Mr. Jiang’s given name was Jiang Xing. When Nana Toki slipped into his office at noon, his red pen finally rested on a drift of graded papers like snow after a storm.

“Eh, Lu, what brings you here?” He sat behind his desk, surprise flickering like a moth at a lamp. “Do you need something?”

His voice wasn’t loud, yet in an office with only the two of them, it buzzed like a fly trapped under glass.

“Emmm, nothing serious. I just had a few questions,” Nana said, her gaze steady as a needle threading silk, and she laid out everything that had been scratching at her heart like thorns.

“Ah… so you came just for that today?” Jiang Xing listened to those odd questions, then smiled, helpless as a leaf in a light wind. “Does a teacher need strange reasons to help his student? And I don’t believe you’d bully those girls in Class Four.”

He had never taught Class Four, and he didn’t know much about He Jiawen and her trio, but more than once he’d seen He Jiawen tugging that Class Four girl named Wen Quan toward the back grove, like a fox dragging a rabbit into brush.

Maybe it was instinct, but the whole thing snagged at him like a fishhook.

Besides, he was Lu Qiqi’s homeroom teacher. How could he not know her temper, like a map he’d traced a hundred times?

“So you weren’t helping me with some evil plan in mind?” Nana blurted, the words jumping out like a startled sparrow.

This homeroom teacher hadn’t been hit by this worldline’s side-character IQ-debuff aura!

“…” Jiang Xing stared, the silence heavy as wet chalk. What did this kid take him for?

“You think I’m one of those beastly teachers who help for selfish gain?” His brows drew together like closing shutters.

“Isn’t that how it goes?” Nana asked, head tilted like a curious cat. “In campus stories these days, it’s always that.”

“…” Was Lu Qiqi possessed? She’d never talked like this before, like a river suddenly running backward.

“Anyway, if there’s nothing else, head back and nap,” he said, waving her off like shooing a stray breeze. “We’ve got a diagnostic exam this afternoon. If you don’t pass, you’ll be here all summer for free remedial classes.”

“…” Nana’s face flatlined, her mood thudding like a dropped book. Since when did upright teachers threaten students like street thugs?

“For the record, the exam is the school’s idea,” he added, eyes cutting over like a knife through paper. “So no, I’m not threatening you.”

Can you read minds, or what!

Nana’s seat for the afternoon exam got placed in Class Three. The whole school was sitting the diagnostic, six classes moving like synchronized tides, and the admin re-drew the seating like chess pieces to stop cheating.

Front, back, left, right—each student was buffered by two strangers, like islands ringed by water.

So Nana from Class Two sat in Class Three, and everyone around her wore Class Four and Five uniforms like different-colored flags.

It was fine.

She didn’t care much about exams. High school-level stuff was fog she could blow away with a breath, and if she wanted to play it cool, she could even cap her score like adjusting a faucet.

…

A familiar shape crossed her vision. Nana was propping her cheek, bored as a cat in sun, when a glance snagged and sparked—Wen Quan.

She’d been assigned to the same room too. That thrill had barely bloomed when Nana noticed two familiar shadows trailing behind her like stubborn smoke.

Ah… those two idiots, in this room as well? They tried to shrink their presence and drift past like ghosts, but after the bullying mess, the four of them were carved in Nana’s memory like knife-marks on bamboo.

He Jiawen’s arm was broken, and the girl whose nose she’d smashed with a desk had taken leave too. These two, lightly bruised, didn’t seem to carry any shadow of fear, and Nana almost admired how thick their skins were, like old bark.

System: “…” So Host only feels alive when doing things unrelated to the main quest or hidden quests?

And how do you know they’re unrelated to the hidden quest?

Nana rolled her eyes at the voice in her head, the motion crisp as cutting fruit. “They jumped in front of me first. Cleaning them up is only fair.” If they’re not convinced, they can try bullying back.

“…” The System sputtered like a clogged pipe, then decided to log off and avoid the fight.

Host’s crooked logic came in full sets. As a newbie System, it couldn’t win a debate.

The diagnostic went smoothly—at least for Nana. She could already picture Jiang Xing’s face when he handed out her paper, a look twisted like a pretzel.

“Qiqi! How’d you do?” The second Nana stepped out of the room, Song Qingtian from Class Four swooped in like a swallow and tackled her. Nana failed to dodge and caught her full on, arms filling like a sudden armload of flowers.

Passing students on the corridor looked over with strange faces, like watching two girls rehearse a romance scene in broad daylight.

“…” Since when was Song Qingtian this clingy with the original Qiqi?

“Emmm, not bad.” Nana set Song Qingtian back on her feet, her answer vague as mist. “You’ll see when we get the papers.”

More than dissecting the exam with Song Qingtian here, she wanted to find Wen Quan and trade a few useless lines, like tossing pebbles just to make ripples, to sink deeper into the girl’s memory.

But the second the exam ended, Wen Quan vanished like steam off hot tea. No matter how she searched, not even a shadow.

Did that airhead go straight home?

Nana scoured the school like a storm—bathrooms, stadium storage, even peeking at sewer grates—then stood at the front gate muttering, her breath a small cloud.

Come to think of it, she knew almost nothing about Wen Quan beyond school. He Jiawen was a temporary knot untied, but who knew if a harsher He Jiawen would sprout later like a weed after rain?

And… summer was coming on like a long, empty road. Whether she’d see Wen Quan again was a coin in the air.

Only now did it hit Nana that she’d been playing too wild, like a kite cut loose; she still hadn’t figured out Wen Quan’s situation.

If something happened off-campus over summer, she might not even get the chance to help.

“…” It stung, a dull ache like a bruise under the skin.

She scrunched her face, a cloud crossing the sun. Thinking she might not see Wen Quan for months left her restless, like ants under a pot.

Tomorrow, when she saw that girl, she’d ask—properly, like planting a stake.

Scores came out fast. The original owner usually sat in the upper middle, so to avoid attention, Nana landed herself neatly in that same band like a bird returning to the same branch.

“Lu Qiqi, Chinese 60! Come get your paper.” On the podium, Jiang Xing shot her a look crooked as a question mark, then flipped pages and kept calling out. “Math 60! English 60! Biology 60! Geography 60! History 60! Politics 60! Take them all.”

…

The room went pin-drop silent, the hush deep as a winter pond, and a forest of stunned eyes swung toward the owner of those papers like a field of sunflowers.

If there were a live chat barrage, it would read: “Holy—Lu Qiqi’s insane!” “If I pulled that off, I’d brag for a year.” “All hail the boss!” “Take my knees.”

If she had finished every paper and somehow landed seven sixties, Jiang Xing would’ve shrugged and moved on like a man closing a book.

But she hadn’t even finished.

On the hundred-point Chinese paper, she left the forty-point essay blank, then still hit sixty, like threading a needle blind.

On math, she didn’t touch the forty points of long problems, yet scored sixty, like skipping stones and still crossing the river.

More ridiculous—the English paper, she only did the sixty points of multiple choice, leaving the rest like untouched snow, and called it a day.

When Jiang Xing graded them, his hand trembled like a leaf. Was this kid a hidden top student? Had she been sandbagging all along, and for what?

Yet while the class reeled over Nana’s perfect string of sixties, Nana was getting flattened by Wen Quan’s scores on the other side.

Friggin hell—seven subjects, not a single pass? Is it her problem or mine?

My god, Nesting Phoenix has gone full dumb—scary!

And this was a human’s test paper?

After she snatched the papers from Wen Quan, Nana’s mouth twitched like a tugged thread. The girl had drawn little turtles all over her answers, shells and heads bobbing like a pond full of trouble.

And the turtles were one thing—Jiang Xing, who graded that set, had even commented: The turtles aren’t cute.

Excuse me?

Are you two messing with me?

So I’m the only one treating this seriously?

System: “…” Does scoring sixty across the board count as serious?

You know nothing, okay!

If the System had a body, Nana would’ve shot it a glare sharp as a thrown dart.

Those two really knew how to light a fire under her.

Still, if Wen Quan failed all seven subjects, that meant she’d be back for remedial classes…

Nana suddenly felt revived, like a match catching dry tinder.

Remedial is great. That means she’ll see Wen Quan again, face to face, like the moon showing up every night.

And her investigation into Wen Quan’s life outside school finally had a path, like a trail appearing after fog lifts.

Mm… this summer’s remedial, she had to seize it with both hands.