【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

The class content remained the same as usual, still all kinds of dull history - human history, new human history, interstellar empire history... The teacher at the podium talked incessantly, trying to use his tone to inject some vitality into these long eras.

However, these contents are nothing more than vague background noise in my ears, and I don’t even have the energy to arouse my interest.

Because that strange seedling was right on my desk.

It lay there quietly, its turquoise hue evoking an indescribable, eerie aura under the dim classroom light. Its leaves swayed slightly, as if breathing silently, and its slender vines exuded a faint sense of aggression.

Yes, it has grown a little bit.

Though the changes were subtle, they were incredibly noticeable to me. The green leaves seemed wider than yesterday, their veins more distinct, like a complex and cold map. The roots were also deeper, and even exuded a vague sense of power, as if it couldn't wait to transform from this tiny seedling into something more terrifying.

It's just a plant, lying there, barely exposed to sunlight or water, yet it continues to grow at an eerie pace. And I can feel the inextricable connection with it—the inseparable pull and attraction—that hasn't weakened despite the distance, but seems to have deepened.

I'm almost certain this is the result of that remote "abnormal state." Even though we're so far apart, it's still absorbing the "nutrients" it needs from me. The pulsing, devouring sensations I thought I'd gotten rid of haven't stopped despite the distance.

They just become more subtle and difficult to detect.

My hands unconsciously clenched the edge of the desk, and my knuckles turned slightly white.

The teacher seemed to notice something was amiss with me. He paused his lecture and gently approached me. He was an elderly man with graying hair, walking slowly and steadily. He exuded a simplicity and calmness rarely seen in the interstellar age. In fact, since arriving in this world, I've rarely encountered anyone who appeared elderly.

He didn't speak directly, but stood for a while, as if observing my condition, and then asked in a low voice: "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

I looked up at that graying face. His eyes were filled with concern, a gentleness cultivated over time, a steady and peaceful expression. His voice was soft, carrying a rare patience.

Technology here has made aging manageable, and many people choose to maintain a youthful appearance and physique, even ordinary humans, even until their death. Elders like him stand out. Facial aging seems to have become a rare option.

His back was slightly hunched, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes looked like the passage of time, but they had not diminished his majesty or insight. He looked at me with a strange power in his eyes, as if he could penetrate the surface and see into my heart.

"I..." I opened my mouth, but found my throat a little dry and I didn't know how to explain for a moment.

"It's okay." I whispered back, trying to hide my uneasiness, but my eyes subconsciously glanced at the seedlings on the table.

His gaze shifted to the strange seedling on the desk, his brow furrowed slightly. He didn't speak immediately, but simply stared at the green leaves for a few seconds, as if analyzing something. Then, his gaze returned to me, as if waiting for my explanation.

I clenched my hands, a complex feeling welling up inside me. This concern made me feel uneasy, even a little flustered. The old man's question was only soft, but I felt like I was being seen through, as if he'd realized this seedling was unusual, and that I wasn't as calm as I appeared.

"I'm fine." I finally answered in a low voice, forcing a smile to try to hide my abnormality. But I could feel that the smile was ridiculously weak.

"This plant..." he began slowly, his voice filled with curiosity and inquiry, "Did you bring it here?"

I told him the story of the wheat seed from the planting class truthfully, describing everything in a calm tone, trying to appear rational and calm.

It was the experimental material in class, a seemingly ordinary wheat seed, which I selected and planted in liquid soil. And now, it has become like this.

However, my narrative abruptly stopped here, and the rest of the story became difficult to utter. I didn't know how to explain all this anomaly—the strange green light, the silent pulsation, its incredibly rapid growth rate, and that heart-pounding "swallowing feeling."

However, when I finished speaking, what I was greeted with was a long silence.

The old man's gaze remained fixed on the seedling, his brow furrowed slightly, as if he were digesting my account. His fingers tapped unconsciously on the table, a look of deep thought evident. Yet, from beginning to end, he never once uttered a single word of comment, "normal" or "abnormal."

"It..." I paused, looking up at the teacher, "Originally it was just an ordinary seed. But for some reason, it started to become like this - like this now."

"Are you sure," he asked in a gentle but insightful voice, "that it was originally an ordinary wheat seed?"

I was stunned for a moment and stammered, "At least...it looks like it."

The teacher listened quietly, without interrupting me or showing too much surprise.

"It does sound unusual," he said softly, his brow furrowed slightly as if he was choosing his words. "However, I've never heard of ordinary seeds growing into this state."

"Do you think it's ordinary?" His voice was low and slow, with a hint of meaning that I couldn't understand.

The old man gazed at the seedlings silently for a long time, silent, as if lost in some complex contemplation. I watched his slightly furrowed brow, and a strange unease welled up within me. Perhaps he had realized something, but he hadn't spoken, choosing instead to conceal the secret in his silence.

"The changes in the plants themselves may be related to the growing conditions." His tone was calm, yet it felt as if there was something else behind his words. "But its relationship with you doesn't seem simple." He raised his eyes to look at me, his gaze seeming to penetrate all my disguise. "You, did you feel something?"

My fingers froze for a moment, clutching the hem of my clothes tightly, not knowing how to answer.

I can't speak.

"It's okay," he said, seeming to sense my hesitation, and his tone softened. "No matter what, you have to remember that a plant's growth is sometimes not just its choice, but also yours."