Just as the warning bell rang, Tian Zhen finally arrived, and Chen Qiao took off his armband and handed it back to him, saying, “You’re only just coming back now? Might as well not come at all.”
“Hehe, I have to at least put on a show,” Tian Zhen scratched the back of his head and smiled.
Although the school gate was practically just for show, there was still a short uphill tunnel that led to the teaching building and the main playground, located below the staff office building.
After the class bell rang, the vice principal and the teachers on duty would stand at the tunnel exit, specifically waiting to catch latecomers and students dressed improperly.
To the right of the tunnel entrance was the cafeteria and convenience shop, and to the left was a row of sinks.
There were a lot of rice grains in the sinks—leftovers from rinsing rice or washing lunchboxes.
These days, the cafeteria still offered self-steamed rice service.
Many boarding students had their own metal lunchboxes.
After brushing their teeth and washing up in the morning, their first priority was to put their lunchboxes into the steamer, otherwise, they’d have to buy lunch.
One wall of the tunnel was the school bulletin board; the other wall was used to post students’ award-winning works—like calligraphy or paintings.
Chen Qiao saw a large calligraphy piece by Wu Xinyu but didn’t see any drawings by Lin Na.
She tended to doodle on her textbooks when zoning out in class, often sketching little princesses, dolls, or cats and dogs on the blank pages of her used scratchpads.
Just as Chen Qiao walked up the stairs to the teaching building, he saw Wu Xinyu wearing the armband coming down, holding a pen and small notebook.
“Perfect timing, we’re supposed to inspect the cleanliness.”
“My armband’s still in the classroom.”
“Eh… How could you make such a rookie mistake? There’s no time to go back now. Let’s just go. The teachers all know you anyway, and I can vouch for you.”
“Alright then.”
Chen Qiao didn’t feel like running back and forth either.
He could’ve just yelled for Lin Na to throw the armband down.
He and Wu Xinyu were assigned to inspect the cleanliness of the staff office building—checking the stairways, hallways, and trash bins for litter.
Along the way, they saw many students hurriedly sweeping and taking out trash.
Classrooms could be cleaned ahead of time, and trash could be taken out just before class, but public cleaning zones weren’t as flexible.
The staff office building only had one narrow staircase to maximize space.
Wu Xinyu walked in front, and Chen Qiao followed behind, catching a whiff of the light fragrance from her.
“Your nose okay now?”
Wu Xinyu suddenly asked.
Chen Qiao pinched his nose and replied, “It’s been fine for a while now.”
“That’s good.”
They didn’t speak further.
When they reached the second floor, they split up to check their assigned areas.
The third and fourth floors were also very clean.
After all, teachers don’t litter, and students wouldn’t dare throw trash here.
Some teachers even voluntarily picked up trash.
There were many teachers in the building, so Chen Qiao and Wu Xinyu were constantly greeting:
“Hello, teacher!”
After finishing the inspection, they ran back up to their sixth-floor classroom.
Wu Xinyu’s face was flushed, her little mouth slightly open, breathing rhythmically.
Like her sister, she was very principled and disliked being late for too long.
Chen Qiao had a natural fondness for girls with personalities like Wu Xinyu’s sister.
Could this be considered a kind of substitute?
Chen Qiao wanted to slack off, but since he had lagged behind Wu Xinyu for so long, going back alone would seem suspicious.
So he had to keep up, even if it left him out of breath.
Wu Xinyu, however, waited for him at the stair landing, which was pretty loyal of her.
“Your stamina is so bad. You used to take sick leave every few days. You’re a boy too…”
“……”
Chen Qiao coughed awkwardly.
There was no real way to explain.
Fitness progress doesn’t happen overnight, and you can’t overdo it at first or it backfires.
His frail body couldn’t handle much.
They were already three minutes late for class.
“Reporting in.”
Chen Qiao and Wu Xinyu stood at the classroom door and saluted.
The math teacher nodded, and they walked to their seats.
Lin Na stood up first to let Chen Qiao pass, but the gap between the desks was too narrow.
Chen Qiao had to squeeze past, brushing up against her back, his nose grazing her ponytail—it tickled.
On the nape of her neck was a small black mole.
It was clear the students behind had moved their desks forward.
Lin Na, trying to keep her desk aligned with the others, didn’t move hers forward to the reading corner.
Even if she had, the desks behind her would’ve kept pushing forward, compressing their space.
Each grade only had two classes, but each class had forty-eight students.
The old classrooms were tiny and packed to the brim.
Only the first row of desks stayed neat.
The rest were crooked again shortly after any seating rearrangement.
Most small village schools nearby had been shut down.
The whole town was now left with just three elementary schools—one in Wenquan Village, one in Yutian Village.
Unless a child lived close enough to be dropped off daily, everyone came to Baiyun Elementary in town, which offered dorms.
Families with better conditions rented rooms in town.
Many old, worn houses were rented out to these families—easier for managing the home and finding work.
Recently, quite a few new factories had opened, like cement and stone plants.
The math teacher was reviewing problems written on the back blackboard from the day before, having students correct them with red pens and then submit for inspection.
After going over the questions, the teacher began reviewing sixth-grade content.
There would be a monthly test this Friday, covering the entire sixth-grade curriculum.
Full review would start next week.
Chen Qiao listened to half the class, confirmed he understood it all, and then quietly took out his notebook to continue writing his novel.
When the bell rang, he began collecting the math homework.
He had the title of small group leader, after all.
After gathering it, he handed it to Wu Xinyu, who would take it to the teachers’ office.
As Chen Qiao returned to his seat, Lin Na stepped into the aisle to let him through—disappointing him a bit, as he didn’t mind a little body contact with her.
“Did you finish all the homework I assigned you yesterday?” she asked.
Chen Qiao sat sideways on the bench with his legs apart, his back resting against the wall, and both hands resting on the desks to either side.
The pose gave off a mature and pretentious vibe that didn’t match his youthful appearance.
“I finished them!”
Lin Na visibly brightened and dug through her wrinkled homework notebook that looked like a bunch of pickled vegetables.
She finally found the section where she had worked on the problems.
“Let me see if you got them right.”
Chen Qiao took the notebook.
Learning math requires both the accumulation of quantity and breakthroughs in quality.
The “sea of problems”
tactic may be old-fashioned, but it’s still highly effective—doing lots of targeted practice on key concepts is the quickest way to improve scores.
Once your grades improve, you gain confidence, and learning doesn’t feel as miserable.
Elementary school is just the beginning.
Many kids only wake up in middle or high school, suddenly seeing rapid improvement in grades after wasting their early years playing around and lacking discipline.
There were three problems in the homework.
The first two were correct; the last one was wrong.
“Where’s your full solution for this one? I want to see your scratch work.”
Sometimes, looking at a student’s rough work reveals their thought process.
Lin Na flipped to the back of her notebook, which was filled with scribbles.
“You actually got the start right here,” Chen Qiao pointed at a formula.
Lin Na leaned in to take a look and said, “I thought I got it wrong.”
She lowered her head like a child who had done something wrong—her chin nearly touching her flat chest.
“It’s totally normal to make mistakes. I actually modeled this one after an exam question, complete with a trap. Since you don’t fully understand it yet, you doubted yourself. But you got two out of three right—that’s passing. Next time, aim for all correct.”
Chen Qiao gently patted Lin Na’s head as he said this.
Her hair felt even rougher than her sister’s.
It was an instinctive move.
In his eyes, Lin Na was just a kid, and as a student, she needed encouragement and comfort.
But in a class with so many students, teachers could only spare time for the top kids or their private tutoring students.
Teacher salaries were tied to professional rankings, and there were only a few promotion slots per school—mostly taken by veteran teachers.
Delays in pay were also common.
Without a side hustle, surviving was tough.
That’s why homeroom teachers cared so much about “civilized class”
Honors.
“I’ll give you three more questions to try. Think about them yourself first. It’s okay if you get them wrong. If you’re really stuck, then ask me.”
“Okay,”
Lin Na replied, barely audible like a mosquito, and lowered her head even more.
A faint blush appeared on her cheeks, barely noticeable due to her skin tone.
Being patted on the head like a little kid, she felt more embarrassed than shy—Chen Qiao was the same age as her, about the same height, yet he treated her like a little sister.
She often patted her own little sister’s head and knew what it felt like.
Just as she was experiencing this, Wu Xinyu, who had just returned from delivering the math homework, happened to see Chen Qiao patting Lin Na’s head.
She thought: So that’s the kind of relationship they have?
Plus, she had seen how he was fawning over Lin Na’s sister that morning.
In the eyes of elementary students, patting someone’s head, kissing on the cheek, or holding hands were all serious “couple behaviors.”
Repeatedly breaking school rules with no regard for being part of the Civil Behavior Patrol—Wu Xinyu was already unimpressed by people like Zheng Huijun, and she thought dating should wait until college.
Lin Na sneaked a glance at Chen Qiao, only to see him acting as if nothing had happened, head down and writing busily.
His notebook was filled with tiny, packed characters.
Though Lin Na was short, she often helped with chores at home.
She wasn’t good at studying but still knew a fair amount.
She had daydreamed about love too—meeting her “prince charming” one day.
But she was also self-aware.
Given her circumstances, she figured no one would like her.
Kids in class gave her nicknames like
“Ugly Duckling,” “Black Lin Na,” or “Charcoal Lin.”
Compared to those, “Ugly Duckling” was practically kind.
Being seatmates with a boy, she had imagined many scenarios—like those in the soap operas and anime she watched.
After all, Chen Qiao was quite good-looking—fair-skinned and smart.
Though he was short, that made her feel closer to him.
Still, throughout the school year, the two had barely spoken, keeping their distance.
In the past, Chen Qiao would never have squeezed past her to his seat.
He’d crawl under the desk or climb over instead.
He also never said things like, “Excuse me.”
It all felt overly polite—making Lin Na feel like Chen Qiao must dislike her.
So despite being boy-girl seatmates, no rumors ever spread about them.
Some people thought Chen Qiao and Wu Xinyu were a couple because they were both part of the Civil Behavior Patrol and often seen together inspecting classrooms.
Elementary kids loved shipping classmates, but most felt Chen Qiao didn’t measure up to Wu Xinyu.
In fact, they thought no boy in the school did.
But ever since she lent him a handkerchief yesterday, everything had changed.
He started talking to her, greeting her, teaching her homework—even patting her head.
Could it be that after Wu Xinyu accidentally hit Chen Qiao in the face with a basketball and made his nose bleed, things between them soured?
But this morning they still said hi…
Lin Na stared at Chen Qiao’s focused profile and his head.
She wanted to pat him back—couldn’t let herself be the only embarrassed one.
“Are you done?”
Chen Qiao asked, noticing her gaze and turning his head.
He had no idea she was lost in thought—he was just playing a “training sim” game in real life.
“Not yet.”
“Class has started. Finish it later—don’t get caught slacking off.”
“Aren’t you slacking off too?”
Lin Na muttered under her breath.
He had spent half the previous class writing like crazy—who knows what he was even writing?
The second class was their homeroom teacher Yang Fang’s class.
Lately, language arts lessons had been focusing on writing compositions—especially how to write good openings and conclusions.
She gave extra attention to the students who had enrolled in her private tutoring, like Wu Xinyu—making the teacher favor her even more.
For Chen Qiao, elementary school writing assignments were as easy as eating and drinking. Narratives were his specialty.
But he did have one problem: not to write too much.
The requirement was around 600 words—if he wrote too much and ran out of space on the exam paper, he’d have to write on the back, which would be awkward.
With essays, more isn’t better.
But with novels—the more, the better.