Chen Mo's first stop after entering the school was the teacher's office for the second-year students. The homeroom teacher of the experimental class was a man named Xiang Shenglong, who taught physics to more than a third of the grade. He was in his thirties, wore glasses, and had a scholarly demeanor.

“The dormitory slots for our class were filled at the beginning of the semester,” Xiang said, eyeing Chen Mo with a hint of curiosity. “There are still spots in the mixed dormitory though. Would you be okay with that?”

Chen Mo took the two forms that were handed to him, briefly glancing through them. “I’m fine with that.”

“Chen Mo,” the homeroom teacher called his name again. When Chen Mo looked up, Xiang Shenglong hesitated before continuing, “The mixed dorm might be a bit chaotic, and the atmosphere for studying won’t be the same as in our class’s dorms. You’ve only just transferred. Are you sure you want to live on campus?”

Chen Mo understood the implicit warning.

With a smile, he responded, “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright then,” Xiang Shenglong gave in. “If you don’t have any objections, fill out these application forms and hand them to the class monitor. He’ll follow the process to get them stamped by the dormitory management office.”

Chen Mo nodded, just about to leave when a voice sounded from the doorway, “Permission to enter.”

Xiang Shenglong glanced at the newcomer and turned to Chen Mo. “You can fill out the forms here.”

Turning back to the person who had just arrived, Xiang Shenglong gestured casually, clearly familiar with them. “Perfect timing. Help Chen Mo fill out his forms and then head over to the dorm management office to get them processed by the end of the day.”

“This is your job, not mine,” the newcomer remarked.

He entered the office and placed two stacks of papers on Xiang Shenglong’s desk. He wasn’t wearing a school uniform, and as he passed by, his rolled-up shirt sleeve brushed lightly against Chen Mo’s elbow, releasing a faint, familiar scent.

Leaning on the desk, the newcomer glanced at Xiang Shenglong’s computer screen. “A physics research paper? Didn’t you already get this published last year? Still milking it, huh?”

Xiang Shenglong shot him a look. “This is a project my professor is leading. Do you think everyone is as disrespectful as you, with no concept of honoring their teachers?”

The newcomer, Xi Si Yan, straightened up and scoffed, “I didn’t say anything. You’re the one making it personal right off the bat.”

“Less talking, more action. Did you collect the students’ phones?” Xiang Shenglong asked.

Xi Si Yan shook his head, “What’s the point? Everyone has two phones these days—one to fool the school and one to keep hidden. If you want results, just hang out near the back door during study hall. You’ll catch more that way than by collecting phones.”

Xiang Shenglong tossed a book at him, which Xi Si Yan easily caught, laughing. Finally, he turned his attention to Chen Mo.

He glanced at the forms in Chen Mo’s hands and raised an eyebrow. “You’re moving into the dorms?”

“Mm-hmm,” Chen Mo responded, thinking to himself, Why are you asking when you already know?

The next second, Xi Si Yan held out his hand.

Chen Mo hesitated for a moment before handing over the forms.

But Xi Si Yan shook his head and said, “Not those—your phone.”

Chen Mo's deep-seated aversion to anyone prying into his privacy immediately kicked in. He didn’t move, and his frown conveyed his displeasure.

“Heh,” Xi Si Yan chuckled lightly, turning to Xiang Shenglong, “See that? We’ve got a noncompliant one right here.”

Only then did Chen Mo remember that it was common for high school students to be prohibited from using phones.

He internally reminded himself, You’re just a high school student now. You have to go to class, take exams, and, yeah, go through the college entrance exams all over again.

Before he could dwell on that frustrating reality, he heard Xiang Shenglong say, “Chen Mo can keep his phone for now.”

Xiang smiled kindly at Chen Mo. “You’ll need a few days to adjust to living in the dorms. If you need to contact your family, feel free to use your phone, but don’t bring it into class. You can hand it in next week.”

Xi Si Yan immediately scoffed, “You’re talking to him like he’s a kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. Xiang,” Chen Mo said at the same time, adding with a grin, “I won’t need to contact my family. I just can’t sleep at night without scrolling on my phone for a bit. I’ll adapt in a few days.”

Xiang Shenglong hesitated before gently warning, “Electronic devices can be addictive. Try not to overuse them.”

Chen Mo found it amusing, yet his thoughts wandered. Spending the last few days at the Yang family’s home had made him forget some of the reasons why his high school experience had felt so suffocating. Beyond the endless gossip and the harassment from people like Li Rui, there had been the constant, cautious concern from teachers like Xiang, who seemed to walk on eggshells around him.

Unlike Mr. Lai, most of the staff weren’t direct in their approach, which made things even more uncomfortable.

Yes, Yuhuan Village had been a poor, rural area, but it wasn’t some remote, inaccessible mountain village. His elementary school might have been funded by donations from wealthy benefactors, but his middle school and the first high school he attended had been located in the county.

He had used a phone before, though it was a basic one with buttons.

He knew where the entrance to the amusement park was, how to get into the skating rink by slipping the guard ten yuan, and even that there were two nightclubs in the county, where you could earn hundreds in a single night by working part-time.

And this was all before he became the Chen Mo of today.

How could he explain to his homeroom teacher, who would be dealing with him for the next two years, that he was no longer cut out to be a model student? In his previous life, he had barely lived up to that label because, for the first seventeen years of his life, studying had been his only way out. Later, he buried himself in his studies out of anger and frustration, to the point that he barely recognized his classmates and had only vague memories of his teachers.

But now, he didn’t care about competing with Yang Shu Le or proving himself through grades.

He even asked a question that seemed to come out of nowhere to Xiang Shenglong: “Mr. Xiang, is the experimental class still using a rotational system?”

“No,” Xiang replied, somewhat confused but still answering seriously. “It used to be, but that system was canceled last year. Don’t worry too much; we don’t make changes to the class lightly.”

“...Thanks, Teacher. I’m not really feeling any pressure,” Chen Mo responded, thinking it was a pity that he wouldn’t be expelled from the experimental class.

As he and Xi Si Yan left the office, Chen Mo headed toward his classroom while Xi Si Yan made his way to another building.

Just before they parted ways, Chen Mo called out to him.

Xi Si Yan turned, puzzled. “What is it?”

“Which floor is Class 1 on for second-years?” Chen Mo asked.

“Are you messing with me?”

Chen Mo raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m asking seriously, I swear.”

“You’ve still got some decency left?” Xi Si Yan stared at him for a couple of seconds as if trying to gauge his sincerity before finally answering, “Second floor, left turn.”

Chen Mo nodded. “Thanks, Class Rep. You’re a good guy.”

As he walked away, Xi Si Yan called over his shoulder, “If you’re going to call me a good guy, at least try to sound more sincere.”

By the time Chen Mo reached Class 1, the bell signaling the end of morning self-study had just rung, and the classroom was filled with a mixture of chatter, some students getting water, others goofing around. Still, this was an advanced class, and most of the students were quietly studying or working on assignments.

When Chen Mo stepped into the room, a noticeable hush fell over the class.

Qi Li’s deskmate stared at the large bump on his forehead, which had turned a deep, frightening shade of purple.

“Why didn’t you go over and talk to Yang Shu Le today?” his deskmate asked, genuinely puzzled.

Yang Shu Le’s seat was in the middle of the third row, the prime spot for a good student. He had been absent for half a month, and even though everyone had heard rumors about the weekend’s events, many students still crowded around him to offer their well-wishes when he arrived.

But today, Qi Li, who was usually the closest to Yang Shu Le, sat quietly at his desk with no intention of going over.

Flipping open a book, Qi Li responded coldly, “I just didn’t feel like it. Why do I have to?”

His deskmate muttered under his breath, “I was just asking. Why so aggressive?”

“What’s it got to do with you?” Qi Li snapped, his voice loud enough to catch the attention of the entire class.

Even Yang Shu Le looked over.

“Shu Le, what’s going on with Qi Li today?”

“Yeah, he’s acting really weird.”

Someone else glanced at the door and chimed in, “What do you think? He got beaten up by Chen Mo over the weekend. Of course he’s in a bad mood.”

Yang Shu Le remained seated, watching as Chen Mo walked in and scanned the room as if looking for something. After a brief exchange with a student in the front row, Chen Mo made his way to his desk.

His seat was by the podium, isolated from the rest of the class.

Others might not have known, but Yang Shu Le was well aware that the placement of that desk was intended as special treatment. Yet, it also made him more noticeable. Having spent the past few days trying to establish his presence at home, could Chen Mo really sit there indifferently?

But instead of calmly taking his seat or showing any discomfort, Chen Mo moved his desk.

Chen Mo knew many were watching him, but what did it matter? Remembering the two months of feeling constantly on edge in his past life, he wasn’t about to put himself through that again.

He dragged his desk to the back of the room by the windows and slammed it down with a thud.

Immediately, whispers broke out across the classroom.

“What’s he doing? Did Mr. Xiang tell him to move?”

“Who knows? He probably just wants to act special. Getting away with hitting someone and moving his desk like that—he probably bought his way into our class. Moving seats is nothing.”

“Well, rumor has it he’s not that bad at schoolwork.”

“Doesn’t matter. The monthly exams are coming up. We’ll see how funny it is if he gets terrible results.”

Just then, Gou Yiyang and the two boys Chen Mo had met with last Friday came in through the back door.

Spotting him, Gou Yiyang called out, “Mo Shao, what’s up? Why are you sitting in my dream seat?”

The boy with his arm slung around Gou Yiyang’s shoulders, Jiang Xu, laughed and said, “Shameless! Your dream seat is the janitor’s corner, where you can play games without anyone noticing.”

The back of the class erupted in laughter.

It felt like the classroom was split into two distinct zones, the front and the back.

Chen Mo, however, remained indifferent to the strange atmosphere. He responded to Gou Yiyang and the others, “I don’t mind. Whoever leaves first is the dog.”

“Who’s holding hands with you? And this seat is nowhere near the trash bin.” The boys squeezed into the desks in front of Chen Mo. Gou Yiyang turned to him, “By the way, man, didn’t Mr. Xiang say no one could sit there? How’d you manage to get the seat?”

Chen Mo casually arranged his scattered stationery.

The pens, rulers, and other items felt unfamiliar to him, as if they weren’t his.

“Didn’t ask,” he said offhandedly.

“Damn, you’re bold.”

Chen Mo glanced at the seat directly opposite his, by the door, the only other single desk in the room. “Why isn’t anyone allowed to sit here?”

Jiang Xu nudged Gou Yiyang aside, mimicking Mr. Xiang’s tone as he slapped Chen Mo’s ruler down on the desk. “Who do you think you are, the next Xi Si Yan? We’ve only got so many students in the experimental class. You think we’re just handing out these seats?”

So the other single desk belonged to the class monitor.

Chen Mo didn’t remember this.

All he could recall was that back then, every time there was a monthly exam, the seating would change. Apart from the first two months, the faces of his deskmates had changed so often he could no longer remember any of them.

The first class of the day was Chinese.

The teacher, an old man, didn’t seem curious about why the podium desk had disappeared or why the other seat at the back was empty. Instead, he began reciting from memory, “Do you not see the Yellow River’s waters flow from the heavens, rushing toward the sea, never to return…”

His voice carried on until he suddenly stopped. “That student at the back, please translate this passage.”

No response.

The teacher repeated, “You, the student sitting at the back.”

The entire class turned to look.

The boy who had been accused of being a special case and paying his way into the class was now fully demonstrating what it meant to have money: he had already fallen asleep.

The morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the tousled hair of the boy slumped over his desk, his arm resting on the back of his head, completely lost in his dreams.