Chapter 44: C! C! C+ Know What I Mean?

Putting aside the telegram from "People's Literature," Li Heng began reviewing the second telegram.

The second telegram came from Shanghai’s "Harvest" magazine, and its content was nearly identical to that of "People's Literature."

It simply notified him in advance that "Harvest" had also sent an editor over.

Li Heng compared the timestamps of the two telegrams and burst out laughing—ha! They were in perfect sync, sending editors at the exact same time.

It seemed his prediction was right: when he unveiled "To Live," such a high-stakes masterpiece, both "People's Literature" and "Harvest" had discerning eyes and took it seriously.

I hope you two clash when you meet—fight hard! Don’t hold back on me; whoever wins gets a bottle of soda from me.

Uh… if Chen Xiaomi wins, then screw the soda.

Forget rewards—if it weren’t for Chen Zijin and Chen Gaoyuan’s faces, he’d have been furious long ago and personally jumped in to tear them apart.

The homeroom teacher wasn’t here; only the two of them were in the office.

The English teacher flicked her long hair and said, “I didn’t expect they’d value you this much.”

Li Heng waved the two telegrams in his hand, smugly: “Look who wrote these! Look at what they say!”

Back then, someone burst through the door crying and begging to quit and marry me.

That’s called rare merchandise, you know…”

But before the word “know” had even left his lips, the office suddenly changed— a long leg shot out and kicked Li Heng squarely in the ass.

The effect? Perfect.

Li Heng, who had just been gloating, lurched violently forward and slammed face-first into the gray-white wall.

“Ow! Fuck, that hurts!”

Li Heng clutched his throbbing forehead and spun around, furious: “What the hell, Teacher! You’re serious? You hit that hard? Don’t you know how heavy you are?!”

Hearing this, Wang Run’s eyes, already dangerously narrowed, narrowed further.

She enunciated slowly: “Height 165, weight 108 jin—too heavy???”

Li Heng glanced at her chest—fuck, who the hell asked about height and weight?

C! C! C+—you know what those mean, right?!

Sensing his gaze, Wang Run, arms crossed, narrowed her eyes into slits and spoke coldly:

“I think you don’t want to live. Do you think I won’t gouge out your eyes and feed them to the dogs?”

I believe it! Fine, I believe it!

Women raised in abusive homes are unpredictable—so damn unkind.

Respecting her position and adhering to the principle that a good man doesn’t fight women, Li Heng wisely stepped back and decided to go eat.

Seeing him leave, the English teacher called from behind: “The editors are coming—do you want me to accompany you to buy new clothes?”

Li Heng stopped and looked himself up and down: “Are my clothes that bad?”

The English teacher sneered, delivering a merciless blow: “Sun Manning’s dog dresses better than you.”

He’d seen Sun’s white dog—plump, and its fabric was indeed better than his.

Li Heng was deeply depressed—he’d lived two lives and still hadn’t lived as well as a dog.

He turned his pockets inside out and declared bluntly: “No money. Can I live off soft meals?”

Wang Run walked over, arms crossed, circled him once with a sly smile, and teased: “Too skinny. Kill you and you won’t yield more meat than a sheep. Not worth it.”

With a victor’s smugness, she walked away without looking back.

Li Heng touched his ribs—truly pitiful—and sighed, then stepped out after her:

“Teacher, it’s Lantern Festival today. I’ll give you a chance to treat me to dinner.”

Wang Run swept her hair aside with her right hand: “I could be your mother. Go keep Song Yu company.”

It was mealtime; not a soul was visible in the corridor. The two bantered like old friends, quickly descending from the third floor to the first.

“Really won’t treat me to dinner?”

“No.”

“I’m about to become a famous writer—soon, countless people will want to eat with me. When that happens, even if you want to treat me, you’ll have to book ahead. Don’t regret it.”

“Heh!”

“Teacher, you should smile. That laugh of yours is so cold.”

“Heh!”

“Fine, I’m going to the cafeteria.”

“Go ahead.”

They parted near the basketball court; Wang Run was called over by a female teacher she was close with, and they chatted and laughed as they left campus.

Li Heng, who’d hoped to sneak a meal, wasted a lot of breath and ended up empty-handed—grumpily heading toward the cafeteria.

…

This year’s senior class had fifteen classes, over nine hundred students, roughly half arts and half science.

Actually, during sophomore year when they chose tracks, his science skills were stronger—he’d never scored below 95 on any physics exam.

But he seemed inherently incompatible with chemistry. It wasn’t that the subject was hard—he just never, not once from middle school to high school, calculated the final problem correctly.

Insane, right? Not even once!

He didn’t lack the ability to solve it or write the chemical formulas—he just couldn’t compute the right answer.

During the final exam of the second semester of freshman year, he finished the last problem early. With plenty of time left, he enthusiastically began checking.

That’s when his mental flaw fully erupted.

He recalculated the final problem nine times—and got nine different answers.

Looking at his repeatedly altered answers, the small temper he’d long suppressed finally exploded—he crumpled the exam paper in his right hand, nearly going mad.

He silently swore: One last time. If the tenth calculation still gives the wrong answer, I’ll never touch chemistry again in this life.

The outcome was obvious—he chose arts.

Even after his homeroom teacher pleaded with him for four hours and unilaterally changed his track from arts to science, he refused to budge.

Funny thing was, when he chose arts, Zhang Zhiyong and Zou Ai—who’d come to school with him—both switched from science to arts too.

Zhang Zhiyong’s excuse: “I’m just here to fill space. As long as I get into college, it doesn’t matter if it’s arts or science. The key is sticking together with my brother.”

Li Heng asked Zou Ai: “And you? Why switch?”

Zou Ai’s reason was even better: “All the pretty girls went to arts. Arts are visually pleasing.”

This year, the senior class was separated from the first and second years, not in the same area.

Even so, with over nine hundred seniors eating at the same time, the cafeteria couldn’t possibly hold them all.

Li Heng walked into the cafeteria and saw nothing but a sea of heads.

Fortunately, there was a habitual eating spot—usually in the left corner of the cafeteria.

When he found Zhang Zhiyong, he was sitting with Liu Li, Chen Lijun, and Mai Sui.

These two had guts today—daring to sit with them? Strange, it surprised him.

Beside Zhang Zhiyong was a packed lunchbox—left for Li Heng.

Li Heng plopped down, grabbed his own box like he owned it, and asked curiously:

“Hey, Dumbass, why are you guys eating with the beauties today?”

“Fuck! I’ve told you a hundred times—don’t call me that nickname outside the village!”

Zhang Zhiyong was furious, snatched the lunchbox from his hand, and hugged it close, muttering: “No food for you! Starve, you bastard.”

Seeing this, Li Heng wasn’t fazed—he turned to the two girls: “Why are only you two here? Where are Sun Manning and Song Yu?”

Chen Lijun grinned, her dimples showing, and teased: “Come on, Li Heng—who are you really asking about?”

Seeing Mai Sui, Dumbass, and Liu Li watching him, Li Heng wasn’t worried: “Fine, I’ll ask about Song Yu first.”

“Pfft~ I knew you cared about Song Yu. Her parents came for lunch.” Chen Lijun looked smug, as if she’d known all along.

Li Heng wasn’t surprised Chen Lijun knew his business.

Before Chen Zijin left, she, Song Yu, and Sun Manning practically lived together, inseparable.

Back then, Mai Sui’s usual lunch partner was Chen Lijun, but the two girls sometimes joined Chen Zijin and the others.

After Chen Zijin left, the girls who were already close became even closer—the two groups seemed to be merging.

So they shared a lot of information.

Besides, when seating was rearranged a few days ago, Li Heng’s intentions were obvious—he couldn’t hide it from Mai Sui or Chen Lijun.

Liu Li and Zhang Zhiyong, however, looked genuinely shocked.

Especially Zhang Zhiyong, who wasn’t sensitive to romantic matters—his confused face screamed a giant question mark!

(End of Chapter)