After Transmigrating for the Third Time, the Real Young Master Decides to Slouch - Chapter 10

The morning study bell didn’t last long, but the sudden, sharp wail had poured directly into Chen Xiangdong’s ears. By the time silence returned, his head was swimming and his ears were ringing.

He saw Jiang Zao, standing opposite him, lower his hands and say something with a smile.

Chen Xiangdong didn’t hear it clearly. He shook his head vigorously. “What did you say?”

Jiang Zao smiled and repeated himself: “Didn’t Teacher Chen know? The transfer was requested by Lu She himself to Director Rong.”

The implication was clear: his hands were tied.

Chen Xiangdong had just recovered from the tinnitus. Hearing this, he furrowed his brows and said, “I know that, Teacher Jiang. My point is that I hope you can persuade Lu She to ask Director Rong to let him return to Class 1.”

“I see. It seems I misunderstood.” Jiang Zao nodded solemnly. “This was an agreement reached between them. Even if it were to change, they should be the ones to renegotiate. My task, then, is to persuade Lu She to change his mind, since his will is the key factor here, correct?”

Chen Xiangdong appreciated how quickly he caught on and let out a smile. “Precisely.”

Jiang Zao pinched his chin, seemingly deep in thought.

Chen Xiangdong assumed the young man would agree readily. A newly hired teacher with no deep roots had no reason to offend the head of his subject’s research group for the sake of one student. Even if “Research Group Head” wasn’t a high-ranking official title, it was enough to pressure a regular teacher. Logically and practically, his request shouldn’t be refused.

But the other man was hesitating, which gave Chen Xiangdong a very bad feeling. “Teacher Jiang, what are you thinking about?”

Jiang Zao smiled and said, “I was thinking… if through my persuasion, Lu She’s will is changed, is it still his will?”

“What?” Chen Xiangdong’s brow knitted tighter.

An apologetic look entered Jiang Zao’s smile. “Sorry, was that too convoluted? Let me put it simply—before my persuasion and after my persuasion, which one is Lu She’s true will? If both are his will, which one should we prioritize?”

Chen Xiangdong didn’t speak; he just stared at him with an unhappy expression.

Since the other party was silent, Jiang Zao continued: “Teacher Chen, I haven’t been a teacher for very long. In my view, while educators have a responsibility to guide students, shouldn’t we also respect the student’s own will during that process?”

Chen Xiangdong let out a laugh. This young educator before him seemed to harbor a set of unrealistic ideals, and was attempting to use those ideals to challenge the experience of his seniors.

Fresh out of the gate, commendable courage.

But this place was not the idealized ivory tower of his imagination; it didn’t need such challenges to prove a point.

“Teacher Jiang,” Chen Xiangdong smiled. “I appreciate your thoughts. If possible, I too would like to respect Lu She’s will, as you say. But unfortunately, the choice made according to his will is itself a mistake. As educators, we cannot stand by and watch him walk down the wrong path without intervening, don’t you agree?”

“A mistake? The wrong path?” Jiang Zao repeated the words, then smiled slightly. “Based on what evidence?”

Chen Xiangdong’s expression turned cold. This Jiang Zao—after being spoken to so plainly—was still sticking to his guns. Was he too stubborn or just didn’t know how to appreciate a favor? Either way, he was rapidly exhausting Chen’s patience.

“Based on what evidence?” Chen Xiangdong repeated Jiang Zao’s question this time. He pointed a finger toward the window of the adjacent classroom, which was clean and bright.

He said, “It’s plain as day.”

Jiang Zao followed his gaze. Through the glass, everything inside was perfectly visible. The classroom was a mess. They hadn’t toned it down just because two teachers were standing outside; they were eating, drinking, playing around, and making an incessant racket.

Jiang Zao remained silent.

Chen Xiangdong allowed himself a smile. Young people always thought too highly of themselves and couldn’t see reality clearly. They thought ideals could always rise above reality, but in the end, they only fell and shattered.

Ultimately, the profession of teaching always gave people a hollow sense of responsibility and mission. They couldn’t save those hopeless, failing students; they could only drag the honor students forward by force. That was reality.

Chen Xiangdong ultimately couldn’t help himself. He saw his younger self in this young man, which made him want to pull the guy back before he sank too deep into his “sense of mission.” But just as he was about to speak, Jiang Zao beat him to it.

“Teacher Chen, you’re right. What this class looks like is plain as day.” Jiang Zao turned back, his expression still carrying a composed smile. “You saw it, I saw it, and I believe Lu She isn’t blind or stupid either. And yet, he still chose to join this class.”

Chen Xiangdong watched him coldly.

“Whether it’s willingness or adolescent rebellion, whatever the reason, this was a choice he made for himself.” Jiang Zao raised a hand to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and said with a smile, “Let’s just respect his choice and let him stay here.”

“He will rot there!” Chen Xiangdong said, enunciating every word.

“Then let them rot,” Jiang Zao said easily, his tone even bordering on indifferent. “At their age, they can take responsibility for their own choices.”

The glasses were pushed up, revealing a portion of his eyes not covered by the lenses. Chen Xiangdong’s heart suddenly sank; an indescribable shock washed over him.

Jiang Zao let go, and the glasses settled back on his nose. He smiled: “Teacher Chen, morning study has already started. You should head back to your own class, right? I’m going in now. See you around.”

Jiang Zao waved the test papers in his hand and turned toward the front door of the classroom.

Standing at the entrance, Jiang Zao nodded secretly. Everyone was present; no need for a roll call. Sensing someone looking at him, he turned and asked, “Something wrong?”

Dai Chu retracted her gaze and lowered her head to continue reading. Just as Jiang Zao thought she wouldn’t answer, he heard her voice.

“Chen Xiangdong is very difficult to deal with.” She turned a page in her book. “There’s no benefit in offending him.”

He was surprised she would actually warn him. He only remembered her as a somewhat cold girl. After thinking for a moment, he said, “Thank you for your concern, but it’s alright.”

Dai Chu slowly raised her head, her amber eyes devoid of any emotion. “I wasn’t ‘concerned’ about you.”

“Okay.” Jiang Zao gave a small laugh. “Thank you anyway.”

He gave her a nod and walked up to the podium.

Dai Chu’s eyes flickered. Her desk-mate shifted from a prone position to turning his head to the side.

Fang Han looked at Dai Chu, his smile teasing: “Goddess Dai, you’ve taken a liking to him? No way, he’s so dorky; he’s not your type at all.”

Dai Chu looked at him with disgust and slid further away, widening the already large gap between them.

Jiang Zao stood on the podium for ten seconds. Below, it was still a cacophony, making his head ache.

He looked at Jiang Tong. “Monitor, manage the discipline.”

Jiang Tong looked terrified. Ask me to manage discipline? Does my brother want me dead?

Lu She stood up. His tall frame stood out like a crane among chickens in the classroom.

“Silence.”

Lu She’s deep, powerful voice spread through the room, and the noise gradually died down.

Jiang Zao sighed inwardly. Truly a useless brother.

“Lu She, you can sit down.” Jiang Zao held up the test papers. “Everyone, put down what you’re doing and listen to me.”

Everyone’s eyes fixed on him—and his hands.

Meeting those gazes, Jiang Zao said candidly, “Next, we’re going to do a diagnostic test. The time is from morning study until the end of the first period. I’ll pass the papers out now; pass them back.”

Once everyone had a paper, Jiang Zao said, “Begin.”

As soon as he finished, half the class picked up pens and started writing, while the other half pushed the papers aside and went to sleep. Most of those who picked up pens finished writing their names and then went to sleep as well. Jiang Zao scanned the room; only five or six were actually working.

Jiang Zao didn’t say anything. He moved a chair onto the podium, sat down, and started spacing out.

Time is hard to kill when there’s nothing to do. Jiang Zao got tired of spacing out, stood up, and took a lap around the room. Only three people were still writing. Aside from Jiang Tong and Lu She, there was Dai Chu, who was steadily filling in the answer sheet.

Jiang Zao didn’t stop at any desk. After his lap, he sat back down to space out again. When he got tired of that, he’d get up for another lap. This cycle continued until ten minutes before the end of the first period.

Seeing that everyone had stopped writing, Jiang Zao cleared his throat and asked, “Is everyone finished?”

“Fi—nished—!”

The voices were long, drawn-out, and dripping with sarcasm. Jiang Zao didn’t mind and continued: “Please look up at the screen. These are the answers for this test. Please check and grade your own papers.”

The multimedia screen displayed the answers he had prepared in advance, shown clearly for everyone to see.

Someone was dissatisfied and shouted from below, “Shouldn’t you be the one grading the papers?”

This got a lot of support. They had specifically filled the answer sheets with scribbles and nonsense just to annoy him. If looking at them didn’t cause nightmares, it was certainly a headache-inducing strain on the eyes. And in the end, he told them to grade it themselves?

Jiang Zao was unimpressed. “This is for you to understand your own level so you can determine your future study goals. So, please grade them yourselves.”

Understand their own level? Someone laughed out of spite. What level did they have? The level of turning in blank papers?

Amidst the chorus of dissatisfaction, Qiu Shao—who had been sleeping without ever opening his eyes—rubbed his eyes groggily, grabbed a pen, drew a massive checkmark across the blank answer sheet, and wrote “100” in the score column. He poked the person in front of him and handed over the sheet.

The person in front took it, laughed, and immediately called others to look. The others were pleasantly surprised. You can do that?!

Fine. Since you’re letting us grade ourselves, don’t regret it.