Volume 1 / Chapter 10: The Gentle Chinese Teacher

"The Chinese teacher's surname is Ye, called Ye Wen. She's super gentle! If I were a boy, I'd definitely fall for her!" Wang Jiale, seated beside Mo Xueyao, spouted nonsense while dramatically clutching her cheeks, adopting a starstruck expression.  

Mo Xueyao didn’t find it unpleasant. A girl like Wang Jiale, lively and cute, was impossible to dislike.  

With a deskmate like this, ordinary days would surely never feel dull.  

"Oh, we also have a physics teacher surnamed Ye, called Ye Yu," Wang Jiale continued, veering off-topic again. "Our P.E. teacher is called Ye Ran, also surnamed Ye! So many teachers with the surname Ye at our school!"  

"Maybe their ancestors all belonged to the same clan," Mo Xueyao replied distractedly, her attention fixed on the blackboard as the Chinese class began.  

"Everyone, open your textbooks. Today we’re studying Lesson Five—‘Jing Ke Assassinates the King of Qin,’" Ye Wen said with a gentle smile. The classroom atmosphere felt noticeably lighter, a stark contrast to the previous math class.  

"Over the National Day holiday, I asked everyone to preview this text. Now, those who truly, genuinely previewed it, please raise your hands~" Ye Wen blinked playfully. "No lying."  

Students exchanged glances. In the end, only six or seven scattered hands went up.  

Previewing homework was something few did unless strictly required…  

At most, they’d perfunctorily number the paragraphs.  

Mo Xueyao was among those who raised a hand, though not very high—she wasn’t one to seek the spotlight.  

But Teacher Ye Wen noticed her immediately.  

"Oh? It seems Mo Xueyao, who missed a month of class, has also done her homework diligently. Would Mo Xueyao like to answer a question?" Ye Wen asked kindly, without a hint of pressure.  

"Okay…" Mo Xueyao hurriedly stood up. Despite Ye Wen’s gentleness, she couldn’t help feeling nervous.  

This was her first time answering a question in high school.  

"What did Jing Ke use to approach the King of Qin?"  

"A map of the Yan State." Mo Xueyao answered confidently, especially interested in the historical aspects of Chinese literature. She even added, "To be precise, it was a map of the Dukang region in Yan."  

"Very good! It seems you read thoroughly! Did you translate the full text yourself using the annotations, or did you use reference materials?"  

"Myself…" Seeing the admiring looks from others, Mo Xueyao suddenly felt shy.  

Perhaps it was a natural talent. While many struggled with classical Chinese, she grasped its meaning effortlessly, likely from reading various novels—especially old martial arts and fantasy stories filled with similar archaic phrasing. Over time, it became second nature.  

"Then, another question: How did the King of Qin escape Jing Ke’s assassination attempt?"  

"He ran around a pillar." Mo Xueyao nearly laughed as she said it.  

The King of Qin was always portrayed with such dignity. Imagining him scrambling frantically around a pillar while shouting for his guards was undeniably amusing.  

Soft chuckles rippled through the class.  

"Excellent! One last question: Why did Jing Ke fail?"  

"Hmm… Because his assistant was utterly useless. Also, Jing Ke wanted to capture the King alive—though I’m not sure if that’s just making excuses."  

"Very well done." Ye Wen looked pleased and gestured for her to sit. "Everyone, learn from Mo Xueyao when previewing. While I won’t check if you’ve done it, remember: You study for yourselves, not for the teacher. A class is only forty minutes long. Without focus, you won’t absorb everything. Previewing helps you grasp simpler points beforehand, making class much smoother."  

Unlike the math teacher who lectured monologically, Ye Wen—also their homeroom teacher—loved interacting with students.  

She often called on people to answer questions. Whether the answers were right, wrong, or absurd, she never lost her temper.  

Her approach to Gao Yuan, who’d fallen asleep again, differed completely from the math teacher Jing Die’s.  

"Gao Yuan, wake up, wake up."  

"Ah… uh… uh…" Gao Yuan, drooling all over his desk, seemed dead to the world.  

Ye Wen winked at the class and whispered, "How about we all applaud together?"  

"Okay—!" the students chorused.  

They began clapping vigorously.  

The classroom filled with thunderous applause.  

Finally jolted awake, Gao Yuan groggily opened his eyes. Without wiping the drool from his arm, he started clapping too.  

His classmates’ expressions, however, were peculiar.  

When one student finally burst out laughing, the rest followed.  

Wang Jiale beside Mo Xueyao doubled over, laughing so hard she seemed close to choking.  

Her personality truly matched her name—Jiale (佳乐), meaning ‘excellent joy’.  

"Do you know why everyone’s applauding?" Ye Wen pinched Gao Yuan’s chubby cheek, smiling.  

"Huh…?"  

"They’re applauding to celebrate you sleeping through another half of class!" Ye Wen joked humorously. "Alright, pay attention from now on. No more sleeping."  

"Uh… okay…" Gao Yuan mumbled, already slumping back onto the desk.  

"If you do this again, I’ll have Li Wanyan keep a close eye on you. If you sleep or talk in class, she’ll report to me. Too many times, and I’ll call your parents."  

"Please don’t!" Gao Yuan instantly panicked, sitting bolt upright. "Teacher Ye Wen! I’m listening carefully!"  

"Good. Keep that up, and I might just believe you."  Ye Wen nodded and resumed the lesson.  

"Who in our class knows about the Warring States period history?" Ye Wen asked, standing at the podium again.  

A few boys proudly raised their hands.  

Among them, the refined boy nicknamed "Xiao Xue" raised his hand the most calmly—without a trace of pride.  

"Let’s have our ‘Mr. Xue’  answer."  

"Mr. Xue?" Mo Xueyao whispered to herself, finding it strange.  

Hearing her, Wang Jiale eagerly explained, "That boy’s name is super unique! Probably the most famous name in our whole grade."  

"Huh?"  

"Because his actual name is Xue Xiansheng (雪先生)—Mr. Xue."  

"No way…" Mo Xueyao’s face fell. "That’s ridiculous! Wouldn’t everyone have to call him ‘Mister’?"  

"So everyone in our class calls him ‘Xiao Xue’ (Little Snow). Otherwise, it sounds like he’s a whole generation older!"  

Xue Xiansheng.

Mo Xueyao silently repeated the name.  

If not for his obvious youth, his scholarly demeanor might actually suit the title "Mister."  

Surname: Xue (雪, Snow). Given name: Xiansheng (先生, Mister).  

She wondered what his parents had been thinking. Calling him by his full name practically invited being outranked!  

But Ye Wen seemed fond of addressing him that way.  

"Alright, Mr. Xue, you may sit. Next time you answer, no need to stand. That way, we show you proper respect," Ye Wen teased, making the usually composed Xue Xiansheng flush with awkwardness. He offered a sheepish smile and lowered his head to his textbook.  

Unlike the interminable math class, Chinese period flew by. When the bell rang, Mo Xueyao almost wished it could last longer.  

That feeling of wanting more was wonderful.  

If every teacher were like this, students would probably love attending class.  

But which teaching method was more efficient or helped students learn better… that was unclear.  

It explained why different teaching styles coexisted within the same school.  

The break after second period was a long one.  

Mo Xueyao headed to the bathroom alone but was caught up by Wang Jiale.  

"Xueyao! Why didn’t you call me to go to the bathroom?!"  

"……" Mo Xueyao was speechless.  

She found it odd why going to the bathroom required company…  

"Let’s go together~ I need to go too."  

"Okay…" So they arrived at the bathroom on their floor.  

A line had already formed outside the women’s bathroom.  

Mo Xueyao thought there wouldn’t be a queue if fewer girls treated bathroom trips as social events.  

In contrast, the men’s bathroom next door was practically empty.  

She watched boys walk in one after another, heard the brief rush of water, then saw them emerge refreshed.  

Being a boy really was better.

Efficient. Fast.

After all, they could just stand…  

Mo Xueyao felt a pang of nostalgia for her former life. Being a girl came with so many inconveniences.  

But now, she could only stand helplessly in the long line, feeling increasingly desperate.  

Thankfully, Wang Jiale was beside her, chattering away like a sparrow. The key was she could keep talking happily even without replies.  

So the wait wasn’t entirely boring.  

But the pressure was mounting.  

Mo Xueyao suspected her ability to hold it had weakened significantly after the surgery. Otherwise, why did she feel on the verge of bursting now, when she’d only felt a slight urge during the break?  

She subconsciously squeezed her legs together, shifting uncomfortably as she watched the line ahead.  

Finally, it was her turn. She dashed into a stall, lifted her skirt, and instinctively prepared to relieve herself standing up…