RHITICSG 08

Chapter 8

Jiang Jian blurted out, “Why do you want to add me on WeChat?”

He must have been still a bit feverish—he was talking without thinking.

They were classmates, and he already owed Luo Shuxin a few favors. Why was he even questioning it? It wasn’t like adding him would kill him.

Luo Shuxin said calmly, “To get to know the school better. Teacher Dai said we should help each other.”

Jiang Jian: “?”

Just then, the teacher walked in.

Luo Shuxin put his phone away and focused on class, as if he hadn’t just asked that question.

Jiang Jian quietly took his phone out from under the desk, found the friend request from earlier that morning, and hit “accept.”

Afterward, he debated whether he should send an emoji to say hello—that was the normal thing to do, after all.

But after scrolling through his emoji collection, he couldn’t find one that felt right. In the end, he gave up.

While he was thinking about that, Luo Shuxin’s jacket was still sitting on his lap like a little pillow.

He was so focused on his phone that he unconsciously curled his index finger and brushed his lower lip with the second knuckle.

For some reason, Luo Shuxin glanced over. His gaze drifted from Jiang Jian’s hand and lips down to the phone resting on the jacket.

Their eyes met. Jiang Jian looked down and quickly realized his phone was sitting on top of Luo Shuxin’s jacket. He snatched it away instantly, as if caught doing something wrong.

Luo Shuxin raised an eyebrow slightly.

Jiang Jian’s hand had moved faster than his brain. Only now did he realize how suspicious that looked.

He forced himself to say, “It got dirty. I’ll wash it before giving it back.”

After the IV, Jiang Jian felt much better and managed to get through a few more classes.

Classes were still in review mode, trying to catch up with the syllabus. When it came to actual lessons, he didn’t slack off—after all, he’d earned his place in Class One fair and square. He knew when to take things seriously.

Unlike the first day of school, there were no more free periods. Evening self-study ran until past nine.

After nine o’clock, there was another optional study session, mandatory only for boarders. Day students could choose to stay or go home.

Naturally, Jiang Jian planned to bolt as soon as possible. But just as he picked up his bag, the class monitor—nicknamed “the Crown Princess”—showed up and blocked his way.

She strode in right before the bell for the second self-study session ended, holding a handful of small notes. Scanning the room, she immediately called his name.

“Some students here—despite having bad legs—still run off the moment class ends. Aren’t you afraid your leg will ache on rainy days when you’re older? I wonder if I’ll ever see you this eager when it comes to studying or contributing to the class. Don’t you think so, Jiang Jian?”

Before Jiang Jian could reply, she added, “Of course, I don’t mean just Jiang Jian, right, Shao Xing, Xia Yiming?”

The three of them: “……”

Not enthusiastic about studying? Clearly a moral failing.

After scolding them, the Crown Princess finally got to the real point.

“It’s hard for the first-years to prepare, and the third-years are too busy. So this semester’s flag-raising speeches will be handled by the second-year classes. Next Monday is Class One’s turn. Anyone want to volunteer?”

The room went dead silent. Most people hung their heads low, afraid that making eye contact would get them picked.

No one really wanted to go up there and passionately recite flowery speeches about ideals and the future—it was the kind of thing that made rebellious teenagers cringe to their bones.

Everyone in Class One was the cream of the crop. They’d already had more than enough opportunities to show off during middle school and the first year of high school, especially with all those flag-raising speeches. They’d performed until they were sick of it—no one was eager to “humiliate themselves” in front of the whole school again.

The class monitor—nicknamed the Crown Princess—sighed as if she had expected this reaction.
“I knew it would be like this. Fine, I’ve already written some small slips of paper. We’ll draw lots among the classmates who are good at writing and recitation. Whoever gets the one with the circle will prepare a speech this weekend. Everyone okay with that?”

The whole class answered in perfect unison, drawing out the words,
“No—probleeem—”

“Good. Then, the ones I call will come up and draw. If your slip has a circle, congratulations, you’ve ‘won.’ Xia Yiming, Gao Yihang…”

When Luo Shuxin’s name was called, Jiang Jian froze for a second.

It seemed Luo Shuxin’s entrance exam scores must have been impressive—so impressive that he got roped into this too.

Luo Shuxin was the last one to draw. When he unfolded his slip, there it was—a red pen mark, a casual circle.

Luo Shuxin: “……”

The Crown Princess watched his perfectly blank face, a masterpiece of silent suffering.

She really wanted to pat his shoulder and say, ‘My condolences,’ but her teacher’s dignity wouldn’t allow it.
So she settled for, “Come on, Luo Shuxin, you can do it!”

And just like that, Luo Shuxin was “honored” with the Monday flag-raising speech.

Jiang Jian thought that was the end of it. He was just about to sneak off when, right as the Crown Princess left, Teacher Kang (Kangkang) walked in, holding a fat stack of test papers.

So much for escaping—no one in class could leave now. Jiang Jian secretly sent a message from under his desk to Uncle Wang, the family driver: ‘I have an extra class. Don’t wait at the gate, go take care of other things.’

Tan Songkang didn’t waste words. He simply announced that he’d be taking over the last self-study period and handed out a batch of specialized English practice sheets.

Jiang Jian got a reading comprehension packet.

Setting aside the fact that he’d slept through the last English exam, reading was genuinely his weakest section, so this was “targeted training.”

When he took the paper, he looked absolutely miserable.

The more you hate something, the more you fear it. If it had been multiple-choice, he could’ve finished it quickly. But reading comprehension? That could take forever.

Teacher Kang saw his face and his already-stern expression darkened even more. He raised his hand and gave Jiang Jian a light knock on the head.

“No polishing, no shine; no tempering, no strength! Kids like you are only spoiled by other teachers! Try making that face again, I dare you.”

Jiang Jian: “……”

What injustice! He wasn’t making faces—he was just genuinely despairing.

Tan Songkang was serious about teaching. He’d divided the exercises into multiple modules targeting each student’s weak points: reading, writing, cloze, grammar, everything.

Except for a few students whose English scores were consistently off the charts, everyone got a share of “Kangkang’s special care.”

Even Luo Shuxin—who the Crown Princess had implied might even outperform Gao Yihang—got one. Same packet as Jiang Jian: reading comprehension.

That made Jiang Jian feel a little better. Misery loves company, and his bad mood was cut in half.

But once they started, things changed fast. While Jiang Jian was still dragging himself through the first passage, Luo Shuxin had already turned the page.

Jiang Jian stared at him, dumbfounded. Luo Shuxin, sensing his gaze, paused his pen-spinning. He thought maybe he was distracting his deskmate, so he stopped.

Normally, when doing math or science problems, Luo Shuxin only spun his pen against his thumb. But for reading, there was more idle time, and just now that neutral-colored pen had been twirling between his fingers like magic—fast, smooth, almost hypnotic.

Maybe because his head was still foggy, Jiang Jian zoned out completely, staring blankly even after Luo Shuxin stopped.

Luo Shuxin held his composure for a few minutes before finally turning his head. Beneath his calm expression, there was a hint of helplessness and mild confusion—maybe even curiosity.

Jiang Jian: “……”

Inside, Jiang Jian was screaming:

I’m a bad student!! I want to copy his answers!!!

Please, I don’t want to write anymore…

Oh, merciful gods, I’m sick… sniffle… I have a headache… my nerves hurt…

But despite the loud howling of the lazy little devil in his heart, Jiang Jian pulled his gaze back and muttered, “Nothing.”

It wasn’t like he could copy anyway.

He gritted his teeth and forced his tired brain to fill out the sheet. He was probably the last one in class to hand it in.

Kangkang graded them on the spot and gave Jiang Jian a printed answer key along with some explanations before sending him off.

Since each student had a different paper set, there wouldn’t be a unified review. Still, anyone smart enough to make it into Class One had a decent sense of responsibility—even Jiang Jian. If they didn’t understand something, they’d ask on their own.

Dragging his exhausted body, Jiang Jian called Uncle Wang again, only to find that the man had gotten stuck in traffic. He’d have to wait at the school gate for a while.

He wasn’t worried about being caught using his phone, so he played a few rounds of a mobile game while waiting—dying miserably every time.

Eventually, even the game lost its charm. He pocketed his phone and looked up—only to spot a familiar figure across the street.

Luo Shuxin was standing there with a black shoulder bag and earphones around his neck, the kind he used to listen to English audio on the way home. With one arm, he was holding a black cat.

Unfortunately, that black cat happened to be his “girlfriend”—Yi Ge.

The cat who always acted like a queen in front of Jiang Jian was now the picture of obedience in Luo Shuxin’s arms. Luo Shuxin was carrying it with one hand, and the cat had its paws wrapped around his arm like it didn’t want to leave.

Jiang Jian looked at Yi Ge twice, and only then, under the dim glow of the streetlights, did he notice that the atmosphere across the street seemed… off.

Opposite Luo Shuxin stood a girl—about 170 cm tall, her wavy hair cascading over her shoulders, lip gloss shining so much it caught the light even from across the street.