The Beautiful Idiot Is Forced To Play The Villain [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“Tell me, what’s going on with this homework?” Nie Liang asked, his gaze fixed on the two of them.

Lan Zhen felt incredibly guilty and didn’t know what to say, while Wei Chengyang offered no reaction at all.

Seeing that neither was cooperating, Nie Liang sighed. He clearly had no desire to keep lecturing them, simply stating flatly: “Since this is a first offense for both of you, the punishment is a ten-thousand-word self-reflection essay each. Come to my office after school today to write it. There are pens and paper on the desk; you aren’t allowed to leave until you’re finished.”

Lan Zhen didn’t really have a concept of how much ten thousand handwritten words actually was, but he had a vague feeling it wouldn’t be easy. He clutched his workbook and walked out of the office, crestfallen.

Wei Chengyang followed close behind him and suddenly said, “I’ll write yours for you.”

Lan Zhen didn’t respond.

This whole ordeal was a lesson; he wouldn’t dare let Wei Chengyang ghostwrite for him again. What if they got caught a second time?

Upon returning to the classroom, he slumped over his desk like a glutinous rice ball melting in high heat—soft, limp, and devoid of any energy.

Mo Changfeng reached out an arm and poked this fair, tender “rice ball,” asking with a serious and urgent expression, “What happened? Did you get scolded?”

Lan Zhen replied listlessly, “A ten-thousand-word self-reflection after school.”

Mo Changfeng: “…”

Ten thousand words. It wasn’t an infinite amount, but it certainly wasn’t small either.

In the past, teachers usually handled such matters leniently. It seemed Nie Liang truly didn’t favor these top-ranking students.

He wanted to help, but he was utterly clueless when it came to writing reflections.

For a student like him, whose grades consistently bottomed out and who might “evaporate” by next semester, most teachers didn’t bother putting in the effort. Some even acted out of pity, turning a blind eye to his behavior.

It was only later, seeing his grades perfectly stabilized at the very bottom, that the teachers realized he was deliberately controlling his scores. However, since he had been a relatively “honest” student before Lan Zhen appeared—never picking fights or causing trouble—they had no reason to punish him.

Lan Zhen didn’t expect him to help anyway. He lay silently on the desk, drifting through the day until the final period, which happened to be Nie Liang’s class.

In a sea of vibrant, spirited faces in Class 1, it was hard for Nie Liang not to notice the fluffy back of Lan Zhen’s head.

Lan Zhen’s mind had been full of those ten thousand words at first, but eventually, he had fallen asleep with his head down, forehead resting on the desk and chest rising and falling rhythmically.

A large hand wearing a ring suddenly pressed against the back of his neck. The cold sensation made Lan Zhen flinch, and he quickly realized he was being hoisted up by his collar.

Lan Zhen turned his head to see Nie Liang’s face—cold and indifferent as frost and snow. The teacher stared at him wordlessly, right hand still gripping his collar.

Lan Zhen’s round eyes darted back and forth. Seeing the silent classroom, the dozens of eyes glued to him, and the chalk writing on the blackboard, he understood everything in an instant.

He had been caught red-handed sleeping in class.

But he really couldn’t understand any of it; listening to “celestial script” every day naturally made him drowsy.

Lan Zhen lowered his eyes, looking pitiful.

“Where did I just leave off?” Nie Liang’s icy voice rang out beside him.

“I… I don’t know,” the “bad student” replied in a tiny voice, his attitude surprisingly cooperative.

Nie Liang was silent for a moment. He looked up at the digital clock on the wall, seeing the class was nearing its end. He walked to the blackboard and wrote down a highly difficult final challenge problem, then said, “Come up and solve this.”

The students in the class began to whisper.

“As expected, the teacher still likes the good students. He’s practically handing him a graceful exit; this problem shouldn’t be a challenge at all for Lan Zhen.”

“Well, he earned that rank. You should talk less; Lan Zhen hasn’t bullied anyone lately, like he’s been possessed or something. Just be happy in private, don’t go looking to be a target.”

“Only Teacher Nie dares to call on Lan Zhen. Look at the other teachers—they act like they don’t even see him.”

The “bad student” had spent the last two days thinking only about how to finish his missions, not sparing a single thought for studying. Even if he had, it likely wouldn’t have helped. He shuffled to the blackboard and stood there for a long time, unable to even start.

Nie Liang checked the time again and couldn’t help but frown.

The bad student seemed to think of something and began to write with the chalk, stroke by stroke. Just as Nie Liang’s brow began to relax, he saw the boy slowly write the word “Solution,” and then his hand stopped again.

Nie Liang felt Lan Zhen was provoking him, yet under his observation, the seriousness and thoughtfulness on the boy’s face didn’t seem faked.

Lan Zhen stood awkwardly at the podium, looking at Nie Liang aggrievedly. Seeing the teacher staring back, he quickly looked away, unconsciously biting his lower lip until it was rubbed a bright, vivid red, as if it might bleed at any moment.

That sincere yet helpless look made it seem as if the problem were completely unfair to him.

Nie Liang remained silent for a moment. When the bell rang, he helplessly waved his hand for Lan Zhen to return to his seat and dismissed the class.

Having finally survived until the end of school, he still had to write the reflection. Seeing Nie Liang leave the classroom, Lan Zhen honestly followed him.

“Your state lately has been very off. If you’re still like this for the test in three days, no one will be able to protect you,” Nie Liang reminded him while organizing his lesson plans, unable to hold back despite Wei Chengyang not having arrived yet.

The teachers knew what Lan Zhen did in school, even if they didn’t intervene.

If Lan Zhen had the confidence to stay at Rank 1 forever, it would be fine. But the moment his grades slipped even slightly, he would likely suffer frantic retaliation.

Nie Liang had always disliked Lan Zhen’s conduct, and he didn’t quite understand why he was saying this now—perhaps it was because Lan Zhen had been behaving quite “obediently” lately.

Before Lan Zhen could say anything, Wei Chengyang pushed the door open and entered the office.

Seeing both were present, Nie Liang took his lesson plans and left, not forgetting to close the office door behind him.

Wei Chengyang didn’t mention his offer to ghostwrite again after being rejected earlier. He and Lan Zhen sat in separate corners, writing in silence. The only sound was the scratching of pen nibs against paper.

After a long time, Lan Zhen had only managed two lines, and the handwriting was crooked. At this rate, he wouldn’t finish the ten thousand words even if he sat there until morning.

He peeked at Wei Chengyang. Unlike himself—a fake top student—Wei Chengyang’s grades were the real deal. Even while writing a self-reflection, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He had already finished a full page in beautiful handwriting.

It wasn’t just the handwriting; Wei Chengyang himself was actually very good-looking. Even a slightly faded school uniform looked elegant on him, though his pitch-black, impersonal eyes were a bit intimidating.

Lan Zhen’s mind wandered, his hand unconsciously spinning his pen. If this continued, Wei Chengyang would finish and leave, leaving him all alone in the office to write.

“Why did you just hand the homework in like that? Didn’t you say you could mimic handwriting?” To delay Wei Chengyang’s progress and make him stay longer, Lan Zhen began to settle the old score.

“I can, but you didn’t say I should change it.” Writing a reflection didn’t require much thought, but Wei Chengyang slowed his pace anyway.

Writing slowly meant he could spend more time with the little school bully.

“You’re just being argumentative.” Lan Zhen pursed his lips and glared at him. “Then I’m telling you now: mimic my handwriting and write my reflection. I’ll watch you from right here.”

He took this chance to dump his unfinished work. He grabbed a stool and went thump-thump-thump over to sit right next to Wei Chengyang.

The air around them became fragrant, and a warm body temperature radiated from beside him. When Lan Zhen approached, the pen in Wei Chengyang’s hand jerked uncontrollably, leaving a long streak across the paper and ruining the page he was halfway through.

Lan Zhen glanced at him once, then again.

“I didn’t touch you… it’s your own fault it turned out like that…” He felt a bit guilty; it looked like Wei Chengyang had been startled by his sudden movement.

Wei Chengyang didn’t respond, his lashes hiding the emotions in his eyes as he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and started writing again.

So cute. I really want to pin him to the desk and kiss him; it would be even better if I could mess him up.

Doing that directly would probably make him hated, though.

Wei Chengyang remembered someone saying he had a lot of endurance—that he didn’t react even with someone like Lan Zhen jumping all over him.

Of course he had endurance. If he didn’t, the little school bully would currently be crying pitifully on his lap. Even if his voice went hoarse from crying, Wei Chengyang wouldn’t let go; he’d only push deeper, bullying him through and through.

“You’ll help me write it, right? It’s your fault this happened in the first place.” Lan Zhen’s voice was thin and small as he spoke, his face a bit red.

His behavior right now was definitely “villainous”—first using someone as a horse, then making them do his homework and write his reflections.

“I will,” Wei Chengyang replied.

He had to write for two people, so it was only natural if it took until very late. The little school bully would have to stay with him the whole time, even if he kept a cold face. How was that anything but a win?

Hearing the affirmative answer, Lan Zhen put down his pen as if liberated. He began to stare at the reflection Wei Chengyang was writing, but after a while, the words started to look like little ants crawling. It made him dizzy, and his brain felt sluggish.

He turned to look at the green plants Nie Liang kept by the window, counting the leaves one by one and idly tracing the veins on them.

When he looked back to see how much Wei Chengyang had written, it seemed he hadn’t even finished half of one person’s share.

[370, I’m so bored. Come out and talk to me.] Lan Zhen returned to his stool and began to zone out.

Am I some kind of free chat robot?

370 complained internally but came out anyway: [Speak.]

Lan Zhen: [My luck is so good. Everyone around me is a good person. Wei Chengyang looks scary but is actually very easy to talk to. It should be fine even if my rank drops a little in the test in three days, right?]

[I think you’ve fallen into a logical fallacy,] 370 reminded him heartlessly. [You are currently Rank 1. You can just command him to write your homework and reflection; you don’t need to negotiate at all.]

So, Wei Chengyang agreeing now might just be a temporary tactic out of fear of retaliation.

Lan Zhen instantly felt deflated. He couldn’t even find an excuse to lie to himself.