On Monday morning, Guan Ren stuck to his morning run.
He was up by 5:30 and ran until 6:00.
This was one of the perks of living close to school.
Work up a nice sweat, take a refreshing shower at home, have breakfast, and still have time to spare before class.
As for whether he could keep this up after the temperature dropped post-National Day...
To be honest, even Guan Ren himself wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t going to force it either. His goal with fitness was to live better. Lounging in a warm bed in winter was part of enjoying life. Worst case scenario, he could just switch to night runs.
…
“Ha—mm…”
When he arrived at the classroom, the desks were once again in their classic disarray.
Some students had tossed their bags onto their desks, not even bothering to unpack or hang them up, just using them as pillows to crash for a quick nap.
But what surprised Guan Ren was that Zhang Chi wasn’t asleep.
Even though the guy had the darkest eye bags, was yawning the hardest, and looked like he was about to dislocate his jaw. Obviously from staying up late reading novels again. He still wasn’t sleeping.
In fact, he was scribbling away furiously with a pen.
“Brother Chi.”
Guan Ren cheerfully sidled over and gave him a pat on the back.
“Planning to take the Tsinghua entrance exam?”
“Heh.”
Zhang Chi let out a cold chuckle, saying nothing, just kept writing.
Seeing this, Guan Ren picked up on something right away.
He glanced down. Turns out the guy was copying a language Weekly Report.
“What’s this?”
Guan Ren’s heart skipped a beat.
“Do we have to hand it in?”
“No shit.”
“Damn! Since when?”
Guan Ren honestly couldn’t remember. Over the weekend, he’d been blissfully thinking, No homework? Perfect.
“Last Friday morning.”
“Morning…”
Crap. Guan Ren froze.
He hadn’t even been reborn last Friday morning.
No wonder people in novels always woke up bright and early after reincarnating. He’d landed in the afternoon, right into a disaster…
“Just the Weekly Report?”
“Yeah, but there are three—Language, Math, and English.”
…
The high school had all the core subjects on a unified Weekly Report system. Zhang Chi was working on the language one now, because among the three, the completed language report was the rarest commodity in class. Finishing it early was best.
Why was it so rare? Two reasons.
First, for some reason, language Weekly Reports never attracted attention from fantasy-god types like Zhang Chi, and the science nerds like Xu Hui looked down on them. Only all-rounder top students or obedient kids actually did them.
Second, math and English Weekly Reports had questions you could BS. Just write something and it’d pass as long as it wasn’t blank.
Zhang Chi himself had even invented a “Floral Transplantation Method” in the past. Randomly picking words from the reading passages in the English report and using them as answers.
Unfortunately, Li Min found out and scolded him into next week, killing off the technique for good.
But the language report was different.
All answers were in Chinese. If something looked off, it was obviously off. And with so many strokes in each character, copying late could mean not finishing on time.
Which made a completed language Weekly Report one of the most valuable commodities in the homework black market.
…
Even though Guan Ren had a good foundation in Chinese, there were still tons of classical poems and reading comprehension sections he couldn’t remember well. He wouldn’t be able to finish in time if he tried to do it now.
And if it were any other teacher, maybe he’d risk it. But their Class 7 language teacher was notoriously strict. Guan Ren figured it was better to stay out of trouble.
“Brother Chi, lend me your Weekly Report.”
“What’s the rush? Let me finish first.”
Zhang Chi had one, and his bro didn’t? Remembering how Guan Ren had teased him earlier, Zhang Chi was suddenly in a great mood.
“When’s it due?”
“Math and English, not sure. Language though—knowing Old Devil Gu, she’ll definitely collect it at the start of morning reading.”
Class 7 alternated between English and Chinese for their morning reading. Today was Chinese. Guan Ren glanced at the clock above the blackboard—only ten minutes left.
“…Liu Xiong! Done your Weekly Report yet?”
“…Chen Yaozu, lend me your Weekly Report…”
“…Zhao Feifei, the language report…”
Guan Ren started asking around among the classmates who had already arrived.
Sadly, anyone already calmly seated at this time was no ordinary student.
Everyone was furiously copying their reports. Starting with Chinese, of course.
Comparing progress, Guan Ren realized Zhang Chi was actually one of the faster ones.
The worst part? This issue of the report wasn’t filled with the usual extracurricular fluff. It was a special edition, featuring two full pages of past college entrance exam questions.
Looking at the long, empty horizontal lines, packed close together, Guan Ren knew: if he waited until Zhang Chi finished before copying, it’d be too late.
What about Sister Gu?
No chance. Guan Ren glanced at the empty seat next to him. That lady always arrived right at the bell. No way she’d be early today.
But heaven never blocks all paths. Just then, a ray of hope shone through.
“Luo Xiaobei!”
“!”
Still half-asleep, Luo Xiaobei stumbled into the classroom and over to her seat. When her childhood friend suddenly ran up to her, she got such a fright that both her pigtails seemed to puff up like startled cats.
“You and your jump scares… Hmph, trying to scare me to death or what?”
“For real!”
Guan Ren got straight to the point.
“Did you finish your language Weekly Report?”
“I did.”
Luo Xiaobei gave him a sideways glance, teasing.
“Is there a problem?”
Smack!
Guan Ren clasped his hands together in front of her, his expression one of desperate thirst.
“Xiaobei! You’re a living Bodhisattva! Let me copy it, please, I’m begging you. This is urgent!”
“…”
Luo Xiaobei was momentarily stunned. She didn’t say yes or no. Instead, her fidgety little hands started rummaging through her school bag on their own.
“?”
Guan Ren noticed her cheeks had turned a faint shade of red.
What… what did that mean?
Was what he said that weird?
“Come on…”
Guan Ren had no idea what was going on inside his childhood friend’s head and pressed her.
“…Xiaobei, Beibei, I’m in dire need here. Are you gonna help me or not?”
“Huh? What? Oh… tch, what’s the rush!”
Luo Xiaobei seemed to snap out of it, pulled a neatly folded Weekly Report out of her bag, and handed it over to Guan Ren.
“Here… you can copy it…”
She mumbled softly, turning her face slightly away so he couldn’t see her expression.
“It’s not like… I don’t want to…”
“Nice! 3Q!”
Relieved, Guan Ren took the report and dashed back to his seat.
Then, after a quick flick of the pen refill he was using to write, he sheepishly jogged back over to Luo Xiaobei.
“Hey, uh, can I borrow a pen too?”
“Dummy…”
---
To be fair, Guan Ren wasn’t slow with his pen.
By the time five minutes of morning reading remained, he had already copied about ninety percent.
“Ah—ya!”
In front of him, Zhang Chi had just finished copying and stretched with ease. He turned around immediately, grinning as he watched Guan Ren scribble furiously.
“Brother Ren, taking the Tsinghua entrance exam?”
“Screw you…”
Forget it. What goes around comes around. Guan Ren had no time to banter.
【…A gathering of the wise and virtuous, young and old alike…】
【…Reciting odes to the moon, singing verses of beauty…】
【…Which of the following underlined characters is pronounced correctly…】
【…Expresses the author’s longing for a childhood sweetheart…】
Huh?
That last classical reading comprehension answer seemed kind of… off.
Shouldn’t it be something like “love for nature” or “lamenting unrecognized talent”?
Was Luo Xiaobei even reliable?
Forget it. His grades were already a mess. He had no right to nitpick. Just write it down and move on.
…
Ding-ling-ling—
At last, the moment the bell rang, Guan Ren finished the final period of his last sentence, eyes welling with tears.
Right then, as expected, Gu Youli arrived right on cue, sliding into her seat.
Moments later, another tall figure followed, her high heels clicking crisply as she strode in with swift precision.
A charcoal-gray semi-open-collar blazer…
A white satin shirt underneath…
A matching charcoal-gray knee-length pencil skirt…
Inky, softly curled long hair pinned up in a half-updo with a shark clip…
Though it was a common office look for young female teachers, this one’s elegant figure showcased the ensemble with understated flair—reserved but undeniably striking.
Clack…
She placed a Chinese textbook on the podium, and instantly, the entire class fell silent. Even more effective than when Li Min shouted.
Her striking, cool features lifted as her bright, clear eyes swept lightly over the classroom. Then her rosy lips parted, her voice clear, gentle, but carrying an effortless air of authority.
“First row of each group, front to back—collect the Weekly Reports.”
The students moved like the wind.
“Crap! Why’s it starting from the front again…”
“Bro, start with the back row, please…”
“Wait, wait, just one last stroke!”
Some were relieved. Others were resigned.
But no matter what, even if they hadn’t finished, many still rushed to hand something in. Compared to other subjects, the enthusiasm for turning in Chinese homework was clearly higher.
And the reason wasn’t because Class 7 liked Chinese.
It was because the person teaching it was the infamous “Demon” teacher standing at the podium—Gu Wancheng.