Chapter 28: All the Teachers: Li Tie Really Needs Someone to Give He Chen a Good Roasting!

Li Tie knew he couldn’t touch He Chen, so he swallowed his anger, pretended not to see him, entered the classroom, had the new transfer student Lin Lei introduce himself, then announced a “good piece of news.”

“Today is the first day of school—no classes, just an exam!”

Amid the students’ groans, Li Tie launched into a string of analogies: “Small tests are local battles; the Gaokao is a full-scale campaign. Will your enemy wait for you to get ready when you step onto the battlefield?”

“I’m telling you, don’t think this is just a mock exam.”

“This exam follows the exact Gaokao standards!”

“Chinese, Math, English, and Comprehensive Science—four subjects, spread over two days.”

“Your scores on this exam will determine your class placement.”

“The top thirty in the grade enter the Sprint Class, aiming for Qinghua and Peking University.”

“The bottom thirty enter the Foundation Class, aiming to pass the baseline.”

As she spoke, she couldn’t help glancing at Fang Yifan and Ji Yangyang, who stood out like sore thumbs in this class, and then thought of He Chen—her stomach twisted with irritation.

Because barring some major change, based on their end-of-year sophomore exam scores, these two were definitely in the bottom thirty—destined for the Foundation Class.

And the homeroom teacher of the Foundation Class was Pan Shuai.

This was exactly what He Chen had called a conspiracy.

She had considered adjusting it; as head of the grade team, she had the authority to do so.

But she simply couldn’t bring herself to speak up.

Because Pan Shuai, a young teacher with solid teaching skills, a gentle personality, and strong rapport with students, was better suited to calm the parents who might protest the class split—and these troublemakers she saw as candidates for retention.

It was the best choice.

Besides, the principal wasn’t some clueless outsider.

If she opened her mouth now, it would look like she was acting with hidden motives, making the principal suspect she wasn’t truly acting for the school’s good, but rather, as He Chen had said, scheming with sharp, selfish calculations.

But if she didn’t adjust Pan Shuai’s assignment, and he became Fang Yifan and Ji Yangyang’s homeroom teacher, who knew what kind of look or tone He Chen would use when he next met him?

Thinking of it, she felt utterly drained.

“I expect you all to take this exam seriously. Turn off your phones now, and put everything on your desks outside the classroom—hurry up.”

Not just Class 2 of Grade 3—the entire senior grade sprang into action.

Class 7 of Grade 3.

“We’re being regrouped by scores—how do you feel about it?” Du Tiantian asked He Chen as she moved books from her desk to the locker in the hallway.

He wouldn’t have asked this normally.

After two years as desk partners, he knew his brother’s level—his own scores were nearly identical. Even with class reassignment, it wouldn’t affect them.

But now, after the summer break, He Chen had changed completely—inside and out—and he wasn’t sure anymore.

“Don’t worry—I’m not the Jiajing Emperor who believes two dragons can’t coexist!” He Chen said, placing books down with a teasing grin.

“Again with the cheap favors!” Du Tiantian hit him with a book, annoyed: “Seriously, did you study hard this summer?”

“Whether I studied or not won’t matter—this reassignment only affects the top thirty and bottom thirty in the grade,” He Chen reminded him.

“Everyone else, no matter how they score, will mostly stay put—it’d be too chaotic otherwise. All the other classes are parallel; better to keep things still.”

“Besides, if all the top students were snatched away, who among the parallel-class homeroom teachers would be happy?”

“The Sprint Class can hoard the best because of school tradition and the grade team leader’s authority forcing others to comply—other homeroom teachers have no say.”

“Look at who’s being cut off at the top and bottom.”

“Who’s the homeroom teacher of the Sprint Class, who stands the best chance to earn the highest bonus based on students’ Gaokao results?”

“And who’s the homeroom teacher of the Foundation Class, who has the least chance to earn a high bonus?”

“Without a love-struck fool like Pan Shuai volunteering, who’d take it?”

“Makes sense!” Du Tiantian nodded in deep agreement.

“Stop chatting and finish packing—get ready for the exam!” He Chen’s every move drew attention; even this casual exchange with his desk partner had been heard by everyone, including the homeroom teacher, who quickly reminded them. After they entered the classroom, she watched He Chen’s back and sighed inwardly.

No wonder Li Tie had been driven so mad by a student—He Chen was just too sharp, too perceptive, and too fond of speaking blunt truths. One offhand remark had laid bare the whole truth.

If she hadn’t been certain He Chen hadn’t been in the senior grade office just now, she’d have suspected he’d overheard their conversation.

Exactly!

He Chen had voiced exactly what the parallel-class homeroom teachers were thinking.

Earlier, in the office, Li Tie had been speaking confidently when a parallel-class homeroom teacher voiced objections: “They have only one year left before the Gaokao. Suddenly splitting classes now will make parents complain—they’ll storm the school, accusing us of unequal teacher allocation. How do we explain that?”

Li Tie replied calmly: “Don’t worry. If parents come, we’ll explain clearly—even if their child ends up in the Foundation Class, it’s not bad. The teachers are still excellent.”

The teacher who raised the objection, seeing her pretend ignorance, just muttered, “Ah, yes, yes,” adjusted his glasses, turned his back, and rolled his eyes.

You’re the boss—you decide.

But if you weren’t, your answer would be pure nonsense—saying nothing at all. You really think parents of kids ranked in the bottom thirty are fools?

Parents who spend 150,000 yuan a year to send their kids here—do you think they’re stupid?

Do you think you can fool them like this?

“The Foundation Class isn’t bad? Teachers are excellent?”

Then why not swap them?

Why have you, Li Tie, spent all these years teaching only the top thirty in the grade?

You said everyone’s quality is good!

Are you telling them to eat meat when they have no rice?

Everyone claims they’re worried about parents questioning unequal teacher allocation—but what they really mean is that you, Li Tie, are brazenly hoarding the best students, stripping every class of its potential Qinghua-Peking candidates, and crushing everyone’s chance at higher bonuses.

How can you still stand there and spout such hypocritical nonsense?

Only because no one wants to tear the veil open—otherwise, if they’d just repeated He Chen’s words to her, Li Tie would’ve collapsed right there.

Too bad such satisfying moments are unfit for working stiffs who need to feed their families—they can only enjoy them in their hearts.

From this perspective, despite differing positions, some teachers actually held He Chen in decent regard.

Someone like Li Tie, who reaps the biggest benefits and then preaches fairness, sacrifice, and selflessness—telling others to ignore honors and rewards—truly needs someone like He Chen, a sharp-tongued, straight-shooting young man, to give him a good scolding.

Too immoral!

Too in need of being called out!