The morning twilight filtered through the glass window at the end of the corridor, casting a soft golden rim over the cold stone floor. Ganyu clutched a slightly rough piece of paper, her fingertips trembling ever so slightly without her conscious command. The surface was covered in childish yet deeply emotional strokes—a little figure wearing large, round glasses surrounded by children, with their head drawn as a small sun radiating warm light, while the children huddled around smiling faces as brilliant as sunflowers. In the corner, a crooked yet painstakingly careful line of handwriting read: "Teacher Jingyi, the little seedlings in the cornfield want to hear a story."
The headmaster of the school stood nearby, his tone carrying a mixture of helplessness and affection: "The other teachers prepare their lessons conscientiously and teach rigorously; there's no problem with the quality of instruction... But the children's true feelings cannot be hidden. They simply miss the way Teacher Jingyi teaches class, that vivid energy..."
Ganyu’s ice-blue eyes lowered, gazing at the "little sun" on the drawing that the children had mythologized, and a wave of indescribable guilt welled up in her heart. As the core coordinator of the Qixing Emergency State Committee, she knew better than anyone how heavy the burden on Jingyi's shoulders was. The daily operation reports and transmission logs of the Ley Line antenna array project, cross-regional material dispatch coordination, and the i…
Chapter 169