The words “XX days to the college entrance exam,” with the number decreasing by the day, permanently occupied the lower right corner of the blackboard.

After the boycott, Class 5’s students had their backs to the wall—with all their bridges burnt, the only option they had was to fight. And so, they became busier than ever.

The questions in the new textbooks were much more sophisticated than those found in the review material compiled by the school, and nearly half of them was on content not covered by the curriculum. One could imagine the degree of difficulty the worst students in the school were facing. Luckily, in his last life, Lin Jingzhe attended all kinds of training courses to advance his education and was well-versed in the methods of rote learning. A teenager’s brain was more retentive than an adult’s—the results of this eleventh-hour studying were much better than he’d expected.

The school leadership’s attitude towards the whole thing was rather vague.

Though no one stopped Hu Yu from implementing her revised review plan, no one showed approval either. The other teachers weren’t willing to follow it since the scope of material was broader, and so their teaching became more and more perfunctory. Eventually, the lessons devolved into Class 5’s students’ collective self-teaching themselves. Their English class had been canceled, and Li Yurong’s name soon disappeared from the list of Class 5’s teachers.

It was as if Class 5, in the remote classroom at the end of the corridor, next to the toilets, vanished out of existence. It had been completely removed from all plans and activities concerning the college entrance examination.

Gao Sheng told Lin Jingzhe that he saw his mother secretly crying while she prepared for class at home.

Hu Yu felt this situation was humiliating, but actually, it was ideal for her “unruly children,” what with their highly individualistic, rebellious personalities. They were much more receptive to being taught by their peers than by teachers who were unwilling to cross the generation gap. These days, under Lin Jingzhe’s leadership, they brimmed with enthusiasm for learning. Though Lin Jingzhe often lost his temper and swore at them in class, they thought he was cool as hell, and conversely, it made them even more accepting of him.

When Lin Jingzhe finished the lecture and stepped down from the dais, his classmates, whom he’d reamed out for their laziness just minutes before, were still in awe of his anger’s grandeur—even Zhou Haitang, who hated studying, was diligently copying formulas. As soon as he sat down, Deng Mai, occupying the desk in front, turned around and leaned in to whisper excitedly, “Hey, did you hear? Someone beat up Jiang Run from Class 1, and he ended up in the hospital!”

Jiang Run didn’t come to school for several days.

In this tense pre-exam period it was rare for a student to miss one class, let alone so many days. In addition, Li Yurong, his class teacher, refused to reveal the reason for his absence. As such, the school swirled with rumors, each wilder than the last—he fell critically ill, something happened at home, or even he transferred to another school. Deng Mai’s actually struck truth.

Lin Jingzhe glanced at the exultation filling his swarthy face and began to unhurriedly tidy up his desk. “How do you know?”

“Don’t repeat this to anyone else, okay?” Deng Mai looked around and lowered his voice: “My dad is a deputy commissioner for the town’s public security bureau. I heard it from his own mouth!”

Lin Jingzhe was a bit surprised—he never knew this. Well, probably nobody knew, or the school wouldn’t have put Deng Mai in Class 5.

However, this explained why, in his last life, Deng Mai could own a near-monopoly on the bar business in Liyun Town and its neighborhood.

“It’s a secret, you can’t tell anyone about this,” Deng Mai stressed again. He looked at Lin Jingzhe meaningfully: “Big Bro, it was you!”

Lin Jingzhe ignored him. Deng Mai left his seat and approached him: “Don’t try to deceive me—I’m absolutely sure it must’ve been your doing!”

He stuck to Lin Jingzhe’s side, who responded with a scowl: “The fuck you’re talking about? You better tell me whether you’ve mastered the impulse-momentum theorem!” 

“Tsk, don’t be like this, Bro.” Deng Mai immediately raised the white flag and retreated to a safe distance, his grin gone. “I really don’t like studying, don’t force me to do it. What I actually wanted to say is, I heard from my dad that Jiang Run joined a gang—PSB is ready to close the case. So, you think his gang will take it lying down? After school, I’ll get a few guys and walk you home.”

“Jiang Run joined a gang?” Lin Jingzhe didn’t remember anything like this, and he didn’t think he would’ve forgotten such a big thing. “What gang?”

“Azure Dragon Gang!” Deng Mai’s expression turned solemn. “They’re dangerous, especially their boss, Zhang Long. He has black hair, about this long, and a big tattoo of Azure Dragon, here.” Deng Mai raised a hand to his neck to demonstrate the hair length, then gestured to his right arm and chest. He lowered his voice and said with concern, “Big Bro, if you meet them, don’t try to act brave—run away as fast as you can and contact the police. These people can kill without batting an eye!”

“………………” Lin Jingzhe was silent for a while then nodded and said, “I understand, thank you.”