Chapter 61: Switching Seats

At twelve fifteen p. m., Jiang Nian returned from the cafeteria with the posture of a victor.

Got food again, brothers!

Jiang Nian turned and slipped into the adjacent convenience store to grab a large bottle of iced red tea; drinking soda daily isn't good for the body, but his drinks are occasionally inspected by Li Hua and Ma Guojun.

Even if he ever drank himself to urination, Jiang Nian would never say a word—death together, that's the deal.

Under the shade of trees, Jiang Nian didn't touch the bottle, sipping the iced red tea through the air.

Too self-aware—he's already become Inspection Officer No. 1.

In the blink of an eye, he saw Zhou Haifei pass by in front of him, holding a book, heading toward the shaded path—he didn't know if she'd eaten.

Jiang Nian froze, wondering why such a thought had popped into his head.

Absurd.

Going upstairs, he passed the third-floor Class Four classroom and noticed it was empty; he didn't know where Xu Qianqian and Song Xiuyun had gone.

Thinking carefully, the express delivery he ordered yesterday should have started arriving today—some items are next-day delivery.

Xu Qianqian's phone was ordered by her father's command—purely a tool for buying things on her behalf.

Song Xiuyun's piggy bank, honestly, looked quite pretty; he'd have to give it to her someday.

He also bought a small hair clip for Zhang Ningzhi.

Holy shit… too fickle.

Actually, he hadn't been fickle—just social etiquette.

Pure campus romance—he hadn't even held a girl's hand. Because he had few friends, he valued social reciprocity highly; relationships endure only when there's give and take.

Living off others' money was a joke—good friends must be properly nurtured.

He carried half a bottle of iced red tea upstairs into the classroom and placed it prominently on his desk. Boys giving gifts felt too awkward, bordering on southern Jiangsu vibes, so… self-service iced red tea.

In the classroom, he pulled out his math review book and began dragging his feet.

Jiang Nian had made a study plan; since the diagnostic test papers were easy, if converted to actual Gaokao scores, his grade should be around 510.

With seven months left until the Gaokao, with some effort, raising his score by sixty or seventy points wouldn't be hard.

He turned to glance at the desk beside him—Li Hua's watch, left behind, read 12:30.

The classroom held only a few people, utterly quiet, with vast patches of sunlight streaming through the windows.

The warm wind was slightly dry; he could hear scattered pages turning and occasional coughs.

In this class, regardless of season, someone was always catching a cold.

At the window seat in the front row, a figure was slumped over the desk, reading a novel on his phone, brightness turned to minimum.

The seating arrangement looked roughly like this.

In Jiang Nian's row, he sat in the middle; to his left was the quiet girl Huang Fang, to his right was Li Hua. In front, Zhang Ningzhi sat directly ahead of Li Hua, with two boys to her left.

The center front seat belonged to Wu Jungu, a day student, a clean-cut guy.

It wasn't that this guy was particularly handsome—it was that his desk and clothes were immaculately clean. He was extremely honest, spoke little, except when occasionally asking questions. His daily routine was studying and walking home with his girlfriend from the neighboring class after evening self-study.

The boy reading novels by the window was Ceng You, a boarding student, immersed in novels and games, oblivious to the world.

He usually ranked in the lower-middle of the class, occasionally upper-middle—his potential was that of a supreme emperor.

These six together formed Group Six; seats rotated weekly, the entire group moving forward.

Within the group, students could rearrange seats among themselves, as long as it wasn't excessive.

Honestly, Jiang Nian had been in the new class for nearly two weeks and still hadn't memorized everyone's names—he knew everyone in his group, and got along well with those in front and behind.

Though curious about what novel Ceng You was reading, he didn't dare disturb him since they weren't close.

Some people are just naturally gifted—they play games, read novels, yet still easily score over five hundred. In parallel classes, they'd be big shots, utterly impressive.

Ceng You, by the curtain, seemed to sense something, turned around, and gave Jiang Nian a simple, earnest smile.

"Jiang Nian, you'll be happy this afternoon."

"What?" Jiang Nian was momentarily confused; his pen spun unconsciously in his fingers. "Are we off this afternoon?"

Ceng You had a low laugh threshold—he burst into laughter at that one line, chuckling for half a minute.

"Today's Monday. After the class meeting, we switch seats."

Riddle-man, get out of Group Six. If you say "you'll understand," I'm gonna turn red.

Jiang Nian thought for a moment and replied with a magic incantation.

"So what?"

Before and after lunch, only five or six people remained in the classroom. In Jiang Nian's Group Three, only he and Ceng You were present; at the very back sat one student scribbling homework.

Ceng You felt strangely deflated—his "riddle power" punch had landed on cotton.

"Last week, I heard Zhang Ningzhi and Huang Fang discussing switching seats… didn't they tell you?"

Ceng You's smile turned sly, as if he was about to launch into gossip.

"So what?"

Ceng You's smile froze; his interest instantly drained as he turned away. He'd wanted to see Jiang Nian flustered, but got nothing but a repeat.

Still… "so what?"—useful phrase. Added to favorites.

In the afternoon, the first class was the class meeting.

Before Zhang Ningzhi entered the classroom, Jiang Nian deliberately glanced at her. Today's lemon water was gone—she hadn't bought him any, so he had no reason to expect any.

She felt his gaze land on her. She sat down nervously, opened her book, and began silently reciting, pretending not to notice.

She naturally masked her oddness, suppressing all emotions unrelated to studying.

Jiang Nian yawned, propped his head up, and continued slowly working on his math problems. He was just curious about the seat switch—was he going to be Zhang Ningzhi's desk partner?

Why didn't anyone tell him? Anger, trembling, cold—do boys' opinions not matter?

Whatever. As long as Zhang Ningzhi didn't consult the God of War before deciding, he'd be fine.

The class meeting was a bit dull. Homeroom teacher Liu Liangsong walked into the classroom, his thinning hair on full display. Same old tune, repeated for the umpteenth time: no phones allowed.

No dating, no playing with fire, water, or electricity.

"In our class, people who date are relatively few — after all, we're a science track class." Liu Liangsong planted both hands on the podium and swept his gaze across the room. "I want to stress this again here."

"Gao San! It's the hardest year of high school. I believe you've all felt that. But — please cherish it well. This may well be the most precious stretch of time in your lives."

"Once you graduate next year, you'll realize — hey, you'll never again find days when an entire class shares the same goal as you, chasing it together."

"Once you're in college, you'll have plenty of time to date. Date seven or eight at once and no one will care. Don't waste the most precious time of your life on lovey-dovey stuff."

"In the hardest moments, I hope none of you fall behind. Grit your teeth, hold on, study hard, and catch up soon with the version of yourselves that parents, family, teachers, and friends have placed such high hopes in."

Old Liu really lived up to being a Chinese teacher — the man had a way with words.

Zhang Ningzhi in the front seat kept her head bowed, her cheeks burning, feeling as if the secrets of her heart had been dragged out and left to bake under the sun.