MM | Chapter 35

Supervisor

At the front of the classroom, Song Sirui must have said something ridiculous that provoked a whole group of people. Gao Tianyang led the charge, pinning him to the desk, grabbing his neck and scratching his waist. One by one, they piled onto Song Sirui’s back, nearly suffocating him.

Li Yu couldn’t understand this silly game. She shook her head while doing her exercises, laughing nonstop. Xiao Lajiao was egging them on, pulling out her phone to record the whole scene like she was filming a movie, even moving the camera with some flair.

Song Sirui’s face turned red, his neck thick with effort, as he struggled to speak: “I was wrong, alright?!”

“I’m dying, help—”

“Are you guys crazy?!”

…

Amidst the classroom chaos, Sheng Wang only heard Jiang Tian’s words clearly.

He thought for a moment and said, “I have a big temper, a small mind, and a long-lasting anger.”

Jiang Tian leaned forward slightly, holding a pen between his fingers. As he listened, his gaze lowered slightly, and he slowly twirled the pen between his fingers.

He nodded and replied, “Hmm. So?”

So if you let me open up just like that, wouldn’t I lose face?

Sheng Wang’s foot slipped off the desk bar, and the chair he was tilting forward landed back on the ground, no longer pressing against Jiang Tian’s desk edge.

He tossed the unused physics book back onto the desk, just about to speak, when Gao Tianyang returned triumphantly from the front and shouted from afar, “Sheng-ge! What’s making you so happy?”

Sheng Wang replied, “Shut up.”

Gao Tianyang: “???”

He didn’t understand why asking about happiness got him told off. He only saw Jiang Tian behind him, shoulders hunched, laughing quietly.

Young Master Sheng’s pride was valuable; even if he lost it, it couldn’t be now. So he endured an entire afternoon plus three evening self-study sessions, holding out until the dead of night.

He was working on the last physics problem when his phone suddenly vibrated three times, bringing several WeChat messages.

Usually, at this hour, the only one still awake was Jiang Tian. Sheng Wang instinctively glanced at the wall behind him and opened WeChat. But the top message wasn’t from the person next door; it was from his former desk mate and roommate, Crab.

Eight-leg Crab: Sheng-ge, I saw you online!!!

Eight-leg Crab: As expected, you’re handsome enough to get photographed anywhere.

Eight-leg Crab: It’s been so short, and people are already lining up to confess to you.

Sheng Wang was baffled and replied with three punctuation marks.

Closed for the Day: ???

Eight-leg Crab: Hey, you’re still awake?

Closed for the Day: You’re awake too.

Eight-leg Crab: True.

Eight-leg Crab: Life in Jiangsu is tough, huh? They’ve pushed our Sheng-ge to burn the midnight oil every day.

Closed for the Day: Don’t mention it.

Closed for the Day: My kidneys hurt.

Eight-leg Crab: Still doing exercises? How much homework do you have?

Sheng Wang casually snapped a picture of the paper he was working on and sent it over.

Closed for the Day: Last question. If you had messaged a bit later, I’d be asleep.

There was no immediate reply from the other side, and Sheng Wang didn’t wait. He put on his earphones and continued working on the equations. About five minutes later, just as he finished the last question, his phone vibrated again.

Eight-leg Crab: I just looked at the questions.

Eight-leg Crab: My worldview is collapsing.

Eight-leg Crab: I can’t solve a single one????

Sheng Wang burst out laughing and replied with a voice message: “Don’t collapse. Who normally takes these kinds of tests? Our class is forced to do competitions. This is just a practice paper. I’m struggling through it too.”

Eight-leg Crab: Doesn’t look like you’re struggling.

Eight-leg Crab: Wait a minute!

Eight-leg Crab: Aren’t you still catching up on progress? How are you already doing competition papers?

Sheng Wang sent a mischievous smiley face and said, “Caught up with the progress.”

Eight-leg Crab: …

Eight-leg Crab: It’s not even been a month???

Eight-leg Crab: Damn.

Eight-leg Crab: I shouldn’t have come looking for trouble in the middle of the night.

Speaking of trouble, Sheng Wang remembered what he said at the beginning and asked, “You said you saw me online? What do you mean?”

Eight-leg Crab: Oh, wait, I’ll show you.

Then he sent a screenshot.

The screenshot showed a post from a space account called “Affiliated High Confession Wall,” featuring a photo of Sheng Wang standing by the sports field.

It must have been after a big break during the running exercises. He was wearing a white T-shirt with his school jacket draped over his left shoulder, holding a bottle of ice water in one hand and wiping his mouth with the other. His temples were slightly sweaty, and he was smiling while talking to someone.

Eight-leg Crab: You haven’t checked the QQ group in a while, have you?

Eight-leg Crab: I saw some girls in the class group chatting tonight, saying their first love flew away, and now girls from other schools are lining up to confess.

Closed for the Day: …

Sheng Wang didn’t know how to respond, so he sent two helpless emojis and opened the screenshot to read further.

Below the post were long replies that weren’t fully captured. Some were sending little hearts, some mentioned his name, and some said he was both handsome and cool. One person had a particularly odd focus, asking: Whose hand is that on the left side of the photo? It looks like a handsome guy’s hand, just judging by the fingers.

Another person replied: Since you say it’s a handsome guy, I’ll blindly guess Jiang Tian.

Sheng Wang thought, no need to guess blindly, it is Jiang Tian.

He zoomed in on the photo. The hand was clean and slender, with a small mole near the prominent wrist bone.

During the summer tutoring, they had two PE classes. The girls in Class A hated sunbathing and always found excuses to stay in the classroom doing exercises.

The boys were more enthusiastic, usually grabbing a basketball for a half-court game, with the teacher as the referee. Sheng Wang was lazy but gave face to Gao Tianyang, the PE committee member, and played both times, coincidentally against Jiang Tian.

Jiang Tian wore a wristband when playing, and the small mole would appear at the edge of the wristband, occasionally visible with his movements.

Indeed… quite handsome.

The phone buzzed again, and Sheng Wang realized he’d been staring at Jiang Tian’s hand for quite a while.

He quickly looked away, hurriedly closed the photo, took a sip of water, and licked his lips before returning to WeChat.

Eight-leg Crab had sent several more messages, but Sheng Wang skimmed through them, no longer in the mood to chat. He exchanged a few simple words with Crab, each saying they were going to sleep.

Crab soon went silent, but Sheng Wang had no intention of sleeping.

He packed away the completed physics paper and glanced at the time—1:07 AM.

Since catching up on progress, he no longer needed to stay up until two every night. Maybe he hadn’t adjusted his habits yet; he felt tired but still thought he should do something more.

He rummaged through his backpack—homework was long done, the math and science competition prep was complete, and he’d memorized the classical Chinese. Maybe he should review some vocabulary?

Thinking this, his fingers opened WeChat. He entered and exited his personal info page three times before finally deciding to change his avatar and nickname under the cover of night.

He found a picture of Wang Zai clasping his hands and replaced his avatar, then typed four words in the nickname box: Grand Reopening.

Less than two minutes after changing it, someone knocked on the door.

A dim ceiling light was on in the second-floor hallway, casting a circle of light between the two bedrooms. Jiang Tian’s freshly washed hair was completely dry, and the warm yellow light outlined his features with a soft glow.

He raised the item in his hand and said, “Opening gift.”

“What is it?”

Sheng Wang curiously took it, opened it, and…

Damn, a calligraphy practice book.

“Are you looking for a fight?” he asked irritably.

Jiang Tian didn’t deny it. He pulled back his fingers slightly and said, “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back.”

Sheng Wang hesitated for a moment and asked, “Did you practice your handwriting with this?”

“More or less,” Jiang Tian replied.

“What do you mean by ‘more or less’?”

“I copied it twice,” Jiang Tian said.

“Copying twice counts as practice?” Sheng Wang said irritably, “You might as well tell me you were born with it.”

Jiang Tian actually responded with a “hmm.”

Sheng Wang’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head: “I’m sure now, you’re just looking for a fight.”

Jiang Tian chuckled softly, then said seriously, “Actually, it doesn’t take long to practice.”

Sheng Wang was skeptical: “Even if it’s quick, it takes a year, right?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Sheng Wang said earnestly. “I know this much. You might not believe it, but I practiced handwriting seriously when I was young—”

He held up two fingers: “For two years.”

This time Jiang Tian genuinely laughed.

He leaned against the door frame, laughing for a while, his Adam’s apple lightly vibrating.

“What’s so funny?” Sheng Wang kept a straight face.

Jiang Tian turned back to look at him and asked, “Want a quick method?”

“Of course!” Sheng Wang said, then suspiciously looked at him: “You don’t mean… there’s a trick to practicing handwriting too?”

“You won’t reach any profound level, but at least it will be legible,” Jiang Tian said.

Sheng Wang suspected he was being insulted, but he accepted the calligraphy book. “Legible is fine. I’m not trying to become a calligrapher.”

Jiang Tian spread his hands and gestured with his index finger: “Give me a pen.”

Sheng Wang directly led him into the next room.

The desk here was already tidied up, the chair empty, but Jiang Tian didn’t sit. He fished a red pen from his backpack and bent over to circle some characters in the book.

“Guo, Liao, Xi, Qin, Ya, Yang…” Sheng Wang read a few, not seeing any pattern.

Jiang Tian flipped through about ten pages, circling less than 30 characters in total, then put down the pen and said, “Just practice these. Imitate them a few times every day, and pay attention when you write normally. That should be enough.”

“Really?” Sheng Wang was skeptical. “What’s special about these characters?”

“They cover typical examples of fully enclosed, semi-enclosed, top-bottom, and left-right structures,” Jiang Tian said. “Just like doing exercises, once you master these, the rest are similar.”

Sheng Wang scanned the page and asked, “Do you have a blank notebook? I want to try.”

Jiang Tian found one for him, along with a fountain pen.

“You write, I’ll study,” he said, picking up a Chinese textbook from the desk and, like many late nights before, sat on the windowsill.

The night insects in Baima Alley started chirping again, softly rustling. Sheng Wang sat at the desk for a moment, then pulled out the chair and began writing the circled characters stroke by stroke.

Five minutes later, he exhaled deeply, holding the notebook up to Jiang Tian’s nose. “Finished. Take a look. I think I’ve improved a lot.”

Jiang Tian glanced at it, and his handsome face instantly fell.

He stopped studying, placed the notebook back in front of Sheng Wang, and leaned over the desk like a supervisor: “Rewrite.”

“…”

Sheng Wang mentally cursed, feeling like he was back in kindergarten.

Young Master Sheng never imagined he’d stay up until 2:30 AM because of handwriting practice. When the supervising master finally nodded, he was so tired he couldn’t even find the door.

He didn’t remember how he threw a fit, only that when he opened his eyes the next morning, he was staring at the ceiling of Jiang Tian’s room.