Chapter 42: Li Qingrong

At noon, during the first break, class monitor Li Qingrong suddenly found Zhang Nenzhi and Jiang Nian.

"Come pick out a locker."

"Alright." Jiang Nian, unusually normal, pulled out his chair and stood up, patting Zhang Nenzhi's shoulder in front, "Hey, the monitor wants us to pick lockers."

Zhang Nenzhi shrank her neck and mumbled an "Oh."

In the Gao San building, there was a peculiar feature: wall-mounted lockers. Simply put, they were rows of metal cabinets fused together with cement and the patchy wall near the classroom door.

The gray, dull lockers opened into rectangular spaces, roughly enough to hold half a desk's worth of items.

"Although you moved up before National Day, previous classmates' belongings were never taken down," Li Qingrong, by nature cold and detached, explained from the side.

"They cleared everything out yesterday—there are three spots total. You can choose first."

There were three locker units total—he and Zhang Nenzhi got first pick. The implication was clear: Li Qingrong hadn't notified Yu Tongjie yet, planning to tell him only after the two had chosen.

No one mentioned what had happened that day, but it hadn't been without effect.

Yu Tongjie merely had a good father, working in the County Committee Office—one of the county's three power families, though it meant nothing to Jiang Nian.

Children of the Three Families, unless their grades were so abysmal they embarrassed the family, were all sent to elite high schools if they had even a shred of talent—never left to rot.

County relationships were tangled and deep; who in this town didn't have some wealthy relative? You still had to do your job.

Besides, if you can't out-dad your rivals, can't you out-father-in-law them? Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—don't mock the poor youth; marry a Nalan Yanran and you'll crush the Jiale clan.

Hey, back to the point: if your grades suck, you can't even eat soft rice.

Jiang Nian glanced quickly—the three lockers were one on the top shelf, one on the bottom, and only one in the middle, so he made the decision for Zhang Nenzhi right away.

"You take the middle one. I'll take the top."

Zhang Nenzhi gasped, "Won't it be inconvenient for you to reach things up there?"

Jiang Nian thought for a moment, then said seriously, "Yeah, maybe we should share one locker?"

Hearing this, Zhang Nenzhi's face flushed crimson. She lowered her head, silent. Quietly, she returned to her seat, moved her books, stuffed them into the locker, and pulled a small padlock from under her desk.

Li Qingrong watched the entire process, then turned calmly to notify Yu Tongjie.

Whether he wanted the bottom locker or not? That was none of Li Qingrong's concern. A rumor-spreader just needs a locker—what does he need a bicycle for?

Jiang Nian propped his head up, glancing at the first row. Yu Tongjie seemed to know Li Qingrong—he whispered something to her, his face reddening again and again.

He couldn't help but smirk, silently cursing, "Asshole."

The afternoon's three classes were math, physics, and chemistry—just the names alone were suffocating.

After lunch, the class was listless. Ahead lay hell.

Jiang Nian's math score was average, and his comprehensive science score was equally mediocre. But comprehensive science emphasized knowledge networks—in other words, understanding and memorization.

He'd already completed the memorization; what remained was piecing it together systematically, analyzing exam questions, which indirectly boosted his comprehensive science score.

But math? No amount of memorizing formulas could fix it—if you didn't understand, you still didn't understand.

When pushed to the edge, people could do anything—except math. After struggling for hours in an exam, he'd end up calculating Xiao Ming's age as -3.6 years, wanting to stand up and slap himself.

His desk-mate Li Hua looked utterly exhausted, yet scored 145 in math. Ma Guojun was sleazy as hell, yet scored over 120. Yao Beibei spewed filth all day, yet scored over 130.

Zhang Nenzhi scored over 120 in math—Jiang Nian was the worst in the group.

If your math is this bad, college is already a lost cause.

During a lull in math class, Jiang Nian glanced out the window. The hot, stifling afternoon of high school made the sunlight too bright to open his eyes; in the distance, red flags fluttered.

This was the most authentic Chinese dream-core of the county high school: daily, endless struggle with no end in sight.

Jiang Nian suddenly thought of the system, and wondered what his future would truly look like.

Many things had already changed—would he still end up divorced if he got into a decent university? Maybe he shouldn't marry at all—or pursue Xu Qianqian?

Even if he dated Xu Qianqian, the one from the Shudao Mountain, they'd still fight—probably even worse for him.

His ex, Baby Zhizhi, wasn't bad either—beautiful, kind-hearted, good grades. But he didn't take it seriously; a thirty-eight-year-old Jiang Nian had nothing to do with his teenage self.

If the system one day told him he had a sixty-year-old girlfriend, would he have to find an old baby in advance?

He was a practical man—he cared only for what he held in his hands and useful information. There was no point obsessing over some vague, ethereal system.

What he had now: fifty-seven thousand yuan in his bank account. A modest home. A childhood friend. A group of normal friends. A mountain of books and endless practice problems. That was all.

After one autumn, after one summer, youth gradually drifted away.

Still, he had to keep his feet on the ground.

Just before math class ended, the math teacher walked over to Li Hua. Their exchange was almost telepathic—only a few interjections passed between them.

Li Hua: "Huh?"

Math teacher: "Hmm?"

Li Hua: "Uh..."

Then Jiang Nian watched as the math teacher pointed to a step in the solution.

"This."

"Oh, I get it."

Wait, bro, what the hell did you get? Jiang Nian watched the whole thing—he read the problem, then the solution to question three of the big problem, and was utterly lost.

What the fuck just happened? Is this still China? When did Chinese become so obscure?

The math teacher turned to the bewildered Jiang Nian. "Did you understand?"

Jiang Nian feigned profundity and nodded. "Didn't understand a thing."

The whole class burst into laughter.

Ding-ding-ding—the bell rang just in time. The math teacher had no time to elaborate. He tossed out "Ask your desk-mate," then hurriedly grabbed his lesson plan and left.

So tired—once the math teacher left, half the class collapsed onto their desks.

Jiang Nian and Li Hua slumped down in sync. The girl in front, Zhang Nenzhi, wasn't much better. She put down her pen, rubbed her eyes, and quietly laid her head on the desk, falling asleep instantly.

No one spoke—because the next class was physics.

During the break between second and third period, he learned that Zhang Nianzhi had solved a problem that overturned Newton's Third Law. Watching her flustered expression, Jiang Nian let out an unkind laugh.

"Amazink. Amazink."

Chemistry is the little liberal arts subject among the sciences—tons of equations and all sorts of fiddly little facts. At first glance it looks fun, but the moment you hit reaction principles, it puts you in your place.

During the last self-study period of the afternoon, Jiang Nian noticed his deskmate Li Hua kept squinting one eye, so he asked.

"Taking aim?"

Li Hua shook his head. "No, this is the Demon Eye. Open it and all living things are reduced to ruin."

Ma Guojun happened to be passing by on his way to turn in homework and couldn't hold it in. In the sunset-drenched classroom, the big fat guy grinned lecherously and clapped Li Hua on the shoulder.

"Stupid kid, that's a stye."