Chapter 35: Outwitting and Outlasting

“So, talk?”

The teacher and student sat and stood respectively, locked in silence for a long while, until Headteacher Wang Qi finally couldn’t hold back and broke it first.

As for patience, Li Heng—who had lived two lives—was practically a cheat; who the hell did he fear?

During those seven years in the system, his wife had nearly become a mother-in-law; now he could outlast anyone in sheer endurance.

As for talking?

What exactly should he say?

Li Heng knew exactly what the teacher was asking, but he wasn’t foolish enough to volunteer anything.

In this era, admitting you’d fallen for a girl was practically asking for death.

Seeing his clear, bewildered gaze, Wang Qi pulled out cigarettes and a lighter from her drawer, lit one, and drew three deep inhales to suppress her rising temper.

The headteacher exhaled two smoke rings and asked: “You and Sun Man had been sitting together fine for years—why suddenly switch?”

Li Heng immediately shifted blame: “Sun Man said she got tired of sea cucumber and bird’s nest every day—wanted a new flavor.”

“Cough! Cough! Cough…”

Wang Qi was suddenly choked by this boastful remark, coughing violently.

Smoke had gone straight down her throat.

She’d lived decades—seen plenty of shameless people—but never one this shameless, comparing himself to sea cucumber and bird’s nest?

In this era, “sea cucumber and bird’s nest” wasn’t just a phrase—it was the ultimate symbol of luxury, carrying immense weight.

Looking at Li Heng’s face—softer than a woman’s skin—Wang Qi asked: “Then why choose Song Yu as your desk partner?”

Li Heng replied: “She’s good at foreign languages—I want to learn from her.”

Song Yu was indeed excellent in English, but experienced Wang Qi felt this answer was suspect.

Wang Qi pressed: “Mai Sui’s English is just as good—why not her?”

Li Heng put on an innocent expression: “Teacher, if I picked Mai Sui, wouldn’t I still get called to the black room?”

There are always people who, to ordinary folks, are a living mockery.

Like Song Yu.

Like Xiao Han.

The two were the undisputed twin stars of Shaoshan No.1 High.

Whether in looks, demeanor, or talent, Song Yu and Xiao Han towered far above everyone else—unreachable.

The gap left the male students collectively hopeless, utterly defeated.

It truly echoed the line from “In Praise of the Lotus”: “Only to be admired from afar, never to be trifled with.”

That’s why, despite Song Yu’s presence as the ceiling of Class 204, Liu Li and others dared not approach her—instead, their hearts clung to Chen Lijun.

Because they weren’t worthy.

When facing Song Yu, people unconsciously felt inferior, as if they belonged to a different world.

Li Heng once felt the same in his past life.

That’s why, after high school, he avoided pursuing Song Yu for a time.

Beyond Song Yu and Xiao Han, many boys were drawn to Mai Sui’s “innate allure”—quietly ranking her as the third golden flower after the twin stars.

Honestly, before meeting Mai Sui, Li Heng associated “innate allure” with maturity and age.

But after meeting her, he realized: innate allure wasn’t a label—it was a feeling.

Li Heng used Mai Sui to turn the tables on the headteacher—effectively stumping Wang Qi.

To be fair, if this kid had chosen Mai Sui as his desk partner, Wang Qi would’ve summoned him too.

After decades of teaching, he knew: when a good-looking boy and a naturally beautiful girl both excel academically, their proximity inevitably increases mutual attraction far more than mismatched pairs.

At this critical juncture before the college entrance exam, how could he, as headteacher, afford to relax?

How dare he?

Seeing Li Heng refuse to budge or admit anything, Wang Qi didn’t press further—this was the privilege of top students.

If it were any other boy—even one ranked in the top ten, like Zou Ai—she’d have simply ordered a seat change, no warning, no discussion.

After another long stare, Wang Qi flicked ash from her cigarette and pointed to the chair before her:

“Sit. Chat with me.”

Li Heng didn’t know the meaning of politeness—he sat down.

Wang Qi dropped her haughty demeanor, exhaled, and shifted into the gentle, caring posture of an elder: “Your English teacher said you once dated Chen Zijin—is that true?”

Huh?

Teacher Wang Runwen?

You’re so full, and you betrayed me?

I thought you had designs on me—how disappointing.

The truth was as stated, but Li Heng wouldn’t fully admit it—nor would he outright deny it.

The teacher had spoken, meaning she already had some idea.

Don’t treat others as fools.

So a flat denial would only confirm suspicion—bad strategy.

He gave a shy expression: “Teacher, we haven’t reached that point—just a vague fondness.”

Wang Qi asked: “Chen Zijin went to Jingcheng—do you still keep in touch?”

Li Heng replied: “The gap is too big—I need to get into a good university first.”

His answer was vague, but the headteacher understood immediately—the gap meant family background.

His response was perfect: admitting feelings for Chen Zijin indirectly distanced him from Song Yu.

Realizing this, Wang Qi quietly relaxed.

In teachers’ eyes, Song Yu and Chen Zijin had once been inseparable friends—Li Heng’s connection to Song Yu should be innocent.

Had she misjudged him?

But Wang Qi had been a teacher for over twenty years—she’d seen every kind of student tactic.

She wouldn’t believe Li Heng’s words so easily.

Whether true or false, she’d ask Song Yu later to find out.

After twenty minutes of heart-to-heart talk, the office shifted from stormy clouds to clear skies—warm, laughing, teacher and student harmonious.

Wang Qi patted his shoulder, solemnly advising: “Only a few months until the college entrance exam—put romance aside for now, give your studies one final push—aim for Tsinghua or Peking University.”

Years from now, if you and Chen Zijin end up together, I’ll be there to toast your wedding.”

Since Chen Zijin was no longer a student here, Wang Qi’s move was all about stability.

She stabilized Li Heng while also goading him—he was a promising seed; with the right handling, he might achieve greatness.

And that greatness, of course, meant Tsinghua or Peking University.

In the eyes of teachers at her level, only Tsinghua or Peking University could add to their prestige.

“Thank you, Teacher, I’ll work hard.” Though Old Wang was harsh, he’d never been unfair to him—Li Heng meant every word.

When he returned to class unscathed, many classmates exchanged glances, resentful—was this nine-thousand-year-old man really showing favoritism?

Though everyone knew they’d likely become strangers after graduation, seeing Li Heng sit so close to Song Yu still stung.

Watching him bury himself in study, Song Yu paused, tore off a sticky note.

She wrote: Did the teacher give you trouble?

Then handed it to him.

After reading, Li Heng replied: Yes—he asked why I didn’t pick Mai Sui, but chose you.

Song Yu fell silent.

Li Heng knew her reserved nature wouldn’t let her ask further—he wrote: I told him I like you.

She stared at the note for five or six seconds, then quietly slipped it into her desk drawer.

Li Heng tore off another note and wrote: I turned the tables on the headteacher—I said choosing you or Mai Sui made no difference—we’d both get sent to the black room…

After learning the full story of his battle of wits with the headteacher, Song Yu’s eyes flickered with a faint, almost invisible smile—then she calmed herself and returned to her problems.

Soon after, the headteacher appeared at the door and called: “Song Yu, come out for a moment.”

The classroom fell silent—but the headteacher’s call didn’t disturb Li Heng, who kept writing “To Live.”

He trusted Song Yu’s intelligence wouldn’t be easily tricked.

Besides, he’d already told her everything that happened in the office.

…

The office.

Wang Qi had Song Yu sit down and began with gentle inquiries: “Any pressure in your studies lately?”

Song Yu sat upright, calm and composed: “Not much.”

Wang Qi nodded, then rephrased: “How’s your relationship with Li Heng?”

Song Yu knew this was the real question: “It’s fine—we’re both close friends of Chen Zijin.”

If Li Heng hadn’t mentioned Chen Zijin, she wouldn’t have either—she wouldn’t cause him trouble.

Her answers were all based on the information Li Heng had given her.

Wang Qi understood her implication and smiled: “You, Mai Sui, Xiao Feng from the next class, and Luo Zhijie are this year’s top candidates for Tsinghua and Peking University in humanities—the school and I have high hopes for you.”

You’ve studied so hard for years—don’t slack off now. Don’t let distractions pull you away—don’t lose the forest for the trees.”

No need for heavy-handed preaching with a top student like Song Yu—Wang Qi shifted tone: less lecturing, more heartfelt concern and human warmth.

What do you mean by things outside of studying?

Naturally, it means dating.

Song Yu, being as sharp as she was, had no trouble understanding—“Mm, thank you, Teacher.”

“Alright, go on. Study hard. If you ever run into something confusing and don’t know how to handle it, remember to come find me right away.” Wang Qi, wanting to be safe, repeated the advice carefully.

Song Yu gave a slight nod and returned to the classroom.

Seeing her come back so quickly, Li Heng was surprised, but didn’t ask further; he met her gaze briefly, then returned to writing “To Live.”

That night, Li Heng wrote nonstop until ten o’clock.

It was nearly three thousand characters.

If the classroom hadn’t been closing and turning off the lights, and if Sun Manning hadn’t kept urging him to leave, he would’ve kept writing—he still had more to give.

He screwed on the pen cap, tightened the ink bottle lid, blew gently on the freshly written fountain-pen script to dry it, then tucked it into his bag.

Only after finishing all this did he raise his head to look around the classroom.

He hadn’t noticed before.

Now that he looked—wow! The classroom was nearly empty.

Even Zhang Zhiyong and Liu Li were gone; they must’ve seen him absorbed in studying and didn’t dare disturb him.

The only ones left were Sun Manning in the front row, along with Song Yu and Mai Sui waiting with her.

Sun Manning held up her digital wristwatch in front of him. “Li Heng, you know how to read a watch, right? Look—what time is it? We’ve been waiting for you twenty minutes.”

He had indeed held them up. Li Heng responded with good grace: “My fault. How about I treat all three of you to soda?”

In this era, drinking soda was a true luxury—it wasn’t cheap, it was downright expensive.

Sun Manning stared at him up and down in surprise, then suddenly asked: “How much is your monthly allowance?”

Meeting the three girls’ gazes, Li Heng answered calmly: “Less than seven yuan.”

Sun Manning’s face twitched. “So you’re poor and putting on airs? You dare boast about treating us to soda—afraid you won’t even afford buns later?”

Li Heng stood up without flinching. “Comrade Rich Lady, you’re overthinking. I never said bottled soda—I meant the kind that’s one fen a bag.”

Sun Manning was speechless. She pointed at Song Yu, then at Mai Sui, and went all out:

“Look who’s standing right in front of you! This is Song Yu and Mai Sui! The goddesses every boy drools over behind their backs—and you dare offer them one-fen soda?!”

Li Heng stretched lazily. “Mountains aren’t lofty because of their height, but because immortals dwell there; waters aren’t deep because of their depth, but because dragons reside within.”

You’re a student—how vulgar.”

I’m offering them my sincerity. I believe, given our relationship, even a glass of plain boiled water would taste sweet to them.”

“Fine, fine, we’re vulgar. We’re leaving—let Song Yu savor your bowl of boiled water.” With that, Sun Manning forcibly dragged the curious Mai Sui away.

With the sudden departure of two people, the classroom fell silent.

Song Yu, naturally quiet and composed, was unaffected by Sun Manning’s taunts. After a moment’s thought, she asked:

“I noticed you’ve been writing all night—something outside your textbook. What is it? A story magazine?”

Li Heng asked casually: “You saw?”

Song Yu shook her head slightly. “Didn’t look closely—just noticed your textbook was closed, so I glanced over.”

In a class packed with the city’s top students, the study atmosphere was intense. Most were too busy with their own work to care about others’ affairs.

That’s why Zhang Zhiyong and Liu Li hadn’t interrupted him—he was assumed to be grinding problems, and they didn’t want to distract him.

Li Heng said: “Not a story magazine—a novel. I suddenly felt like writing to earn some royalties. Not sure if it’ll work out.”

Song Yu knew his family situation and understood his urgency to earn money, but still advised:

“The scholarship exam is in five days. With your grades, I think you should focus on that for now.”

Li Heng realized she didn’t take his novel seriously.

Indeed, if roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have taken it seriously either.

Li Heng said: “Alright, I get it. Thanks for your concern.”

Song Yu studied him closely. She could tell he hadn’t listened—but given their relationship, she didn’t press further.

Li Heng’s dorm room was 215, on the far right of the second floor of the boys’ dormitory.

As he approached the door, he sensed something off—it was too quiet. That didn’t fit 215’s usual character.

When had it ever been this quiet before?

They were famously rowdy, constantly scolded over the school loudspeaker for their terrible discipline.

The door was slightly ajar. As soon as Li Heng peeked in, he locked eyes with his homeroom teacher Wang Qi and the school’s vice principal.

Got it. In that instant, he understood: 215 hadn’t been quiet—it was just that this bunch had already been scolded.

But the lights weren’t off yet—why had they been called out so early?

Curious, Li Heng stepped into the heavy silence of the dorm. “Teacher. Vice Principal.”

Wang Qi checked his watch. “Lights out in a moment. Hurry up and wash up. Go to bed.”

Li Heng replied and rushed to the communal washroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, then obediently climbed into bed.

The two officials stayed a long time before leaving. Later, he quietly asked Liu Li on the next bed: “What happened?”

Liu Li told him: “Liu Yejiang and Zou Ai had a falling-out. They fought—badly. Even the duty vice principal showed up. No one knows why.”

“Ah, so that’s it,” Li Heng instantly understood.

Liu Li turned over, puzzled: “You know why?”

Li Heng uttered three words: “Chen Lijun.”

Liu Li froze. After a moment, he sighed bitterly: “Now I want to fight too.”

Suddenly, a head appeared between them. “Fight! I’ll lend you a butcher knife!”

Li Heng and Liu Li both turned their heads in shock.

Teacher Wang Qi, how could you be so cruel?!

(End of Chapter)