"Lin Qi, let's break up."
Liu Mengli's voice was as pleasant as a clear mountain spring, yet the words she spoke were sharper than a knife.
In the classroom of Class Seven, Senior Three, all eyes turned toward them at once. Some gloated, some whispered to each other, and most wore expressions of eager onlookers.
Lin Qi stood in the aisle, clutching a crumpled exam paper. The bright red zero scored on it felt like a huge mockery.
"Mengli, I really didn't cheat," he tried to explain. "It was just scratch paper, I —"
"Enough!" Liu Mengli frowned and stepped back, as if avoiding something filthy. "Wang Kai said he saw you cheating with a cheat sheet with his own eyes. Lin Qi, can we just end this nicely?"
She wore a white school uniform skirt, her long hair falling over her shoulders, standing in the sunlight by the window — beautiful like a painting.
Unfortunately, that painting was now looking at him as if he were trash.
"Yeah, yeah, have you no shame, Lin Qi?" Wang Kai stood up from his seat, twirling an expensive pen. "You're at the bottom of the class, but you're good at chasing girls. If I were you, I'd have crawled into a hole long ago."
He walked over to Liu Mengli and naturally put an arm around her shoulders. She did not pull away.
Lin Qi's fingers tightened slightly.
"You two…"
"What's wrong with us?" Wang Kai grinned arrogantly. "Mengli is my girlfriend now. You got a problem with that? Oh right, forgot to tell you — my dad just donated a building to the school. Who do you think the teachers' office will believe?"
The classroom erupted in laughter.
Lin Qi took a deep breath, stuffed the exam paper into his pocket, and turned to walk out.
"Lin Qi!" his head teacher, Teacher Li, called from behind. "Stop right there! This matter isn't settled yet!"
Lin Qi did not look back.
-----
When Lin Qi walked out of the school gate, the setting sun had already painted the horizon a deep orange-red.
He stopped at the edge of the road, pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. He didn't usually smoke. His grandfather used to say smoking ruined your lungs. But right now, he needed something to hold down the surge of emotions inside him.
Grandfather.
The thought of him made Lin Qi's eyes suddenly redden.
Three months ago, his grandfather passed away. At the funeral, Liu Mengli had stayed by his side, holding his hand and saying, "You still have me." But now? Only three months later, she was already in Wang Kai's arms.
"Damn." Lin Qi muttered, grinding the cigarette out under his foot.
He had been an orphan his grandfather took in, growing up in the old bookstore. His grandfather didn't have much money, but he gave all his love to him. In those years, the old man would sit with his reading glasses on, repairing torn pages while telling him all kinds of strange and wonderful stories.
"Xiao Qi, books are the best friends you can have. Study well, and you'll make something of yourself one day."
But, Grandpa, I studied. I still didn't amount to anything.
Lin Qi took out his phone and glanced at the missed calls. Three from the academic office, five from his homeroom teacher. He didn't answer any of them—he just turned the phone off.
He wandered aimlessly for half an hour. By the time he came back to himself, he was already standing at the entrance of the old street.
The old street was about to be demolished.
Red "Demolish" characters were painted everywhere—on walls, doors, and utility poles. Most of the shops had already moved out, leaving only a few stubborn holdouts. Lin Qi knew his grandfather's bookstore was one of them.
"Tianlu Pavilion."
The weathered wooden sign was still there, its grain marked with the traces of time. Lin Qi took out the key and unlocked the rusted padlock.
Creak—
The door opened, and a musty smell rushed out. The bookstore was small, barely twenty square meters, with bookshelves rising to the ceiling on all four walls, packed full of books. Light came in through the window, and dust drifted in the air.
Lin Qi walked inside and sat down in the rattan chair his grandfather used to sit in.
The chair creaked softly, as if his grandfather were speaking to him.
"Silly boy, why are you crying?"
Lin Qi jerked his head up.
No one.
The bookstore was empty—there was only him.
What the hell. He rubbed his eyes. He had clearly heard his grandfather's voice just now.
At that moment, the old bookmark hanging around his neck suddenly grew hot.
His grandfather had pressed that bookmark into his hand before he died, saying it was a family heirloom passed down through generations and that he must keep it on him at all times. The bookmark was made of wood, carved with ancient characters he couldn't understand, its edges worn smooth and glossy from years of use.
Lin Qi took it off and placed it in his palm.
The bookmark was glowing.
A faint golden light seeped from the grooves of the ancient carvings, as if they had come alive.
"What is this…"
Before he could react, the light suddenly burst outward, swallowing the entire bookstore. Lin Qi's vision blurred, and when it cleared again, he realized he was no longer inside the shop.
He was in a strange space.
Mist surrounded him on all sides, with no visible boundary. Beneath his feet were slabs of bluestone, and above him there was no sky—only emptiness. Directly in front of him stood a massive door.
It was wooden, exactly like the old door of Tianlu Pavilion, only magnified countless times.
"Welcome back, young pavilion master."
Lin Qi turned around and saw a small, thin old man smiling at him.
The man wore an old-fashioned long gown and reading glasses, holding a yellowed thread-bound book in his hand. He looked exactly like his grandfather—just thirty years younger.
"Who… who are you?"
"This old man is Zhuge Ming, the keeper of Tianlu Pavilion," the old man said, stroking his beard. "Of course, you may also call me—an old friend of your grandfather."
"An old friend of my grandfather?"
Lin Qi looked completely baffled. He knew all of his grandfather's friends—those old men and women were either playing mahjong or chess. None of them acted this mysteriously.
Old Zhuge chuckled and tapped him on the head with the book. "Kid, your grandfather guarded this pavilion of books his whole life. The one he was waiting for was you."
"Waiting for me? Waiting for me for what?"
"To inherit Tianlu Pavilion." Old Zhuge pointed at the enormous door behind him. "Inside it are things beyond your imagination. Cultivation manuals, alchemy formulas, formation diagrams, secret arts—everything you could think of."
Lin Qi froze for a moment, then laughed.
"Sir, that's a bit much for a joke. I'm busy. I just got expelled—I don't have time to play role-playing games with you."
He turned to leave, but the moment he took a step, the scene in front of him changed again.
The misty space was gone. He was back in the bookstore.
Old Zhuge had disappeared. The giant door was gone too. Only the bookmark around his neck was still faintly warm.
Lin Qi stood there, stunned.
Just now… was that a dream?
Right then, the bookstore door was suddenly kicked open.
"Lin Qi! Get out here!"
It was Wang Kai's voice.
Lin Qi frowned and walked outside. As soon as he reached the doorway, he saw Wang Kai standing there with three thugs, baseball bats in their hands.
"Oh, so you really are here." Wang Kai sneered. "What, hiding here crying? Did Mengli dump you? Feeling bad about it?"
"What do you want?"
"Nothing much." Wang Kai swung the baseball bat lightly in his hand. "Just here to tell you—stay away from Mengli. And this crappy bookstore? Move it out soon. My dad's demolition crew starts work the day after tomorrow. If anyone's still here by then, don't blame us for being rough."
He tapped the bat against Lin Qi's shoulder and leaned closer, lowering his voice. "If you mess up my plans, you'll regret it."
Lin Qi clenched his fists.
At that moment, the bookmark around his neck suddenly grew scorching hot, as if it were about to burn.
Then, a strange voice rang out in his mind—
"Young Pavilion Master, someone has broken in! A cultivator!"
Lin Qi's head snapped up.
Inside the bookstore, there was someone else—he hadn't even noticed when the man appeared.
Dressed in white as snow, a long sword hanging at his waist, with an otherworldly air about him, the man stood quietly in front of the bookshelf. He held a book in his hands, completely absorbed in reading it.
On the cover of that book were five bold words—
[Five Years of Gaokao, Three Years of Mock Exams.]