Nancheng No. 1 High School

The summer break for the soon-to-be seniors at Nancheng No. 1 High School lasted only half a month. Vacation started at the end of July, and by mid-August, they were already back for extra lessons. By the time Chen Ruowen’s transfer paperwork was finally approved, the entirety of the senior-year curriculum had already been covered in advance, and the class had entered the most grueling phase of relentless practice tests.

On her very first day in the new class, Chen Ruowen was thrown into the chaos of the September joint exam, leaving her utterly bewildered. Due to differing educational objectives, the teaching pace—and even the content—at private schools was completely different from that of key public high schools. So, when four consecutive test papers landed in front of her, Chen Ruowen felt as if she were staring not at heavenly script, but rather at a manuscript straight from hell.

The science comprehensive exam was out of the question for a liberal arts student like her—it was all a blur. She could just about manage Chinese and English, but as for math…

How tragic… best not to mention it…

“So why did you even transfer?” Bai Jinyan asked, amused after listening to her complaints. He genuinely didn’t understand—Chen Ruowen could have stayed comfortably at her private school, waited for her visa, and gone abroad to burnish her resume. Why would she suddenly put herself through all this and transfer to Nancheng No. 1 High?

When he’d received her text about transferring half a month ago, he thought she was joking. It wasn’t until the string of exams ended and she immediately dragged him out to find food that he realized she was serious.

He still didn’t know what new scheme she was up to this time, but her decision to transfer… was it actually genuine?

Chen Ruowen rolled her eyes dramatically. “I want to be a good student now, is that so wrong?”

Bai Jinyan nodded skeptically, his tone objective. “It’s not wrong, but why did you, a liberal arts student, transfer into a science class?”

Chen Ruowen didn’t have an answer, but that didn’t stop her from being defiant. She tossed her long hair—a style that made her stand out among all the neatly groomed students—and hooked her arm through Bai Jinyan’s.

“Because I want to. Are you going to stop me? Now lead the way, I want to eat.”

“…”

Fine. You win. You’re right. You always have an answer.

Bai Jinyan cleared his throat and gently extracted his arm. “Be mindful of appearances at school. It’s not good if the teachers or other students see.”

That morning, Chen Ruowen had noticed the school’s peculiar atmosphere. All the desks in the classroom were arranged individually. Boys sat on the left, girls on the right, a clear divide—strictly organized. After the exam, the atmosphere relaxed a little; some boys and girls gathered to chat or discuss questions, but she hadn’t seen any boys and girls walking together alone.

To Chen Ruowen, this was downright bizarre. Was the principal of No. 1 High a relic from the Qing dynasty? In this day and age, still enforcing strict separation between the sexes? The only reason she let Bai Jinyan’s warning about appearances slide was because it came from him; had anyone else said it, she would have snapped back.

To Chen Ruowen, the school cafeteria could only be described as primitive. When she saw the hundred-square-meter dining hall packed with thousands of people, all jostling for position with metal trays in hand, waiting in line for food, she was utterly dismayed.

Fortunately, Bai Jinyan once again showed his gentlemanly side. He merely chuckled at Chen Ruowen’s grimace, told her to go find an empty table to wait, then took two trays and queued at one of the less crowded windows.

But even finding a table proved difficult. There were empty tables, yes, but when Chen Ruowen saw the chairs that had been used by countless people, and the cleaning lady rushing past with a damp rag, barely wiping the tables down, she was petrified.

So, when Bai Jinyan returned ten minutes later carrying two trays, he found Chen Ruowen still frowning, glancing around in confusion, completely at a loss.

He set the trays down at a nearby empty table, then unceremoniously pulled Chen Ruowen over and pushed her into a chair. “Sit properly.”

Chen Ruowen shrieked and made to stand, but though Bai Jinyan looked gentle and refined, his strength was considerable. After a few failed attempts to struggle free, she could only watch helplessly as her five-figure designer dress became a makeshift tablecloth.

“Bai Jinyan, you owe me a new dress!”

Bai Jinyan calmly sat beside her and placed a pair of chopsticks on her tray. “You have dozens of dresses like this. I’ve never seen you wear any of them more than three times.”

In other words, with Chen Ruowen’s extravagant habits, this dress was destined for a short life anyway—so its current state was irrelevant.

Chen Ruowen was not pleased. She glanced disdainfully at the wooden chopsticks beside her, making no move to pick them up. “Says who? I really like this dress. This is already the third time I’ve worn it.”

“Then I suppose today is its final appearance.”

“Bai Jinyan!”

Bai Jinyan took a few polite bites of his food, swallowed, and then looked at her seriously. “Don’t wear outfits like this to school again.”

“Why not?” Chen Ruowen was puzzled.

Bai Jinyan pointed to his own school uniform, then swept his gaze around the cafeteria, where nearly every student was eating in regulation uniform, and replied calmly, “I know you have your own style, but this is a school. It’s not a private academy for rich kids to kill time or experiment with alternative education. This is an ordinary key high school.

Everyone here is just an ordinary person. They’ve spent over a decade buried in books just to make it this far, all so they can get into a good university.

We were born at the top of the pyramid—for us, even if we do nothing, we’ll inherit millions. But these people are different. For the decisive exam that’s only a year away, they’ve put in an effort you can’t even begin to imagine.”

His gaze lingered on several students who, even as they queued for food, clutched their test papers and mouthed formulas under their breath.

“If you want to play, go back to your own crowd and do as you please. But now that you’re here, respect this place, respect every ordinary person here, and respect their hard work.”

To be honest, Chen Ruowen didn’t truly understand everything Bai Jinyan was saying. She only knew that he was very serious, so serious that she felt a pang of grievance.

“It’s just a dress… I didn’t do anything wrong. Why do you have to lecture me?” she muttered under her breath, unwilling to accept his words.

Bai Jinyan smiled, and once again, as if soothing a child, patted her hair. “I’m giving you a heads-up. If you keep acting on impulse, who knows what trouble you’ll stir up next.”

“Am I really that unreliable?” she raised an eyebrow.

“What do you think?” Bai Jinyan retorted.

Chen Ruowen: (⊙…⊙)

Forget it. A wise woman doesn’t argue with men—she couldn’t be bothered.

“From now on, wear your uniform to school.”

Chen Ruowen: (ー`´ー)

Hmph, I’m just worried these tables and chairs will ruin my clothes.

“And don’t have your driver bring you lunch in a Ferrari.”

Chen Ruowen: o(╥﹏╥)o

Fine, next time I’ll have Old Cui park farther away. I only put up with this because I like you.

“And your hair,” Bai Jinyan added, fingers brushing against her flowing locks with an earnest gaze. “Tie it up.”

Chen Ruowen: ヽ(#`Д´)ﾉ┌┛〃

You’re so controlling…!