Chapter 51: The Classroom Where Strength Rules

Jiang Nian only took Xu Qianqian a hundred yuan, explained carefully, and said he'd have money in two or three days.

Xu Qianqian snorted, threw out "Who cares about you?", and slammed the door shut with a bang.

The next day, Jiang Nian dumped the entire hundred yuan into his meal card; classes would be out in just two or three days anyway, and there was almost nowhere else to spend money besides food.

But if there really was somewhere to spend it, a guy with an estimated net worth nearing two hundred thousand wouldn't care about a hundred yuan.

It was just instinctive aversion to wasting the system's inflated limit—spending a hundred yuan meant losing three hundred. Why not spend these extra two hundred to treat Xu Qianqian to a snack street outing?

Frugal Jiang!

Sunday countdown: three days.

In the morning, Qian Bao couldn't take it anymore and yanked Jiang Nian up from his seat.

"What did I just say?"

"Qian Bao, have you had enough sleep?" he answered honestly.

Who asked you to repeat the last sentence, you little shit?

Hopeless. Lung heat.

"Don't think just because you're good at English you can sleep—teachers aren't soft targets," Qian Bao said, face tight and stern. "I'll call your parents."

"Teacher, can reporting someone earn me credit?" Jiang Nian suddenly asked.

Li Hua, who had been snickering beside him, turned pale, sweat breaking out on his forehead. One person spoke, six panicked; several pairs of eyes flickered quickly toward Jiang Nian.

"Speak!" Qian Bao roared.

"I report: Li Hua memorized vocabulary during Chinese class."

"You fucking—" Li Hua nearly spat it out, then immediately corrected himself: "My mom's in perfect health, oh come on Jiang Nian, what are you doing, this is—"

"This is so embarrassing—you've ruined me!"

Qian Bao watched the two of them perform a double act, pressed her palm to her forehead—today her name was Speechless. But she didn't want to crush Li Hua; was it wrong to memorize vocabulary during Chinese class?

Anyway, she shouldn't be the one saying it.

"Ahem, does Mr. Liu know you're memorizing vocabulary during his class?" she said seriously. "Your attitude is good, but the method isn't encouraged."

"Pay attention in class, keep up with the lesson pace—don't study privately on your own."

The class fell silent after her "your attitude is good." Qian Bao, you're this cheeky—don't you care if Old Liu hears you?

NTR is contagious—Qian Bao has already fallen into depravity.

Countdown day two.

Afternoon break, Science Office.

Biology teacher Zhong Qing was grading dictation homework at her desk; when she reached Yao Beibei's notebook, her brow furrowed immediately.

"This student clearly didn't review properly—just going through the motions."

After hastily giving a 65, she set the notebook aside. On her desk already lay seven or eight notebooks similarly covered—all belonging to students needing special attention.

Biology has too many facts to memorize; even a skilled cook can't make a meal without rice. If you can't even remember the basics, just knowing how to solve problems won't cut it—too inefficient.

Thinking this, she pulled out another dictation notebook.

One glance—perfect?

In the Olympiad class, a few students got perfect dictation scores. But Zhong Qing, recognizing the familiar handwriting, felt something—this notebook belonged to...

She opened it—sure enough, Jiang Nian.

Three dictations, zero mistakes—that was rare.

Zhong Qing had a vague memory of Jiang Nian; she knew he was a student who'd transferred from the parallel class just one or two weeks ago. Of course, she liked students from parallel classes too.

That dodge buff is insane—did he max out his anti-violence awareness?

In short, Jiang Nian had successfully drawn her attention. This usually quiet kid who rarely answered questions in class—what was his baseline biology score?

She pulled a sheet from her folder, then smacked her forehead—she'd forgotten he'd transferred up. She opened her computer and began searching the age-score database.

"Biology... 70? That's awfully conservative."

Zhong Qing murmured to herself; in her mind, since Jiang Nian could ace dictation, his biology score should've been at least 80.

Of course, careless mistakes causing score fluctuations were normal.

She pulled up his baseline exam answer sheet—this was the advantage of digital grading: permanent records, data comparison, simple analysis.

Cheating? You'd better make sure you don't expose any questions you've seen before—or you're guaranteed sent to the "Integrity Exam Room."

Seven or eight cameras—what the hell kind of "Integrity Exam Room" is that?

Clearly, Jiang Nian's exam performance matched his dictation accuracy—classic case of solid foundation, weak technique, too little practice.

Zhong Qing bit her lower lip, set Jiang Nian's notebook aside, and quietly circled his name in red pen on the class list—he was a mid-tier student.

During the third break, most boys in Class 403 lay sprawled along the corridor soaking up the sun. A dog ran past below, triggering a burst of commotion among the boys.

"Hey Jiang Nian, did you see? Ma Guojun just ran by," Li Hua pointed at the dog with a smirk.

Before he finished speaking, someone lifted him straight into an Aruba.

"One two! One two three!"

There was a gap near the staircase, perfect for an Aruba. Jiang Nian didn't stand there helplessly—he swiftly pulled out his phone and took a photo.

Destroy evidence, treat yourself to a chicken leg rice.

The school forbids phones; if caught, they're confiscated. But what does that have to do with Olympiad class students? That rule targets parallel classes—the lowest-tier key class doesn't care.

Just don't kiss during class—even boy-boy kissing is forbidden!

If you're from Zero Class, you can even walk up to the podium during class. Right in front of the teacher, slowly pull your charging phone out of the multimedia station.

The teacher won't stop you—they'll kindly ask if you want to charge longer.

One of Zhennan High's rule urban legends: double-standard rules.

Don't expect fairness here—this small county has only three key high schools. They live and die by admission rates—this is a classroom where strength reigns supreme.

When the sunlight slowly faded from the desk, the morning classes ended. Jiang Nian lifted his head from the sea of problems, stretched lazily, and had fooled another day.

Zhang Ningzhi in the front row suddenly turned around, hesitantly asking a question.

"Do you drink lemon tea?"

"I… it depends. Usually, if it's free, I love it." Jiang Nian had grown familiar with Zhang Ningzhi and knew her family owned more than just property in Nanjiang Bay.

Alright, baby, stop there. Don't say any more.

I have a friend who can't sleep.

It's not bad having a front-row classmate who doesn't care about money—at least since meeting Zhang Ningzhi. He'd strangely noticed that the tissues in his drawer seemed never to run out.

The Eighth Wonder of the World: the Treasure-Collecting Drawer!

No good—I'll have to figure out how to move this desk before graduation.

"Okay, it's free," Zhang Ningzhi laughed, standing up from her seat. Sunlight streamed through her neat desk and fell upon her ponytail, gilding each strand.

One of the strongest skins in high school: white uniform plus a pure ponytail.

"Oh, by the way, there's a sports meet this month," Zhang Ningzhi turned her head, curiously asking, "The PE monitor asked me—would you like to participate?"

Jiang Nian froze, realizing autumn had arrived.