The announcement of the class rankings turned the classroom into a storm of whispers.
No one expected Wang Zixuan — the so-called lazy troublemaker — to be at the very top.
For a heartbeat, it felt as if the air itself had been knocked off balance.
Pens froze mid-stroke.
Chairs scraped.
Heads turned — every single one — toward the back row, where he sat slouched in his seat, looking like he'd just woken from a nap.
Absurd.
Impossible.
And yet…
There it was in black and white.
Rank 1: Wang Zixuan.
For everyone to see.
---
"He must've cheated," someone hissed from the third row.
"Cheated on every subject? That's impossible," another whispered back, but their voice wavered.
---
Luo Minghao's grin stretched ear to ear.
He smacked Zixuan's shoulder with mock reverence.
> "My brother! My genius! All those afternoons I thought you were sleeping — turns out you were meditating, huh?"
A few students laughed.
But most just stared.
Half-amused. Half-uneasy.
Because Zixuan hadn't just passed.
He'd scored near perfect.
---
At the front, the class monitor's grip on her pen tightened until her knuckles blanched.
Weeks of studying.
Weekends sacrificed.
Still… she was third.
---
Zixuan leaned back further, pen twirling between his fingers as though the storm around him didn't exist.
Pure arrogance wrapped in lazy ease.
But in his eyes—
A glint.
Sharp. Fleeting. Dangerous.
Like the moment a blade catches the light.
---
Su Nian kept her gaze on her notebook.
Her mind, however, had left the page entirely.
Jiang Moxi's voice echoed in her head:
> Don't underestimate him. He can be first if he wants to.
Her stomach tightened.
She didn't know whether to feel impressed… suspicious… or unsettled.
---
From the corner of her eye, she caught Moxi resting her chin on one hand, lips curved in a faint smirk.
Not surprised.
Not even curious.
It was as if she'd seen this coming all along — and was simply watching the scene play out.
---
The whispers swelled again, a low hum threading through the room.
> "Maybe the teachers are favoring him…"
"No, I saw the score sheets myself."
"Then what's his game?"
The question lingered like static in the air.
And no matter how hard they tried to look away—
Every pair of eyes drifted back…
To Wang Zixuan.
Zixuan twirled his pen slowly between his fingers. Once. Twice. The motion was casual, almost lazy, yet there was something deliberate about it—like a predator sizing up its prey without hurry.
Then, without warning, he straightened his back and leaned forward in his chair, the sudden movement sharp enough to make the nearest desk rattle against the floor.
The murmurs and whispers scattered instantly. Conversations cut off mid-sentence as every eye in the classroom snapped toward him, caught by the unexpected shift.
His gaze swept the room slowly, deliberately. His eyes scanned the faces of his classmates, letting his stare linger on anyone who dared to look away too quickly, as if silently daring them not to break the challenge.
Then—a smile crept across his lips.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't friendly. Nor apologetic.
It was a sharp, razor-edged smile that sliced through the heavy silence, making everyone feel as if they'd just been caught whispering something they shouldn't have—or worse, doubting him unjustly.
He set his pen down on the desk with a soft tap, the sound oddly crisp and clear in the sudden quiet, punctuating the moment perfectly.
> "Anyone want me to tutor them?"
For a heartbeat, no one moved or spoke.
Then nervous laughter rippled through the room—thin and uneven, the kind of laughter that didn't quite reach the eyes, born from surprise mixed with uncertainty.
Luo Minghao broke the silence with a loud bark of laughter that echoed off the classroom walls.
> "Hear that? Master Wang is taking students now! Don't miss your chance!"
The laughter spread slowly, brittle and tentative—a fragile attempt to mask the tension lingering beneath the surface.
But through it all, the smirk on Zixuan's face never faded.
If anything, it deepened—sharpening like a blade catching the light just right—as though he knew exactly which nerves he'd struck and was perfectly content to leave them buzzing, unsettled and guessing.
The lunch bell rang like a sudden release valve, and the classroom instantly burst into motion. Desks scraped back, chairs clattered louder, and a flood of students poured out into the courtyard, eager to escape the tension still hanging in the air.
Su Nian moved toward the lunch tables, still feeling the prickling gaze of classmates who hadn't quite forgotten the sharp edge in Zixuan's smile.
As she passed the group near the vending machines, a scene caught her off guard.
Luo Minghao was in the middle of an impromptu performance—an "epic" dance move, if one could call it that. One arm flailed wildly while he tried to moonwalk backward, his feet barely cooperating with his ambitions.
His shoelace, however, had other plans. With a dramatic yelp, he stumbled forward and crashed right into Jiang Moxi's neatly packed lunch box, sending a perfectly arranged stack of rice balls flying through the air.
Jiang Moxi barely flinched. Calm as ever, she caught a rice ball mid-flight with the kind of casual precision that made the whole mess seem intentional.
"Smooth," she deadpanned, folding her arms. "Want me to tutor your dance moves too?"
Minghao's face flushed bright red, but before he could stammer a reply, a familiar voice called out from behind.
"Please don't. We're trying to eat."
Han Yuxi, the class clown, sat cross-legged on a bench, a sandwich the size of a small mountain balanced in his hands.
"I swear, if Minghao's dancing scares away the food, I'm blaming him."
Laughter rippled through the nearby students, breaking the tension like sunlight piercing through clouds.
Su Nian found a spot near Jiang Moxi and settled down just as a sudden commotion erupted near the trash cans.
Turning her head, she spotted Wei Rong, the overly competitive sports captain, attempting to demonstrate his "ultimate strength" by juggling three shiny apples.
"Look, I'm a pro," he declared, tossing the fruit high into the air.
For a brief moment, the apples spun gracefully. Then, as if choreographed for maximum comedy, one slipped from his grasp, bounced off his forehead, and landed with a sad plop inside the trash can.
Wei Rong froze in place before throwing up his hands dramatically.
"I call that a tactical surrender."
"Sure," Han Yuxi quipped without missing a bite. "Next, you'll tell us it's part of the training."
Across the yard, Wang Zixuan stood alone by a tree, arms crossed, watching the chaos with a faint smirk—like a king surveying his unruly court.
Even he couldn't suppress a quiet chuckle when he spotted Luo Minghao tangled in his own shoelaces once more, this time dragging Jiang Moxi into a clumsy, accidental tango as she tried to help him up.
Su Nian smiled softly to herself. For all the tension and rivalry, these little moments were proof that maybe high school wasn't all sharp edges and battles.
Sometimes, it was just messy, funny, and a little bit ridiculous.