Chapter 18: This Class Is Getting Transferred, Even Jesus Can

Hm? Renew sixty lessons?!!!

Jiang Nian was speechless; he had to admit, the system was really something.

Still, better to renew—it's money earned either way.

But today is Tuesday; scores should come out in the next two days. The homeroom teacher might call for a class-transfer talk anytime, so it's not convenient to take leave.

Jiang Nian planned to go to the gym and complete tasks only after his class transfer was confirmed.

I, the Emperor, manage countless affairs daily—I've worn myself out.

Jiang Nian said he felt nothing special about getting first in the class. Everyone knew he was transferring, so they joked he was ascending to immortality.

No one dared question whether he cheated; the class wasn't stupid. Over two days, subject teachers had called on him at least ten times to answer questions—and every answer was perfect.

Some words, even the top English students had never heard; Jiang Nian spelled them out casually. Short grammatical phrases—he nailed them instantly if they so much as touched memorization.

He wasn't good at math, or any kind of calculation.

For memory-based science topics, even teachers sometimes forgot; Jiang Nian remembered them crystal clear, answering spontaneously in class without opening his book.

Only someone with brain damage would dare question his memory level.

Afternoon.

September's heat was oppressive; the ceiling fan above the classroom groaned pitifully.

The first three afternoon classes were all science subjects, reviewing yesterday's unfinished exam papers. Students were utterly exhausted, heads nodding drowsily.

A breeze stirred outside the classroom, making the curtains flutter wildly.

Jiang Nian propped his head on his hand, his thoughts drifting far away. All three science teachers knew he was transferring, so they turned a blind eye.

Near the end of the afternoon, there was a half-hour self-study period.

Usually, self-study alternated with listening practice; today being Tuesday, it was English listening. The broadcast played the test tone, and the classroom erupted in the sound of flipping pages.

"Jiang Nian, lend me your listening answers later."

"Uh, okay."

He didn't want to do the listening at all, but to maintain his image and hold out till the last shift, he reluctantly opened the listening book and stared at the questions with obvious annoyance.

The dusk light pierced through the windows, casting a golden glow over every student bent over their books. Thanks to the sunset, even the pages looked golden.

Gao San is like this: look down and it's a sea of problems, look up and it's the homeroom teacher.

"Hm? Homeroom teacher!!"

The homeroom teacher paused in front of his seat and said, "Come to my office—I need to speak with you."

Jiang Nian felt slightly relieved; he guessed it was about the class transfer. Calmly, he stood up, left his seat, and followed the teacher out of the classroom.

After he left, whispers broke out around his seat.

"The homeroom teacher called Jiang Nian—does that mean he's transferring?"

"Probably. Scoring over 570 and not transferring? If it were me, I'd ascend to heaven."

"How did he study over summer? How is he so damn good? Holy shit, how's his brain built to remember all this?"

Zhou Yuting listened, her frustration mounting; her knuckles whitened as she gripped her pen. She wanted to scream at them to shut up, but held back.

In public, she couldn't show any reaction—otherwise, she'd truly lose all face.

What would the homeroom teacher say to Jiang Nian? He'd probably call her too. Thinking this, Zhou Yuting drifted off, only snapping back to attention halfway through the listening.

She swallowed hard. If only one person could transfer, she wasn't entirely without a chance.

As long as...

Office.

The homeroom teacher was talking with Jiang Nian, first confirming his desire to transfer.

"Transferring doesn't mean your grades will improve. Changes in environment, relationships, study rhythm, and teachers' focus—all affect performance."

"Staying here doesn't mean you can't improve either. Our subject teachers all hold master's degrees and have years of teaching experience—they're especially skilled with top students... cough."

"Tailored instruction—that's what people call... giving extra tutoring."

All this talk—aren't you just reluctant to let me go?

Babbling nonsense.

Sorry, I'm transferring out of this class—Jesus himself can't stop me.

The homeroom teacher had spoken until his throat was dry; he picked up his goji berry thermos and took a sip.

"So, what's your decision?"

"Hmm." Jiang Nian nodded, then, as the homeroom teacher beamed with delight, asked, "Can I choose which class I transfer to, or is it random?"

The homeroom teacher's smile froze; he felt no joy or sorrow ever again.

You little brat... you're completely unmoved by reason!

"Since you've decided, then... cough." The homeroom teacher cleared his throat; if he couldn't keep him, there was nothing to be done. "It's all assigned. Do you have a preference?"

"Can it be arranged?" Jiang Nian naturally wanted to join Xu Qianqian's class.

"Theoretically possible, but practically..." The homeroom teacher drank water and fell silent. "The grade director has more influence. I'm just a lowly teacher."

Damn, you're playing me, huh?

During the brief afternoon dismissal, Xu Qianqian returned from the cafeteria and found Jiang Nian.

The teaching building was lit up; the two leaned on the corridor railing, chatting.

"I heard from Qingqing you scored 573?" Xu Qianqian turned, her hair tied in a small bun. "Did you ask the homeroom teacher which class you're going to?"

"Don't know. If I can choose, I'll go to your class." Jiang Nian slumped against the railing, his gaze fixed on the heavy evening clouds. "If not, I'll leave it to fate."

"Choose... our class?" Xu Qianqian was startled. "Why?"

Jiang Nian glanced at her, speaking casually.

"Isn't it better to be closer to you?"

Xu Qianqian's face flushed instantly at the words, but the dusk hid it well, making it unnoticeable. A whisper, faint as a mosquito's hum, drifted through the night wind—just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

"Don't come. I reject you."

"Tch."

During the second evening self-study session, Zhou Yuting was also called out by the homeroom teacher.

Jiang Nian lifted his head at the sound, glancing toward the door. Zhou Yuting turned back just then. Across more than half the classroom, their gazes met in the air.

Cold and distant—it made Zhou Yuting's heart skip.

In the hallway, she couldn't help recalling a rumor circulating in the class: Jiang Nian had been shaken during summer vacation, locked himself at home reading for two months, and became the way he is now.

Zhou Yuting felt no guilt, only annoyance. She needed Jiang Nian to voluntarily give up the class promotion.

In the brightly lit office, the homeroom teacher repeated what he had said in the afternoon.

"With your current grades, getting promoted is barely possible. Even if you barely scrape in, the Olympiad class atmosphere may not suit you."

"Moreover, the class in principle only has one promotion slot, and Jiang Nian is forty points higher than you—he already confirmed this afternoon that he's going to be promoted."

"So, you should understand..."

"Mm-hmm, what if Jiang Nian voluntarily gives it up?" Zhou Yuting asked.

The homeroom teacher fell silent. "You'll have to ask the party involved. I don't recommend either of you get promoted—adjusting to a new group takes time."

"I understand, Teacher," Zhou Yuting rose and said. "I'll find my own way. Thank you, Teacher."

Homeroom teacher: "???"