You Like The Smart Ones? You Should Have Said So Sooner! - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: This is Simply Sensationalism

August arrived in the blink of an eye, and the repeat class of No. 2 High School began preparing for its year-long expedition.

Qin Mian walked toward the familiar Grade 12 teaching building, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a piece of bread hanging messily from his mouth as he scrolled through his phone.

“SHOCKING! Z-Province Science Top Scorer: 718 Points! Ji Chenxiang from Linjiang No. 2 High School…”

Qin Mian skimmed through the month-old news. He took a screenshot of the clickbait title and posted it to his WeChat Moments.

Caption: My idol.

Underneath, Chen Miao liked the post instantly. Chen Miao was Qin Mian’s childhood friend who had performed normally in the Gaokao and gone off to a decent Tier-1 university in another province.

Q: Quick on the draw, I see.San Shui (Chen): Of course. I’ve always got your back, Mian.

Just as he pocketed his phone, Qin Mian heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Ding Zi waving at him, looking like he was in a frantic rush to a meeting.

Sure enough, as Qin Mian approached, Ding Zi shoved a list into his hand.

“You’re just in time. I’m taking the repeat class this year. I have to run to the administration building for an emergency meeting. Go to the classroom and take attendance for me first.”

Qin Mian grimaced and scanned the list. His name was the first. Song Ying’s name was the last.

Song Ying’s name…

Song Ying?!

Qin Mian almost thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He blinked hard several times, but Song Ying’s name remained stubbornly fixed in the final slot.

“Wait a second!” Qin Mian roared.

Ding Zi, who was already several paces away, visibly jumped in fright.

“…” What kind of screeching was that? Nearly gave me a heart attack.

Qin Mian “flew” to Ding Zi’s side in an instant, asking incredulously, “Why is Song Ying in my class!?”

Ding Zi replied crossly, “There’s only one class total. If he’s not in your class, whose class would he be in?”

Qin Mian’s eyes widened. “Weren’t there always two repeat classes before? Where’s the other one?”

Ding Zi: “I ate it.”

Qin Mian: “…” Well, you certainly have quite the appetite.

“Higher-ups’ orders,” Ding Zi explained, waving his notebook as he hurried off. “Enrollment was cut this year. It’s your fault for running off before I finished talking back at the office. Anyway, I can’t chat, I’m late!”

He left Qin Mian staring at the list, trying to see if Song Ying’s name would somehow vanish. It didn’t. Qin Mian resignedly dragged his body toward the classroom.

Class 18, Grade 12.

While few people in a repeat class knew each other, gossip was a universal bridge that quickly closed the distance between strangers. Several groups were huddled together, whispering excitedly.

“Have you heard? No. 2 High School got a student in the provincial top 100 this year! The school is losing its mind.”

“Who doesn’t know? There’s a red banner as tall as a building at the front gate. You’d have to be blind to miss it. My mom sent me here specifically because of that. I think his name is Qin… Mian.”

“My dad too! But I heard that student chose to repeat, and he’s in our class.”

“Holy crap, top 100 and he’s repeating? This world is surreal…”

“Oh my god, does that mean we might get to sit next to a genius!?”

Someone threw cold water on the excitement: “Don’t get too ahead of yourselves. The higher the expectation, the bigger the disappointment. I heard this Qin Mian isn’t exactly a ‘good kid.'”

“His grades are great, but he fights with other schools all the time. He’s got countless disciplinary marks. He’s a troublemaker. We should keep our distance.”

.Really? By the way, is he here yet? Could he be in the room already?”

As soon as those words were spoken, the group went silent. If Qin Mian was already sitting there while they talked trash about him…

Several heads turned cautiously to survey the room. Finding no one who looked like a “troublemaker,” they exhaled slowly.

“He probably hasn’t—”

The boy’s sentence cut off abruptly as his eyes met a figure appearing at the back door.

A silver stud reflected the light. Messy hair partially obscured his forehead but failed to hide the scar on his left temple. He had a lollipop in his mouth and wore a black T-shirt. His “delinquent” aura was completely out of place among the group of “good students.”

Qin Mian had decent hearing and had caught a good portion of their chatter. He knew exactly what they were saying behind his back. He gave them a chilling glance, tossed his backpack onto a seat in the back row, and walked to the podium with the list.

“If you’re here, come up and sign. Check your name.”

His voice was clear and pleasant but ice-cold, matching his “someone-owes-me-millions” expression. The rowdy classroom went dead silent. One by one, they obediently went up to sign.

Qin Mian didn’t bother standing there like a statue; he went back to his seat in the last row. Class 18 used a single-desk system—no deskmates. As more students arrived, the empty seats dwindled. One student who had been sitting in front of Qin Mian even tremblingly picked up his bag and moved to a different seat.

Thus, when Qin Mian looked up, he realized: the entire class was full, except for the single seat directly in front of him. And Song Ying was not yet in the room.

Qin Mian: “…” Damn it. Calculated wrong.

He had forgotten about that dog, Song Ying. Truly not wanting to sit with the guy, Qin Mian gritted his teeth and approached a boy sitting two rows ahead.

The boy looked up, trembling. Qin Mian forced his stiff, unsmiling face into what he thought was a “friendly” smile: “Hey there. Would you mind swapping seats with the empty one behind you?”

The boy shuddered, his mind going blank. What? Sit right in front of Qin Mian? I’d rather die.

The boy caught a glimpse of the scar on Qin Mian’s temple and turned pale. “S-sorry… I don’t… don’t want to swap,” he stammered, shaking so hard it looked like he might ascend to heaven on the spot.

Qin Mian: “…” Is it that serious? I don’t eat people.

And so, as fate would have it, Song Ying and Qin Mian became front-and-back neighbors. Annoyed, Qin Mian whipped out his phone to bombard Ding Zi with messages. If Ding Zi hadn’t forced him to take attendance, would he have ended up in this mess?

Q: When is your meeting over?Q: Is “Pickled Cabbage Fish” still talking up there? How does he have so much to say every single day?Q: When are you coming back?Q: If you don’t come back soon, I’m going to start teaching this class for you.

“Pickled Cabbage Fish” was Qin Mian’s “affectionate” nickname for the Grade 12 Director, Cai Yu (the ‘Yu’ sounding like fish).

Ding. Ding Zi replied.

Ding Zi: Soon.Ding Zi: Yes, it’s him.Ding Zi: Help me maintain discipline.Ding Zi: Is everyone there? Report the absences to me.

Qin Mian got a headache looking at “Help me maintain discipline.”

Q: Only Song Ying isn’t here.

Ding Zi paused when he saw the message. He looked up at Cai Yu, who was currently lecturing with spit flying everywhere. The meeting had actually just reached the topic of Song Ying.

Ding Zi: Why isn’t he there?Q: How should I know?Q: Are he and I even close?Ding Zi: …Alright. From the way you two were acting in the office, I thought you were old friends.

Qin Mian’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

Q: This is simply sensationalism!

Qin Mian had zero intention of maintaining discipline. He slumped in his seat and started playing games. Fortunately, his entrance had been intimidating enough that the room remained mostly quiet, save for some bearable whispering.

Eventually, the noise level began to rise.

“Tsk.” Qin Mian looked up irritably.

He looked up right into the eyes of Song Ying, who was standing at the door.

What was meant to happen had finally happened.