Chapter 4 Packing Up and Leaving: The Trash Class (Part One)

Old Jia was fuming, his face as dark as the bottom of a pot, which cast such a shadow over Class 3 and Class 7 of the first year that not a single student dared make a sound throughout the entire evening study period. All the students sat up straight—either scribbling away at their exercises or quietly previewing and reviewing lessons. In short, they behaved so impeccably that the infamous “Electric Jia” had no chance to catch anyone out.

The nickname “Electric Jia” was a secret moniker given to him by the students, meaning that when his temper flared, it was as if he’d been electrified—his hair practically stood on end.

Rumor had it that the top student, Shi, had boldly defied him and even “smashed” Old Jia before leaving. No one knew exactly what “smashed” entailed, but in the eyes of Class 7, Old Jia seemed to crackle and sizzle from scalp to hair tip, charged with electric fury. Glancing at the empty seat at the back of the room, a few students, unable to suppress their schadenfreude, were already anticipating Shi’s fate.

But Old Jia had no energy to bother with these brats right now.

After the study period, Old Jia returned to his office. Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and a rotund, middle-aged man walked in. His face was broad and square, his hair round and full—a veritable embodiment of “round heaven and square earth.” To the students of Fengming No. 1 High School, his arrival was like that of a nemesis. He was none other than Zheng Kaiming, the discipline director, known as “Square-Headed Star.”

“Director Zheng, still busy?” Old Jia stood up to greet him. “It’s late; you’re working hard.”

“That’s nothing,” replied Square-Headed Star Zheng Kaiming, his face all geniality—one couldn’t keep a stern face with fellow teachers. “I heard you just got hit, Jia. Are you alright?”

“No problem, no problem.” The school wasn’t that small, but news still traveled fast to Zheng Kaiming’s ears. Old Jia chewed over this, then replied in a measured tone, “I wasn’t hit. I just made a student stand for too long. The poor kid buckled a little. If anything, I was too harsh; it’s my responsibility, and I’ll reflect on it.”

“Jia, you have no responsibility here. If there is, it’s the student’s,” Zheng Kaiming replied, sitting down with an air of authority. “Disrupting class, refusing discipline, even attacking a teacher in the end—he’s gone too far! Don’t worry, Jia. The school will see justice done. For such a serious breach of discipline, we won’t tolerate it! The school has decided—the student will receive a major demerit!”

Old Jia was startled. At Fengming No. 1 High, a major demerit was no trivial matter. In some schools, a major demerit in first year could be wiped off by graduation if the student showed remorse. Not so here; at Fengming, a demerit went on your record—and that stain would follow you for life.

What kind of place was Fengming No. 1 High?

In Donghua, Southern Direct Province—with its three provinces, five prefectures, and twenty-eight guards—this was one of the few elite high schools that could be counted on one hand. Even nationwide, the school was a renowned institution. The region’s brightest gathered here; admission was a ticket to a shining future.

In the classes Old Jia taught alone, the children of high officials and magnates were too many to count. Don’t be dismissive—think every class has its share of the privileged and wealthy? The high officials and magnates in Old Jia’s class were the real deal, so much so that even the mayor’s son ranked far down the list.

Think I’m exaggerating?

Take, for instance, the child of the Provincial Governor of North Su, Southern Direct Province—he was right there in Old Jia’s Class 3. The Governor of North Su was among the top five most powerful people in a province of five hundred million, with a status that eclipsed even other provincial governors. Such a background was truly distinguished, a cut above the rest in Fengming No. 1 High; the others paled in comparison.

For a school of such prestige to keep so many scions in line, the rules had to be strict. A demerit would be entered into the permanent record, a stain that could never be erased, casting a long shadow over one’s future.

“Director Zheng, this... this student Shi didn’t mean any harm. The whole incident was a misunderstanding, and he’s shown genuine remorse. I made him stand, and he didn’t budge for an entire afternoon—skipped dinner and stood all through evening study. His legs just gave out. Really, Shi is usually outstanding—hardworking, diligent, resilient, full of promise…”

“Heh, Jia, you’re a math teacher, no need to invent stories,” Zheng Kaiming interrupted, his tone steady. “We understand Shi Tiexin’s situation. The school will consult you, but discipline must be upheld. If rules aren’t enforced, we can’t teach anyone here.”

“But a major demerit is too much!” Old Jia stiffened, abandoning his attempts at persuasion. “Shi Tiexin comes from hardship—he’s fought hard to get here. A demerit would ruin his future. I can’t let that happen!”

Zheng Kaiming regarded Old Jia for a moment, then his expression softened. “Very well, we’ll forgo the major demerit.”

Old Jia breathed a sigh of relief.

“But there must still be consequences,” Zheng Kaiming’s face grew stern once more. “Mistakes must be punished; that’s the bottom line. Where is Shi Tiexin now?”

Where was Shi Tiexin?

In the dormitory, of course.

At dinnertime, his mind was in disarray; he’d forgotten to eat and now hunger gnawed at him. From the teaching building, he crossed the athletic fields toward the dormitory area. The dormitory complex was vast, with many buildings. Strangely, Shi Tiexin instinctively knew where his room was and wandered toward the row of grand, new dormitories at the front.

These four buildings stood together in a private courtyard, with their own gate. Peering through the gate, he saw ample space, modern facilities, and charming little lamps everywhere—like a luxury residential community.

He lingered in a daze at the entrance, certain he belonged there, but after a while, he shook his head, realizing this wasn’t his home. He turned and walked onward.

Beyond this private courtyard, the dorms were older—plain, utilitarian, but still decent. The walls were dull grey, unremarkable but clean enough. There were no ornate lamps, but the corridors were at least bright.

All in all, not too bad.

There was no separate gate here, but the main road split left and right, orderly enough. Shi Tiexin stood at the empty crossroads, glancing both ways, and finally turned toward the path that felt most familiar.

Inside, the building was reasonably clean.

Climbing the stairs, he noticed there was barely any odor.