【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

The first period was another planting class. The atmosphere in the classroom was as dull as ever, the air, scented with earth, making one feel somewhat warm, but that warmth always seemed to be interrupted by some uninvited guest.

The teacher walked over to my desk and his eyes stopped at my flower pot. His gaze froze for a moment, then grew serious. He scanned the seedlings on the table and the transparent young vines beside them, his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes cold, as if he were pondering something that wasn't quite right.

"Why do I remember," he cleared his throat and asked with a hint of uncertainty but also a scrutinizing tone, "our practical work this time should be mung beans?"

I looked up and smiled innocently, but I felt a little uneasy inside: "I'm still practicing, but there's no progress yet."

As soon as I said this, several students turned to look at me, their eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of doubt. I could feel their gazes burning like fire, as if they were waiting for the teacher's final judgment.

The teacher narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression complex, as if he were about to solve a puzzle. He reached out and gently traced my desk, his fingertips tracing the seedling and the transparent vines beside it, as if pondering the properties of these plants. "What...what is this?" he asked in a low voice, his tone more serious than before.

I paused and coughed lightly. "Oh, this, it's... part of the experiment, uh, a supplementary project." I explained, trying to be as casual as possible. "The green bean is progressing a little slowly, so I brought some other things to help with observation."

The teacher stared at me for a few seconds, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes, but he didn't press the issue. He simply nodded, seemingly using my "auxiliary observation" as an excuse. Ultimately, he said nothing more, simply calmly looking at the plants on the table. "Remember, practical assignments cannot be changed at will. Remember to complete them on time."

I nodded quickly, feeling relieved. This level was passed.

But, glancing at the students next to me from the corner of my eye, their gazes were even more pronounced than before—full of suspicion and inquiry. I could sense a subtle atmosphere.

However, facing this situation, I no longer panicked. After all, this wasn't the first time I had to be so cautious in this kind of environment.

So I took out a small spray bottle and gently sprayed water on the seedling and the transparent vine next to it. My movements seemed extremely natural.

Although everyone knew the truth, the reality was clear: not a single mung bean in the classroom had sprouted. Days had passed, time ticking away like a slowly creeping hourglass, until everyone felt the invisible pressure. I didn't pay much attention, but it was clear the teacher was going crazy.

He stood at the podium, his brow furrowed, his gaze sweeping across every table, his expression growing increasingly serious. His hands unconsciously clenched into fists, occasionally clenching and unclenching, clearly trying to remain calm. But I could sense his patience was reaching its limit.

"What...what's going on?" the teacher finally couldn't help but murmur, "Is there something wrong with all the mung beans in our class? Why...why haven't any sprouted?"

He glanced around, as if trying to find some explanation from us. Anxiety hung heavy in the air, and even the sunlight from the window seemed unable to penetrate. Even those students, who usually seemed indifferent to everything, lowered their heads and began to touch the mung beans in their hands, their expressions gloomy.

On my desk, the pot of mung beans sat quietly, the seeds still unmoved. Although I'd long since grown accustomed to this situation, numb even to it, for some reason, I still felt a little uncomfortable today. Looking at those increasingly anxious eyes, I couldn't help but sigh softly.

The students around them began to murmur, and an atmosphere of unease gradually spread. Some began to exchange seeds, hoping that someone else's would sprout; others took out knives and tried to scrape open the seeds to see if they were rotten inside; and still others silently prayed in their hearts that one of the mung beans would miraculously sprout.

I didn't join in the discussion, instead leaning back slightly in my chair, my eyes unconsciously drawn to the seemingly "quiet" seedling in the pot beside me. It remained so quiet and tenacious, seemingly oblivious to the chaos and anxiety in the classroom. In comparison, the mung bean seeds seemed particularly fragile and powerless.

Finally, the teacher couldn't help but speak. "Okay, everyone, stop wasting time." His tone was low and serious. "The mung beans won't sprout. Is there something wrong with our seeds or the soil? We need to retest these issues."

At that moment, the entire classroom fell silent. Everyone listened quietly to the teacher's words, yet their minds were occupied with their own calculations. Some began to whisper, speculating about what had gone wrong. I, on the other hand, simply raised my eyes slightly and stared at the seedlings on the table. For some reason, I felt a strange sense of comfort in my heart.

I sighed, feeling a wave of helplessness. Looking at the teacher's face, which looked like it was about to collapse, I could sense he was trying to maintain his composure, yet his slightly trembling fingers and clenched teeth were rather dazzling. Clearly, he was beginning to wonder if all the students in his class were simply not cut out for growing mung beans.

My eyes unconsciously shifted to the potted seedling on the table. It remained there quietly, oblivious to the surrounding noise and chaos, as if the world had nothing to do with it. I sighed, but my mood remained relatively stable.

Then, my gaze unconsciously shifted to the young vine next to me. It seemed to sense my attention and swayed slightly. It seemed to be pondering, as if it were hesitating whether to help the green beans. Seeing its hesitation, I couldn't help but smile, as if I understood its cautiousness.

"Okay," I whispered to it, feeling a little reluctant, but also unwilling to watch the mung beans continue to do nothing. It slowly extended a few vines, gently touching the mung bean pot, and then released a ray of light from it.

I couldn't help but frown and thought to myself: Isn't this a bit too much?

Sadly, it was too late. A point of light flickered in the mung bean soil, illuminating the entire pot and imbuing it with an inexplicable power. In that instant, the mung beans seemed to have ignited a bomb of life. They expanded rapidly, leaves violently bursting from the soil, as if the entire plant had been strongly stimulated, suddenly growing incredibly fast—bursting directly from the pot, soaring straight up, and heading towards the sky.

I froze, stunned, staring at the meter-high mung beans. The classroom was so quiet I could hear everyone breathing, and I was completely stunned. It was as if everything was out of my control. The mung beans suddenly leaped up, like they had suddenly gone into rampage mode.

The teacher's expression changed instantly. He stared at the rapidly growing mung bean in astonishment, as if he had seen something strange. "What...what's going on?"

I really wanted to find a crack to crawl into, and I wanted to disappear in this embarrassing situation. Looking at the one-meter-tall mung bean and its leaves that were several times larger than those of ordinary mung beans, it looked like the prototype of a fighting plant.

"Teacher..." I said weakly, "They...they grew too fast. Maybe...there's something wrong with the soil." I was almost forcing an excuse.

The teacher looked at me, then at the towering pot of mung beans, his face growing paler and paler. "Problem? Is that a problem?!" he asked, his voice almost uncontrollable. "What kind of experiment are you doing? Are you trying to drive me crazy?"

The atmosphere in the classroom suddenly became tense. Some of the students looked at each other in bewilderment, while others covered their mouths with complicated expressions. Clearly, they were all startled by this sudden change. A few timid students even retreated, as if afraid of being affected by the green bean's "outburst."

I lowered my head and sighed deeply.