It happened to be Monday, and with a slight adjustment to the class schedule, the class monitor went to the office before evening self-study and brought back a brand new timetable, which was posted on the bulletin board.

William Bennett squinted at it for a few seconds, then patted Samuel Wright and asked, "Why are the subject names still written in those two columns at night?"

"Hmm? Which two columns?" Samuel Wright was busy replying to WeChat messages under the desk and didn't catch what he was asking.

"The timetable on the bulletin board," William Bennett stopped spinning his pen and pointed the tip in that direction. "It says Physics for tonight."

"The timetable?"

"Yeah."

Samuel Wright looked up to the front, froze for about three seconds, then suddenly turned his head and asked, "You’re sitting in the second-to-last row, and you can actually read the words on the timetable?"

"I can."

"Did you grow a microscope on your face?"

William Bennett said slowly and clearly, "Shut up."

"No, I’m just expressing my shock. Take a look around—you’re the only one in our class who isn’t nearsighted, haven’t you noticed?" said Samuel Wright.

William Bennett didn’t even turn his head, just thumbed behind him and, for some reason, lowered his voice to ask, "He doesn’t wear glasses either, is he not human?"

But Samuel Wright didn’t catch on, and still spoke at normal volume: "Tian-ge just doesn’t wear them usually. Wait till class starts and you’ll see."

William Bennett thought to himself, What the hell am I supposed to look at? You idiot, why are you talking so loud?

Luckily, Edward Harris was napping during the break again and didn’t hear a thing.

William Bennett was quite puzzled. How could this guy be so sleep-deprived every day, like a thief at night? Was he doing extra practice problems or something?

While he was spacing out, a few people in the front row suddenly started buzzing.

The class monitor’s voice came through clearly, with a hint of gossip: "Really, I don’t know what happened, but when I went into the office, a few teachers were all in an uproar, going crazy, super excited, chattering away."

"What were they saying?"

"I didn’t hear. As soon as I went in, they acted normal."

"Then what’s the point of you saying anything?"

Samuel Wright was a lively one. Hearing the class monitor, he leaned over two desks to join the discussion. So after all that, William Bennett’s original question still didn’t get answered.

But soon, the answer came on its own.

Not long after the evening self-study bell rang, the homeroom teacher, John Foster, came into the classroom with a stack of test papers, naturally spread them out on the podium, and then, as usual, went to pull down the board behind her. She said, "The weekly test papers have been graded. Tonight, we’ll go over the test in this class."

At this point, William Bennett finally understood—

This unlucky school’s evening self-study wasn’t self-study at all, but actual classes! Monday through Friday, one subject every night, all scheduled out.

So here’s the problem...

There was homework assigned during the day. For math, physics, and chemistry, each subject simply handed out a practice sheet. Chinese was a bit more humane—no full test paper, just two reading comprehension exercises. The only mercy was English, since there was no English class that day.

All in all, there were about eight sheets of paper to do, but with no self-study time in the evening, when were they supposed to get them done???

William Bennett felt suffocated.

John Foster finished her opening remarks, picked up the test papers in front of her and shook them, saying, "You’re all eager to know how you did, right? Let me talk about the overall impression first. I think you all got dumber after the summer break."

No one said a word. A few people moved their lips, probably complaining that a ten-day summer break barely counts as a break.

"Overall, your performance wasn’t as good as the last few exams of last semester. You worked slower, and I could tell just by looking at the graded papers. It’s not that you didn’t know how to do the problems, but you didn’t have time to answer properly. Sigh, a few of you, your handwriting at the end was so shaky and pitiful, I almost couldn’t bear to mark it wrong—"

Her expression relaxed a bit, but she said in a mock-annoyed tone, "So I just took off points directly, and deducted 2 points from the presentation score as well."

Someone in the classroom couldn’t hold it in and whimpered.

John Foster said, "What are you whining for, trying to act cute? Does acting cute help?"

More than forty people replied in a drawn-out tone, "No, whimper—"

William Bennett: "..."

Is this what happens when stress gets too high? The whole class goes nuts?

John Foster was amused but not surprised—it was clearly not the first time: "I know this is your old problem. Every time after a break, it’s like this. I don’t want to say more. Just try to be a bit more self-aware, okay?"

The whole class replied again, dragging out the word: "Okay."

John Foster pointed at them and said, "A bunch of liars."

The class burst out laughing.

"You think it’s funny!" John Foster added, "This time the class average is lower than the last test. Some of you really put in a lot of effort to drag the score down."

Most people in the class were tactful enough not to look at anyone at times like this—no matter how good your relationship, you had to save some face. But some just couldn’t help themselves and craned their necks to sneak a look.

At that moment, William Bennett felt like a spotlight was shining on his head—at least five or six people were looking at him.