Liming sighed inwardly at the subtle tension between his homeroom teacher and his best friend. Sensibly, he decided to head back to class ahead of his buddy. Liming had his own principles. Though Ms. Sun was a rookie teacher with no airs, he still respected her as a true educator.
Since he held teachers in high regard, Liming would never act disrespectfully or fool around with them—that’d tarnish his image. Nor would he chat with teachers about topics that seemed wildly inappropriate to him, like Zhangqianxing did. That was just who Liming was.
Call him stubborn or old-fashioned—everyone has their own principles. Even if others don’t understand, those principles always linger deep in one’s heart.
Sometimes Liming mocked himself, thinking he hadn’t outgrown his chuunibyou phase, stubbornly clinging to hollow ideals.
It wasn’t that Liming didn’t know how to bend; he simply chose not to.
Middle school was Liming’s most stubborn era. In his first year, web novels baptized him, introducing him to the nobility of unwavering self-principles—and he idolized it.
Just how stubborn was he back then?
Freshly joining the Student Council in his first year of middle school, with average grades and performance, he clashed head-on with Senior Bailin, the Student Council president, over a trivial matter. He was as unyielding as a stone that wouldn’t budge. Yet that very clash made Senior Bailin finally take Liming seriously.
That sparked a string of trials, forging today’s Liming—a top-tier performer in both work and academics.
Liming harbored indescribable, complex feelings toward Senior Bailin. Sometimes, he even wondered if he feared her.
Of course, the past was past. What mattered was the present, right?
“Yo, Old Wen! Not fussing over your precious class today? What brings you slumming it in the office?”
The freshman and sophomore classroom buildings were connected, with the teachers’ office nestled between them. As a freshman, you’d often spot teachers from both grades mingling here, alongside upperclassmen and Student Council or School Administration members.
A wave of students surged past. Liming, squeezed to the edge, paused briefly and decided to wait out the crowd before returning to class. Beside him, Mr. Wen—Bai Ling’s homeroom teacher—happened to descend the stairs, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers.
“What nonsense, you young rascal,” Mr. Wen chuckled. “We should support students who self-study well. Hovering over them all day just exhausts everyone.”
As the sophomore dean, Liming had heard of Mr. Wen—a teacher famed for his many successful students. Upon entering Qianning High School, rumors said his classes were always exceptional. Yet Liming didn’t know this Mr. Wen was actually Senior Bailin’s homeroom teacher.
“True,” the other teacher nodded. “If students take initiative in learning, it beats us teachers repeating things a thousand times.”
“Exactly,” Mr. Wen said. “So you youngsters shouldn’t push so hard. Learn from this old man.”
The other teacher likely taught sophomores too. They didn’t enter the office, chatting instead right there in the corridor. The crowd hadn’t thinned—it was peak break time—so Liming simply stood waiting.
Observant Liming noticed the lean, capable Mr. Wen held an unlit cigarette.
Holding a cigarette just to chat?
A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at Liming’s lips. Mr. Wen was quite a character.
Qianning High School banned smoking on campus, along with habits like chewing betel nuts or drinking—anything that tarnished the student image.
The Student Council’s Disciplinary Department enforced this strictly. Caught students usually got serious demerits and school-wide reprimands. Repeat offenders faced expulsion.
Teachers were generally beyond the Student Council’s reach. But if students followed such rules, shouldn’t teachers set an example too?
So many nicotine-addicted teachers at Qianning High avoided smoking on campus. Even during cravings, they’d do like Mr. Wen—just hold a cigarette and sniff the tobacco for comfort.
“But speaking of pushing hard,” Mr. Wen added, “today nearly gave this old man a relapse of his old ailments.”
“Oh? No way,” the other teacher said, half-joking with surprise. “You’re sturdy as an ox. Who could scare you sick? Is it that little demon grandson of yours causing trouble again at Third High?”
The chatting teacher also held a cigarette, his tone laced with jest.
Mr. Wen loved shooting the breeze—chatting about news or daily trifles, even family matters sometimes. That “little demon” was Wen Cunyuan’s only grandson.
Spoiled rotten as the family’s sole boy, he’d become a headache for his grandfather.
“If it were that rascal, I’d just spank him into shape. But today’s culprit—I can’t hit him, can’t scold him. These days, I can’t even get through with words.”
Liming, calm moments ago, unconsciously perked up his ears. Gossip was human nature. Besides, this wasn’t eavesdropping—he was listening openly.
“…Is it that one from the Student Council?”
After Mr. Wen’s helpless complaint, the other teacher strangely didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he pointed thoughtfully. Across Qianning High, not even the principal could make Mr. Wen this helpless—only that one in the Student Council could worry him so.
The Student Council? Liming’s eyebrows shot up involuntarily. He edged two steps closer to Mr. Wen.
“That’s right, her,” Mr. Wen confirmed. “She came to my office today to submit a report. Just thinking about it now gives me chills.”
“No offense,” the other teacher said gravely, “but the School Administration brought you out of retirement to mediate conflicts. Mess this up, and the whole school suffers.”
“That’s why I’m scared,” Mr. Wen said. “You don’t know—if it weren’t for…, I’d have dialed 120.”
The other teacher’s expression turned grave. This was serious. If the School Administration found out, they’d pressure the Student Council hard.
And if that one refused to back down and rampaged again, Qianning High might face another earth-shattering upheaval.
The “one” they meant was undoubtedly Senior Bailin. Back in her freshman first semester, Qianning High’s upper ranks underwent a silent, brutal overhaul—many stripped of positions overnight, without warning.
