Amidst the roar of laughter, Old Qin gestured for Xie Lan to sit down, then returned to the podium and patted the desk. “Alright, that’s enough. Our math whiz still needs to put some effort into catching up in Chinese. He’s fresh from abroad, so everyone help him out.”

The class chorused their agreement. One boy piped up, “Teacher, you’re so tragic. Your rejuvenation failed.”

“It was a success,” Old Qin smiled. “Thanks to Student Xie Lan. A smile makes you ten years younger; I laughed for half the night.”

Low laughter rippled through the room again before Old Qin sat down to grade papers, and the classroom quickly quieted down.

Xie Lan was a bit speechless.

Not because he was fragile, but mainly because of the grading.

He got 6 points for the essay. For the multiple-choice questions he guessed on at the beginning, he got two right, earning another 6 points. He picked up 4 scattered points on the written questions, bringing the total to 16.

It wasn’t exactly a defeat, considering it was one point higher than he had estimated. But the fill-in-the-blank classical poetry section felt a bit unjust. Out of ten questions, there was one line—”Heaven has made me talented, so I must be useful”—that he definitely knew, yet he still got a big red ‘X’.

Xie Lan used his phone to check the original text for the next line: A thousand gold scattered will come back again.

Dou Sheng whispered, “That question was a freebie. What did you write?”

Xie Lan subconsciously flipped his phone screen down. “Why are you looking at my phone?”

“Just happened to glance at it.”

Xie Lan felt a bit stifled. “It was basically the same as the correct answer anyway. A little bit more and the total would have been 17.”

“That really is a pity.” Dou Sheng clicked his tongue in cooperation. He was about to lie back down and sleep when he suddenly glanced at Xie Lan’s answer sheet, his expression freezing instantly.

First line: Heaven has made me talented, so I must be useful.

Xie Lan’s next line: A thousand gold scattered will not return.

Dou Sheng searched his desk for a long time until he found that plane tree leaf. He flipped it over and wrote another four characters: Missed by a billion.

Xie Lan: “……”

The self-study period was very quiet. The only two people in the classroom not studying were one on Xie Lan’s left, and Chen Ge, who was slumped at the other end of the row.

After two periods of Chinese class, Old Qin walked out clutching his papers, but stopped at the classroom door.

“I want to say a few words to you all,” he said, looking at the class. “We are about to split into new classes. According to this year’s science track division, some students will go to the Comprehensive A Class, and others will be assigned to other classes based on ranking. Everyone here was a top student in the city a year and a half ago. I hope you won’t forget the ideals you held when you first started high school, no matter where you go from here—”

He paused, casting his gaze toward the back door, and enunciated each word clearly: “Don’t admit defeat.”

Xie Lan turned his head instinctively. Chen Ge seemed slightly moved when he heard the words “don’t admit defeat,” but soon he bent down, scooped up the basketball from the floor, and walked straight out the back door.

Old Qin left as well, and the classroom instantly became noisy.

Xie Lan suddenly felt a poke on his left arm.

Dou Sheng retracted his index finger. “I have a friendly little suggestion. Want to hear it?”

“No.” Xie Lan’s face went cold instantly as he looked down and flipped through his book.

Dou Sheng continued, “The school has voluntary extra classes on weekends. Sign-ups will probably start soon.”

Xie Lan’s hands paused.

Dou Sheng added, “There’s a foundational class for Chinese, but it conflicts with the Math Olympiad coaching. You might want to consider it?”

Xie Lan resumed flipping pages. “We’ll see.”

Actually, he was quite interested.

Catching up in Chinese was a massive project. Reading and writing characters was one thing, but literary accumulation was another. You couldn’t just brute-force the language on your own; having a teacher guide him would be much better.

The last two periods of the morning were Math.

Old Ma walked in clutching the entire class’s exam papers. His dedication in grading everything overnight moved the “owls” to the point of weeping. After the math rep, Che Ziming, tremblingly wrote “Average Score: 108” on the blackboard, they cried even louder.

Old Ma blew on the goji berries in his thermos, his smile peaceful. “About one-third of this test was competition-level difficulty. Doing this well was within expectations. The existence of the Math/Physics A Class is to target autonomous university admissions; this will become the norm in the future, so everyone needs to settle down and focus. Today we’ll go over the 16 multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blank questions first. Interrupt me anytime if you have questions.”

Old Ma didn’t speak fast, but his logic was concise and clear, with extensions and pointers that were just right. Xie Lan looked up and scanned the room; the elites were all sitting bolt upright. Even Yu Fei, who usually slumped against the wall, was sitting straight and wearing glasses. Dou Sheng had also pulled over a piece of paper and was taking notes every now and then.

During the break, those who needed the bathroom slipped out quietly, while the rest kept their heads down, working on problems, even quieter than morning study.

Xie Lan was just feeling awed by this elite atmosphere when he saw Old Ma coming over, beaming, clutching his thermos.

“I’m saving a spot for you in my Math Olympiad class this weekend. Don’t forget to hand in the form,” Old Ma whispered.

Xie Lan hesitated. “Teacher, I want to take a different class.”

Old Ma paused. “A different class? You’re not listening to the Math Olympiad?”

Xie Lan braced himself and gave a confirmation, “Mmh.”

“Why?” Old Ma looked incredulous. “Do you know the meaning of ‘a reckless waste of God-given gifts’?”

Xie Lan paused subtly. “Not really.”

Dou Sheng’s stool began to shake.

“Don’t learn how to play dumb from Dou Sheng.” Old Ma sighed. “Seriously, come. You absolutely must come.”

Xie Lan tried to make his eyes look as sincere as possible. “Teacher, I only scored a 16 in Chinese.”

“16 is 16, even if you scored…” Old Ma’s voice came to a screeching halt. He looked bewildered. “Scored how much???”

It was unclear whether the rejection of the competition coaching or the score of 16 shocked Old Ma more. Either way, Old Ma’s retreating back looked weathered and weary.

Che Ziming turned around to comfort him. “It’s okay, a few of us are taking Math. We’ll lend you our notes later.”

Xie Lan could only sigh.

On the way to the cafeteria at noon, Hu Xiujie intercepted Dou Sheng halfway, saying she needed to ask him more about the Wang Gou situation.

Dou Sheng nodded absentmindedly and greeted Che Ziming. “Take him with you for lunch.”

The “him” referred to Xie Lan.

Che Ziming nodded. “I know, I know. You really think you’re his guardian or something.”

Hu Xiujie said to Xie Lan, “By the way, the paperwork for your ‘half-dorm’ is done. You’ll be rooming with Dou Sheng and Dai You for now. Here is the key.”

A “half-dorm” meant staying only for the midday nap, not overnight. The British High School had ample accommodation resources; as long as you had the money, you could apply for a dorm room specifically for napping.

Xie Lan took the flat key labeled “Dorm 3 – 603” and said thank you to the teacher.

The cafeteria was exploding with people today. Every line snaked around several times. Xie Lan stood there, stunned.

Che Ziming dragged him to line up for the “Top Tier Delicious” Ribs Pot. They waited a solid twenty minutes. Just as they reached the window, Xie Lan looked at the chili peppers bubbling in the clay pot with the ribs and began to regret it.

He couldn’t handle spicy food. Not even a little bit.

The cafeteria lady used iron tongs to pick up a clay pot that had finished simmering and shouted at the top of her lungs, “How many scoops?”

Xie Lan didn’t understand. “Add what?”

With a flick of her wrist, the lady dumped a solid scoop of pickled peppers on top of the pot. “Add peppers!”

Xie Lan: “……Thank you.”

Che Ziming wandered around with his tray, looking distressed. “Not even a single empty seat. Unbelievable.”

Just as he spoke, someone nearby finished eating and stood up, leaving a spot. Quick-eyed and fast-handed, he immediately pressed Xie Lan into it. “Hurry, sit here.”

Xie Lan was forced to squeeze between two boys he didn’t know.

The surroundings were incredibly noisy. The ribs in the clay pot did smell delicious, but the rising steam was a bit choking. Xie Lan hesitated for a long time before picking up a piece from the edge and trying a bite.

Then, he inhaled sharply and turned his back, coughing for quite a while.

On the way back, Xie Lan kept looking for food, but unfortunately, he didn’t see any convenience stores until he entered the gate of Dorm 3.

As they walked up the stairs, Dai You introduced the situation. “Our room is a four-person room with two vacancies. I’m full-time, Dou Sheng is half-time. I heard you’re living at his house at night now?”

Xie Lan gave a confirmation. “How is the dorm?”

“Not bad. Bunk beds with desks underneath. The facilities are pretty new,” Dai You said. “603 and the water room are at opposite ends, but since you guys are just napping, it doesn’t matter much.”

When they got back to the dorm, they found Dou Sheng had already returned. He was sitting on his bed playing on his phone, the corner of a plastic bag peeking out from the edge of the bed.

Dai You asked immediately, “What happened with the Wang Gou thing?”

“Nothing much. Just asked me to repeat what I saw in the cafeteria yesterday. Hu Xiujie isn’t stupid anyway.” Dou Sheng offered a casual explanation, then looked up at Xie Lan and patted the empty bunk next to him. “The dorm auntie brought fresh sheets.”

A box of cookies was sitting by his hand. After speaking, he tossed a stack into his mouth and chewed.

Xie Lan asked casually, “Do you record the sound of eating at any time?”

Dai You turned around, puzzled. “Record what?”

“Nothing,” Dou Sheng said immediately. “Dai You, pass me a tissue.”

Dai You said “Oh” and tossed him a pack of tissues.

Xie Lan didn’t pay it any mind. He climbed up two steps to make the bed. The smell of butter was fragrant, and he couldn’t help but glance at the plastic bag on Dou Sheng’s bed.

The bag had “Little Leaf Pastries” printed on it in red. Inside, besides the butter cookies, there was a box of Strawberry Daifuku—six cute little balls, translucent mochi skin hugging a cream filling, packed in a plastic box similar to the dirty bun from last time.

Dou Sheng finished chewing the cookies quickly. He had just pried open the Strawberry Daifuku box when he looked up and met Xie Lan’s stare. He froze.

A moment later, he extended the box slightly toward Xie Lan. “Want one?”

Dai You was surprised. “That’s rare. You, the food-hoarder, actually initiating sharing food?”

Food-hoarder? (Hu Shi – protective of food)

Xie Lan savored the word. He seemed to understand but not fully, though it suddenly reminded him of Dou Sheng’s WeChat signature—Won’t give.

Dou Sheng shook the box of pink pastries. “Do you want it or not?”

Xie Lan hesitated for a moment but eventually surrendered to hunger. He reached out and took one. “Thanks.”

The Strawberry Daifuku was excellent.

The mochi skin was thin and elastic, the strawberry flesh inside was sweet, tart, and cold, blending perfectly with the smooth, sweet cream.

It was just a pity it was a bit too small.

Dai You stood below, looking up. “Give me one too.”

Dou Sheng scrolled through his phone. “I won’t have enough.”

“Tch.” Dai You laughed and kicked the ladder of his bed. “A leopard can’t change its spots!”

Xie Lan wiped his hands with a tissue and lowered his head to continue unpacking the sheets.

Dou Sheng asked Dai You nonchalantly, “What did you guys eat for lunch?”

Dai You answered while climbing into bed, “Ribs pot. Blame Hu Xiujie for holding us up for two minutes; we couldn’t even find seats next to each other.”

Dou Sheng gave an “Oh.”

Xie Lan finished making the bed just as the nap bell rang. Dai You put in earplugs and went to sleep. Xie Lan also lay down and closed his eyes.

Dou Sheng was still sitting on his bed, quietly playing on his phone. A moment later, Xie Lan’s phone suddenly vibrated.

He received a new WeChat message.

RJJSD: You don’t eat spicy food?

Xie Lan paused.

He quickly ran through the conversations of the past two days in his head and was very certain he hadn’t mentioned not eating spicy food to anyone.

The only time he might have exposed his habit was yesterday at lunch, when he didn’t touch a single bite of the spicy chicken chunks in the leftovers.

Xie Lan hesitated, then replied with a single character: Mmh.

RJJSD: Unbelievable. Che Ziming is like a total ZZ.

Renaissance: What is ZZ?

RJJSD: …Sage.

Xie Lan couldn’t quite make heads or tails of it, so he sent a question mark back.

Dou Sheng didn’t reply.

A moment later, the iron railing above his head made a soft sound.

Then came the restrained rustle of a plastic box. A nice-looking hand poked the box containing the Strawberry Daifuku, centimeter by centimeter, through the railing from the other side.

The phone vibrated.

RJJSD: Something to fill the stomach of the picky-eater returnee/little pitiful one.

A few seconds later, another vibration.

RJJSD: Hush money. Don’t tell my mom about the fight.

Xie Lan: “……”

Did this guy forget that he already paid the hush money last night?

It was that piece of trash plane tree leaf blown in by the wind.