Chapter 31: Past Events

Xueqiu couldn’t possibly be unaware of who Wuyue Liuli was.

A week ago, in Professor Chen’s office, she’d seen the senior’s file.

Though she’d put it out of mind afterward, as the entrance exam took priority, Ou Ziyun’s mention of the name brought it rushing back.

That was why the term “student council president” felt oddly familiar.

“You know her?” Ou Ziyun caught Xueqiu’s brief distraction with a glance, shifting the topic. “Did Xia Yin tell you?”

Xueqiu shook her head, truthful about the latter part.

The file on Wuyue Liuli came from Professor Chen, and she hadn’t mentioned it to Xia Yin—she wasn’t sure how he’d react if she revealed she knew the original owner of her current appearance.

But that raised another question: if the student council president knew Wuyue Liuli, why hadn’t she noticed that Xueqiu looked identical to her?

Xueqiu stayed silent, sitting obediently like a student who wouldn’t move without a teacher’s command.

“Honestly, as president, I never met her. She’d left a year before I enrolled,” Ou Ziyun said, her smile fading, a rare occurrence.

“When I joined, the student council was nearly defunct. No new president was elected, departments stalled, and it had no prestige. Later, I learned it was all her doing, directly or indirectly.”

Xueqiu almost mentioned her high school’s equally useless student council but held back—Ou Ziyun wasn’t sharing this for her to chime in with her own past.

Still, she was curious: why was Wuyue Liuli blamed for the council’s decline when the previous statement was about the lack of a new president?

“She was the previous president, but she turned the council into her personal dictatorship,” Ou Ziyun said, lightly tapping the round table, gesturing at the walls, floor, and the transparent planning board behind her.

“These were set up by council members under her orders. That ‘Valhalla’ banner outside? Her idea too. ‘Childish’ is the only word I can think of to describe her.”

“What happened to Senior Wuyue afterward…?” Xueqiu couldn’t hold back.

She knew Wuyue had died in duty, but she didn’t know what that meant for the school—was it routine or something else?

“She died in Qingtan,” Ou Ziyun said, her expression solemn. “I never met her, but she was undeniably one of the Academy’s finest Pivot candidates, worthy of respect.”

Xueqiu recalled the term “Pivot” mentioned countless times—it seemed to be a profession, though she kept mishearing it as some helicopter-flying mouse.

“But even so, she was no leader,” Ou Ziyun said coldly. “Under her, the council answered only to her. After she left, it fell apart, leaderless. She failed her duty as president.”

Xueqiu neither nodded nor shook her head, absorbing Ou Ziyun’s words, which radiated unyielding strength.

“But… Senior, why tell me this?” Xueqiu asked, unable to stay silent.

Her question wasn’t flattery like “Your leadership’s amazing” or an indignant “Yeah, it’s all her fault.”

She was still asking questions.

And the question itself seemed almost provocative, though she had no intention of challenging the president’s authority.

“The student council is now the school’s most admired organization again. I know Wuyue Liuli’s failure was not grooming a successor,” Ou Ziyun said.

“And now, sitting before me is this year’s early-admission freshman, handpicked by the board and Principal Ling Jiming—an elite. You, Xueqiu, could be my successor.”

Xueqiu was floored by the sudden twist.

What kind of plot turn was this?

Shouldn’t the next line be “Joining the council is your honor”?

“B-But… I… have no experience…” Xueqiu stammered, wanting to mention her E-rank but swallowing it, opting for an excuse.

“Most new council members lack experience. It’s not gained overnight. So, I formally invite you, Xueqiu, to join us,” Ou Ziyun said decisively, leaving no room for refusal.

That simple?

A few words, and she’d received a formal invitation from the president?

Xueqiu didn’t understand.

Her rank was the lowest of the three—Chisaki was S, and she was E…

“But, Senior, you must have better candidates, like Chisaki Takanotsume…” Xueqiu said stiffly, staring at the table.

“She declined my invitation yesterday,” Ou Ziyun said calmly.

Xueqiu took a moment to process “declined.”

The Japanese girl, superior in rank, had refused the president’s invitation.

“And Chang Mu…?” she ventured.

“Him? He was begging to join before you. I sent him to the news department to do grunt work,” Ou Ziyun replied.

Xueqiu was speechless.

From what they’d said, there were three early-admission freshmen, including her.

The S-rank declined, the B-rank was a lackey, and now the E-rank…

“It’s fine. You can think it over until August,” Ou Ziyun said, sensing Xueqiu’s thoughts as she lowered her head.

I can still think it over?

Xueqiu recalled Carlos saying something similar at dawn that day.

Speaking of which, he and the president were dating, according to Xia Yin.

“Then… I’ll take my leave, Senior,” Xueqiu said.

For some reason, leaving the office felt like escaping a terrifying cage.

The council wasn’t a monster, yet she instinctively felt she shouldn’t join.

Maybe it was her E-rank.

In a place teeming with elites, an E-rank would be like a sheep in wolf’s clothing among wolves…

No, her E-rank didn’t even have the wolf’s clothing.

Perhaps by chance, or perhaps planned, she heard soft footsteps behind her.

Their owner seemed to lurk in the shadows, waiting for her to emerge.

ps: Begging for monthly tickets and tips!