Chapter 12: Do You Believe in Me That Much?

During lunch break, Zhai Da used his meal card to get an 8.5-yuan set meal with two meat dishes and one vegetable at the long-unvisited school canteen.

It is well-known that the school canteen is neither cheaper nor necessarily cleaner than outside eateries.

It’s just that the food tastes worse.

Zhai Da stared at the burnt residue mixed in with the rice, thinking to himself, no wonder he was so resilient in his past life... turns out he had eaten plenty of this stuff back in high school.

With a plop, a bulky figure, like a small mountain, sat down in the empty spot next to Zhai Da, causing the bench to almost tip like a seesaw.

The “meat mountain,” Fan Junwei, had a tray as exaggerated as himself. His rice filled several compartments and was piled high into a peak, making his two meat dishes and one vegetable look like mere specks in comparison.

Fan Junwei sat first, then added, “Can I sit here?”

Zhai Da replied, “You can, but be careful when I get up later—you don’t want to tip the bench.”

Fan Junwei nodded, “No problem, I’ve got experience.”

Originally, Zhai Da had little appetite for lunch, and now it was even less appealing. Fan Junwei carried the same peculiar smell from his past memory...

Not just body odor, but a mix of sweat blended with dust, and even a faint garbage scent.

It was hard to describe. Sometimes boys’ hygiene levels were barely better than beasts’, but that was self-acceptance.

The strange smell coming from others was a different matter altogether—like enoki mushrooms.

After a few bites, Zhai Da gave up and stood up to leave. Fan Junwei shifted a bit, and the bench maintained a delicate balance.

Back in the classroom, most students were either catching up on sleep or doing practice problems. The room held a tacit quietness, with voices kept low even when they spoke.

At the back of the room, numbers were posted on the blackboard: 71 days left until the college entrance exam, like a mantra on Wuzhishan Mountain suppressing a troop of monkeys, keeping these high schoolers orderly.

Passing by, Zhai Da noticed Wu Yue reading a book. In his memory, Wu Yue had long given up on studying, planning to work for his family after graduation. His father ran a small restaurant, and after their home was demolished, Wu Yue had completely let himself go.

The young man had potential—more reading, less ogling, and life would flow smoothly.

“What are you reading?”

Wu Yue didn’t even look up, deeply focused, only letting Zhai Da glimpse the cover.

“Yi Lin” magazine.

Zhai Da raised an eyebrow. “Looking for some jokes?”

Though to Zhai Da, the whole thing was a joke, it did have a dedicated “humor section.”

Which was the least funny part.

Wu Yue gave Zhai Da a disdainful glance. “Am I really that shallow? I’m reading seriously. Look at this—foreigners’ technology is amazing; flies have evolved to collect nectar now.”

Zhai Da’s lips twitched, and he patted Wu Yue’s shoulder. “I suggest you check out some cookbooks too.”

“Cookbooks? To help my dad cook?”

“No, one day you’ll own your own restaurant.”

Wu Yue felt this was the highest compliment he’d received. “You think that highly of me?”

It felt a bit surreal; high school praise was usually shallow like “you’re amazing,” but this was different.

It made Wu Yue shy.

Zhai Da gave a thumbs-up. “Absolutely, no doubt about it.”

Everything felt fresh to him now. Instead of napping during lunch break, he flipped through textbooks and the exam papers in his desk.

To be honest, he had listened attentively to the two morning classes mainly to gauge what foundation he had after more than ten years away from school.

The result? Bottomless.

Almost like reaching the Earth’s core!

Out of a whole exam paper, he could understand less than 20%.

Which part? The text portions.

If it weren’t for the hint notes, he’d be panicking.

Before launching his “defy fate” project, he needed a more systematic and comprehensive understanding of academics, since the gap from his past life was vast.

Occasionally, he would exchange a few words with his arranged dating partners, spouting nonsense like “I never attended university…”

Drenched in knowledge, Zhai Da rubbed his tired eyes, ready for a mental shift. Just then, a thin, jagged line flickered at the edge of his vision.

Whoa! A special item!

He immediately looked up but only caught the back of a student in uniform flashing past the doorframe. That system-recognized line appeared for barely a fraction of a second before disappearing behind an obstruction.

Zhai Da jumped up, startling Yang Fan, who had been napping, but Yang said nothing.

Without apologizing, Zhai Da hurried after the student, unwilling to miss any clue about special items.

But just as he reached the doorway, he was stopped dead by the homeroom teacher, Ding Rong.

“Where are you going? Class is about to start.”

Before she finished, the bell rang. The hallway instantly became chaotic as countless idle students rushed back like herded ducks.

Zhai Da glanced around but lost the trail completely. He sighed and returned to his seat.

Uniformed student... must be from ninth grade or higher.

Maofang High School’s senior year had twelve classes: the first ten were general, the eleventh and twelfth were key classes, for humanities and sciences respectively.

What could the special item on that student be?

The afternoon had two more long classes. Not fully adjusted to campus life, Zhai Da felt exhausted. After winning the lottery in his past life, he hadn’t worked for three years, living freely and waking naturally every day.

Suddenly being pulled into such a strict schedule, and not understanding most of the content, was quite grueling.

After all, in his last three years, the only thing he had devoted himself to diligently was dating.

The only relatively comfortable subject was Chinese, as he had some experience in copywriting from before.

With a little extra effort on classical poetry and test-taking strategies, he shouldn’t do too badly; he might even score high on essays.

Finally, the theoretical classes ended, but the evening self-study period was next. Senior students ate in the canteen, then returned for study from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m.

However, as the “school’s star pupil,” Zhai Da had an extra responsibility.

He had to undergo psychological counseling.

Yes, students who fainted in the exam were considered high-risk for emotional distress. The school dared not ignore it, fearing a tragic outcome.

So they forcibly assigned him a psychological guidance session—not with a professional psychologist, but with a “political thought” teacher.

Under the strange gazes of classmates, Zhai Da left the classroom and went to a small office on the sixth floor, the top floor of the teaching building.

He knocked, and a gentle voice invited him in.

The office was small, with only a desk behind which sat a man in his forties wearing square glasses. Despite donning an old cadre jacket, he didn’t look sleazy.

His eyes were intelligent, and even passing dogs could sense he was a typical intellectual.

Shen Rui. Zhai Da remembered him well, more vividly than any classmate.

He was one of Maofang’s “campus legends,” known somewhat in Dongyang County.

He was the first person from this backwater town to be admitted to a top-tier university—graduated from “R University,” and reportedly held a doctorate.

But the fact that he now worked as a political thought teacher at Maofang High, spending time counseling Zhai Da, suggested his career had not soared as expected.

Zhai Da had met similar people in his past life: top university graduates with high degrees who had achieved nothing by middle age, drifting through various circles, always mentioning their alma mater.

You could never figure out what they really did, seeming to have no proper job, usually surrounded by a few uneducated bosses who either genuinely or falsely flattered them.

But this man was different.

His aura was different.

If a middle-aged man appeared both erudite and without a receding hairline,

then chances were he was truly remarkable.

In their first year, Shen Rui substituted for a few classes. His manner left a deep impression on Zhai Da, becoming for a long time the synonym for “intellectual” in his mind.

Shen Rui looked up, smiled, and said, “Zhai Da, please have a seat.”