Chapter 6
The entire Class Nine of Underworld High School assembled on the Pangong playground, lined up in two rows from shortest to tallest.
“Teacher Xue, where are we going?”
“So early, where are we going for a field trip?”
“Yeah, what kind of field trip requires waking up earlier than dogs?”
The students chattered noisily. Xue Changyi didn’t answer, opening his black umbrella and saying softly, “Follow me.”
Rumble—Rumble—
The elderly security guard opened the gates of Underworld High School. Xue Changyi led the way, and the chattering students quickly followed, finally able to leave the academy. A field trip had to be easier than writing essays about their fathers and mothers, right?
Within the academy, day and night were simulated. Outside, however, was the jurisdiction of the Underworld Central Office. Here, there was only dimness, no sunlight, not a single ray of sunshine all year round.
And of course, no moonlight either.
Ahead lay the Terrace of Forgetfulness.
“Teacher, what are we doing here?”
“Yeah, aren’t we going to the mortal realm for a field trip?”
The Terrace of Forgetfulness was used for demotions in the Underworld. For example, the Second Yama King, after being investigated by the Supervisory Department, was cast down from this terrace, stripped of his immortal bones, and forced to endure hardships to atone for his sins.
For Underworld officials, the Terrace of Forgetfulness was a terrifying place.
Xue Changyi ascended the platform, gazing at the dark abyss below, and said calmly, “Today’s field trip will take us from the Terrace of Forgetfulness to the mortal realm.”
“Really?”
“If we go down from the Terrace of Forgetfulness, can we come back up?”
“Teacher, you’re too cruel! We just revised our essays a few times, made a teacher cry in class, and didn’t hand in our homework. It’s not like we deserve to be cast down the Terrace of Forgetfulness!”
“Brother, Jiao’er is scared of the dark!”
Little Cheng Jiao, bundled up like a snowball, burrowed into Ying Zheng’s arms, clinging tightly to his brother’s neck.
“Heh—heh—heh—” A series of strange laughs echoed.
The signature laugh was unmistakable. Even before she appeared, they knew it was Granny Meng.
Granny Meng nodded to Xue Changyi. “My lord.”
The students exchanged glances. My lord? What lord?
Teacher lord? Instructor lord?
Lü Bu whispered, “Granny Meng is so respectful to Teacher Xue, calling him ‘my lord.’ And he was able to catch my Fangtian Huaji… I’m certain—he’s not an ordinary person!”
Yang Guang said nonchalantly, “Alright, Yuanfang, you can shut up now.”
Lü Bu looked left and right, confused. “Yuanfang? Where’s Yuanfang? Isn’t Li Yuanfang in Class Eight?”
Yang Guang: “…”
Xue Changyi said, “Granny, what brings you here?”
“Heh—heh—heh—” Granny Meng flashed her signature smile, leaning on her hourglass-shaped cane, her face wrinkling with laughter. “My lord, aren’t you taking the students on a field trip to the mortal realm? It just so happens that the Terrace’s guardian is on leave today… As you know, our Underworld Central Office is becoming increasingly civilized, emphasizing care for our employees. Since ten years ago, we’ve been approving special leave every month…”
Special leave, in fact, meant menstrual leave, once a month, without any deduction in pay.
Granny Meng continued, “The Terrace’s guardian is on leave today, so I’m here to fill in.”
Xue Changyi nodded, indicating he understood.
Xiang Yu whispered, “Isn’t the Terrace’s guardian that old man with the long beard? That old man… also has that every month???”
Liu Bang: “…”
Xue Changyi said, “Then I’ll have to trouble you, Granny, to operate the Terrace of Forgetfulness.”
“No trouble at all! No trouble at all!” Granny Meng waved her hand tremblingly. “Let me see… Hmm—oh? My, this control panel is quite complex. No matter, no matter, I’ve seen the guardian operate it before. It only has nine thousand nine hundred and eighty buttons. Not many, not many…”
All the students of Class Nine: “…”
“Granny, do you know how to operate it?”
“Maybe we should do the field trip another day?”
“Yeah, there’s no rush. What if you press the wrong button…”
Whoosh—!!!
The control panel suddenly lit up, flashing with dazzling, multicolored lights—red, yellow, green, blue, and even a “sexy pink” like the neon lights of a love hotel!
The next moment, the Terrace of Forgetfulness cracked open, and the ground beneath them vanished, plunging them into the abyss.
“Ah!!”
“Mother, are we falling into the center of the earth?!”
“Wah! Brother, help—”
The abyss below the Terrace instantly swallowed the students, like the maw of a beast.
A moment later, with a bang, the Terrace closed again, returning to its peaceful state.
Granny Meng, leaning on her hourglass cane, stood at the top of the Terrace, smiling. “Have a pleasant field trip, heh—heh—heh… cough!”
Granny Meng started coughing as she laughed. “This ghastly weather, the pollution is getting worse and worse…”
Chu land today, Han land tomorrow.
Year after year, buried bones, dreams of millet.
A hazy sky.
A hazy earth.
A hazy expanse…
A few scattered figures were almost swallowed by the hazy landscape, isolated and desolate.
“This is…” Liu Bang frowned, looking around.
One moment they were in the pitch-black abyss of the Terrace of Forgetfulness, the next they were surrounded by this desolate landscape, the sky a hazy yellow, as if shrouded in a grayish fog. The air reeked of burning, and in the distance, they could see billowing smoke, like dark clouds, drifting towards them, steadily encroaching.
Liu Bang was shocked. “Where is this?”
Xiang Yu said excitedly, “Look! People! There are people over there. This is…”
“The mortal realm.” Xue Changyi stepped out gracefully, still holding a black umbrella.
Except now, it was an oil-paper umbrella.
And the figures in the distance wore simple clothes for farm work.
This was…
Ancient times?
These ancestors, dead for at least several hundred years, never imagined they would one day return to ancient times.
Lü Bu was eager. “Teacher, what dynasty is this? Are there any battles to be fought? Any cities to conquer?”
Liu Bang looked thoughtful. “This place… seems familiar.”
Xiang Yu sneered. “Everywhere looks familiar to you.”
Xue Changyi didn’t answer.
Instead, a childish voice drifted from afar, singing a nursery rhyme-like song.
“Chu land today—Han land tomorrow—Year after year, buried bones—Dreams of millet—”
A few children, even younger than Cheng Jiao, barefoot and dirty, without a single complete garment, skipped and sang.
“Children—” A grown-up in farm clothes shouted from afar. “Don’t run too far!”
Another woman urged, “Hurry up, husband! Look over there, the fire is coming! If we don’t harvest the grain, a whole year’s work will be destroyed by those soldiers!”
“Hurry! Hurry up! Faster!”
Li Bai wondered, “What are they doing?”
Cheng Jiao said in his childish voice, “Brother Li Bai, they must be harvesting grain!”
Li Bai was even more puzzled. “But the grain is clearly not ripe yet. Why are they harvesting it now?”
Thump, thump, thump—!!!
Before anyone could answer the Poet Immortal, the sudden sound of galloping hooves arose. Billowing smoke, accompanied by swirling dust, swept towards them from afar.
It was a troop of soldiers!
Shouting, yelling, wielding torches, as if they intended to set the sky ablaze.
The soldiers shouted, “Han fields!”
Cheng Jiao blinked his bright eyes. “Brother! These soldier brothers are so silly! This is clearly a paddy field, not a dry field, even Jiao’er knows that… Wah!!”
Cheng Jiao’s voice suddenly rose in fright, and he buried his face in Ying Zheng’s arms, clinging tightly to his brother’s waist.
“Don’t burn it!”
“Soldier! Don’t burn it!”
“We’re not Han King’s people, we’re Chu King’s people!”
“We are truly citizens of the Chu King! We farm the Chu King’s land! Don’t burn it—you can’t burn it!!”
“Wuwuwu…”
The cries of children, the shouts of farmers, the yells of soldiers, and…
The crackling sound of fire consuming the fields, all intertwined, forming a cacophony.
Xiang Yu, hot-tempered, surged forward angrily, rolling up his sleeves. “Those bastards, how dare they bully defenseless farmers!”
“Wait.” Liu Bang stopped him.
“Why are you stopping me?” Xiang Yu snapped, shaking off his hand.
Liu Bang narrowed his eyes. “Listen to what they’re saying.”
The soldiers roared, “Get out of the way! The King has ordered, burn all the Han bandit’s fields!”
Han King?
Chu King?
All eyes in Class Nine turned to Liu Bang and Xiang Yu.
As the flames roared, Xiang Yu asked hoarsely, “Teacher Xue, what… what dynasty is this? Where are we?”
Xue Changyi, holding his black oil-paper umbrella, gazed calmly, almost coldly, at the billowing black smoke rising from the burning crops. His voice was as still as water, as he said softly,
“Four years of conflict. The land farmers cultivate today belongs to the Chu, tomorrow it will belong to the Han. Countless bones are buried in these fields, the crops lie fallow, and only in dreams can they eat millet.”
He finished, looked at Liu Bang and Xiang Yu, and nodded. “Just as you suspected—the Chu-Han Contention.”
This place—this world beneath the Terrace of Forgetfulness—was once the battlefield where Liu Bang and Xiang Yu clashed, a chessboard where they fought for supremacy!
Xiang Yu’s eyes reflected the blinding flames, his voice even hoarser. “What… what is this field trip about?”
Xue Changyi flicked his black sleeve, his pale, slender finger pointing towards a small ditch at the edge of the inferno.
“The content of this field trip is—” Xue Changyi uttered two words lightly: “…Rice planting.”
“Planting who?”
“Who is the rice?”
“Rice planting, is it the rice planting I’m thinking of?!”
“Xiao Yu, Xiao Bao!” The principal strolled along, his hands clasped behind his back, looking refreshed.
“You’re just in time,” the principal said with a kind smile. “I wanted to ask you, Yama King took Class Nine on a field trip. Do you know what the field trip is about?”
Leopard Tail answered frankly, without reservation, “Oh, yes! Doesn’t the Libationer know? Boss took the students of Class Nine to plant rice in the mortal realm!”
“Plant…” The principal’s amiable smile froze…
Knock, knock, knock!
A rapid knocking sounded at the door of Room 444, as if urging someone to hurry up and reincarnate.
“Director Wu! Minister Wu!”
Before anyone could answer, the principal burst in, sweating profusely, his usual dignified demeanor gone.
“Director Wu, it’s bad! It’s terrible!”
Director Wu sat on a chair in the dormitory, elegantly crossing his legs, holding a copy of Interpretation of Physical Education and Health Curriculum Standards in one hand, preparing for his class.
He put down the textbook, his face impassive as always, nothing seemingly able to pique his interest. He spoke succinctly, “Principal?”
“Director Wu!” The principal slapped his thigh, his voice full of anguish. “Yama King… Yama King took those old ancestors of Class Nine to… to—to plant rice in the mortal realm!”
Director Wu was momentarily stunned, a brief flicker of surprise crossing his handsome, indifferent face, lasting less than half a second.
Director Wu: “Plant…?”
Principal: “Rice!”
The principal paced anxiously like a worried donkey. “What do we do, what do we do?! Those are all ancestors from history! Yama King took them to plant, plant rice! Plant rice!! My reputation as principal is ruined! Should I resign? Maybe the Central Office will show me some mercy, yes, yes… I’ll write my resignation letter now! A very sincere one!”
“Principal.” Director Wu finally spoke, a faint, almost imperceptible smile gracing his unchanging face. He raised an eyebrow and said, “Planting rice… is indeed a bit beyond the curriculum, but it’s certainly a novel field trip.”
