The first and second classes in the morning were English with their homeroom teacher, Zhou Qing.
Luckily, everyone who had been to college knew—
If you wanted to get your degree, passing CET-4 was non-negotiable.
And now that she had a second chance at this, even self-study wouldn’t necessarily be worse than learning from a teacher.
In fact, most of the high school curriculum was completed by the second year.
In better schools, the entire third year was devoted purely to review.
Whew~ Xia Hua let out a breath and said, “Respect is something you earn. Someone who lives in constant self-deprecation will only invite more people to pile on, and make life even more miserable.”
“Zhou Qing, Ye Tingzhu, Fang Qiao, Chen Kailun…”
“I don’t know whether this world is real or not.”
“But since I’m here, there’s no reason for my old cowardice to play out again.”
“You all can’t keep using the fact that I’m a disadvantaged student who receives government aid to demand I be more obedient than everyone else. Rules are meant for everyone—not shackles for the poor.”
“Fine then. Let’s just see who outlasts who…”
Xia Hua knew things were far from over.
Whether it was homeroom teacher Zhou Qing, or Ye Tingzhu and the rest—
They all assumed, deep down, that today’s Xia Hua was just having a temporary rebellious episode.
She’d bet 100 yuan that when tomorrow’s cleaning-duty roster came out, her name would be the only one on it.
Ye Tingzhu thought Xia Hua wouldn’t dare skip her turn.
She probably also thought Xia Hua would be too afraid to risk having the school deduct class points over an unclean area, too afraid to shoulder the blame for jeopardizing the class’s honor.
That Xia Hua would give in for the sake of the collective.
That she’d break.
Doo doo~~ Xia Hua’s phone screen lit up on silent mode.
It was a message from Fang Qiao.
The content was blunt and clear: “You’ve been kicked out of the drama club.”
Oh? Even better.
Xia Hua had wanted to quit that boring play for ages.
They didn’t even give her a minor role with lines—just a human background prop—yet still demanded she show up for rehearsal every single day.
If Fang Qiao wasn’t out of her mind, then she was clearly just trying to make things hard for Xia Hua.
“Okay!” Xia Hua replied, though the glaring red exclamation mark told her the message hadn’t gone through.
“Wow, blocked me already?”
“But anyway… come to think of it, that drama and the graduation performance were how I first met Lin An. That shouldn’t be a problem, right?” The answer was obvious—of course not.
If she wanted to meet Lin An again, it was easy.
She could just walk into his class and make a friend.
The real issue was, Xia Hua had a feeling that Lin An—her so-called best friend and “bro” from her previous life—wasn’t exactly a good person.
What kind of absurd dying wish was that?
Of all the things he could’ve wished for—
Why couldn’t it have been something like “I hope you become a billionaire,” or “I hope you become a muscle god”?
Nope.
He had to wish she’d be reborn as his daughter.
That’s why, to this day, Xia Hua hadn’t really tried to talk to Lin An.
Inside the classroom, students were reading English vocabulary aloud.
Xia Hua stood just outside, leaning against the wall.
She looked a little pitiful like she’d been punished and made to stand there, but she didn’t see it that way.
She was just trying to hold on to her dignity.
She just hadn’t figured out where she wanted to go yet.
The May sun was harsh.
In the cicada-filled heat of the early summer classroom, students were always up to something.
Some whispered to each other, others passed folded notes around.
And a few pointed at Xia Hua and gossiped.
They all said: “Overestimating herself.”
Xia Hua raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight.
A few students passed by carrying an old computer.
To her surprise, Lin An was among them. This was their second encounter.
“Huh~~” Xia Hua noticed something amusing.
Could that keyboard be…
Lin An walked past her, but her gaze made him visibly uneasy.
Yes—the secret was right there, in the dusty keyboard in Lin An’s hands.
“1989 G80-3000, first-generation discontinued Cherry mechanical keyboard,” Xia Hua murmured with a mischievous devil’s grin that reached Lin An’s ears.
And just like that, Lin An had gained a little tail—one he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried.
They arrived at a small lot stacked with discarded, recyclable junk.
Lin An carefully—though pretending to be casual—placed a computer tower down in a tucked-away corner.
But the most important thing, of course, was the keyboard.
He tried to stash it somewhere hidden, subtly and deliberately.
But Xia Hua was standing right behind him.
Lin An: I bet she’s just some bored classmate.
Then, without so much as a backward glance, Lin An turned and walked off.
Xia Hua dug through the clutter and pulled out the keyboard, a smile spreading across her face.
Then she frowned slightly, a touch of regret creeping in, “What a shame… so many keycaps are missing. Guess the only use now is to buy replacement parts and DIY it myself…”
What is a man’s true love? A giant monitor. Massive RAM. Top-tier GPU and CPU. And a glorious high-end keyboard and mouse set.
Lin An had wanted to secretly claim this discarded mechanical keyboard for himself.
That’s why he’d been flustered when Xia Hua saw it.
This Cherry keyboard was from the early 90s, a companion to those old fat desktop computers.
It was practically extinct now—its value lay far more in collecting than actual use.
And for a little enthusiast, even a self-repaired keyboard like this… Was more than enough to flex in his social circle.
“Give me the keyboard,” came a hesitant voice behind Xia Hua.
“Eh?” She didn’t even have to turn around. She knew exactly who it was.
Of course it was Lin An, who couldn’t bear to part with his precious treasure and had come back for it.
She was all too familiar with his voice by now.
“Here,” Xia Hua said, handing the keyboard back without fuss.
Lin An was momentarily stunned. Was she always this easy to deal with?
He’d braced for a whole battle to get it back.
But Xia Hua had one condition. With a smile, she said, “If I’m not wrong, the school’s upgrading its computer equipment, right? You guys are clearing out the old machines?”
“Yeah,” Lin An nodded, hugging the keyboard tightly. “Originally, both our class and another were supposed to have computer class this period. But we ran into the school’s warehouse cleanup, and they drafted us into labor.”
“You’re helping out too?”
“Of course!” Xia Hua grinned. “Who knows? Might stumble on something valuable.”
“No way. Everything in that storage room is ancient junk.” Lin An shook his head. “Most of the computers in there are over two decades old. They were never properly discarded because the official decommission process was too complicated. That’s why you can still find those old-school chunky desktops there.”
“I’ve already scavenged everything worth taking.”
“This keyboard is the best of the bunch.”
Lin An lifted it proudly, as if showing off a rare treasure.
“Ugh! You’re still so slow and fussy!” Xia Hua nudged him forward. “You know what Socrates said? ‘The biggest stalk of wheat is always the next one.’”
“That’s nonsense,” Lin An scratched his head. “Socrates said if you find the biggest wheat stalk, you should pick it right away.”
To him, this keyboard was already the best one.
But the girl was already walking ahead, clearly not interested in hearing his rebuttal.
“Didn’t you say you wanted me to take you to the computer storage room?” Lin An mumbled.
“Duh,” Xia Hua replied, catching that mutter. “What, you think I don’t know where the storage room is? I want you to sneak me in. Got it, genius?”
That didn’t sound right at all! She was the one asking him for a favor.
So why did it feel like she was the one bossing him around?