After the Early-Deceased White Moonlight of a Wealthy Family Returns (GL) - Chapter 30

A guest student had arrived in Class 12-7.

To the youngsters cooped up in school all day, this was monumental news. From the moment Shen You’an sat down as Meng Dongdong’s desk mate, the traffic at the back door of Class 7 never stopped.

“You’re like a giant panda at the zoo,” Meng Dongdong said, pulling out her small makeup bag and asking Shen You’an to help her pick a lipstick shade. “Ignore them; they’ll disperse after looking for a bit. An-jie, what color do you think looks good on me? How about this ‘Flame Red’?”

Shen You’an: “Let me see.”

She told Meng Dongdong to stay still, faced her directly, and observed her seriously. Meng Dongdong felt a bit self-conscious under her focused gaze. “Don’t stare at me like that. You’re too pretty; it’s making me blush.”

Shen You’an chuckled and picked out a soft pink from the bag.

“Use this one,” she said. “It suits you.”

Meng Dongdong let out a soft “ah,” appearing a bit skeptical. “I don’t like pink; it’s too cute.”

“Just try it.”

With An-jie’s word, Meng Dongdong obeyed and applied it while looking into her small mirror.

“You’re suited for light makeup,” Shen You’an said. “Everyone has their own colors and textures. Accepting your original self is what’s most important; don’t force yourself for the sake of others’ preferences. Of course, if you truly love heavy makeup, then ignore all that and just do what you like. You have to be happy and confident first—that’s when you’re most beautiful.”

She truly felt that every girl was beautiful. It wasn’t “beauty” in a narrow sense; rather, she had always been exceptionally good at observing the unique charm of other girls since she was a child.

This beauty had nothing to do with looks. Perhaps it was just the curve of the eyes when smiling, or a moment of a shy, head-bowed grin.

Meng Dongdong froze for a long while, then murmured, “An-jie.”

“Huh?”

“I declare, from now on, you are my Di Chang Gui (First-born bestie).”

Shen You’an didn’t understand the slang. “What turtle (Gui)?” Why did the conversation suddenly turn to turtles?

Meng Dongdong: “You really need to spend more time online!”

While they were laughing and playing, the bell rang. The teacher appeared; this session was the Life Planning course arranged by the school.

Shen You’an had checked the schedule. Although it was the third year of high school, Beichen International’s curriculum was quite relaxed. There were at most eight mandatory classes a week; the rest of the time was for student electives.

According to the teachers, students here were either headed for the domestic college entrance exam (Gaokao) route—and they had strong faculty to support that—or they were being prepared for different international paths.

After two short classes, Teacher Guo came to find Shen You’an and led her to the office. She started with a concerned chat about how she was settling in before getting to the main point: pulling out a set of test papers for a “baseline assessment.”

There were four papers: English, Mathematics, Science, and International Politics.

“The number of questions isn’t high,” Teacher Guo said. “You An, don’t be nervous. This is just to test the waters. Write as much as you can.”

Shen You’an said okay.

Sitting in an office writing papers after so long gave her a momentary illusion that she had never disappeared. It felt like just another afternoon ten years ago, as if nothing had happened and life was so ordinary it was almost boring. Looking back now, Shen You’an realized that such boredom was actually precious.

The first paper Shen You’an tackled was English. This had always been her strength, and after the globalization of the apocalypse where English and Chinese effectively unified the world, she had long since developed a native-like intuition for the language.

Quite easy, Shen You’an thought. It seemed future academic pressure wasn’t that high.

Once the English paper was finished and set aside, she rolled up her sleeves and started on the Mathematics paper underneath.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Shen You’an silently put down her pen.

What happened to ‘knowledge, once learned, is yours forever’? Where was the knowledge in her head?! She used to be a pro who could score 120 every time! All the questions looked familiar, but trying to “communicate” with them further was a struggle.

Science wasn’t even worth mentioning; she had been a Liberal Arts student in her past life. One look at the paper, and no one was going to have a good time.

International Politics…

Haha.

Even dead people have their day.

Shen You’an had expected her academic performance to plummet upon returning to school. However, she truly didn’t expect that except for commonly used English, all other knowledge had fled her mind long ago.

She turned to Teacher Guo and said she was finished.

Teacher Guo was a bit surprised. “So fast?”

She walked over, and as she looked at the papers, the smile on her face froze. “You An, these blank spaces are…?”

“I don’t know the answers,” she confessed honestly. “Teacher Guo, maybe you shouldn’t even grade those other ones. I don’t think they’ll add up to much.” She was afraid the teacher would get upset or fall ill from looking at them.

Teacher Guo was a woman of the world.

“It’s okay,” she said. “There’s still time.”

“You can learn. It can all be learned.”

She had never seen anyone so lopsided in their subjects. English was nearly a perfect score, while the other subjects combined couldn’t even match a fraction of it.

Didn’t they say this kid was being homeschooled? What, was it just A-B-C-D all day long?!

Reining in her internal breakdown, Teacher Guo told herself: This is a person designated for special care by the Principal, the sister of a Board Director. Whether the faculty dorms get upgraded next year depends on this.

“I have a general idea of your situation. Go to your elective class. I’ll review your papers and call your sister later to discuss.”

Shen You’an felt guilty. “Okay, teacher.”

Stepping out of the office, she hesitated for a moment, then used her watch to send a message to Su Wu.

Glimmer Group, Chens City Headquarters.

Su Wu was holding the weekly routine meeting.

Ever since she took over the Su family and founded Glimmer, the first thing she did was restructure the management, getting rid of redundant executives. She pruned wherever possible, offending almost all the veteran employees of the Su family, yet none dared to speak up.

Su Wu preferred to interface directly with project leads. The benefit was higher efficiency; the downside was that she was constantly busy, with little time left for eating or sleeping.

The old Su Wu didn’t see a problem with such a life. Now, looking at her packed schedule, she had—for the first time—an urge to rest and adjust.

Today, the New Energy project team was reporting. Su Wu listened until her phone vibrated. The lead who was speaking immediately stopped.

“Continue,” Su Wu said.

She picked up her phone; it was a message from Shen You’an.

Youan: A-jie, my assessment results weren’t very ideal. Teacher Guo will call you in a bit.

Youan: /pity-cat emoji

Shen You’an had stolen this emoji from Meng Dongdong.

Gazing at the message, Su Wu fell into thought.

Everyone in the meeting room watched as CEO Su—usually decisive and the personification of efficiency—looked troubled by a small phone. Her brows were furrowed, and her fingers scrolled continuously on the screen.

Gasp!

What major event could make Su Wu, who remained unfazed even if a mountain collapsed before her, look this conflicted?!

A brave soul asked, “CEO Su, has something happened?”

Could it be a new policy? Did all their previous work go to waste? It shouldn’t be. CEO Su had those connections, and Glimmer was a pillar of the economy; even if things changed at the top, she’d get a heads-up.

Seeing Su Wu’s frown deepen, the employees in the meeting room held their breath.

“A child at home had her first day of school, and her test performance wasn’t great,” Su Wu said. “How should I comfort her?”

“…”

“…?”

“?????”

The employees with children thought: Isn’t this the time for a scolding? Why does she need comforting?!

Wait.

“CEO Su, you have a child?!”

Holy crap, what a bombshell.

“A junior,” she clarified. “So, does anyone have thoughts on my question?”

Seeing she was sincerely asking, everyone started brainstorming various ideas. Listening to them, Su Wu occasionally doubted her own judgment during hiring.

Elsewhere, Shen You’an was in her Oil Painting elective.

Meng Dongdong sat with her in the studio to keep her company. Knowing it was their first time, the teacher briefly explained how to use oil paints before saying, “For the first class, don’t demand too much of yourselves. Just paint and feel it. If you find joy in it, I welcome you back next time.”

In the middle of the studio was a beautiful bouquet of flowers with bright colors. Their task was to paint them.

Meng Dongdong nodded and looked at the paints in a daze, not knowing where to start. Glancing to her side, she saw An-jie had already settled down, her brush moving swiftly across the canvas.

Initially, Shen You’an just wanted to replicate the flowers under the sunlight. But no matter how she started, it felt wrong.

Until she smeared the first stroke of black onto the paper.

A switch deep in her soul flipped, and the expression that followed flowed like a river. Meng Dongdong watched for a bit, but she was too restless to sit still. She whispered a goodbye to Shen You’an and sneaked out of the classroom to soak in the sun.

It had been too long since Shen You’an painted. She thought she might have forgotten some things, but reality proved that as long as she sat before an easel and held a brush, her hands retained instinctive muscle memory. She looked at her hands; they were slender and fair, just like everyone else’s in the room.

Only on the paper, the color palette of black and red revealed something suppressed and gloomy.

Baroque roses were enveloped by an endless darkness. She intentionally let the colors at the edges of the petals bleed down, making them look like fresh blood.

She wasn’t painting flowers.

From the moment they were plucked, these flowers had become corpses.

She painted for nearly two and a half hours. When she snapped back to her senses, the afternoon was almost gone. The teacher stood before her easel, pondered for a moment, and asked if she had studied before.

Shen You’an said yes.

“You can take it with you,” the teacher reminded her.

Shen You’an shook her head. “Teacher, please just throw it away.”

Watching her leave, the teacher sighed, feeling it was a waste. She put the painting away, took a photo, and sent it to her homeroom teacher with a quip: Xiao Guo, you have a genius in your class.

However, the painting was magnificent yet crazed. The use of diluted paint and dripping colors fully exposed the creator’s inner state. It’s said that looking at a painting is seeing the person. This painting truly matched the student. At a glance, one saw the magnificence of flowers; the next second, one could see the rotten desperation within the vibrancy.

Sigh.

Kids these days.

Mental health really is a concern.

Shen You’an was entirely unaware of the elective teacher’s actions. She left the studio to find Meng Dongdong, who had slept all afternoon. Upon seeing Shen You’an, Dongdong let out a yawn and led her to the baking classroom to get free desserts.

Holding her taro egg custard, Shen You’an strolled through the school with Meng Dongdong, who enthusiastically introduced the campus. Near a secluded standalone building, Meng Dongdong pulled her to sit and rest on a swing.

The wind carried a conversation from a hidden spot.

“Shen Zhirou, don’t be ungrateful.”

It was Shen Yanchen’s voice.

Meng Dongdong’s eyes went wide instantly, her face practically screaming: Gossip! She made a shushing motion to Shen You’an and pricked up her ears.

“What’s wrong with asking you for a favor during the physics competition at the end of the month?”

“I’m talking to you!”

“I’m listening,” Shen Zhirou replied.

Shen Yanchen let out a cold laugh. “What are you acting for? Others might not know, but do you think I don’t? You’re a pheasant raised in the Shen family—do you really think you’ve become a phoenix? If it weren’t for my dad, would you be where you are today? Shen Zhirou, I suggest you think carefully before answering my question.”