Awakening from the Great Dream

Dong... dong... dong...

It was as if the deep, haunting tolls of the bell came echoing from some lost divine relic of ancient times, each note resonating with a heavy, somber cadence that seemed to reverberate through the very heart. The entire campus was shrouded in the sound, signaling the end of the school day. For all but the freshmen, this bell was nothing out of the ordinary; most had grown accustomed to its peculiar resonance. No one knew why the school had chosen such an unusual tone for the dismissal bell. Adding to the mystery was an odd “affliction” at the school: no matter who encountered the principal on campus, they were forbidden from addressing him as “Principal” and must instead call him “Master,” just as students once addressed their teachers in ancient times. Should anyone—freshman or otherwise—forget or address him incorrectly, they would be punished by being made to ring the dismissal bell for three days. After enduring the powerful, stirring tolls, thereafter, even before seeing the Master, the mere sound of the bell would compel a respectful greeting: “Good day, Master.”

The bell itself was housed in a pavilion at the four corners of the lotus pond in the rear garden. About three or four hundred meters to the northwest lay the academy’s forbidden zone—a place strictly off-limits according to school rules. Over time, curiosity faded, and no one ventured near.

“Hei-zi, up for another round tonight?” called a boy, a seasoned student from Class A of the third year. His appearance was unremarkable, but his bright almond-shaped eyes and