RHITICSG 03

Chapter 3

Jiang Jian got absolutely roasted in the office—so harshly that the other teachers stopped grading just to listen in, hoping to learn Teacher Dai’s technique for verbally annihilating students.

When it came to teachers, Jiang Jian’s approach was always the same:
Admit. Apologize. Promise.
“I was wrong. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Like a pig that’s long stopped fearing boiling water.

Teacher Dai sighed through her frustration.
“Tell me, what was that mock exam score of yours? The proctor said you slept through both English and Chinese!”
“Not only that, you didn’t review the test after either! You’ve been goofing off for a whole month! Don’t you feel guilty playing around all day?”

“……”

After the scolding, she plopped a thick stack of test papers onto the desk—copies of what she’d already collected for him.
“You’re not leaving until you finish these!”

The pile was so tall it could have been used as a footrest, but Jiang Jian quietly sat down and started working through it sheet by sheet.

The school had been rushing through new material that month, and the mock papers varied in focus, but Jiang Jian breezed through them with little difficulty.

He was an odd case: lazy about homework, yes—but he’d been keeping up with lessons through online tutoring. He was smart, with a quick grasp of new material, so he managed.

When he was calm and focused, he looked like a soft, curly-haired puppy—quietly marking his papers, neat and absorbed.

During her prep breaks, Teacher Dai glanced up at him now and then.
The more she watched, the softer her heart grew.

She knew his background.

Most “problem students” had family issues—and Jiang Jian was no exception. But his case was… different.

He wasn’t bad by nature. He was someone who’d been bad and got better.

When she’d visited his home, she hadn’t met his father. Jiang Zhiyuan was a busy man, gone more than 300 days a year, always flying somewhere. She’d only met the housekeeper.

From her, she’d learned that Jiang Jian used to be much worse.
Back in middle school, he fought, smoked, skipped class—regularly.
With money and no boundaries, he ran with a wild crowd, hanging out at gaming cafés, bars, KTVs. Total delinquent.

Then, in his third year of middle school, tragedy struck: his mother died in a car accident.

After that, he changed.
Maybe to give his mother peace in heaven, maybe out of guilt—but he started trying. Studying. Keeping out of real trouble.

His current antics—roughing up petty thugs, skipping assignments, cutting the occasional class—were nothing compared to who he’d been. He was trying to get better but hadn’t fully escaped his old habits.

After all, he’d lost his mother, and his father was never home.

By the end of the class, Teacher Dai’s anger had cooled. She called him over, gave him another half-hearted scolding, then let him go.

“Go on. Get back to class. And study properly, will you? Stop giving me reasons to turn gray early. No smoking, no fighting, no skipping. Got it?”

Jiang Jian nodded dutifully, returning the pen he’d borrowed.
“Thank you, teacher. See you later.”

“…Stop right there!”

He paused and looked back, puzzled.

Teacher Dai got up on tiptoe and ruffled his hair.
“Did you style this? I’m going to lose points for your appearance again! Can you high schoolers think about something other than your looks for one day? Once you’re in college, go ahead—turn your hair into a spiral staircase for all I care!”

Jiang Jian sighed helplessly.
“Teacher, it’s natural.”

His hair was naturally light-colored—under the sun, it shimmered like chestnut—and just a bit wavy, soft and messy in an annoyingly good-looking way.

Sure enough, Teacher Dai narrowed her eyes.
“Natural, my foot. Who’s ever seen a ‘natural’ perm look that good?”

Jiang Jian smiled faintly.
“Guess I was just born this handsome. My mom was like this too… I got it from her.”

Dai Zifei: “…”

She really hadn’t expected to step on a landmine while trying to enforce school discipline. She hadn’t meant to poke at a student’s sore spot.

The atmosphere turned awkward. She couldn’t even apologize—doing so out of the blue would only make things worse, like emphasizing what she’d just said.

Jiang Jian, on the other hand, was smiling.
“Seriously, my mom even came to school in person back in middle school to clarify this! I still have my middle school homeroom teacher on WeChat—should I have you add her and confirm it?”

“……”
Dai Zifei waved him away, deciding to drop the hair issue altogether.

Still, she couldn’t help thinking that his hair curled too perfectly. Even if it was natural, she suspected these vain little brats probably did something to it anyway.

When Jiang Jian got back to class, his new deskmate was already seated.

Luo Shuxin had wandered around the school long enough to miss the earlier chaos. When he returned to the teaching building, Li Zhao had stopped him and helped him borrow a set of school uniforms from the office.

Since the first-year students had just started school today, their casual clothes didn’t matter. But for the second-years, anyone not in uniform risked being caught by the discipline office—and that would mean point deductions and a guaranteed scolding for Li Zhao’s wife, Teacher Dai.

So now Luo Shuxin was wearing the same uniform as everyone else. But he was tall, good-looking, and carried himself differently—standing out effortlessly among the crowd, like a crane among chickens.

He was currently working on the physics test paper from the last class. He had a habit of spinning his pen unconsciously—when he was thinking, the pen would roll once across the back of his thumb.

One spin later, it seemed he’d figured something out, and his pen started flying smoothly across the page.

He probably didn’t notice, but several girls in the room kept sneaking glances at him.

When Shao Xing saw Jiang Jian show up at the door, he went over to help him, sighing dramatically:

“This could’ve been the ultimate showdown between our former school heartthrob and the current one. But alas—the former heartthrob’s ‘roots’ have been broken! Tragic, truly tragic…”

…What the hell does that even mean, “roots broken”? Can you not phrase things like that?

On the way back, Shao Xing slipped Jiang Jian two folded notes.
“One’s for you, one’s for your new deskmate.”

Jiang Jian casually stuffed them into his pocket.

When he finally sat down, Luo Shuxin didn’t even glance his way.
But Jiang Jian, still haunted by that “battle of the heartthrobs” comment, couldn’t help sneaking a few looks himself.

And to be fair—he was really good-looking.

His profile was sharp and clean, lashes long enough to cast a faint shadow. Jiang Jian even noticed a small mole on the side of his neck. When Luo Shuxin tilted his head slightly, that mole shifted along the smooth line of his throat.

He looked… different. Clearly not the sociable type—didn’t talk, didn’t even glance over when a new seatmate arrived.

But Jiang Jian couldn’t help recalling that brief moment outside the North Gate—how this same guy had randomly stopped to ask if he needed help.

Just then, the Crown Princess (Teacher Dai Zifei) walked in right as the bell rang.

It was Chinese class, but instead of diving straight into the lesson, she took a moment to formally introduce the new student.

Luo Shuxin had arrived suddenly, after all—he hadn’t even been properly introduced yet.

Teacher Dai followed the usual procedure:

“Today, our Class 1 of Year 2 welcomes a new student. Luo Shuxin transferred from nearby Hushan City. He also took a year off from school. I’m sure many of you are wondering—if he’s a transfer student and had a break in his studies, how did he qualify for Class 1? Did someone pull strings for him?”

At that, a few students looked uneasy.

People like Jiang Jian and Shao Xing didn’t care about grades—they judged purely by looks. But not everyone was so easygoing.

And truthfully, students had been gossiping earlier, wondering if this transfer student got into Class 1 through connections.

“Before entering Jiangshui No.1 High, Luo Shuxin took an entrance assessment,” Dai Zifei continued. “And I can say with full confidence—he may be better than most of you sitting here.”

Then she pointed at one student.
“Gao Yihang, you should feel a sense of crisis!”

Gao Yihang blinked in surprise.

He’d been first in every placement test and mock exam—first in the class and first in the entire grade.

If he needed to feel pressured, then everyone else might as well start panicking now.

“I want Class 1 to be a united family,” Teacher Dai said. “No rumors, no gossip—focus on what matters. Of course, if anyone still doubts the fairness of Luo Shuxin’s placement, you can come see me anytime. I keep his test papers in my desk. You’re welcome to check them yourself.”

Then she turned to Luo Shuxin.

“Luo Shuxin, come up and introduce yourself.”

He walked calmly to the podium, picked up the chalk, and wrote his name neatly on the blackboard—his handwriting was crisp and beautiful.

When he stood there, in full view of everyone, his looks seemed almost magnified.

But his tone was cool and restrained, each word measured:

“Luo Shuxin. Nice to meet you.”

Teacher Dai blinked.
“That’s it? Nothing about your hobbies or interests?”

He paused, thought for a moment, and replied simply:
“Gaming.”

That earned a ripple of laughter from the class—not mocking, just amused by how blunt he was.

Teacher Dai: “……”
Might as well have said nothing.

Shaking her head, she turned to another student.
“Jiang Jian—you’re the class monitor, and also Luo Shuxin’s seatmate. Since your leg’s injured, help each other out, okay?”

Jiang Jian blinked. “I’m the class monitor?”

“You didn’t know? Oh right, you were absent the day we voted,” she said, as if just remembering. “Our class uses a democratic vote system. You got the most votes—so congratulations! I also think this position will be good for you. Being monitor means you’ll need to supervise yourself more strictly. If you mess up again, punishment will be doubled. Don’t let us down.”

Jiang Jian: “???”

So basically, the only purpose of this title was the last part?

While he was still busy mentally arguing with the idea of being “class monitor,” he didn’t notice—when Teacher Dai said his name, Luo Shuxin had quietly looked over at him.

Someone was already quite famous.

After stepping down from the podium, Luo Shuxin returned to his seat beside Jiang Jian, while the Crown Princess was already telling everyone which page to turn to.

As everyone rustled through their books, Jiang Jian fished a folded note out of his pocket and casually slipped it to Luo Shuxin.

Luo Shuxin: “?”

Jiang Jian: “Read it after class—slowly.”

It was over a thousand words long.