemy communication tool in his hands. "I’ve prepared it already. Those two kids can’t do anything. I’ll make them leave obediently tonight."

Behind him, the guard of the Union’s main lobby went up and stood politely behind him, rubbing his hands. "Mr. Leo, did you call for me?"

"Yes, I need to ask something of you." Leo patted his shoulder and pointed at the two youths in line on the first floor. "Keep an eye on them. Kick them out if they make a scene. Mr. Bayer is busy today, so I don’t wish anything to disturb our meeting later, understood?"

"I understand." The guard smiled understandingly. "If they make a scene, they won’t be able to enter for three months."

-

Thirty minutes later, the long wait on the first floor finally came to an end.

"It’ll be done very quickly. Senior, if you don’t want to wait, just wait for me for a bit." Ye Qingxuan patted Charles’s shoulder. Charles sighed and relaxed his annoyed expression. Squeezing out a smile, he handed his form to the worker behind the table.

The worker seemed to be telling a joke to his coworker. They talked quietly for a long time and the two could not help but laugh. After they finished, he carelessly took their forms but quickly tossed them back.

"Your forms are all incorrect. There should be additional resources, but why did you just write it directly on the form? And here and here are for me to fill in." He pointed to various spots on the form with annoyed eyes. "Did you two listen to what I said or not? You’ve filled this in three times incorrectly. Not only are you wasting your time, you’re holding others up."

Charles’s muscles twitched, but Ye Qingxuan held down his shoulder and smiled at the worker. "I’m sorry, we’ll fix it now."

"No, you must start over." The worker glanced at him. "You can’t have any signs of revisions on the form and be careful of your handwriting too. Your writing is clearly not standard. Who taught you how to write?"

Ye Qingxuan looked down at the flowing calligraphy style of the Sacred City on the form and nodded, pushing down his anger. "Yes, yes, we’ll start over now."

"This is your own matter. You should be more careful instead of having people remind you all the time. Do you want to get anything done with that attitude?" The worker threw a glance at them and waved at the next one in line.

Ye Qingxuan practically dragged Charles to the side and comforted his nearly exploding emotions. At the form-filling location, someone perceived their situation and revealed a sympathetic expression.

"You’re new here, right?"