Calming Talisman

The afternoon Talisman Class was even harder to endure than Zheng Qing had imagined.

On the Pocket Watch, the slender second hand ticked forward one notch at a time, neither hurried nor slow, yet painfully anxiety-inducing to watch. Outside the window, the sunlight faded from intense to pale, then grew hazy as it gradually fell behind the teaching building.

In the classroom, nearly every student had their ears pricked and their eyes fixed on the teacher's writing on the blackboard, afraid of missing even half a line and regretting it when the exam came.

Teacher Zhang stood at the podium, earnestly explaining the key points and difficulties of this year's Talisman Studies final exam. From time to time, she mixed in insights from her own examinations back then—indeed, for many students, the little tricks she slipped in were even more eye-catching than some of the review points.

Yet Zheng Qing, seated below the podium, had to put on the appearance of listening attentively while anxiously awaiting a message from Dean Yao. Most of his hopes were pinned on Professor Yao now.

"As long as Old Yao helps me carry out this plan, I swear I won't drink millet porridge for a month!"

The young publicly funded student stared blankly at the blackboard, his mind filled with that thought—because Professor Yao's full name was "Yao Xiaomi," whenever the students were dissatisfied with him, they would always call out to one another and head to the cafeteria or Pedestrian Street in groups of three or five for two bowls of millet porridge. Before long, millet porridge had gradually become one of Jiuyou Academy's most popular foods.

To Zheng Qing, going a month without millet porridge was already a very sincere gesture.

Perhaps the young publicly funded student's prayer had been heard.

Halfway