Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Jiang Lan—a third-year high schooler who’s practically dropped out after skipping class nonstop for two years. Male. Obsessed with every game under the sun. Blessed with natural voice-acting talent. Single. Day job? Cashier at a bookstore. Night job? ...Nah, better not say.

After wolfing down my instant noodles, I was about to nap. School hours meant freedom for this slave driver’s kid. But a sudden phone call reeked of trouble.

"Jiang Nan."

That was my friend Jia Baoyu. His name needed no nickname—that was art. Problem was, he was huge. *Massively* huge. Fat shouldn’t clog your throat, yet he always butchered "Lan" into "Nan."

"Jiang Nan’s not here. This is Jiang *Lan*."

"Oh, Jiang Nan—*heh*—just woke up, tongue’s thick. Xu Xian says Xiao Yi told him the class rep ordered all four of us back to school. *Now*."

"Your tongue’s been thick since birth. And what nonsense is this? School just started—why bother? I’m dead tired."

"I’m tired too! But Xu Xian swore Xiao Yi said the class rep—"

*Ugh*. Why send this zero-charisma disaster to deliver messages? Xu Xian must’ve saved me for last on purpose.

"Stop," I cut in. "Just tell me *why* we’re going."

Right. We were Changqing High’s legendary "Four Kings of Truancy." Not the thugs-you’d-expect type. More like ghosts—skipping class with military precision. Organized crime? You bet.

"Heard our homeroom teacher got replaced? Old Four-Eyes retired."

"Yeah. So? She’s a woman. Can’t scare Xu Xian the Snake Charmer."

"She *is* female. But she’s the principal’s granddaughter. Xu Xian’s dad’s just an honorary board member—"

*Just say she’s the principal’s granddaughter!*

I hung up, head pounding. Talking to Baoyu drained me. I preferred his writing skills.

Twenty minutes later, panting, I stood at Changqing High’s gates—dusty backpack slung over one shoulder.

Changqing High: H City’s most elite private academy. Students here weren’t necessarily geniuses, but all future pillars of society. Don’t ask why. In this era, money solves what effort can’t.

That’s why I hated school. Like hating grinding mobs with Xiao Yu back in the day. Pointless. Why waste life on things you suck at and hate? Better to serve the people infinitely with limited time.

...Okay, fine. I’m a gaming addict. But glued to a screen ≠ broke. My income? Enough to support Xiao Yu *and* myself—no stepdad’s wallet needed, even if he *could* get me into this school after I bombed the high school entrance exam.

Xiao Yu? Not here. That genius didn’t *pay* for school. Top universities begged her with scholarships...

My honor-student sister’s attitude toward my "lifestyle" wavered between "hopeless case" and "rebellious joy." She stayed silent. Mostly because I still paid the bills as the family’s slave laborer.

"Hold it! Which class are you in? You’re late!"

A burly guard in navy blue burst from his booth, blocking my "convertible two-wheeler."

I coughed, mumbling: "I’m from @#￥% class... fever this morning. Homeroom teacher knows."

The honest guard squinted. My face *was* pale under the cap. His voice softened: "Go on then, little miss. Don’t let it happen again!"

*Little miss?* ...Yeah, my hair needed a trim. I nodded, pulled my cap low, and pedaled past.

First-period bell hadn’t rung. Middle and high schoolers should’ve been copying homework or chatting post-assembly. The tree-lined path stood empty. Months since summer break, but I knew this garden-campus like my own room. Park bike. Dash upstairs. Smooth.

The back door of the classroom beside the third-floor restroom gaped slightly open. Noise spilled out—thank god.

I slipped in, sliding into the dusty corner seat at the very back. Months of grime coated it...

"Took you long enough?"

My desk partner’s delicate snort carried clear. She was our truancy ring’s inside woman in Class 3-4: our selfless, adorable class rep.

Seats were arranged by student leaders—nine groups split into three blocks, three desks wide. Nan Dongye sat between me and Yan Qing (nicknamed Xiao Yi), the 36th Star of Heavenly Ingenuity from *Water Margin*. Xiao Yi shot me a smug glance mid-homework-copy.

As the story’s biggest weirdo, I got the "protagonist’s window seat." Honestly? I get why Nan Dongye picked the spot beside me. From there, she could watch the playground and garden terrace when I was absent—without getting distracted herself.

For a quiet bookworm like her, the last row’s only headache was the two troublemakers flanking her. Lucky for her, Xiao Yi and I were "frequent business travelers." Most days, she had the whole back corner to herself.

That was part of our... *dirty deal*. Mainly because I held her secrets.

"*Hello?*"

Nan Dongye arched a slender willow-leaf brow, snapping shut her glossy shoujo manga magazine.

"Sorry. Zoned out. Didn’t sleep well."

I yawned, noticing fresh textbooks neatly stacked in my desk. My gaze drifted to her small, gentle face behind rimless glasses. Delicate features. Graceful like a neighbor’s daughter mixed with old-money elegance. Every move radiated warmth. No wonder she was popular.

Maybe I stared too long. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks flushing slightly. "What are you looking at?"

I smirked. "Who else could I see with you leaning this close?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ungrateful brat!"

"Hey! Months apart, and you insult me?"

"*Exactly* because it’s been months—and you still act like you can’t stand me!"

Nan Dongye huffed, flipping open her magazine with a pink rabbit bookmark. As a bookstore cashier, I knew this shoujo mag flew off shelves. Always sold out.