MM | Chapter 52

Class Shifting

Jiang Tian wasn’t used to sharing a bed with anyone. Even when he stayed at Old Man Ding’s house as a child, he always curled up alone on the old sofa, refusing to sleep in a bed no matter how much he was coaxed or persuaded.

There was only one exception—when “Captain” peed on the sofa, leaving an unforgettable smell. Old Man Ding washed the sofa cover and cushions twice and aired out the frame outside, leaving Jiang Tian no choice but to share the wooden bed with him for a night.

The wooden bed was wide enough for two adults, let alone Jiang Tian, who was just a child then, barely half a person. The old man’s blanket was large, so he thought it wouldn’t be a problem. But in the middle of the night, he found Jiang Tian almost falling off the bed.

Old Man Ding watched him like a small animal for half the night and finally understood—

This kid was like a living radar when asleep. If you moved closer, he’d instinctively move toward the edge, preferring to be cold without a blanket rather than sleep close to someone.

So that night, neither of them slept well.

At first, Old Man Ding thought the little rascal disliked the place, but later he realized it wasn’t that. Jiang Tian had been alone for so long that he could sleep anywhere but wasn’t used to being close to people.

Jiang Tian, of course, didn’t know what he was like when he slept. He only remembered Old Man Ding’s huge dark circles and constant yawning the next day.

After that, he never shared a bed with anyone again…

Including that time practicing calligraphy.

That day, Sheng Wang fell asleep on his bed in just two sentences.

The bed in that room was even bigger than Old Man Ding’s wooden bed, easily accommodating three people, let alone two. For a moment, Jiang Tian hesitated.

But in the end, he didn’t sleep there.

He just wrapped Sheng Wang in the blanket, tucking it in tightly, mischievously cocooning him like a silkworm. Then he took a blanket from the wardrobe and spent the night on the desk.

He knew Sheng Wang was sensitive, so he pretended to have slept on the bed the next day.

But this time was different.

This time, he was the one who asked, almost as if possessed, “Are you scared?”

Snap—

“What are you spacing out for?” Sheng Wang snapped his fingers lightly.

Jiang Tian came back to his senses, seeing Sheng Wang tuck his hand back into the blanket like a sleepy cat. He stifled a yawn, his bright eyes instantly clouded with a layer of mist.

A nerve in Jiang Tian’s brain weakly struggled.

“I toss and turn a lot in my sleep, might wake you up,” he said.

Sheng Wang was a bit puzzled. “No way, haven’t we shared a bed before?”

Jiang Tian: “…”

“I slept just fine, didn’t wake me up.”

Jiang Tian felt like he’d dug himself a hole he couldn’t climb out of.

The struggling nerve finally relaxed. He thought, “Alright,” and reached for the blanket.

The sleepy one spoke again, “This bed’s barely a meter wide. Can it even fit two blankets?”

Of course not.

Jiang Tian held onto the bed rail, silent for a moment, then resignedly lay down on the lower bunk.

Sheng Wang shared half the blanket with him, but Jiang Tian only covered himself halfway. The dorm bed was so narrow, and the lower bunk had no rail. As Old Man Ding used to say, it wouldn’t be long before he fell off the edge, blanket or not.

He lowered his eyelids slightly, looking through the screen at the cold white moonlight outside the balcony, random self-mocking thoughts flashing through his mind. He felt Sheng Wang turn slightly, his curved back and shoulders pressing against him, the warmth through the cotton T-shirt slightly higher than his own.

Though Sheng Wang had complained about being sleepy, he didn’t fall asleep quickly; Jiang Tian could feel it.

Occasionally, there were small movements, his back gently rising and falling with his breath, lost in thought.

After an unknown amount of time, Sheng Wang finally succumbed to sleep, his breathing becoming quiet and even.

Jiang Tian turned his head to look, seeing the slight protrusion of his neck bone from lowering his head.

They say sleepiness is contagious. He thought he’d stay awake until dawn, but within minutes, he felt drowsy, like the warmth pressed against his arm, continuously transmitting over.

*

Jiang Tian was awakened by the sound of the door opening. When he opened his eyes, it was bright outside.

People often describe a good night’s sleep as “dreamless until dawn.” He didn’t enjoy that feeling. Instead, in those two hours, he crammed in three dreams.

One dream had him tangled in seaweed on the edge of a deserted island. Another had the school haunted, the dorm building collapsed, and he was pinned under a heavy stone. The last dream was during a sports class basketball game, where he couldn’t jump, as if weighed down by a scale, and it was unbearably hot.

He squinted to adjust to the daylight, trying to sit up, only to find he couldn’t—Young Master Sheng had tossed the blanket entirely onto him in his sleep. Then, mistaking the cotton texture for a pillow, he used Jiang Tian as one, half his body sprawled over him, almost sleeping on top of him.

Jiang Tian stared blankly at the upper bunk’s bed board, finally understanding where those dreams came from. Old Man Ding’s exaggerated complaints from ten years ago couldn’t be confirmed because someone didn’t give him a chance to fall off the bed.

“What the—!”

Shi Yu’s voice suddenly rang out, followed by Qiu Wenbin’s “ow,” as if he tripped. The sound of stumbling footsteps and the clattering of bags and bedposts fully woke Jiang Tian.

He turned his head to see his two roommates staring at him with wide mouths, as if they’d seen a ghost.

Amid the noise, Sheng Wang moved slightly, sleepily lifting his head to glance around… the dorm was blurry, and he couldn’t see anything clearly. He buried his head back into the blanket to rest, only to find the “blanket” was a bit hard and couldn’t be buried into.

Puzzled, Sheng Wang lifted his head again and saw Jiang Tian’s face.

Sheng Wang: “…”

Under the haze of sleepiness, he stared blankly for a moment before scrambling to sit up.

“Was I sleeping like this the whole time???” Sheng Wang asked.

Jiang Tian finally managed to sit up. Leaning against the bed rail, he was about to move his numb right hand when he paused at Sheng Wang’s words, replying nonchalantly, “No, am I stupid?”

“True,” Sheng Wang relaxed.

But Shi Yu and Qiu Wenbin weren’t at ease.

They stood there with their bags and luggage, looking comically awkward, frozen for a moment before stammering, “Tian-ge, what’s going on with you two?”

Shi Yu glanced around, “There are six beds in the dorm…”

Isn’t that enough for you two???

Sheng Wang hesitated for a moment. He glanced at Jiang Tian, then earnestly explained to the two, “Did you hear about the thief in the dorm last night?”

Shi Yu looked confused, but Qiu Wenbin “oh”ed and said, “I just went to the auntie to register my luggage count—”

“You register your luggage?” Shi Yu asked, puzzled.

“It’s required,” Qiu Wenbin replied honestly. “Don’t you register yours?”

“If no one catches me, I don’t bother. It’s a hassle,” Shi Yu waved it off. “But don’t get sidetracked, continue.”

“The auntie reminded us to be careful with our belongings, saying someone sneaked in last night.”

“Yeah, almost every dorm on our floor lost something. I even saw a shadow.”

“A shadow?”

Sheng Wang described the events of the previous night. Having watched plenty of horror movies and played many horror games, he recounted it with a certain atmosphere, even making Shi Yu’s dark face turn pale.

“Are you okay?” Sheng Wang chuckled.

“I’m not scared, just think it’s a potential hazard,” Shi Yu defended, then asked, “Did they catch the person?”

“Are you kidding? The report was just filed last night,” Sheng Wang said, seizing the moment to mention the dorm manager’s advice, “It’s pretty creepy, so the auntie said we could bunk together if we’re scared.”

Qiu Wenbin was about to say, “It’s not that scary,” when Shi Yu looked at him eagerly and said, “Bingzi, why don’t we bunk too?”

“…Okay.”

*

The school was a fertile ground, capable of nurturing all sorts of people. News of the thief in the boys’ dorm quickly spread, with many coming to ask Sheng Wang and Jiang Tian about their experience that night. Some were genuinely concerned, while others found it thrilling.

Jiang Tian dismissed all gossipers with a simple “didn’t see anything.” Sheng Wang initially gave a brief overview out of politeness but later, annoyed by the constant questions, deflected with “ask the dorm manager” or “wait for the school’s announcement.”

Ironically, Shi Yu, who wasn’t even there that night, recounted the story vividly to others.

In the following days, new rumors kept circulating in the school. Some claimed to hear knocking in the girls’ dorm at midnight, strange footprints on balconies or corridors, keys turning in locks at dawn, and several dorms swore they were also robbed. The mix of truth and fiction left the dorm residents anxious.

As a result, bunking together inexplicably became a trend.

Shi Yu declared that as long as the rumors persisted, he wouldn’t return to his own bed. His bed faced the wardrobe, and if the door wasn’t closed tightly, it would creak open at night.

Honestly, it was pretty creepy. Although Sheng Wang wasn’t scared, he understood.

The one who suffered was Qiu Wenbin. Already chubby and prone to heat, he woke up sweaty every day with a cowardly roommate clinging to him, unwilling to leave despite the complaints.

With Shi Yu setting the precedent, nothing seemed strange anymore.

Under the joint care of Sheng Wang and Jiang Tian, Sheng Wang’s ankle healed well, and by late October, it was mostly fine. Only after long walks or running would it swell slightly.

Sheng Wang mostly moved back to the top bunk, with “mostly” depending on his ankle’s condition.

Occasionally, when it swelled again, he’d bunk with Jiang Tian for a couple of nights until it subsided before resuming his usual activities.

The midterm exams, originally scheduled for mid-October, were postponed due to the dormitory incidents and finally set for early November.

Near the end of October, each grade held a meeting. He Jin returned with a notebook and announced the new “class-shifting system.”

“Honestly, it’s quite severe. For some of our classmates who are used to slacking off, it’s probably a bolt from the blue,” He Jin said seriously. “Previously, the last three in each major exam would leave, but you all know there are more than three students in our class who rank outside the top 50.”

“I understand, exams have ups and downs, like a waveform. You might do exceptionally well this time, then worse the next, and then well again, alternating. So I don’t think ranking outside the top 50 in one exam means you’re not fit for Class A. But—”

She paused and continued, “Rankings do reflect your learning progress over time, and adjusting your state is also an achievement. So don’t think this new rule is meant to make things difficult for you. The school’s goal is never to make things difficult but to ensure you won’t face difficulties after leaving school.”

“So what’s the new rule, teacher?” someone couldn’t help but ask.

He Jin said, “Our class has 45 students and 45 seats. So, the top 45 in the major exams stay in Class A. Those ranking after that will move to the corresponding class: 46-90 in Class B, 91-136 in Class 1, and so on. Students from other classes who make it into the top 45, regardless of how many, will stay.”

The class was in an uproar.

Gao Tianyang wailed, “I’m doomed. I’m always the unlucky fourth person. Now I’m straight into the elimination zone.”

Sheng Wang said, “Don’t die yet, I’m in the elimination zone too.”

“Is that what you call being in the zone? You’re just passing through!” Gao Tianyang said.

“I haven’t taken an exam since my ankle injury, lost my touch. I might not pass through this time. If we both get exiled, at least we’ll have company,” Sheng Wang tried to comfort him, but when he turned, he saw Jiang Tian’s displeased face.

Sheng Wang: “?”

Jiang Tian spun a pen between his fingers, tapping it on his notebook with a very indifferent expression.

Sheng Wang studied him for a few seconds and then changed his tune, “I guess I’ll try to pass through.”

Gao Tianyang: “?”

A week and a half before the midterm exams, Sheng Wang found time to visit the clinic again and finally received Teacher Lu’s approval to stop his medication and dietary restrictions.

To express his excitement, he planned to treat the whole class to a barbecue on Sunday at “Those Years BBQ.” Anyone who wanted to come could join. Zhao Xi and Lin Beiting had been back for a while, and it was time to make up for the meal promised after winning the award.