The class bell rang, and the teacher arrived right after.
Standing on the podium was homeroom teacher Tsurumi Mirei. Xia Chuan Yuan recognized her instantly. She held a math textbook—he realized she taught math.
Tsurumi Mirei stood there, a teacher with a fateful history with Xia Chuan Yuan. She was stunningly beautiful, radiating a mature, older-sister vibe. A natural beauty who needed no Photoshop or makeup to shine. With makeup, she’d be even more breathtaking.
Her looks could rival top celebrities. If she ever aimed to be an internet star, posting a few photos tagged "most beautiful high school teacher" would make her viral in minutes. To Xia Chuan Yuan, that title was well-earned, not exaggerated.
"Class, let’s dive into Chapter One!" Tsurumi Mirei announced. "Open your textbooks to page two..."
Watching her lecture, Xia Chuan Yuan recalled the embarrassing scene he’d witnessed at his house last time. The contrast with her composed classroom self was jarring.
This was why fans adored stage stars but not their off-stage selves—the gap was too wide. Discovering the real person often made fans quit, disgusted by the inconsistency. After seeing that side of her, Xia Chuan Yuan felt no reverence left.
"Today, we’re second-years, one step closer to senior year," she continued. "Don’t think third year is distant or time isn’t tight. Chapter One covers solving triangles. Let’s start with the Pythagorean theorem!"
Xia Chuan Yuan scanned the material. It matched his old high school lessons exactly. He’d expected changes in this slightly different world. Was this the legendary historical correction force at work?
He wasn’t worried—even senior-year content was easy. He’d survived China’s cram-school grind. He’d drilled "Five Years of Gaokao, Three Years of Mock Exams" and "Tianli 38 Sets." He’d even worshipped the Gaokao Three Titans: Wang Houxiong (Complete Textbook Interpretation), Ren Zhihong (Optimized Design), and Xue Jinxing (Complete Textbook Solutions)—exam gods every student prayed to.
Xia Chuan Yuan had scribbled through their books endlessly, growing weary. Any Gaokao student knew these three. They haunted your world daily, not just passing by but lingering until you were sick of them.
Dubbed the Gaokao Three Gods, they spawned an urban legend. Before exams, light three incense sticks at home. Place their three books together. Print their photos on an altar. Hold the incense, bow reverently three times. Kowtow three times. Burn the black-and-white photos, sprinkle the ashes on the books. Legend said they’d bless you.
Xia Chuan Yuan scoffed at such feudal superstition. "We’re Marx’s disciples! How can we believe in ghosts and goblins?" he’d insist. He’d never admit that before his own Gaokao, he’d done exactly that—lit incense, bowed, kowtowed, burned photos, and sprinkled ashes.
Since he’d already learned this, Xia Chuan Yuan tuned out Tsurumi Mirei’s precise lecture on the Pythagorean theorem. He gazed out the window. The playground held PE students. He watched the girls playing volleyball.
At Sakurano High, students changed into PE uniforms and indoor shoes for class. The school stayed spotlessly clean.
The girls in uniforms moved energetically, their silhouettes tracing perfect curves. Xia Chuan Yuan watched the volleyball players until the bell ended first period.
Unlike novel tropes, he wasn’t called out for daydreaming or humiliated the teacher. Maybe it was his last-row seat. Or perhaps Tsurumi Mirei recognized him, recalled his kindness, and let him watch volleyball undisturbed.
