Shangjing City’s Third Middle School, where I studied, was a junior high with a reputation far below the city’s average.

Like the Second Middle School, locals called it a "half-baked" institution—a school full of teachers rejected by Shangjing’s parents.

Schools mirror society. Without exam success rates, good students wouldn’t enroll, and good teachers wouldn’t stay. Thanks to the Education Bureau next door, neither the Second nor Third Middle allowed weekend classes. This made their teaching quality plummet year after year.

After all, losing one teaching day weekly meant nearly 150 days over three years. If this were a company? That lost time would’ve earned almost 100 million yuan.

"Hey, did you review last night?"

"Review? I queued for ranked matches all weekend—just kids. Don’t ask."

"Rumor says a new hero’s dropping soon."

"Why’d you ditch me Saturday?"

"Oops, my boyfriend showed up. Sorry!"

I’d graduated from Third Middle as top of my school and second citywide. The news shook Shangjing—mainly because I came from a "trash school."

For days, the principal grinned ear to ear, handing me awards and scholarships. My name hung at the school gate for three months.

But it changed nothing.

Though I’d lived up to the "genius" label—entering Shangjing’s best high school and university—after graduation, a middle school reunion revealed I’d become one of the class’s least "successful" alumni.

After that, this beautiful world slowly faded in my eyes.

"Yo, here early today?"

I walked in as my desk-mate set down his bag.

His name was Azure Excellence. Exactly one year younger—he’d fudged his ID to enroll early. With odd numbers of boys and girls in class, and our grades perpetually third and fourth from the bottom, our homeroom teacher paired us naturally.

"Slept early. Woke at six."

I pulled out my chair.

Truth was, I’d come early just to feel campus life again.

School days—the darkest yet most beautiful era of life.

Yi Yao lived kilometers from school. She biked alone daily, always late, earning endless scoldings from our teacher.

"You’re early too," Azure chuckled.

I pointed at the clock above the blackboard’s "119 days until exams": "It’s not even seven."

"Heh. Grabbed drinks with old buddies last night. Crashed early. Woke at six too." He pulled out textbooks for morning reading. "Did your weekend homework?"

Azure was one of Yi Yao’s few real friends. His grades sucked, but he treated her like a brother—not with that weird boy-to-girl pity.

As for me? I’d ignored troublemakers back then. I barely remembered how Azure’s story ended.

"No way!" I groaned dramatically, pulling out homework and five test papers. Then, as he turned with a sly grin, I deadpanned: "Finished it all."

"Huh?" His face fell like a rejected husky. "You’re joking. Twenty pages of drills? Five tests? Done?"

I dumped everything on his desk. "You’re welcome."

Life in junior year mirrored senior year—and your first year after college graduation.

Though our school shockingly gave weekends off, homework doubled other schools’. Teachers wore weekend assignments like badges of shame.

Printing tests cost them nothing. Every spare moment, they flooded us with paper.

"Seriously?" Azure flipped through a notebook, eyes wide at the dense calculations. "Who’d you copy?"

I shrugged. "My own work."

These problems took me minutes. For me now, solving junior-high math felt like copying answers. Same school, same class, same tests—I’d seen most questions before. One glance, and solutions flashed in my mind.

"True bro." With time running out, Azure grabbed pen and paper.

Asking about copied answers’ accuracy? That broke classroom etiquette.

We’d always done this: skip homework weekends, panic together Monday mornings. If someone had answers, we shared. If not, we faced the teacher’s wrath together. Though Azure usually took the heat… being a girl had its perks…

Watching him scribble, I cleared my messy desk.

…Scratch that "being a girl" thought. Why was Yi Yao’s desk such a disaster zone?

Crumpled failed tests. Dog-eared story magazines for boring classes. Two lollipops. Loose coins. And this notebook—what was it for again?

Yi Yao could be spacey. Even digging through her memories, I couldn’t recall when half this junk appeared.

Flipping the notebook open, a November calendar stared back. Dates 23rd to 29th glowed with faint pink highlighter. Further pages showed similar marks after the 20th each month.

Ah. Monthly visitor.

I stuffed the notebook away, hiding a wry smile.

"Desk-mate. Got news." Azure didn’t look up from copying. "I’m traveling."

"Cool. Go for it." I upended my desk, shaking out debris before stacking books back in.

"Paris."

I nearly dropped my textbooks. "Paris? To see the tower?"

"Nah. Just… books say it’s beautiful." He tilted his head. "Got enough cash?"

He pulled out three crisp hundred-yuan bills. "This much."

"Not even close to a ticket."

"No worries. I’ve got a plan. Shangjing Airport’s full of holes. I’ll stow away in cargo. Sneak out after landing."

"You’re insane."

"Dead serious." He met my eyes. "Don’t ask how. Just cover for me. If the teacher asks tomorrow, say I’m sick. Buy me one day."

"No promises she won’t call your dad."

"Just say I’m sick. If it fails, whatever."

"Fine, fine. Your money, your rules."

Azure always acted on impulse. Once, he’d scaled the school wall mid-class to play soccer. No "guilt-by-deskmate" rules here—he did what he wanted.

"Homework check! Hand it in!"

Our group leader approached. We sat last row, first column—he always collected from the back.

"Whoa. Rare sight. Actual homework to copy today?" He reached for my notebook, but Azure slapped his hand away.

"Don’t touch!"

The leader froze. "Chill. It’s not yours. Who died?"

Azure kept scribbling. "Touch anyone’s stuff? Fine. Touch Yi Yao’s? I’ll end you."

"Yi Yao’s?" The leader blinked. Then burst out laughing. "HA! You’re copying Yi Yao’s work? Might as well write your own! Wake up—she’s been with Second Middle’s—"

***THUD***

The whole class snapped toward the sound.

Azure’s palm slammed the desk. His glare froze the leader. "Say that again."

Azure sucked at studies, but in both my memories and Yi Yao’s, he was pure iron: loyal, fearless. At 170cm with solid muscle, few dared provoke him.

"I—" The 160cm leader paled, trapped in the aisle under everyone’s stares.

Tension crackled through the classroom.

"So he’s wrong?"

A bespectacled boy stood up after thirty seconds.

Tan Lijiang. Class valedictorian. Leader of the "Tan faction."

Yes—even this tiny class split into "Tan" and "Li" factions, two rival gangs. Azure and I were rare neutrals.

"Everyone knows Yi Yao has a boyfriend at Second Middle. Did Liang lie?" Tan adjusted his glasses, voice dripping sarcasm. "Sure, Yi Yao’s pretty. But she’s taken. Azure, have some dignity. Stealing girlfriends is low. And let’s be real—you’ve got no looks, no grades. What can you offer?"

***HAHAHAHA!***

The class erupted. Tan’s followers howled like caged beasts, slapping desks.

"You—" Azure shoved his chair back, but I grabbed his arm.

"Yi Yao, let go! I’ll turn that bastard into dog meat or—"

"Let me handle this."

I stepped past him, hands in pockets, stopping before the glasses boy. "Tan Lijiang. Do you really think girls here care about grades?"

"What? Are you two dating now?"

I swept my bangs aside. "No. Just asking."

A look of disdain spread across his face. "You're just a girl—your looks are a gift from your mom. Listen to big brother: if exams don't go well, just use that advantage to marry rich later. Don't waste time on someone like Azure Excellence..."

"If I score higher than you, you'll apologize to Azure Excellence? Is that it?"

"You?"

Tan Lijiang stared at me incredulously. "Don't even dream of beating me. If you crack the top ten in class, I'll kneel and apologize to him."

"Fine. Bet on this English test. Your score higher than mine? Do whatever you want with me. Lower? You apologize to Azure Excellence."

"Hahaha..."

Another wave of laughter filled the classroom, the air thick with mirth.

"I... you..." Tan Lijiang doubled over, clutching his stomach. "You're serious?"

A boy beside him chimed in, grinning. "Even if we sell you off for that sort of thing?"

I glanced at the laughing crowd, then turned back with a calm tone. "Serious."

"Are you stupid? You—the bottom of Class 11—betting grades with me?"

Today's first class had an English test spanning two periods, graded on the spot. Teachers announced names and scores immediately after grading, prioritizing early submissions to motivate students.

"I've been clear. If I lose, do whatever you want." I turned around. "But if you lose, apologize to Azure Excellence in front of the whole class."

Tan Lijiang's arrogant voice rang out behind me. "Haha, me lose? Don't joke, Yi Yao. Did you take the wrong pills today? Or get dumped and need a new boyfriend? FYI, I don't lack girlfriends."

I paused briefly, glanced sideways, then walked back to my seat.

"Yi Yao, you..."

Azure Excellence beside me didn't call me "bro" for once.

"Don't worry."

I continued tidying my desk as if nothing happened.

"Their era is over."