Tuesday morning, the first floor of Yuanyue Academy's Year 1 teaching building.
Outside the courtyard, a group of students had gathered, anxiously watching the hallway. On the wall hung a massive blackboard, starkly different in color from the surrounding tiles. At the mont, it was blank.
“Isn’t it ti yet?”
“I know, right? I’m so nervous…”
“Why is it that ever since the Academic Affairs Office got a new director from Dragonland, things have been running faster? It used to take a week; now they finish it in just a weekend!”
Amid the chatter, a pink-haired girl in a JK uniform strode confidently down the hallway. She carried a large rolled-up sheet of paper, followed by two mbers of the Student Council.
“She’s here! The secretary brought the ‘Imperial List’!”
“Lady You Anlina, please, don’t email my parents this ti!”
“Co on, emailing parents about grades is too cruel…”
The surrounding students groaned in despair as You Anlina made her way to the blackboard. She looked like an imperial envoy sent to relieve disaster victims, surrounded by a wailing crowd.
You Anlina flashed a sunny smile and gave a thumbs-up. “Everyone! Don’t worry! Even if you didn’t do well this ti, under your parents’ gentle encouragent, you’ll definitely improve next ti!”
“Yaro!”
“Noooo!”
It was as if she’d pronounced a death sentence.
Yuanyue Academy required all incoming students to submit their guardians’ email addresses. Major school events prompted emails inviting parents to participate—and, of course, conveniently included their child’s grades and class evaluations.
This process was overseen by the Student Council and Academic Affairs Office.
Unbothered by the students’ misery, You Anlina turned around and began unrolling the sheet. Her two helpers stepped forward, affixing the grade sheet—covering the entire grade’s results—onto the blackboard.
From a distant vantage point on the second floor, Yan Huan sipped red tea while observing the scene with Ying Gong Tong. He yawned, attempting to ward off his drowsiness, but it was futile.
As he watched, Yan Huan chuckled. “See? She’s the perfect choice for this job.”
Ying Gong Tong nodded in agreent. “Yeah, it’s a task everyone hates, but Anlina’s so likable that no one stays mad at her.”
The results board unfurled, its imnse size matching the blackboard. The nas and rankings drew a collective hush from the crowd below as everyone strained to find their na.
Yan Huan: 499, Rank 1
Ying Gong Tong: 491, Rank 2
Yaqiao Mu: 474, Rank 19
An Le: 457, Rank 41
Aixi Li Garcia: 441, Rank 56
You Anlina de Shweia: 398, Rank 107
Bai Yi: 292, Rank 152
Aria Spencer: 66, Rank 178
The five main subjects—Reading, Writing, Mathematics, Social Studies, and Science—totaled 500 points. Including transfers, there were 178 students in Year 1 this sester.
“Hey, Lao Gao, what’s wrong?! Don’t collapse on !”
“Haha! I hit the jackpot!”
“Idiot, what jackpot?!”
As always, the results announcent inspired a wave of codic antics, masking the real emotions stirred by the grades—so joyful, others crestfallen.
In Linn, academic performance wasn’t everything, but Yuanyue Academy took it seriously. Despite a unified education system, schools in Linn varied widely in goals and approaches.
For instance, high schoolers in the South District led carefree lives, their biggest worries being occasional health checks for syphilis or gonorrhea. In contrast, institutions like Yuanyue and Xiu Zhi Academy in Jinghe District grood the next generation of elites, imposing rigorous demands.
“President, you’re number one again. Congratulations.”
Ying Gong Tong clapped quietly, offering congratulations. Yan Huan rely smiled, his eyes scanning the list, focused on finding two specific nas—fellow Modifier users in his grade.
Bai Yi and Aria Spencer…
He looked for them among the top ranks but found them gathered at the bottom instead.
Bai Yi’s low score made sense. As an idol, she rarely attended school, only showing up when her schedule allowed. It explained why Yan Huan initially failed to recognize her when he saw her using the Modifier last week.
Moreover, during the math exam, she spent half her ti doodling on Zhou Bin’s paper. It was no surprise her score took a major hit.
And then there was Aria Spencer—the blonde with a total score of 66.
Averaging just 13 points per subject, Yan Huan could only marvel: a true poetic feat. Even blindly guessing on multiple-choice questions could yield higher scores. What kind of luck—divine or cursed—resulted in 66?
“Alright, everyone! The list will be taken down by the end of the day, and your grades will be emailed to you! Wuwuwu…”
From below, You Anlina announced loudly, her trembling voice betraying her own dismay. With tears in her eyes, she forced a smile, but her quivering fra made her look comical.
One glance was enough to reveal the truth: she’d bombed the exams too.
“Hahahahaha!”
“Secretary You, karma got you this ti!”
“You’re the weakest in the entire Student Council!”
“It’s okay, we’ll still vote for you next year because you’re cute!”
Rather than comfort her, the students’ teasing brought her to tears.
“Waaaah! Why don’t I feel happy about being elected because I’m cute?! It’s like I’m the Student Council’s mascot…”
The courtyard erupted in laughter, prompting Yan Huan and Ying Gong Tong to shake their heads in unison.
Just then, a bespectacled female teacher approached them from behind, smiling as she said, “Yan Huan, Ying Gong Tong, the principal would like to see you both. Please co this way.”
“…”
Exchanging a glance, they withdrew their attention from the chaos below, both wondering what new sche the old principal was plotting this ti.
"President Yan, Vice President Ying Gong, I’m delighted to see the Student Council under your leadership deliver such a stellar report card for the previous sester."
Principal Hers sat comfortably on the sofa, his smile stretching so wide it resembled a blooming chrysanthemum.
“He must’ve been bribed with more money again,” Yan Huan and Ying Gong Tong thought simultaneously, exchanging a discreet glance.
“It’s thanks to everyone’s cooperation and support,” Yan Huan replied with a polite smile, swiftly bypassing Hers’ predictable flattery. “But more importantly, Principal, why did you call us so early today?”
“Well…” Hers gestured to his assistant, who handed over several docunts. He presented them to Yan Huan and Ying Gong Tong, explaining, “Ye International, Golden Lion Group, and other renowned companies have recently taken an interest in our students’ developnt. They’ve offered internship opportunities across various departnts this sumr. You’ll find the details here.”
The docunts contained information about the companies, departnt descriptions, and allocated slots for each grade.
Glancing at the docunts, Yan Huan imdiately understood their nature. These internships were valuable resources, especially for students without connections, providing a significant advantage in future academic applications.
After a mont, Yan Huan asked, “How will the slots be distributed?”
“First, students must submit applications to the Student Council. By the sester’s end, the Council will forward a shortlist to my office for review.”
The review would consider three aspects: GPA, participation in public student affairs, and conduct records, all monitored by the Academic Affairs Office, Student Affairs Office, and Discipline Departnt. The Student Council had no leeway to manipulate the process.
“I understand. We’ll inform the students about this soon,” Yan Huan responded.
Hers nodded, but then pulled out another sheet of paper. For so reason, as he did, Yan Huan felt an inexplicable sense of foreboding, like seeing Jing Ke unsheathing a dagger.
“One more thing, Yan Huan. In the past, the Student Council has organized academic support initiatives. However, since participation was voluntary, the impact has been minimal…”
The so-called academic support paired high-achieving students with underperforming ones for mutual improvent. But in practice, few high achievers saw any benefit in participating, and struggling students often avoided the embarrassnt of being tutored by peers.
“So,” Hers continued, “this year, the Academic Affairs Office hopes the Student Council can spearhead a pilot program to revive this initiative.”
He placed the paper before Yan Huan, listing the nas of students to be “encouraged” or outright required to join study groups.
“For a trial run, we’ll mandate participation for a few particularly struggling students. This will set an example, encouraging high achievers to step up and help. These tutors will receive priority consideration for scholarships and internship slots.”
And there it was—the hidden dagger.
No wonder Hers had softened them up with the internship list first.
Ying Gong Tong frowned as she scanned the list, spotting a few prominent surnas in Linn. She understood the school board’s intentions but chose to remain silent, waiting for Yan Huan’s response.
Yan Huan initially planned to give a perfunctory response—agreeing to promote the initiative but leaving its actual implentation vague. However, his gaze stopped on two familiar nas on the list:
Bai Yi: Suggested participation
Aria Spencer: Mandatory participation (marked in red)
Oh?
He recalled his earlier plan to leverage the promise he made to Spencer. Now, the opportunity had presented itself.
Perfect. Everything was falling into place.
Yan Huan’s eyes lingered on the nas, particularly Aria Spencer’s, his expression briefly flickering with hesitation.
Noticing his reaction, Ying Gong Tong grew curious. She knew Aria Spencer as the golden-haired girl who shattered her barrier yesterday. Why did the President react strangely to her na?
What happened between them yesterday?
“President?”
Growing impatient, Ying Gong Tong called out to Yan Huan, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“We understand. I’ll notify the relevant students later. I’ll personally oversee this matter,” Yan Huan replied, smiling as he took the docunts.
“Personally oversee?”
Hers’ eyes sparkled with delight, his smile widening further. “That’s wonderful, Yan Huan. If you encounter any issues, feel free to contact .”
“…”
Beside him, Ying Gong Tong’s pink lips parted slightly as she clenched the hem of her skirt.
First, it was Ye Shiyu. Now, it was Spencer.
If Yan Huan’s kindness toward Ye Shiyu stemd from familial feelings, then what about this golden-haired woman?
Her personality seed intolerable—how could she possibly get along with the President? Why would he hesitate when he saw her na?
No, Ying Gong Tong. Don’t overthink this.
Maybe Yan Huan is just kind-hearted, wanting to help struggling students.
Even if he personally tutors her, it’s perfectly reasonable…
Reassuring herself, she almost felt relief—until her eyes narrowed in fury as irrational thoughts flared again.
Reasonable, my foot!
Why am I even thinking like this?! Where did these thoughts co from?!
“That’ll be all for this morning. You may return to class now,” Hers said with a dismissive smile.
“Understood, Principal.”
Yan Huan rose with the docunts, but Ying Gong Tong remained seated, prompting him to raise an eyebrow.
“Ying Gong?”
“Ah?”
She snapped back to reality, hastily standing up. “Sorry, President…”
But deep down, her intuition grew stronger.
That blonde Spencer must have done sothing to Yan Huan.
Following Yan Huan out of the office, Ying Gong Tong’s face turned icy, her temper barely restrained.
Stay calm…
Stay calm, Ying Gong Tong…
She repeated the mantra silently, trying to quell her simring anger.
Success lies in secrecy, failure in loose lips...
Hide it well, stay composed…
Forget Ye Shiyu, Spencer, or anyone else. Just keep it hidden, carefully sched, with no flaws revealed. One day, the President will belong to no one but …
Mine, and mine alone!
“Achoo!”
In Year 1, Class C, Aria Spencer sneezed loudly, toppling the delicate card tower she had painstakingly built on her desk.
“…Who’s cursing ? Could it be Santa Claus caught wind of
badmouthing him last year?”
She rubbed her chin, arriving at what she deed the most plausible conclusion.
However, she soon abandoned the thought, pouting unhappily.
From yesterday onward, Spencer had been troubled by one question: why did everyone around her seem to dislike her?
She had only transferred in a day ago and hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet, whenever she tried to start a conversation, her classmates would awkwardly respond with vague platitudes before slipping away.
When she asked for help, people pretended not to hear and quickly made excuses to leave.
Even during yesterday’s basketball free period, she tried to form a team but ended up playing alone after everyone avoided her.
At the end of class, students were supposed to return equipnt to the storeroom, but as a new transfer, Spencer wasn’t aware of this rule. While everyone else left to do their part, no one bothered to inform her.
By the ti she realized, she had to trek back to the gym to return the ball herself, only to find the equipnt room locked.
Frustrated, she kicked open the door—just in ti to catch Yan Huan and his companion in what she presud was so shady business inside.
Although she’d gained leverage over him, Spencer remained irritated.
The bell rang.
The class math teacher, Zhou Bin, walked into the room.
Zhou Bin, known as the "Math Departnt Workhorse," was infamous for his strict and no-nonsense deanor. However, as mathematics required precision, his teaching was excellent, or so Yan Huan thought.
Zhou Bin taught Year 1 Classes B, C, and D, as well as an elective math course in the afternoon. A Dragonland native, he exemplified the stereotype of hardworking overachievers from his country. For reasons unknown, Linn parents had a deep trust in Dragonland teachers for mathematics.
Today, Zhou Bin wore a loose navy-blue T-shirt, which stretched tautly over his small belly. Around his neck hung a cross, his left wrist was wrapped in red talismanic paper, and his right wrist bore a rosary bracelet.
Under these spiritual accessories, his bald head glead in the sunlight like a radiant halo.
An, glory be, Amitabha…
Please protect
from the ghost that haunted
last Friday.
Rubbing the talisman on his wrist, Zhou Bin uncharacteristically forced a strained smile and addressed the class, “Good morning, dear students! Please take out your textbooks and turn to page fifteen.”
“...”
Everyone stared at Zhou Bin in stunned silence, as if a shapeshifting monster had taken his place.
Seeing their reaction, Zhou Bin adjusted his glasses with a stiff smile and repeated, “Dear students?”
“Oh… oh!”
The students snapped out of their daze, fumbling to grab their books.
Zhou Bin seed to think that his encounter with the supernatural was punishnt for being too strict, so he was trying to turn over a new leaf.
While everyone retrieved their books, Spencer sat frozen, confused. She glanced at her classmates’ textbooks and rummaged through her bag.
Inside were comic books, a laptop, snacks, and a power bank—but no textbook.
She smacked her forehead. I forgot it!
Crossing her arms, Spencer scanned her surroundings and noticed the empty seat next to her. Its owner—soone nad An Le—hadn’t arrived yet.
The very busty girl, Spencer recalled imdiately.
Her gaze fell on An Le’s textbook lying on the desk. After a brief mont of thought, Spencer naturally reached over and grabbed it.
She turned to page fifteen as instructed, staring at the incomprehensible content. Tilting her head, she leaned closer to decipher the words.
Seconds later, her face scrunched up in frustration, nearly overheating from the effort.
Then ca a big yawn, her interest waning fast.
So boring.
With a sigh, she carelessly spread the textbook open on her desk. That simple action caused a bookmark wedged between the pages to slip out.
“Huh? What’s this?”
Curious, Spencer picked up the crumpled card and examined it. The text on it was written in crooked, childlike handwriting:
"Yan Huan and An Le, together forever."
The two sentences had different handwriting, suggesting it was a collaborative effort.
Spencer’s initial boredom vanished as her expression froze.
Her wide eyes slowly filled with realization as she read the words again.
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