The whole class instantly fell silent. The grade director, who had chased after them so hard he nearly had a heart attack, swept his gaze around but still failed to recognize the disguised William Carter. Left with no other option, he lashed out, his anger overflowing: “Class is about to start, and your class is the noisiest! You’ll be seniors next year—what are you all thinking? Huh? Do you have any sense of being an honors class? What’s the next period? Why isn’t the teacher here yet? Did they reincarnate or something?”

The English teacher, who had just reached the doorway with her lesson plan, was hit head-on by this outburst.

The grade director shot the innocent teacher a vicious glare: “Some of you young comrades need to pay more attention to your work attitude. If you’re so lackadaisical yourself, how can you manage the students?”

With that, he swung his arms and limped out of the room.

The English teacher, having been dragged into this for no reason, immediately flicked her ponytail, grabbed a piece of chalk, and turned to write on the blackboard: “menopause”.

“Before class starts, let’s do some vocabulary expansion outside today’s syllabus,” the English teacher adjusted her glasses. “‘Menopause’—更年期, for example, you can use it like this: ‘menopause symptoms’...”

The whole class burst into laughter.

For the first half of the period, the English teacher and the students were united in their shared resentment, having a great time. But the camaraderie didn’t last long before the teacher revealed her true colors as a class enemy—she handed out a set of “cloze test special training” exercises, ten in total, all long passages, as that day’s English homework.

After class, except for those going to the restroom, almost no one in the class moved. Everyone wanted to at least finish one passage before the next period started.

It was at this moment that Brian Cooper entered with the homeroom teacher.

His backpack was slung over one shoulder, a spotless shirt collar peeking out from his gray jacket, and he walked without lifting his head.

Someone muttered, “People still transfer in high school?”

Up front, the homeroom teacher knocked on the lectern and patted the boy’s back with a beaming smile: “Everyone quiet down, today our class is welcoming a new family member.”

The homeroom teacher’s nickname was “Heather”, also known as “Triple Strike”. She loved strong perfumes—so much so that in summer, even mosquitoes didn’t dare come near. She liked to speak in rhythmic, parallel sentences and was fond of all sorts of expired inspirational quotes, always seeming to be in high spirits.

No one knew why a physics teacher was always so excitable.

But that day, no one got goosebumps from her “family member” talk. All eyes were on the new boy. In the blink of an eye, the teenagers collectively agreed: this guy was really handsome—he not only had thick, perfectly shaped eyebrows and strikingly clear eyes, but also wore a cool, aloof expression that screamed “don’t bother me”!

The homeroom teacher clapped her hands kindly: “Come on, Brian Cooper, introduce yourself to everyone so we can get to know you.”

The whole class respectfully quieted down, waiting to hear the handsome guy speak.

But the handsome guy didn’t care at all. He lifted his eyelids, glanced around, and shifted his gum from his left molar to his right: “Teacher, where do I sit?”

Left standing awkwardly at the podium, “Heather” froze like an eggplant. Her face stiffened for a moment; she wanted to put this brat in his place, but unfortunately, her shopping card had just been topped up with three thousand yuan worth of “kindness points,” so she couldn’t bring herself to lose face.

“Heather” hesitated for a moment, then, with no other choice, pretended not to be offended and gave him an out: “Why are even the boys so shy? Well, there’s an empty desk at the back of the classroom. Go grab one, and if you’re not nearsighted, just sit in the last row for now. Later, we’ll—”

Before she could finish, that kid named Dou didn’t even look at her and just walked straight to the last row.

Heather: “……”

She clenched her teeth and patted her pocket, feeling like she’d need to top up six thousand “kindness points” next time.

Brian Cooper’s skin was very fair, making his features even more striking. He kept his eyes lowered, his double eyelids sharp and straight, almost reaching his temples, and his nose and lips were “high and mighty,” giving him an air of aloof seriousness.

If a pretty girl walked down the street, more women than men would stare at her. The reverse was true as well—most high school girls hadn’t yet developed the nerve to openly gawk at a guy, so after a few glances, they felt too embarrassed to keep staring. The boys, on the other hand, started whispering among themselves.

Old Miller turned around and poked William Carter’s desk with his pen, whispering, “Who’s this guy? Just got here and already stealing our ‘Xiang Xiang’s’ thunder?”

William Carter thought this Brian Cooper was pretty good-looking, so he just stared at him openly, absentmindedly shaking his head.

Old Miller quickly changed the subject: “Hurry up and let me see your guys’ physics ‘little yellow book’.”

The “little yellow book” wasn’t some illegal adult material—it was a self-compiled problem book by the No. 6 High School physics department. The school forced everyone to buy one. It was over four hundred pages thick, with not a single word of fluff, just problems, and no answers at the end.

Class 1, Grade 11, was an experimental science class, so their curriculum moved a bit faster than other classes. That’s why Old Miller, this ruthless guy, was obsessed with collecting answers from all around, comparing and correcting them to compile his own custom answer key, which he then sold to regular classes and liberal arts students preparing for their graduation exams.