Many classmates had added the class monitor as a contact or had his number, but no one could reach him. No one knew if he was on sick leave or something else.

After morning exercises, with class still some time away, the homeroom teacher had already arrived. The classroom wasn’t full yet—some were at the restroom, others grabbing snacks from the campus store or cafeteria.

The cafeteria’s new fried chicken legs were wildly popular. Some even skipped morning exercises just to buy them, fearing they’d sell out. Bad luck meant getting caught by teachers checking for absentees.

“You might not know this yet,” the teacher announced, “but Tian Peng is transferring schools. His parents have already started the paperwork…”

The explosive news instantly erupted through the class. Chatter exploded. Everyone turned to stare at Lin Shu—he was clearly the culprit after yesterday’s incident.

“Quiet! Quiet down!” The teacher shouted until the noise lessened. Whispers still buzzed under the surface. If their class group chat still existed, notifications would’ve hit 99+.

“Tian Peng found this too sudden. He didn’t want a tearful goodbye, so he won’t return. If you have messages for him, write them on notes. His parents will collect his books later. But first—we need a new monitor.”

“We still have major events this semester, like next month’s Science-Art-PE-Labor Festival.”

The mouthful of a name was shortened to “Cultural Festival.” Besides the autumn sports meet, it was one of the school’s few big events. Few actually wanted to join—it stole precious weekend time, and the activities weren’t thrilling. Only in its third year, every class except graduating seniors had to participate. They needed stage performances, contestants for cooking contests, physics fairs, textbook plays, tug-of-war… School clubs would also set up game stalls.

Beyond the long-established basketball team, most clubs were new. The student council, once just handling campus cleanliness checks, had only recently expanded its role.

The basketball club’s annual event? Ten free throws to win a “grand prize,” followed by a dull exhibition match. Sponsors were local stationery and sports shops—their logos plastered on jerseys during games.

“Anyone want to be monitor?”

The teacher’s question froze the noisy classroom into dead silence. No one wanted this chore in their final months. Serious students focused on exams that determined class placements. The playful ones avoided responsibility entirely.

“No volunteers? What about deputy monitor…”

“Teacher, I’ll stay deputy,” Chen Xiaohong stood up. Glasses perched on her nose, a single ponytail revealing a high forehead. She was the rigid type—deputy monitor and dorm leader. She enforced discipline only when noise disrupted her studies.

“Other class officers?”

Silence. No one volunteered. This wasn’t the eager first-week scramble.

Su Nuan raised her hand. Lin Shu’s stomach dropped.

The teacher nodded. Su Nuan stood. “I nominate Lin Shu. He’s PE rep—he’s free except during sports class.”

Other officers instantly agreed. Since Lin Shu had “driven Tian Peng out,” he should take the fall.

“Lin Shu? Do you accept?”

No room to refuse. After last week’s dating bet with the teacher and this week’s monitor incident, refusing would ruin his image—and likely cancel his pre-approved Friday leave.

“Though I’ve never been monitor,” Lin Shu forced out, “I’ll learn to do it well. Point out my mistakes—I’ll improve.”

*Clap clap clap—*

Su Nuan led the applause. Others joined. The teacher smiled, clapping as class began. Lin Shu couldn’t focus.

“Lin Shu, my office.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll come too,” Su Nuan chirped.

“Unhappy about being monitor?”

“Of course. I train every afternoon. I won’t have time for class duties.”

“No problem. I’ll act as deputy when you’re away. I share the blame anyway.”

“Su Nuan, come in too.” She obediently waited by the office door.

Their hushed talk hadn’t escaped the teacher. With no handover from Tian Peng, the teacher detailed the monitor’s duties: managing the class fund bank card with the deputy (who held the PIN) and life officer (who held the card). Withdrawals required all three.

Then came next month’s Cultural Festival: drawing performance slots at student council meetings, organizing class acts. Unlike mandatory choir events, recruiting volunteers would be tough. No real rewards—just empty “class honor” appeals. The silent monitor election proved that.

Lin Shu had little popularity. Many disliked him. Su Nuan once commanded instant obedience, but as his girlfriend now, her influence had faded.

“But remember—studying is your priority. Don’t let chores distract you. Bring unsolvable issues to me. I’m watching your monthly exam scores.” The teacher tapped the desk.

“Understood.”

The moment they left the office, Su Nuan covered her mouth, giggling. “If Tian Peng knew you stole his monitor seat, would he storm back to school?”

“Who knew he’d be this fragile?”

“What if rejecting that oaf for Gu Chu Chu gets him expelled too?”

“Don’t jinx it.”

Lin Shu hadn’t grasped being monitor yet. After a long school day, he and Su Nuan met Gu Chu Chu at the sports warehouse to walk to the pavilion with Da Ben.

Blocked by the after-school crowd, Gu Chu Chu bounced on her toes, waving high. “Senior! Over here!”

“Anything weird this morning?” Lin Shu asked. No distress texts meant calm.

“Ugh, the class gossiped nonstop after you walked me back. Only a few girls asked about us out of curiosity.” She immediately clung to his arm.

Su Nuan seized his other arm.

“Senior Su Nuan, stay away. You’ll complicate things.”

“Hmph.” Seeing the pavilion ahead, Su Nuan yanked her hand free and ducked behind shrubs on the lawn, watching and listening.