I wrote the last character of my class notes. Right on cue, the bell signaling the end of class rang out sharply.

"Ding ding ding…"

"Alright, that’s all for today. Dismissed." The teacher set down his book on the podium and scanned the room.

"Stand up!"

The class monitor jumped to his feet first and shouted.

"Goodbye, teacher—"

The whole class rose, bowed in unison, and the lingering chorus echoed through the classroom.

"Goodbye, everyone. Be careful on your way home."

The teacher smiled, nodded back, then opened the door and left first.

Around me, classmates let out a breath of relief. The serious classroom atmosphere instantly shattered into post-class chatter and laughter.

Since it was the last self-study period, students wearily copied homework assignments from the blackboard’s corner, then packed up to head home.

The assigned cleaners got up early, fetching basins and buckets to fetch water for wiping the board and mopping—racing to finish fast.

Normally, we’d leave now. But with first-year high school finals approaching, the school had scheduled a study report session after class. So after packing, we still had to head to the auditorium.

The only ones unmoving were me and… my desk mate.

I flipped through my notes, reviewing key points. Quickly recalling them after class really helps memory.

My desk mate… was sleeping.

Yep, sprawled face-down on the desk, arms wrapped around his head, snoring softly.

The classic pose of an exhausted high schooler.

He’d probably slept through the entire afternoon like this.

Some might think my desk mate was a girl—maybe even the class beauty.

And as her neighbor, the story would go: proximity sparks feelings, and I’d win her heart as life’s ultimate prize.

A dreamy youth tale—too bad I only had the youth, not the story.

"Class is over, Guo Tong."

I gave him a light shove.

His name made it obvious he wasn’t a girl—which suited me fine.

Back in middle school, a female desk mate angrily drew a line down our shared desk with a pencil. That’s when I started distrusting female desk mates.

"Your arm’s over the line!"

"Smack!"

A merciless slap landed.

"Sorry…" I shrank back apologetically.

"Your arm’s over again!"

"Smack!"

Ouch! Tears sprang to my eyes.

"But it’s not?!" I stared innocently at my pouting desk mate.

My arm hovered mid-air, not touching the desk.

"Idiot! Does air not count?!"

She grabbed my arm, pulled out a ruler, and measured from my sleeve to the pencil line.

"…."

It really was over by a centimeter.

After that came eraser fights, missing pens, doodled notebooks… a string of unhappy memories that killed my dream of a pretty desk mate.

As they say, "Beauty is trouble." Real girls aren’t as easy as 2D ones. That’s why so many cling to anime characters—they’re perfect fantasies.

Guo Tong was my ideal desk mate here. We weren’t super close, but he was reliable when I needed help.

I couldn’t list his strengths, but his flaws were crystal clear.

Humans notice flaws fastest.

Online games—yep, Guo Tong was a gamer. He used borrowed IDs for all-nighters at internet cafes, and lately, it’d gotten worse.

He’d gotten hooked on a new RPG called "Utopia."

Don’t overthink it—it had nothing to do with Plato. Just a name coincidence.

At Guo Tong’s push, I registered an account last weekend and tried it.

After half an hour of play and reading the intro, I’d figured out everything.

It was a generic medieval fantasy RPG.

Players chose classes to defend the human empire from invaders, formed guilds, raided enemy zones, and aimed to become legendary heroes.

The interface was clean, graphics polished—clearly a pro foreign studio’s work.

I endured the boring setup just for that.

Classes were warrior, rogue, mage, hunter, priest. Guo Tong insisted I pick priest—his new guild needed one.

Priests were rare. Most players wanted front-line action against monsters, not backline healing. Boring for hot-blooded gamers.

Plus, solo priests couldn’t even beat newbie village raccoons without attack skills.

Pathetic. Relying on others to survive kills the fun.

And low-level mobs? Teams without priests could solo them easily with basic gear. Why keep a priest spot?

I suspected Guo Tong was setting me up. But since I wouldn’t play long, I didn’t care and chose priest anyway.

"Enter your character name."

A dialog box popped up after class selection.

A name? I paused briefly.

Then I remembered my online novel—readers tore apart my settings, and I had no defense.

Such pent-up frustration!

My fingers tapped the keyboard.

"Fish Drowned in Spit"

At the newbie village gate, a cute raccoon killed me three times in half an hour. I yanked the power cord decisively.

Besides confirming the game intro was accurate, I couldn’t grasp why Guo Tong wasted time on such a dumb game.

His recent all-nighters were all for this.

I sighed inwardly at the bloodshot-eyed, greasy-haired addict—but felt no contempt.

"Haa… Fan-ge… how long was I out…"

He finally sat up, yawning nonstop.

"You slept through an entire century."

I propped up his slumping body.

"My god, that long!" He joked, wide-eyed at me.

"Come on. Auditorium time—pre-exam study report." I reminded him kindly.

"Ugh, can’t we just go home?" Guo Tong watched classmates pack and leave.

"Didn’t the monitor announce it at noon? After self-study, there’s a report for finals prep."

I frowned, repeating the notice.

Some might assume Guo Tong was a bottom-rank slacker—gamer, all-nighter, class sleeper, zero focus.

A teacher’s nightmare—usually true.

But not here.

Everyone in this high school had academic chops.

Guo Tong had his own method. Despite skipping class, his grades beat mine.

He crammed hard one week before big exams. Daytime naps, all-night studying—he learned a semester’s content in days, shockingly well.

Our homeroom teacher pleaded with him to study steadily. He’d cheerfully agree but kept his ways. Grades stayed mid-to-upper class. The teacher finally called his parents.

His dad glanced at the report card, gave a mild reminder, and dropped it.

Even the stubborn teacher gave in. Guo Tong became the only one allowed to sleep openly in class.

He slept beside me daily, copied my homework, and still scored higher. I felt no envy.

That lifestyle would wreck my body. And if I tried cramming, I’d fall behind in a week—stuck at the class tail.