The top-floor single rooms were reserved for either the top ten students in the grade or those from influential families—the kind who could casually donate a new building to the school.
He had assumed these students, no longer needing to study, would be sound asleep. Even if their transferred memories vanished, they might not notice right away. But one room was different.
When was the most blissful time to relax?
When every other senior high student was stretched to their limit, studying frantically with no time for sleep, these students had already absorbed the knowledge equivalent to a second-tier university or higher. They were just lying back, waiting for the college entrance exams.
At times like these, with no more classes or studying, they craved entertainment.
And part of that entertainment was something only they knew about.
***
That night, on the top floor of the boys’ dorm, three guys gathered in a single room.
The room originally belonged to He Junyi—the boy who Gui Sheng's "little ear" had followed him into the dark room, where Lin Jiaze witnessed the memory transfer.
He had taken the memories of Wang Yi, the girl who suddenly lost her recollection during the Chinese exam.
One of the other boys lounged on a single-seat sofa, while another straddled a chair, both staring at him eagerly.
"Come on, spill it!"
"Give us something juicy for late night!"
The dazzling, luxurious lights of the single room cast sharp shadows on their restless faces, their eyes gleaming with a vulgar impatience that clashed starkly with their usual polite, low-key demeanors.
He Junyi adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and swallowed. "Something for late night, huh? Then let’s start with our icy top student’s middle school days."
"Middle school?!" One boy perked up even more. "No way! Wang Yi always acts like she’s all about studying, cold as ice. She had stories back then?"
The other boy leaned forward from the plush sofa. "Hurry up, I can’t wait!"
He Junyi didn’t know whether he was savoring the memory or deliberately stringing everyone along. After a long pause, he finally spoke: “Our beautiful top student, back in middle school, left home for the first time to study in a faraway, unfamiliar place.”
“Because her family was poor, she could only go to those shabby little barbershops. She must’ve looked like an easy target back then—you know, with her being so…”
“The shop only had one guy working there—a fat, ugly man in his forties. While washing her hair, his hands slid from her head to the back of her neck, then to the front… and then lower.”
“Holy shit!”
“Bet that guy’s hands were rough and grimy, huh? Wang Yi was so fair-skinned—must’ve been a hell of a contrast!”
They came from illustrious families, born into lives free of worries—not even the college entrance exam was a concern.
They had attended elite schools since childhood, and Qingyi High was the most prestigious among them in recent years. Only those in the city’s top circles knew why Qingyi was unparalleled.
Because the school used top students to help the elite kids ace the exam.
The method? Memory transfer.
Based on family background and contributions to the school, the senior-year class assignments determined which students’ memories they would take.
The top two or three academic performers in the class? Those were their chosen “melons.”
Sitting in the classroom, they could glance up anytime and see their "melons" studying hard, solving problems, desperately soaking up knowledge like sunlight.
It was a magical, exhilarating feeling.
Often, in high spirits, they’d rest their chins on their desks and watch their "melons" grow plump.
In places the "melons" couldn’t see, they’d smile faintly.
When the "melons" dozed off in class, eyelids drooping, a question sometimes crossed their minds:
Pigs eat and eat, growing fat only to be slaughtered.
Do the pigs know?
Maybe not. But the farmers? They definitely want the pigs to eat more, to grow fatter.
Usually, they had two backup melons. Distribution was based on power and wealth—like that unmentionable person next door, who shared a class with the top two students in the grade during senior year.
But a year of nurturing came with unpredictability. Luck and their “efforts” played a role.
Sometimes, they would say to their "melons": "My family hired a top-tier tutor for me, but I don’t want to attend. Can you go and clock in for me?"
The "melons" would weep with gratitude.
Some were exceptionally lucky. Take Class 1 of Senior Year Three, for example. Tang Yichen and Wang Zhiqiu had originally ranked outside the top ten in their grade. But after a year of relentless effort, both scored in the top five.
In private, they’d laugh and say those privileged kids just got lucky.
Regardless, after a year of hard work, the "melons" finally ripened—it was time for the harvest.
They would reap the results during exams, testing the effectiveness of their methods.
What they usually extracted in the exam hall were academic memories, but sometimes, deeply ingrained personal memories would get pulled along too—transferred into their minds, laid bare before them.
They gradually realized this, and it became a twisted form of entertainment among them.
Whenever someone stole a top student’s memories, on some boring night, others would crowd into their dorm, eager to hear the darkest, most hidden secrets from that student’s mind.
Everyone has a bit of voyeurism in them.
But for them, it was a thrill—like peeling off someone’s clothes, then their skin, stripping away every layer until they reached the deepest, darkest corners of their memory.
If the memory belonged to a girl? Even more exciting.
It might be something she once feared most, something she never dared tell anyone—now reduced to a topic for their late-night titillation.
"What happened next? Hurry up and tell us!"
He Junyi shook his head regretfully. "Right then, someone walked in and interrupted the man."
"Ugh, what a buzzkill."
"Anything else?"
He Junyi said, "There was also stuff about her and her boyfriend."
"What? Wang Yi has a boyfriend?! She always acted like no man was allowed near her!"
"Yeah, I remember if any guy got close, she’d freeze them out with that icy stare—or you’d chase them off."
He Junyi frowned. "She’s my melon. No other guy gets to mess with her focus."
"...Right! Which is why we’re shocked she even had a boyfriend!"
“Hurry up, tell us what happened!”
He Junyi said, “Her boyfriend is our class monitor. The two of them—one the academic officer, the other the monitor—always handled class affairs together, so they secretly got involved.”
“Ew— So now that we know their private business, why don’t we go have a little chat with your monitor?”
“You’re so damn shameless… I love it. Spill it!”
He Junyi: “They probably agreed to apply to the same university. Promised to just study hard together in high school and not do anything else, but, well… guys, you know how it is, haha.”
“One night, they stayed behind in the homeroom teacher’s office to organize student records, and then the monitor…”
“Then what?”
“Just say it! Why do you always leave us hanging?”
“Then…”
“Then—then—”
“Then… then… Ah!—AH!!!”
He Junyi had been leaning against the wall, talking to them in a relaxed manner, when suddenly he stopped. His brow furrowed in confusion, as if struggling to remember.
Then, without warning, he let out a sharp cry, clutched his head, and collapsed to the ground, his face twisted in pain, sweat pouring down his forehead.
He tore at his scalp desperately, his body convulsing uncontrollably.
The agony was so violent and sudden that the other two couldn’t help but feel as if his brain’s nerves had abruptly snapped.
