The crushing weight pressing down on her vanished in an instant.
She jerked her head up and saw the teacher on the podium, wearing a face that was far from friendly—on the left it said, “You’re dead,” and on the right, “It’s over.”
“…Huh?”
Her still-drowsy mind snapped awake. She glanced at the clock above the teacher’s head—four o’clock. It was math class.
All the students in the classroom had turned their attention toward her, including those in the first row. Their necks craned like a gaggle of geese desperately pecking for food, looking utterly ridiculous.
Among the various expressions, her eyes immediately found the one that looked worst.
The girl shared about sixty percent of her features, but no one would ever confuse the two.
Her counterpart’s delicate features were sharp and proud, tinged with stubbornness, as if she were ready to draw a weapon and leap into battle at any moment.
Right now, she was staring at her with an iron-cold face, her beautiful phoenix-like eyes wide with anger, blazing with a fire that seemed to silently demand:
Why are you like this?!
It was Zhu Feifei.
Zhu Shuiwen’s heart skipped a beat. The images from her dream scattered like mist and vanished; the sorrow that had been weighing on her chest, suffocating her, was replaced by nervous apprehension about the present scene.
…Her sister is angry.
Her sluggish brain spun twice before she remembered—it was her first week after transferring to Fuhai No. 9 High School.
At most, she had known her cousin for only seven days.
In that time, they had maximized their “stranger” status—barely speaking a word to each other, even missing each other when going to and from school.
Normally, it would have been fine, a sort of peaceful coexistence, but that bizarre dream had shattered that fragile equilibrium.
Under the teacher’s hawk-like gaze, she hastily stood up.
The chair scraped back with a loud, grating screech.
…If her sister is this angry, she probably said something really inappropriate in her sleep, right?
A voice suddenly appeared in her mind: [Not really. Besides saying “sister sister sister,” you didn’t say anything extra.]
In Zhu Shuiwen’s dazed stare, a floating panel materialized.
[ID 1094—Plot Patching System, sincerely at your service.]
Zhu Shuiwen: …
Very well.
The auditory hallucinations from her “dream” had now upgraded to visual ones.
This must be… what they call terminally ill?
But before that, she would likely experience firsthand what “your time is short” really meant.
Looking at the complex diagram labeled with eight letters and incorporating triangles, circles, and coordinate axes, Zhu Shuiwen’s vision went black.
The classroom was silent, only the soft whir of the ceiling fan above could be heard.
The girl’s soft, fair, bun-shaped face bore a clear red mark, and her eyes were rimmed with crimson from fatigue, revealing exactly what she had been doing while resting her head.
And she didn’t even know, earnestly scrutinizing the projection on the board, pretending to be serious.
The teacher’s face darkened further, while Zhu Shuiwen’s deskmate squirmed nervously.
Being closest to the “battlefield,” the deskmate felt as if she were being roasted over a fire alongside her, terrified that the next words would be: “Can’t answer? Then the deskmate will answer.”
Xiao Shui! Xiao Shui, you have to get through this!
She prayed desperately in her heart, but at the same time, some students were grinning maliciously.
In the rows ahead of Zhu Feifei, someone turned around furtively, silently mouthing: “Country bumpkin got hunted.”
With each word, his lips exaggeratedly formed the shape to ensure those behind could read it clearly.
Sure enough, the students behind snickered.
Everyone glanced at Zhu Feifei, well aware of who this jab was really aimed at.
Seeing Zhu Feifei apparently unfazed, he continued, exaggerating his lip movements even more, mouthing each word: “Country, bumpkin, her, sister—aren’t you gonna help? No sense of loyalty?”
Zhu Feifei immediately flung her pen and glared back sharply.
“None of your business, scram”—her gaze clearly radiated hostility.
Perhaps stifled with anger, her meticulously polished pearl-tone pen hit the desk corner and snapped in two.
Because Zhu Feifei’s reputation preceded her, he didn’t dare go further, sulking back into place.
But others had no such restraint. With her pen toss, the strange, stifled giggles only grew louder.
The boy in front of Zhu Feifei, with slightly curly hair, leaned back on his chair, resting his elbow on her stack of books, whispering: “Sister Fei, upset? Such big sister vibes, your motherly love is overflowing.”
“Deng Xujie, are you sick? Stop claiming relatives at random,” Zhu Feifei pushed him away angrily. “Don’t crush my books on the desk.”
“Oh, what you say…” Deng Xujie grinned. “Country bumpkin even dreams about you, how can you be so cold?”
He seemed to find the nickname “country bumpkin” amusing, calling it out repeatedly.
“Are you annoying or what!” Zhu Feifei snapped.
On her first day at the new school, Zhu Shuiwen hadn’t received her uniform yet—she wore a cotton-linen top with frog buttons and a soft dark blue linen skirt, looking shy and reserved.
But the moment she saw Zhu Feifei shielding her face with a book while walking past, her eyes lit up, and she joyfully shouted “Sister.”
That one word exposed the truth Zhu Feifei had desperately tried to hide.
—A rustic, country bumpkin cousin had come to join their family.
High school was the age for little girls to love dressing up. Zhu Feifei’s friends would secretly play with nail polish, discuss trendy brands, or add small touches to their rigid uniforms.
Zhu Shuiwen, however, was impeccably clean, her black hair tied plain and simple, her skin as fair as snow, sitting there like a clear mountain spring.
No one knew who first started calling her “country bumpkin,” but by the time Zhu Feifei found out, the nickname had already spread through her social circle.
“Country bumpkin’s sister”—the first time she heard it, Zhu Feifei felt her scalp tingle.
The teacher, noticing the whispering below, frowned: “What’s all the noise? I called Zhu Shuiwen. Are you trying to answer for her?”
At once, the room fell silent.
The problem was difficult; even the usually strict teacher allowed eight full minutes—extraordinarily long—for everyone to calculate. Even math whizzes filled two full scrap papers before arriving at the answer just in time.
Those who couldn’t solve it were plentiful—who would dare stand out as a show-off?
Although Zhu Shuiwen was asleep, most of the students who were awake were at about the same level as her—basically “zero points.”
The only difference was that right now, the one standing and losing face was Zhu Shuiwen, while the others could hide behind the crowd and shamelessly create a “spectator” atmosphere.
Deng Xujie whispered, “The country bumpkin just came from the countryside and is already feeling how ruthless the world is.”
Sigh. Sister Fei is so smart—how could her own little sister be such a fool? Same genes, and yet such a difference?
His deskmate shot back lightly, neither soft nor harsh: “Have you figured it out? Then answer for her.”
Deng Xujie choked.
Feeling guilty, he pressed his hand down on the scratch paper, covering the messy duck drawing that took up most of the page.
Suddenly, an idea struck him, and he quietly called back to the back of the classroom, “The answer is 5√2.”
Naturally, a helpful classmate passed it along: “5√2! Zhu Shuiwen, say 5√2!”
Deng Xujie’s heart leapt with amusement.
The “eagle-head” teacher hated cheating more than anything—this would be entertaining.
“How did you calculate it?” “Is this your answer? Explain your reasoning.” “Can’t explain? Then why did you just say it?”—a string of questions that could flay you alive, figuratively speaking.
This problem was already difficult. Even if someone had solved it, having another student shout the answer would make anyone doubt themselves, leaving them too scared to speak.
The sharp gaze of the head teacher locked onto Zhu Shuiwen like a hawk eyeing prey, but he didn’t stop others from passing along the answer.
He seemed to have his next words ready, just waiting for the girl to stumble straight into his trap.
Seeing her hesitate, some classmates grew impatient: “Zhu Shuiwen, 5√2—did you hear?”
“5√2… geez, so frustrating, this girl’s ears must be deaf or something…”
Amid the frantic urging, Zhu Shuiwen finally moved.
—but not to say the answer.
Her face flushed bright red as she bent over and said clearly, “Teacher, I’m really sorry. I fell asleep earlier and didn’t work on this problem…”
She seemed genuinely embarrassed; her speech grew faster and louder in urgency: “I’ll go buy some medicated oil after class. I’ve wasted everyone’s time—sorry—!”
As the girl bent over in apology, the classroom fell silent, leaving only the whirring of the fans.
Many students kept their expressions neutral, but in their hearts, they couldn’t help but gasp.
…Amazing.
Lots of students nap in class, and many get called out to socially die in front of everyone, but this was the first time someone admitted outright that they fell asleep—right in the class of the strictest teacher.
This… was incredibly bold.
Even the naughtiest students would sit up straight in his class, never letting a hint of sleepiness show.
A slight slip, and you’d either be made to stand until the very end as punishment, or sent out to “wake up.”
—Many students left the room crying.
This fully earned him the nickname “Fuhai No. 9’s Number One Eagle-Head,” the class’s very own King Yama.
Zhu Shuiwen didn’t look like the tough, resilient type, so most predicted she’d cry soon—just thinking about it made many students sweat for her.
Really, the answer was practically handed to her—why not just say it?
Why choose to suffer instead?
Even the eagle-head teacher froze for a moment, clearly not expecting her to admit it so straightforwardly.
Under the anxious eyes of the class, the teacher’s expression softened slightly: “Sit down. Don’t do this again.”
Everyone: …?
This reaction was completely unexpected.
What? What happened?
Zhu Shuiwen was also stunned but instinctively said, “Thank you, teacher,” before sitting down.
Her bottom hadn’t even warmed the seat before the teacher’s thunderous voice boomed again: “Don’t keep your head down!”
Looking like she was slacking off or sleeping—what nonsense!
Whoosh—Zhu Shuiwen’s head snapped up instantly, her round apricot eyes blinking at him, her face clearly saying, I’m super obedient.
…Not gonna lie, it was kind of cute.
Silently charmed, the teacher cleared his throat and added, “Then I’ll pick someone else to answer.”
The classroom suddenly tensed.
But the teacher seemed to already have a plan and quickly focused on a target: “You were quite active just now… you. Answer this.”
With his piercing gaze on him, everyone seemed to know who would be called next:
“Deng Xujie.”
Deng Xujie hadn’t expected that his sneaky antics had been fully noticed by the teacher.
His mind went blank, and he could only stammer out the answer he had just made up for Zhu Shuiwen: “5√2.”
The teacher nodded slightly, and Deng Xujie froze, his heart leaping with joy—
No way… Could he be the legendary “Chosen One,” able to guess the correct answer just like that?
But immediately, the teacher’s deadly question came: “How did you calculate it? Explain your reasoning.”
Dead.
“Serves him right,” muttered Zhu Shuiwen’s deskmate.
Seeing the girl stay silent, she nudged her with an elbow and grinned mischievously: “Don’t you want to enjoy the ‘revenge scene’?”
Zhu Shuiwen mumbled a reply. Pressured by her deskmate’s urging, she reluctantly looked over, pretending to be interested.
Only she could see the floating panel; the word “Outline” were overlaid on Deng Xujie’s face, with several “plot points” underneath, completely blocking him.
At this moment, the line “The female lead solved a difficult problem and shone in class” glowed gray-white.
On the right, a number floated slowly like a bubble:
[Offset value: 45%]
Due to Deng Xujie’s unnecessary delay, the teacher walked off the podium, his face cold, and stood beside him: “Let me see your scratch paper.”
Deng Xujie instinctively tried to hide it.
The teacher repeated, “Let me see it.”
“Teacher, I…”
Deng Xujie was sweating profusely, almost panicked.
The two locked in a stand-off; the second hand ticked back a few steps, and the number on the side jumped up.
[Offset value: 46%]
Under the teacher’s fierce gaze, Deng Xujie shakily handed over the paper.
The teacher flipped through it twice: “Not bad. The duck is drawn vividly… Craving the cafeteria’s braised duck, huh?”
At once, the entire classroom erupted in laughter.
The second hand moved back two more steps.
[Offset value: 52%]
Seeing Deng Xujie’s face turn bright red, the teacher waved his hand coldly:
“Alright, let’s not waste everyone’s time. Sit down.”
The class’s expressions immediately turned on edge.
Normally, after a few unreliable students, the teacher would call the absolute anchor of the class.
Just hearing, “He Xueqi, you answer,” would instantly relax everyone—it meant the random “roll-call massacre” was over.
He Xueqi was usually easily overlooked, too quiet and introverted, and gave off a faint cold distance—living as a transparent person.
But at times like this, the name He Xueqi was everyone’s guaranteed rescue.
Unfortunately…
Since the start of the semester, He Xueqi had been absent with a high fever.
Today was the fifth day; his desk remained empty.
The genius wasn’t here—how could they play this game?
The teacher seemed troubled as well.
His gaze swept past Zhu Feifei with no pause—calling her wasn’t even considered.
Because of this, the number mercilessly jumped up.
[Offset value: 72%]
Instantly, the line “The female lead solved a difficult problem” changed from gray-white to orange-red, and as the number intensified, it edged toward a dangerous blood-red.
Zhu Shuiwen’s heart leapt into her throat.
Looking around the classroom, seeing no one willing to answer, the teacher was about to stop—when a paper ball suddenly whooshed loudly past him—
Landing right at his feet.
The teacher glanced at the girl, momentarily silent.
How to describe it…
The way she looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to pick it up, felt deliberately mischievous.
He opened it, and it read:
[Zhu Feifei, you solved this problem, right? Can I borrow your scratch paper?]
The name Zhu Feifei was bold and enlarged, as if to make sure he saw it. After it was a crying kneeling emoji, and below:
[Big sister is amazing!]
The teacher: “…?”