Forced into a Secret Marriage with the Villain, We Now Have a Child - Chapter 13

Jian Chun returned to the office and began grading papers. Aside from her new Class 10, she still held responsibilities for her previous Class 9. Her colleagues praised her dedication for arriving so early; unlike other professions, a teacher’s schedule is flexible, usually revolving around their specific class times.

As she worked, she overheard the typical faculty room chatter.

“These students are getting bolder,” Teacher Hong grumbled nearby. “The steps in these homework problems are identical. They didn’t even try to hide the copying.”

“It was winter break,” another teacher sighed. “Who actually wants to do homework during the holidays?”

“You Science teachers have it easy,” a third chimed in. “I have students whose essays are suddenly masterpieces. I have no idea where they plagiarized them from.”

Jian Chun listened, realizing she had been overthinking her role. She had assumed being a homeroom teacher meant shadowing the students like a kindergarten teacher.

The bell rang, and the quiet building erupted into a cacophony of shouting and running footsteps. Jian Chun stood up and stretched her neck. She could already feel the onset of “occupational neck pain,” a classic teacher’s ailment.

Turning toward the door, she saw He Yin walk in. The moment their eyes met, He Yin’s expression soured. Jian Chun ignored her and rubbed her tired eyes.

A tall male student followed He Yin inside and stood defiantly in front of her desk.

“Why didn’t you hand in your homework?” He Yin snapped. “Jin Ziye, do you really think I can’t do anything to you?”

The student, Jin Ziye, maintained an air of “dead pig unafraid of boiling water”—complete indifference. The other teachers went quiet, giving He Yin space to handle the situation.

Jian Chun recognized the name. He’s one of mine, she realized.

He Yin was reaching her breaking point. “Jin Ziye, if you’re just going to waste time, don’t bother coming to school. You don’t listen in class, you don’t do the work—what are you even here for?”

Jin Ziye finally flicked a glance at her, but remained silent.

In the past, He Yin would have complained to the homeroom teacher. But since the homeroom teacher was now Jian Chun, she refused to communicate. “I could teach a pig these steps and it would understand by now,” He Yin hissed. “Why can’t you?”

“Of course a pig wouldn’t understand a pig’s teaching,” Jin Ziye shot back.

The office went dead silent. Everyone looked over, and even Jian Chun found herself impressed by the kid’s audacity.

He Yin stood up abruptly, pointing at him. “Plenty of people work harder than you. If you don’t want to learn, go join society now. You won’t amount to anything anyway.”

Seeing the situation spiral, Jian Chun stepped in. “Teacher He, don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

He Yin glared at her. Jian Chun walked over to Jin Ziye’s side. “Teacher He, just because he didn’t hand in one assignment, you define his entire future so harshly? Don’t you think that’s a failure of your duty as an educator?”

“I have my own way of teaching,” He Yin spat.

“I see.” Jian Chun turned to Jin Ziye and jerked her chin toward the hallway. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t need your help,” Jin Ziye muttered coldly.

“I’m your homeroom teacher. If I don’t deal with you, who will?” Jian Chun clapped a hand on his shoulder.

The boy flinched, his dark, brooding eyes darting between the two women. Jian Chun met his gaze with a cold smile of her own. She hadn’t expected to encounter a “problem student” on day one. Students here were either geniuses or from families with enough connections to get them in despite their grades.

“Outside. Now,” she commanded.

“Is it fun being insulted in here?” she added when he hesitated. “Or do you think talking back makes you look tough?”

Despite being a head shorter than him, Jian Chun’s aura didn’t waver. Jin Ziye stared at her for a moment, then turned and walked out. He Yin let out a derisive snort, waiting to see how Jian Chun would fail.

In the quiet corridor, Jian Chun looked at Jin Ziye. “Go back to class. You’re in a bad headspace right now, and I know you won’t listen to anything I say anyway.”

Jin Ziye arched an eyebrow, confused.

Jian Chun patted his shoulder and began to turn away, but then paused. “I don’t care if you hand in your English work, but you must hand in your Physics homework. If you don’t understand it, come ask me.”

She walked back into the office, leaving Jin Ziye looking at her as if she were insane.

Back at her desk, Jian Chun let out a long breath. She opened her notebook and added Jin Ziye’s name to her observation list.

At 11:00 AM, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Yu Siyi.

Jian Chun quickly hid the screen behind a stack of homework. She realized she needed to change Yu Siyi’s contact name. It used to be “Darling,” and then she had changed it to “Yu Siyi,” but even that was too risky if someone saw her screen.

She scrolled through the options and finally settled on a new nickname: “That Someone.”

“That Someone” had a profile picture of a half-body shot—long curls draped over her chest, head tilted toward the camera with a deep, soulful gaze and a slight smile. Anyone in the loop would recognize her instantly, but Jian Chun figured plenty of people used celebrity photos as avatars.

That Someone: The press conference is over. Heading to the hotel for lunch soon. That Someone: I feel my waistline crying for help.

Jian Chun typed back: Oh.

That Someone: Send me a copy of your class schedule. Jian Chun: Why? That Someone: What if I accidentally call and disturb you?

You’re disturbing me right now, Jian Chun thought.

That Someone: [Sticker: Kitten squatting in a corner crying.gif]

Jian Chun nearly choked. Was this woman really using “cute” stickers at her age? The sticker was adorable, but it didn’t match the image of the person in her head at all. Feeling a surge of impulsive irritation, she typed: I saw an interesting news story today.

That Someone: What? #Innocent

Jian Chun: Your “interaction” with that male actor. I heard people are “fainting from the sweetness.”

That Someone: Is that so? That Someone: Baby, you have to believe me. Even the kiss was just a camera angle trick.

Jian Chun’s heart skipped. There was a kiss?

That Someone: Are you jealous, baby? #Pity

Jian Chun wasn’t jealous; she was calm. She realized she had two choices: make a scene or ignore it. She chose a middle ground.

Jian Chun: I thought you said you’d handle it? Yu Siyi: I am~ The promotion is focused on the film, not a real-life romance. Jian Chun: A woman’s words are as deceptive as a ghost’s. Yu Siyi: Whether my mouth deceives you or not… don’t you already know the answer to that?

Jian Chun’s face heated up. Can she not be normal for one second? How does she turn an argument into flirting?

She pushed her chair back and walked out into the empty corridor. It was time for a clean break. She typed out five words, hit send, and immediately blocked the notifications and turned off her data like a guilty thief.

Miles away, Yu Siyi was leaning against a cushion, listening to her manager read her schedule. She glanced at her phone with the gentle smile she reserved only for family.

She unlocked it with her fingerprint, and her smile slowly froze. Her amber eyes narrowed as she stared at the screen.

There was only one sentence:

“I want a divorce.”