Brian Clark withdrew his index finger. “A friendly little suggestion—want to hear it?”

“No.” Laura Bennett instantly pulled a sour face and lowered his head to flip through his book.

Brian Clark went on, “The school offers voluntary extra classes every weekend. I think they’ll be collecting sign-ups soon.”

Laura Bennett paused in his actions.

Brian Clark added, “There’s a basic Chinese class, but it’ll clash with the math competition coaching. Think about it?”

Laura Bennett kept flipping through his book. “I’ll think about it.”

Actually, he was quite tempted.

Catching up in Chinese was a huge project. Reading and writing were one thing, but literary accumulation was another. Language couldn’t be brute-forced alone; having a teacher would help a lot.

The last two periods of the morning were math.

Old Martin came in carrying the whole class’s test papers. His dedication to grading overnight moved the “owls” to tears, and after the math class rep Samuel Grant shakily wrote “average score 108” on the blackboard, the wailing grew even louder.

Old Martin blew on the goji berries in his thermos, his smile calm. “About a third of this test was at competition level, so these results were expected. The point of Math and Science Class A is to aim for independent university admissions. This will become the norm, so everyone needs to settle down. Today, we’ll go over the 16 multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blank questions. Interrupt me anytime if you have questions.”

When Old Martin explained the problems, his pace was unhurried, his logic concise and clear, with just the right amount of elaboration and guidance. Laura Bennett glanced up at the front; the top students all sat up straight, even Faye Young, who was usually slumped against the wall, was sitting upright with glasses on, and Brian Clark occasionally jotted down notes on a piece of paper.

During the break, those who needed the restroom slipped out quietly, while the rest kept their heads down working on problems—it was even quieter than morning self-study.

Laura Bennett was still in awe of this elite atmosphere when he saw Old Martin approach with his thermos, smiling.

“I’ve saved you a spot in my weekend math competition class. Don’t forget to hand in your form,” Old Martin said in a low voice.

Laura Bennett hesitated. “Teacher, I want to take another class.”

Old Martin was taken aback. “Another class? You’re not doing math competition anymore?”

Laura Bennett braced himself and gave a quiet “mm.”

“Why?” Old Martin looked incredulous. “Do you know what ‘wasting talent’ means?”

Laura Bennett paused awkwardly. “Not really.”

Brian Clark’s chair started to shake.

“Don’t learn to play dumb from Brian Clark.” Old Martin sighed. “Seriously, come on, you have to join.”

Laura Bennett tried to make his gaze look more sincere. “Teacher, I only got 16 points in Chinese.”

“Sixteen is sixteen, even if you got…” He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, stunned. “How much did you get???”

It was hard to say whether refusing competition coaching or scoring sixteen in Chinese shocked Old Martin more, but either way, his departing back looked weathered and worn.

Samuel Grant turned around to comfort him. “It’s fine, a few of us are all taking math. We’ll lend you our notes later.”

Laura Bennett could only sigh.

On the way to the cafeteria at noon, Jack Harris stopped Brian Clark halfway, saying he needed to ask more about Wang Gou’s situation.

Brian Clark nodded absentmindedly and greeted Samuel Grant, “Take him with you to eat.”

“Him” referred to Laura Bennett.

Samuel Grant nodded. “Yeah, yeah, you really think you’re his guardian.”

Jack Harris said to Laura Bennett, “By the way, your half-dorm application is done. You’ll be sharing a room with Brian Clark and David Reed for now. Here’s the key.”

A half-dorm means you only stay at noon, not overnight. The school had plenty of dorm resources, so as long as you could afford it, you could apply for a room just for napping at noon.

Laura Bennett took the flat key labeled “Dorm 3, Room 603” and thanked the teacher.

Today, the cafeteria was packed to the brim, with every line snaking around several times. Laura Bennett was stunned the moment he walked in.

Samuel Grant dragged him to line up for the “top delicacy” pork rib casserole. They waited a solid twenty minutes, and just as they reached the window, Laura Bennett looked at the bubbling chili peppers cooking with the ribs in the pot and started to regret it.

He couldn’t handle spicy food—not at all.

The lunch lady grabbed a finished casserole with tongs and shouted, “How many more scoops?”

Laura Bennett didn’t get it. “Scoops of what?”

With a flick of her wrist, the lady dumped a hefty scoop of pickled chili on top. “Chili!”

Laura Bennett: “…Thank you.”

Samuel Grant wandered around with his tray, fretting, “There’s not a single empty seat. Unbelievable.”

Just then, someone next to them finished eating and got up, leaving a spot. Quick as lightning, he pushed Laura Bennett into the seat. “Hurry, sit here.”

Laura Bennett was forced to squeeze in between two guys he didn’t know.

The place was deafeningly noisy, and the ribs in the casserole did smell great, but the rising steam was a bit overwhelming. Laura Bennett hesitated for a long time, then picked up a piece from the edge and tried a bite.

Immediately, he sucked in a sharp breath and turned away to cough for a while.

On the way back, Laura Bennett kept searching for something to eat, but unfortunately, he didn’t see a single convenience store before reaching Dorm 3.

David Reed, walking upstairs, explained, “Our room is four missing two. I’m full-dorm, Brian Clark is half-dorm. I heard you’re staying at his place at night now?”

Laura Bennett replied with a “mm.” “How’s the dorm?”