Unfortunately, the teacher-student roleplay Luo Xingyan had joked about never happened. Qi Yan’s first art class ended with him slightly nervous.

Qi Yan was half a lolicon—not pathologically so. He’d never prey on underdeveloped middle schoolers, nor did he have some twisted "raising plan." He simply found girls before puberty refreshingly innocent. Someone like Senior Sister? He couldn’t handle her. Her life experience overwhelmed him; she teased him until he was speechless.

Yet Senior Sister was undeniably a fantasy goddess for many men. She had a voluptuous figure and a pair of magnificent breasts. Though she couldn’t cook, she dazzled in social settings—and in bed. She even boasted about mastering eighty-one bedroom techniques. Who’d be lucky enough to enjoy that?

After the third morning class, the campus broadcast eye exercises. Most teachers retreated to the staff room, except homeroom teachers monitoring students.

Qi Yan sat unnoticed in a corner—either ignored or filtered out by retinas.

"Mr. Qi, how was your first class?" Le Meng asked. Though she’d turned full-time six months earlier, she hadn’t quite fit in. Chatting with Qi Yan felt like huddling for warmth.

"Passable. But the boys looked disappointed when they saw a male art teacher."

Breasts were nice, but too stimulating for middle schoolers.

Le Meng giggled softly behind her hand. "Hehe. Ms. Liu’s wildly popular with students and teachers alike. I wish I could be like her." Her eyes sparkled with envy toward Liu Qin, laughing nearby.

Qi Yan stole a glance at Le Meng’s chest. Decent curves. She might become another Liu Qin—purely in visual appeal, of course.

SLAM!

A desk slammed like thunder. The noisy staff room fell silent. All eyes turned to a balding middle-aged man and a girl with lavender hair.

"Rin Qin! You’re in senior year! Gaokao’s in eight months! You skipped the humanities exam and scored 14 in math? Even an idiot wouldn’t get that on a 150-point test!" The man shook a test paper.

"Math is too hard. I didn’t understand. My stomach hurt during humanities—I took leave."

"Stomachache again? Same excuse last exam! Do you have a pregnancy belly? Breaking rules daily, dressing like a delinquent—trying to seduce someone? Quit school if you won’t study!"

"Sob… sob…"

The girl fled in tears.

"Vice Principal Zhang’s scolding students again. Poor girl," Le Meng murmured. "Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. Not all can be top students. And wanting to look pretty is natural!"

"Reminded of your own scolding?" Qi Yan teased. He recalled her mentioning Zhang docking her pay.

Le Meng stuck out her tongue playfully. "Hehe. I almost cried too. Vice Principal Zhang’s terrifying. Principal Li’s much kinder. I’d have quit if Ms. Liu hadn’t comforted me."

"Le Meng! Still laughing? That student skipped your music class all semester! No discipline from teachers or students! This school’s a sanctuary of education—not entertainment!"

Zhang’s glare snapped to Le Meng. She flinched, bowing deeply. "I’m sorry, Vice Principal Zhang. I’ll ensure she attends class."

"And you—new art teacher, Qi Yan, right? Don’t think Principal Li’s backing lets you ignore rules. One misstep, and you’re fired."

Le Meng tugged Qi Yan’s pants. "Say it," she whispered.

Qi Yan parroted, head bowed. "Understood, Vice Principal Zhang. I won’t disappoint the principal."

Ding-dong—

The pre-class bell rang—a lifesaver. Teachers with classes, including Le Meng, hurried out.

"Hmph!"

Zhang snorted as the room emptied. He crumpled the test paper, missed the trash can, and stormed off.

"Phew…"

Qi Yan sighed, shaking his shoulders.

"Rough start? Feeling workplace terror yet?" Liu Qin asked casually.

"He’s too aggressive. Now I get why Dongsui Private Academy poaches so many teachers."

"Meh. Some people never grasp reality. But Dongsui’s faculty’s full this year—they only offered me a position. We endure."

"Can’t report him to the Education Bureau?" Qi Yan muttered.

"No. He has authority. Students and teachers *were* at fault. He’s got connections—if they trace the report back to us? Retaliation. Everyone else has families. They can’t risk losing their iron rice bowls."

"True."

Qi Yan understood job security all too well. But that girl’s back… familiar.

Lavender hair…

He recalled the mysterious masked girl and the golden pomelo. Could she be his guide?

His seat was near the trash can. Zhang’s crumpled test paper had rolled to his feet. Qi Yan smoothed it out. Only multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blanks were attempted. All "B" choices—two correct (10 points). All blanks filled with "0"—one correct (4 points). No long answers. Barely an attempt. The scolding was deserved, but Zhang’s words crushed her dignity.

"Class 4, Senior Year. Rin Qin…"

A wave of familiarity hit him. Aunt Chunxiang’s full name was Chen Chunxiang. Her husband was Lin Youfeng—Lin Youcai’s cousin.

Childhood memories flooded back. Aunt Chunxiang had a daughter. She and his sister often played together when their parents were busy.

Ah… "Qin Lin" backwards was "Lin Qin." How did I miss it? Idiot.

"Senior Sister, where’s Class 4, Senior Year?"

"Fifth floor, right wing. Visiting your sister and Shiyu? They’re in Class 3."

"Yeah. Be right back."

News headlines flashed in Qi Yan’s mind—students driven to suicide by teacher abuse and pressure. His heart leapt into his throat.

Please don’t do anything rash! I haven’t even thanked you yet!