Chapter 46

Ma Guojun stared blankly, adjusting his glasses. "Bro, you're not seriously saying that guy was you?"

"What kind of nonsense is that!" Jiang Nian dodged the question. "What guy? Has nothing to do with me… I need to see my lawyer!"

"Dude, you're the real man among men, that fierce?" Li Hua gave a thumbs-up. "No wonder you're the King of Fathers Who Leave Kids Behind."

"King of Kings, King of Kings—without you, I wouldn't watch NBA." Ma Guojun also raised his thumb. "Bro, tone it down in games—I'm scared you'll knock LeBron out with one elbow."

Yao Bei Bei walked by and joined in the commentary.

"Fine, you fight, but why take off their shoes and throw them in the toilet? Just imagining them limping home with one shoe makes me laugh."

Zhang Nizhi nodded, her face filled with concern.

"Just don't fight—it's too easy to get hurt."

Jiang Nian looked around at roughly a dozen pairs of eyes and gave a polite smile—he would never admit to this black history.

"No, it really wasn't me." (serious face)

The group burst into laughter, drawing attention from other classmates, who turned curious glances their way. Li Qingrong, the monitor sitting in the first row, frowned slightly.

Ding-ding-ding—the bell for the third class rang, and everyone dispersed.

Jiang Nian calmly pulled out his biology textbook from under his desk, exhaling in relief. Thank heavens—he almost became "Shoe-Thrower" for the rest of Gao San.

It wasn't all his fault—this was the environment at No. 2 High. The strong adapt; the weak die stiff. He wanted to be good, but no one gave him the chance.

Some junior high kids were idiots, strutting around for no reason, picking fights just to assert dominance. It had little to do with basketball—there was already tension, so a fight broke out naturally.

Four or five guys, worked up—it's normal. Throwing shoes was mild; not shoving them back into their mothers' wombs was him being merciful.

They were all idiots, and so was he—for no reason, fighting people. Three segments of Fighting Power, invincible—lose his pocket money and he'd calm right down.

Past misdeeds too painful to recall—now buried in social death.

Dead code. Thick code.

The biology teacher was a young woman in her mid-twenties, wearing a small bee-shaped speaker strapped to her waist. Her voice was sweet, and so was her name.

Zhong Qing.

Barely minutes into class, seven or eight boys stood at the back of the classroom listening.

Including Li Hua.

Okay okay okay—the physics teacher's a middle-aged guy, and you'd rather die of boredom than stand at the back. Third period you're wide awake, wandering to the back to catch the biology teacher's attention, right?

The seat beside Jiang Nian suddenly emptied—Ma Guojun slid right into it.

Facing the gossiping fat guy, Jiang Nian spoke sparingly.

"Lymphokines are proteins, transported via exocytosis." Zhong Qing's voice echoed through the classroom; the rain that had fallen all day finally stopped.

After school in the afternoon, students trickled out slowly; the school broadcast played Jay Chou's "Stranded."

"The sky, long without sunshine, still holds your smile. Cried, yet guilt can't be buried. The kite is stranded in the overcast, longing waits for rescue."

Jiang Nian liked listening to the school broadcast—because normally he spent his days reading and solving problems. When a song matched his mood, it felt like finding a hidden treasure.

At home was different—it was already free time. Why waste it listening to music?

Can't you listen while gaming? But when you get furious in a game, crouching on your chair cursing someone, the music gets fuzzy.

Zhang Nizhi seemed better in the afternoon—she went off by herself to eat with Yao Bei Bei. She didn't want to trouble Jiang Nian, so she left right after school.

Jiang Nian napped on his desk for half an hour before heading to eat. When he returned, a bottle of fruit-granule milk sat on his desk.

He blinked in surprise, glancing at Zhang Nizhi, who was bent over her desk solving problems. He'd given her fruit-granule milk during the exam—it was unmistakable.

Didn't even need a sticky note or a smiley face—spot on at a glance.

Jiang Nian sat down calmly, slowly unwrapping the straw and inserting it. Ma Guojun walked in just then, intending to head straight to his seat, but caught sight of Jiang Nian inserting the straw.

A gift from heaven. Wild milk.

People who play jungle don't have bad luck—though I mean no disrespect; those who play jungle also have great fortune!

"Hey, give me a sip!"

Too late—he'd already bitten the straw.

"What?"

Ma Guojun looked disappointed, waving his hand. "Forget it, forget it."

Milk is nothing like iced black tea, Sprite, or Coke—before you sip from it, it's premium nourishment; after you sip from it, it's Ganges water.

"When did you buy the milk?" Ma Guojun tossed him a small packet of White Rabbit candy.

Hearing this, Zhang Nizhi in the front seat felt her heart leap. Her pulse quickened slightly, her cheeks flushed hot, and her grip on the pen tightened.

"Didn't buy it. Found it."

"Damn, next time I'm jungle—call me." Ma Guojun returned to his seat.

Jiang Nian's single sentence dropped Zhang Nizhi from the peak of a rollercoaster straight into the valley. It was me who gave it—you're the one who found it!

Just a moment ago, she'd hoped he wouldn't tell the truth.

After all, though not everyone was here yet, most had arrived. Giving milk out of nowhere would raise suspicion—admitting it outright would be too embarrassing.

But hearing him say "found it…"

Ding-ding-ding—the twenty-minute evening reading began. As Zhang Nizhi stood up, she turned and shot Jiang Nian a furious glare—he smirked.

Evening self-study was great—Jiang Nian wanted to nap by the second period.

Just wanted to play a game and relax.

Jiang Nian tossed his pen onto the thick stack of math review materials, leaning back against the desk. Gazing at the dense math symbols, he let out a long sigh.

The classroom glowed brightly, utterly silent—only the sound of turning pages and writing filled the air.

His grades were average—mid-tier in class. Room for improvement was small; room for decline… wasn't much either.

Gao San had only just passed its first seventh. The college entrance exam would be harder. He estimated his score next summer… top-tier university guaranteed, elite top-tier if lucky, snagging a 211 project school would be a win.

As he daydreamed, his gaze met that of the monitor, Li Qingrong.

Meeting eyes is a high-level form of communication, and Jiang Nian had no desire to communicate with the class monitor. So he took the initiative to mute himself, shifted his gaze away, and instinctively searched a second time.

Subconsciously glanced again—huh? Why is she still looking at him.

Damn, not doing homework during self-study is a capital offense now?

Two seconds later, Li Qingrong shifted her gaze away.

Oh, she must be looking out the window—Jiang Nian's panic was for nothing. Anyone else would be fine, but the class monitor's gaze really does carry pressure, like some mother-approved copy-paste version of Violet Evergarden.

Jiang Nian even noticed some girls blushing when they saw Li Qingrong. Damn, what kind of all-girls class is this!