Chi Ning muttered, "Isn't there Li Qiuhe now? His grades are pretty good too. Teacher can call on him."
According to the rules of fantasy novels, Li Qiuhe was his chief personal disciple. Little Li could not only go up and explain problems, but could also accept disciples on his teacher's behalf.
Chi Ning clutched his thermos like it was the baton of freedom.
Before the teacher arrived, he turned and left.
Qin Heng: ...
How was he so practiced at this?
With that perfectly justified, open, yet silent manner, no one would believe he had only skipped class once.
The more guilty someone acted, the more attention they drew.
On the other hand, if he walked out of the classroom openly with a thermos and no bag, even if someone noticed, they would only assume Chi Ning was stepping out for some air and would be right back.
Little did they know he had already reached the school gate.
But the gate was already locked.
At No. 1 High School, seniors arrived at six thirty. First- and second-years arrived at eight, leaving an hour and a half in between.
To strengthen management and keep an eye on the students, the guard dutifully locked the school gates after the class bell rang.
Chi Ning peeked around outside the guardhouse.
The school security guard was an old man. After locking the gate, he had gone into the inner room to sleep.
The outer room of the guardhouse was dim and dark, without a trace of light. Clear snores came from inside.
Chi Ning: ...
He was sleeping pretty soundly.
Forget it. He would climb the wall.
He passed his thermos through the gap in the gate, cushioning it with tissues before setting it in the corner near the guardhouse.
Then, after