MM | Chapter 8

Petty

“All I did was shout at you at the crucial moment. Is it necessary to hold a grudge?”

Sheng Wang stared at the last line of words for a while, contemplating throwing the sticky note back. But out of respect for knowledge, he lifted his hand, then put it down, smoothing the crumpled note and taking a picture of the solution process with his phone.

Just as he tucked his phone back into the desk, Jiang Tian returned from the office, holding a thick book. Sheng Wang didn’t see the title clearly, but he aimed to toss the paper ball back the moment Jiang Tian sat down.

Jiang Tian, tall and imposing, cast a shadow as he stood by his seat. He casually threw the book on the table and picked up the crumpled sticky note. Unfolding it, he saw a newly added line:

“Do you think I care about your answers?”

He glanced at the messy handwriting, crumpled the paper again, and tossed it into the desk. Then, pulling out his chair, he sat down and said indifferently to the back of someone’s head, “Then why did you take out your phone?”

Hearing this, the tips of the ears in front of him slowly turned red.

Damn.

Sheng Wang closed his eyes for a moment, trying to maintain his composure, feeling like he had lost face completely.

In moments of extreme embarrassment, there are always one or two angels to save the day.

The angel’s name was Gao Tianyang. He had just returned from a banquet and rushed to Jiang Tian’s desk, saying, “Finally, you’re back. Quick, let me see the last physics problem! I’ve come up with three different answers, and everyone seems unsure about the last question.”

His shout attracted a crowd, all flocking to Jiang Tian.

In Class A, the students generally had a high accuracy rate in solving problems. If one didn’t know, another would. If one made a mistake, another would get it right. Usually, two students comparing their papers could piece together a standard answer. When a whole group was unsure, it meant the problem was truly difficult.

But Sheng Wang sensed a gap from their conversation.

In the past, teachers also gave out olympiad-level problems, and only a few solved them. Sheng Wang was one of those few. But in this class, they were all talking about the last question, indicating that most had smoothly solved the first two.

Sheng Wang moved his chair to make way for the classmates swarming in, thinking to himself that Class A, with its average physics score of 104, was impressive.

Just as he finished marveling, the Class A students groaned, “Damn—seriously, a fourth answer!”

Gao Tianyang, clutching his paper, was torn. “Should I change it or not?”

“Up to you.”

Though Jiang Tian was impressive, in a class of over forty, he was the only one with this answer, making the chance of being wrong quite high.

Students in Class A, if placed in any other class, would be top students. They had a bit of pride and found it hard to easily dismiss their own answers.

So the crowd surged like a tide, debated for a while, and then receded, with less than ten people changing their answers.

Jiang Tian didn’t care if his answer was accepted, but he clearly didn’t like being surrounded. Once the crowd dispersed, his frown eased a bit.

Before Gao Tianyang returned to his seat, he glanced at the book in Jiang Tian’s hand. “Lyrical Essay Writing Guide? Did you buy it?”

“Why would I buy this?” Jiang Tian didn’t even flip through it before stuffing it into the desk. “Got it from the office.”

Gao Tianyang was puzzled for a moment, then realized, “Oh, Zhao Cai gave it to you?”

The “Zhao Cai” he referred to was a slightly chubby, round-faced female teacher who taught Chinese in Class A. Because of her smiling lips resembling a lucky cat, she earned this wealthy nickname.

“Why did she give you this?” Gao Tianyang asked.

Jiang Tian had no interest in chatting and ended the topic with three words: “I don’t know.”

Gao Tianyang “oh”ed and obediently returned to his seat.

In their grade, there were five classes each morning and afternoon. That morning, Class A had two math, one chemistry, and two Chinese classes. In the afternoon, it was physics, English, with a PE class in between.

Aside from physics, which had been covered in evening self-study, the other subjects were basically reviewing the weekly test papers.

In the first three classes, Sheng Wang and Jiang Tian stood out, the former for his strong self-learning ability, the latter for being genuinely impressive.

In this weekly test, Jiang Tian lost only 3 points in math, physics, and chemistry combined—missing one option in chemistry and a “solution” in math.

The teachers seized every chance to praise them, pouring out praises for over 130 minutes. It wasn’t until the Chinese teacher Zhao Cai came in that the situation shifted.

Mainly, it shifted for Jiang Tian.

Zhao Cai had each group’s first student pass the papers back and summarized the test situation from the podium: “Out of a total of 160 points in Chinese, our class’s average was 109. Do you know what that means? It’s only 5 points higher than your 120 in physics. Are you joking with me?”

The class was silent.

These top students, who were fierce in math and science, turned meek when facing Zhao Cai and Yang Jing.

As the honors class, Class A wasn’t severely imbalanced in subjects, otherwise, their total scores wouldn’t make sense. But comparatively, their Chinese and English scores weren’t as outstanding as the other three subjects, occasionally frustrating the teachers.

“Yes, this paper was indeed a bit harder, the essay was prone to going off-topic, and the second reading had a low scoring rate across the grade. As for poetry appreciation… forget it, I don’t have high hopes for you there. But can you at least not make things up?”

“Let me especially commend the new student. Even though he just transferred and the progress isn’t the same, his fundamentals are very solid. I remember he didn’t lose a point in poetry appreciation and reading, and his essay was beautifully written—”

Everyone loves a handsome guy, especially one with good grades. Zhao Cai praised without reservation, going on for quite a while.

Sheng Wang’s soul was dancing, but he maintained basic composure and calmness on his face. Leaning back in his chair, he twirled the pen between his middle and ring fingers, lightly tapping the paper.

Just as he was basking in the praise, Zhao Cai suddenly turned to him and added, “But your handwriting, you should practice it. It doesn’t need to be beautiful, just try to make it stand upright, not crawl.”

Sheng Wang: “…”

The boys in the class laughed loudly, while the girls were a bit more reserved, several blushing as they laughed and then sneaking glances at him amidst the noise.

Zhao Cai tapped the desk, “What’s so funny? Do you have the right to laugh? For this essay, I dare say only he and the class rep wrote something worthy of a high score. What are the rest of you writing? Some of you also need to pay attention. The prompt asks for a lyrical essay. Can you be a bit more emotional? Don’t write it like a dry formula derivation. Can you add some flair? I won’t name names, right Jiang Tian?”

Sheng Wang suddenly remembered the “Lyrical Essay Writing Guide” Jiang Tian had brought back in the morning and couldn’t help but laugh, causing another round of laughter in the class.

He glanced sideways, seeing the criticized Jiang Tian himself remaining calm, not sure if he was genuinely aloof or pretending to be.

Zhao Cai precisely critiqued for ten minutes before finally starting to discuss the paper. Even during the discussion, she didn’t forget to call out certain students for critique.

When it came to the reading comprehension question, she looked up and said, “Jiang Tian.”

Sheng Wang heard the chair creak as the person behind him stood up.

“Look at the first question, what should it be?” Zhao Cai asked.

After a class, Sheng Wang was familiar with the teacher’s style. Whoever got it wrong would get called out.

Perhaps responding to the sticky note, or maybe just showing off, Sheng Wang inexplicably moved his paper to the left.

His reading section was all correct, and Jiang Tian could see the answer clearly, as long as he wasn’t blind, he’d know the first question should be C.

Sheng Wang glanced at Jiang Tian, meeting his gaze. He quickly sat up straight, feeling a bit relieved—this meant Jiang Tian saw the paper.

But the next second, he heard Jiang Tian say, “A.”

Sheng Wang: “???”

Zhao Cai widened her eyes, “A? Look again, what should it be?”

Sheng Wang moved his paper further left, and Jiang Tian calmly changed his answer to, “D.”

He couldn’t help but peek, seeing that the wrong answer on Jiang Tian’s paper was “B.”

Sheng Wang: “…”

Are you doing this on purpose???