Today I went to school with full confidence. I am not going to cry at the end of this day. Let just get along with what the writer has written and try to solve the mystery of going back.
We were a bit late compared to the last day.
As soon as I reached the entrance, I froze.
There, kneeling on the cold stone floor, head bowed and hands resting on her thighs… was **Yueran**.
*Wait… is she… kneeling? Like officially kneeling? At the school gate?*
For a second, I thought she was meditating or performing some weird ancient morning ritual. But then she lifted her head.
And *glared at me*.
Like *full-on laser beam glare*. If looks could kill, I'd have reincarnated, graduated, and possibly retired by now.
Her eyes were red—not from tears, but from pure rage. Her jaw clenched.
I blinked, awkwardly. *Okay, what did I do now? Did I accidentally burn her porridge yesterday? Forget her birthday in this ancient timeline?*
But no.
In her eyes… I was the villain. The culprit. *The one who apparently tattled to the third prince and got her punished.*
Me. The same me who has zero idea what drama happened last night because I was too busy internally debating if instant noodles exist here.
She didn't say a word, but her thoughts screamed: "You! YOU did this!"
And what did I do?
I smiled.
**THE WORST POSSIBLE THING I COULD DO IN THAT MOMENT.**
A calm, polite, slightly confused "Good morning, please don't murder me" kind of smile.
Then I elegantly walked past her like I totally wasn't witnessing a peak villain origin story.
The moment I entered, the teacher arrived. I sat at the end of the class because I don't want anyone to notice me.
Teacher declared today is the poetry class. So I hope you have something that you can recite today. I won't give you any topic you can use the topic of your known and recite atleast 2 lines.
What the hell! poetry.Ah yes, ancient poetry. Deep. Meaningful. Elegant. I freakin don't know anything about poetry. The only thing that can slightly resembles to poetry is songs. I got excited as this hit my mind. I translate punjabi songs into Chinese. That will be poetry right!
Then everyone started to read some verses of poetry.
They all recited verses about moonlight, blossoms, rivers, and emotions deeper than the Mariana Trench.
Then it was my turn.
I stood up.
Cleared my throat.
And with the grace of someone who *did not* belong in this century, I began:
"Not a moment of peace comes to me,
Without you beside me.
Take away my heart, dear one—
I swear upon the heavens above…"
("Ni ek pal chain na aave sajna tere bina…") I swear I have never listened this song but it just comes into mind because I saw it on reels.
The room fell silent.
Three girls blinked.
One gasped.
The teacher's fan *stopped moving*.
The room felt silent.
Somewhere in the distance, I swore I heard a crow cough.
I sat down like I had just recited history's finest poetry.
The teacher stared at me like she'd just discovered a new species. Or a new threat.
She then slowly said, *"…Perhaps next time, write it on scroll before reciting."*
Translation: *Please stop attacking us with whatever that was.*
I nodded, proud.
Because today, ladies and ancient scholars…
**Punjabi poetry entered history class.**
And I was its ambassador.
I am freaking proud of myself. The one thing that didn't occur to my dumb head was that here men don't even announce their love in poetry and here I did exactly that.
As soon as the instructor dismissed the class with a soft *"reflect upon your emotional approach to poetry,"* the room erupted.
Not loudly, of course.
Oh no—this was an *ancient elite girls' academy*.
They whispered.
Which is actually worse.
I started rolling up my scroll when I heard—
"Do you think… she wrote it for someone?"
"I think so. The last line… 'I swear upon the heavens above'—it sounded like a plea to someone untouchable."
"Someone important."
"Someone ranked high."
My eyebrow twitched.
Another girl leaned toward the group, lowering her voice dramatically, as if announcing a royal secret, *"What if… it was about the third prince?"*
Silence.
Then— *soft gasps*.
My scroll slipped from my hand.
**EXCUSE ME? WHAT?!**
Third prince? Where did—HOW did—
*Bro, I haven't even processed my own feelings—why are you all three chapters ahead?!*
One girl nodded firmly. "It makes sense. We saw her holding third Prince's hand right and there are rumors that she is seducing him. "
Oh great, now there are **rumors** too.
"And he helped her with the princess." Her voice dropped. "A privilege never granted to someone outside the palace before."
A mini fan snapped shut.
"That means… there *is* something between them."
I wanted to object.
I wanted to scream *"I was just asking for help!"*
But before I could react, another girl whispered with admiration,
"It's bold of her. To confess through poetry."
*Confess???*
Ma'am, I committed accidental lyrical terrorism, not a love declaration!
I was frustrated so walked outside.
As I walked out, I heard one final murmur:
"The third prince… will never like her."
I nearly tripped on my own foot.
I rolled my eyes like I wanted him too. He is a villain and I have to stay away from him.