Chapter Twenty-Five: The Homeroom Teacher

Xue Xi’s lingering farewell to Chen Hongxu was witnessed by many, leaving those who had thought, “Surely Xue Xi must be tired of Chen Hongxu after the summer and ready to dump him,” quite disappointed. Yet again, they had to admit—albeit with some reluctance—that the girl truly had discerning taste.

With the new semester just beginning, Chen Hongxu arrived at his former classroom. The plaque outside now read “Senior Year,” and though some students had already arrived inside, the atmosphere of intense study typical of the third year hadn’t quite settled in yet.

After all, it was only the start; everyone hadn’t seen each other in so long, there was a need to catch up, to boast and recount the storms and triumphs of the past two months.

“You guys have no idea! When my dad and I were in Tokyo, the earth shook so violently. If I hadn’t been quick-witted, I might have been buried alive…” A bespectacled boy with a middle part in his hair was bragging shamelessly.

His claim didn’t quite hold up, as news—be it online or on TV—had a way of reaching people. Someone immediately shot back, “Wasn’t it Nara that had the earthquake? What’s that got to do with Tokyo?”

The boy sniffed dismissively, lifting his chin as he pointed at his challenger. “Aftershocks! Do you even know what an aftershock is? Japan’s such a small island—aftershocks are terrifying! Do you think I’ll even tell you about nearly being swallowed by a tsunami afterward?”

Chen Hongxu withdrew his gaze from the boy’s theatrical performance, smiling silently. He was never one to stir up trouble, so he didn’t expose the act: “You probably went to some place called ‘Tokyo’ in the countryside, where they just happened to be demolishing buildings, it just happened to rain, and somehow you got both an earthquake and a tsunami together.”

He was already more interested in the conversation of another group of boys. Chen Hongxu vaguely recalled the boy speaking now—he was the one who’d bragged at the end of last term about his father signing him up for a tour of Europe.

“Believe it or not, I’ll say it anyway,” the boy said, his face tinged with awe. “Suddenly, a giant sword appeared in the sky, and tons of people shot up after it, fighting to get their hands on it.”

The group around him was clearly skeptical, mocking him relentlessly.

Chen Hongxu narrowed his eyes, considering the possibility of such news. Judging by the boy’s expression, he didn’t seem to be lying. And for a senior to tell such a transparent lie was suspicious in itself.

However, the boy didn’t elaborate further. Seeing no one believed him, he slumped into his seat, propping his head up with his hands, ignoring everyone.

“Could it be an artifact inheritance?” Chen Hongxu soon dismissed the thought. After all, those who could afford a trip to Europe were all well-known powerhouses—not someone like him, who was but a small fry. Besides, he understood the perils of biting off more than one could chew. He already possessed a weapon embryo, and from what the weapon spirit had boasted, it was powerful enough; he had no desire to meddle in other things.

Unlike the boys’ grandstanding, the girls’ conversation was far more grounded. A small group sat together discussing a transfer student.

“Is it really Secretary Hu’s son?”

“Of course. My uncle works in the education bureau. The transfer of such a prominent official’s child would be relayed to me immediately. We need to keep friendly relations, after all.”

“Lucky you, being from an official family yourself—what a perfect match,” another girl sighed dejectedly.

“That’s right!” The girl speaking lifted her chin with pride. In truth, she knew she had no chance; otherwise, she wouldn’t be sharing the news so freely. As for her uncle, he was merely a driver for the education bureau.

…

Listening to the gossip swirling around him, Chen Hongxu smiled to himself, thinking how truly wonderful it was to be ordinary.

The wall clock in the classroom struck eight. A woman whose age was impossible to guess entered. She was beautiful, with a captivating charm—too mature for twenty, too youthful for thirty.

Such a vision silenced the entire class; all eyes were drawn to the woman at the lectern, though each gaze lingered on a different place.

She, pleased to command such instant attention, nodded with satisfaction and spoke calmly, “Hello, everyone. I’m your homeroom teacher for this semester. Since it’s our first day meeting, a self-introduction is inevitable. I hope we’ll get along well in the year ahead.”

After her graceful preamble, she introduced herself, “My name is Xia Ruohe. I’ll be your homeroom teacher, and I teach Chinese literature.” She smiled, then pointed to the first girl by the door. “Let’s start with you. Please introduce yourself—loudly. This will help your teacher get to know you, and build your own confidence.”

“…”

…

Watching Xia Ruohe’s commanding presence on stage, and the classmates below shouting out their names with little dignity or ambition, Chen Hongxu smiled helplessly as his turn approached.

“Chen Hongxu!” He stood quickly, spoke his name clearly but without much volume, and sat down again.

Xia Ruohe frowned slightly, fixing her gaze on the student who seemed so uncooperative. Everyone else had at least mentioned a hobby or talent, but he said nothing beyond his name.

“Is he shy?” Xia Ruohe shook her head. Judging by Chen Hongxu’s relaxed, easy demeanor and the way he glanced around, he didn’t seem remotely introverted.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she thought, determined to teach him a lesson about group spirit and collective awareness. She shot him a meaningful glare, then resumed her gentle encouragement of the next students.

After the long and tedious round of introductions, Xia Ruohe nodded in satisfaction and spoke, “Your senior year is the most crucial year of your lives. Whether you can leap over the dragon gate depends on this year. Of course, some of you may have privileged backgrounds, but let me be clear: if you can’t even master your textbooks at school—lifeless objects—how will you compete with living, breathing people out in society?”

She saw everyone’s stunned faces and continued, “I say this to remind you: senior year is for study. Those so-called interests and hobbies can wait. For this important year, I’ll be here with you every step of the way. No matter your past grades, I’ll treat you all the same.”

Applause rose steadily from the students—especially the boys, who clapped with extra enthusiasm.

Chen Hongxu stifled a yawn and clapped perfunctorily, but was unfortunately caught by Xia Ruohe.

She raised her hand for silence. “Senior year is mainly about review; there won’t be many new courses, but there are still some new books. Let’s have our very cool Chen Hongxu help the teacher bring the books from the office, shall we?”

The class responded in unison—except for Chen Hongxu. Those who had thought of volunteering reconsidered; after all, it was just manual labor, and there would be other chances to impress Teacher Xia.

Chen Hongxu furrowed his brow. He hadn’t expected to draw attention even while lying low.

With no choice, he got to his feet and silently left the classroom to collect the books from the office.

The first day of the new term was always about collecting new textbooks, handing in bank receipts for registration, and, at most, chatting in the classroom.

After receiving his textbooks, Chen Hongxu sat in the classroom, puzzled. He couldn’t understand why Xia Ruohe kept targeting him—one moment sending him to fetch assignment paper, the next for chalk, and finally, when told to retrieve a set of practice exercises, he simply didn’t return.

Xia Ruohe’s gritted-teeth frustration needed no elaboration.

As noon approached, Xue Xi couldn’t find Chen Hongxu in the classroom. After some thought, she skipped her way to the back hill of the school, where she found him daydreaming.

“I keep saying you should get a phone. Otherwise, when I can’t find you, I have to rely on telepathy,” Xue Xi said, settling down beside him.

“I don’t have anyone to contact. There’s no need,” Chen Hongxu replied, pushing himself up.

Xue Xi pouted, pointing at her own nose.

Chen Hongxu chuckled, reaching out to tap her on the tip of her nose. “Don’t we see each other every day? Why make things complicated? Come on, I’m hungry—let’s go eat.”

At the mention of food, Xue Xi stuck out her tongue, slapped her forehead, and said mysteriously, “I almost forgot—let’s go eat! Let’s eat!”

Without waiting for Chen Hongxu’s response, she grabbed his hand with swift precision and, dragging him along, dashed toward the school cafeteria as if hurrying to a festival.