Finishing the rice noodles, the two walked side by side toward the school.
Along the way, Zhang Zhaomu noticed quite a few people using the corners of their eyes to steal glances at him, and this feeling was truly somewhat novel.
The improvement in his appearance was one point, but the most eye-catching reason was still that cyan-and-white school uniform; casting one's gaze around, there were truly very few people on the street wearing school uniforms.
Chen Zhenzhen was also eyeing him, though in the open kind of way, and she even muttered, "Yo, the little sister in front turned back to look at you three times; isn't your heart feeling super pleased?"
Zhang Zhaomu tried hard to suppress the corners of his mouth: "Is that so? I didn't notice at all."
"You know, for me, this kind of thing is too routine."
Chen Zhenzhen couldn't help rolling her eyes and hammered a fist against Zhang Zhaomu's arm: "Still pretending, your mouth is about to hook into a wry-mouth battle god!"
"Seriously, being able to make you change so drastically all at once, could it be that you took advantage of us not seeing each other for these two months and secretly started a relationship?"
Zhang Zhaomu bared his teeth in pain as he rubbed his arm, saying with displeasure: "A relationship? Not even dogs date."
"How is dating as fun as playing games? See you at the internet café during lunch break, let's play a couple of rounds."
"Fine." Chen Zhenzhen nodded: "But I didn't bring my phone, so we'll go straight there to meet up then."
"Huh?" Zhang Zhaomu raised an eyebrow.
Chen Zhenzhen sighed and explained: "This time my mom laid down harsh words. We're already in the second year of high school; if I dare bring a phone to school again, it'll get confiscated outright, and she'll make me use a Little Genius telephone watch in the future."
"Tsk, truly miserable." Zhang Zhaomu let out a scoff: "I don't have this kind of trouble."
Chen Zhenzhen glanced at him without replying.
Xinxi No. 1 High School was the best high school in Xinxi County. The promotional aspect stated that including the school's predecessor, its history of establishment was close to a hundred years-it sounded nice, but in reality, an old school had all the flaws it ought to have, for instance the aged teaching buildings, for instance the school gate that could truly not be called imposing.
Of course, there were also advantages. The paths on both sides walking from the school gate to the teaching building were entirely tall camphor trees, their leafy canopies blocking out the sunlight that was already beginning to grow hot, and the air was also permeated with a refreshing, invigorating plant fragrance.
Zhang Zhaomu and Chen Zhenzhen separated at the entrance of the teaching building. Chen Zhenzhen was in Science Class 1; as the school's ace class, it occupied the most convenient first-floor classroom, while Zhang Zhaomu's Arts Class 9 was precisely the other extreme, assigned to the corner on the third floor close to the toilets.
There were nine arts classes in the second year of high school.
The school's class numbers weren't entirely discussed based on grades either; although students with upper-tier grades were basically all picked into Class 1, the student sources of the other few classes were in principle evenly distributed.
Only Class 9 was a bit special, as all the specialized arts students in the school were stuffed into this class, and apart from that, there was just this sort of person like Zhang Zhaomu.
Not a specialized arts student, purely too poor in grades and exiled over to be left to drift.
Walking to the doorway of the Arts Class 9 classroom, Zhang Zhaomu couldn't help probing a look inside. Although there were still more than ten minutes until nine o'clock, more than half of the people in the classroom were already seated, and he was able to spot quite a few familiar faces-former classmates from their Class 1 in the first year of high school.
This didn't matter.
What mattered was that Zhang Zhaomu discovered the male-to-female ratio in the class seemed a bit exaggerated.
At a rough glance, the number of male students was estimated to be only around ten or so.
Thinking about it carefully, it was normal. In itself, the male students choosing arts classes were few, and on top of that, Class 9 also gathered the school's art students-those studying dance, studying broadcasting and hosting, studying music, studying fine arts...
Although their styles and temperaments varied, faces whose looks were obviously higher than the standard line instantly gave people the feeling of stepping into the Cave of the Silken Web the moment they took a step into the classroom.
Moreover, Zhang Zhaomu caught sight of the Silk-Web Great Immortal at a glance.
Duan Chan'er sat in the third row against the window, supporting her side-face as she gazed outside the window, her hair fluttering in the breeze, filled with an aura of years being quiet and good.
"She actually got assigned to Class 9 too?"
This was somewhat beyond Zhang Zhaomu's expectation. Although he hadn't paid much attention to Duan Chan'er's grades, the other party's composition essays had been listened to as model texts quite a few times, and her Chinese grade was definitely not poor-was she guessed to have been overly one-sided in her subject choices?
Yet the other party obviously wasn't paying attention to this side, and Zhang Zhaomu had no thoughts of greeting her either, silently walking toward the rear of the classroom.
Regardless of height or grades, Zhang Zhaomu's seat in the classroom was basically fixed at the very last row. Rather than waiting until they arranged seats later to move again, it was better to honestly stake out a spot first.
The back row by the window, the homeland of kings!
Passing through the aisles between desks and chairs, the gazes falling upon him were naturally numerous. Zhang Zhaomu noticed that those old classmates from the first year had looks that were curious yet somewhat doubtful, as if wanting to recognize him yet not daring to.
Pity that back in the first year he hung out with Chen Zhenzhen all day and didn't get very close with his classmates.
Otherwise, someone ought to have jumped out at this moment to shout loudly: "Zhang... Zhang Zhaomu? How could a punk like you possibly be this handsome?"
Then he himself would be able to put on a placid-as-water appearance: "I originally wanted to get along with you guys using the identity of an ordinary person, but what it traded in return was indifference. I'm not pretending anymore, I'm a handsome guy by nature and I'm laying my cards on the table!"
Thinking of this plot, his heart couldn't help secretly rejoicing.
Of course, this was merely Zhang Zhaomu's routine inner brain fantasy. He admitted that his thinking was always prone to jumping around, and sometimes he would even fail to hold back and laugh out loud for no reason during class, then get made by the teacher to stand-though now there was no need to worry about this point, the [Refined] persona was playing its part, and things like losing one's composure in front of people were hard to happen.
After all, with the new class division, the classmates basically gathered together in accordance with familiar small cliques; there wasn't anyone overly familiar coming up to make small talk with Zhang Zhaomu, and he was happy in his ease, sizing up these classmates who would spend the next two years getting along with him with relish.
That bunch with slim waists and long legs looked at a glance to be studying dance, and among them there was even a male student whose demeanor was rather effeminate; he didn't know what dance genre was being studied.
That group near the front door of the classroom was guessed to be the broadcasting and hosting major. This major burned money fiercely, especially if one wanted to enter a good school; the potential consumption required was ridiculously high, and Zhang Zhaomu easily distinguished that the prices of the clothing and accessories on these people were not cheap.
This was naturally the vision brought by the [Refined] persona. The Zhang Zhaomu of the past had never paid attention to any clothing brands, wearing nine-kuai-jiu T-shirts from Taobao year-round.
As for the male students, apart from the various ones sitting by the back door who looked at a glance like sports students, the others were relatively ordinary by comparison, and Zhang Zhaomu easily perceived the aura of his own kind from them.
Academic slackers.
"Living up to Arts Class 9!"
Zhang Zhaomu could already foresee what the atmosphere would be like for the next two years sharing a class with this bunch of academic slackers and specialized arts students.
Anyway, it certainly wouldn't brush against that kind of hard-studying atmosphere of other classes.
For a normal high school student, this might have seemed like a bleak future, but for Zhang Zhaomu-
"Absolutely fantastic!"
"Salty fish belong in a school of salty fish! That's where we're most at home! Let those top students in Class One compete over their studies. I'm going to enjoy my youth!"
As he let his mind wander, the classroom gradually filled up. Zhang Zhaomu pulled out his phone to check the time. It was already five past nine.
On the first day of school, the homeroom teacher was straight-up late. How was that even okay?
The clock was about to strike 9:10 when a middle-aged man finally strolled into the classroom without the slightest hurry. The hubbub died down at once.
He was balding on top, dressed in a light blue striped shirt that fit every stereotype of a middle-aged teacher. A small paunch covered the upper half of his belt. As he walked up to the podium, he casually set down the thermos in his hand and looked over everyone below.
"My name is Chen Yongchao. Yong as in 'forever,' chao as in 'surpass.'"
He didn't follow the usual routine of writing his name on the blackboard, nor did he explain why he was late. He just yawned and squinted, looking thoroughly low on energy.
"You can call me Teacher Chen, Old Class Teacher, or even Old Chen. As for any other weird nicknames, as long as you don't call me them to my face, I don't mind."
His tone was lazy, and his half-lidded, dead-fish eyes gave him the whole seasoned-old-timer vibe of someone thinking, "Life's got nothing to look forward to anyway. I'm just a wage-slaving cog."
"For the next two years, I'll be your homeroom teacher."
"Some of you were in my class in your first year, so you should know my style. When it comes to studying, I'm a big believer in teaching students to motivate themselves. So I won't be watching you like a hawk all day, the way some other teachers do."
"I hope we can keep things relaxed between us over the next two years. Our liberal arts Class Nine is a little different. You're all very individual students, so I won't put too much pressure on you. But there's one thing: don't get me into trouble."
He unscrewed his thermos and took a sip of water.
"Let's skip the introductions. We've got plenty of time to get to know each other. I'll call your names one by one. Just stand up so everyone can get a good look at you."
"First, Xiang Qing."