As class was about to start, Joven entered the classroom with his textbook, finally silencing the chatter below.

Joven was a white foreign teacher in his early thirties. His classes were usually relaxed, and he had a good rapport with students.

Standing at the podium, he noticed Guyen fast asleep against a U-shaped neck pillow.

Joven remembered this student well—every now and then, Guyen stirred up some "news" and grabbed everyone’s attention.

As for Jiang Juan beside him, Joven knew him even better. Watching these two with such contrasting styles, he found it amusing.

"It seems my class is quite engaging," Joven said in English with a teasing tone. "Guyen sat up front to hear better. From what I know, he always sleeps at the back in other teachers’ classes."

The International Class, as the name suggests, was for students preparing to study abroad. Daily lessons were taught by foreign teachers, all communication in English.

Students like Guyen—who’d attended Jiayuan since elementary school—could advance to high school by just passing English, even with poor exam scores. Many here had given up on domestic universities, planning to buy degrees overseas.

"Teacher, don’t flatter yourself," a student called out. "Guyen’s only up front because of Jiang Juan." The mood stayed light.

"I understand him, friends," Joven chuckled. "Facing Jiang Juan, I’d sleep well too."

"Jiang Juan, please wake him up."

Jiang Juan pursed his lips slightly and nudged Guyen. "Wake up."

Last night, fragmented images had haunted Guyen’s mind, ruining his sleep. Now, exhausted beyond limit, he was in deep slumber.

"Wake up." Jiang Juan frowned and nudged harder.

Guyen merely shifted his shoulders, turning his head away, steady as a mountain.

*He’s faking it*, Jiang Juan thought expressionlessly. He pinched the soft flesh on Guyen’s waist and twisted sharply.

"Hiss!" Guyen sucked in a breath, grimacing at the hand on his waist. Bloodshot eyes lifted. "Are you fucking crazy?"

"Watch your language. I was just waking you for class." Jiang Juan released his grip. Guyen’s waist was all tight muscle under thin skin—perfect for making it hurt.

Guyen glanced at Joven on the podium, scratched behind his ear impatiently, and flipped haphazardly through his textbook.

Joven said no more. He could only wake students; learning was their choice.

Western Economics was dull enough. The all-English lecture felt like a monotonous chant to Guyen. His eyelids drooped, drifting toward sleep.

Jiang Juan listened intently, taking meticulous notes. From the corner of his eye, Guyen’s head bobbed like a pendulum—comically swaying.

*Why sit up front just to sleep?* Jiang Juan suppressed the urge to straighten Guyen’s face and looked away.

Time ticked by. Only Joven’s fluent English and pen scratches filled the room.

"Move. Get out of the way." A crisp voice cut through Guyen’s sleep, shaking his body awake.

He turned his head. *Jiang Juan again?* Guyen swept his bangs off his forehead and stretched, tilting his head back.

"Move. Class is over. Planning to be a door god here?"

Guyen ignored him, closing his eyes briefly before scanning the room. Most students had left. Zhang Ning and Zhao Zhuoyang were gone—likely rushing to play ball.

He stared at Jiang Juan. *Tsk, such a pretty face. Likable on streams, but why so annoying in real life? Distance really does create beauty.*

Seeing Guyen shake his head while staring, Jiang Juan stayed silent. He pushed Guyen’s chair, ready to force his way out.

Guyen raised an eyebrow. His long legs braced against the desk like pythons. He grinned challengingly.

Jiang Juan pushed twice—strength wasn’t his forte. Guyen didn’t budge, watching like a show, chin propped on his hand.

Jiang Juan took a deep breath. He gave a faint smile, tossed his backpack to the back desk, and planted his 1.05-meter legs on the tabletop like stilts, ready to climb over.

*Can’t handle a mad dog? Then avoid it.*

Watching Jiang Juan, Guyen’s first thought flashed: *Damn long.*

He grabbed Jiang Juan’s uniform. "Alright, just joking. I’ve got something to say. After that, we go our separate ways."

Jiang Juan didn’t retract his legs. Leaning back slightly, he gazed down at Guyen from above.

"Speak."