Chapter 14: Sigh! Class & Capitalism

By the fifth time Jiang Yi called out the name “Lu Weixi,” Lin Zhiyan had already spiritually died inside.

“Please answer this,” Jiang Yi said. “During the Old Era World War I just mentioned, what weapon used by the AI against humanity was classified by the World Climate Organization as the highest-level hazard? What kind of harm did it cause, and what were its long-term effects?”

The classroom stirred immediately. Students looked around at each other.

The Old Era wars were famous for turning the entire world into a battlefield. Both sides had used countless weapons and tactics; anyone could ramble on about them for ages. But the moment the World Climate Organization was mentioned, everyone got confused. The name sounded more like a group that handled weather forecasts or environmental awareness campaigns.

Clearly, this was an obscure topic.

Many students had already pulled out their terminals to search.

Lin Zhiyan stayed silent for a few seconds.

Jiang Yi raised a brow. “Sit do—”

“Could it be… the Norsarid Neurotoxin?”

Her tone carried uncertainty.

Jiang Yi looked at her and nodded.

Lin Zhiyan quietly let out a breath of relief.

“It was a biochemical weapon developed by the AI insurgents specifically against carbon-based lifeforms,” she explained. “It was usually paired with missiles or other explosive weapons. Humans exposed to it would gradually experience hallucinations, respiratory damage, poisoning symptoms, and so on.”

She paused before continuing.

“Compared to other weapons, Norsarid itself wasn’t actually impossible to cure with treatment. But the reason the World Climate Organization classified it as a top-level threat was because it caused irreversible damage to land and climate.”

“For example, it created the phenomenon known as ‘Rust Rain’—red-colored rainfall that corrodes buildings and leaves toxic rust-like residue on surfaces.”

Lin Zhiyan spoke slowly, but after saying such a long string of words, she suddenly felt short of breath.

She raised a brow slightly at Jiang Yi, lips pressed together to stop herself from looking too smug.

Didn’t expect me to know that, huh?

Got shown up, didn’t you?

Your attempt to make things difficult failed, huh?

Feeling bad now?

Inside, Lin Zhiyan was secretly delighted.

Jiang Yi noticed her raised eyebrow. After a few seconds, he said, “An absolutely perfect answer.”

Lin Zhiyan smiled. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so outstanding,” Jiang Yi said meaningfully. “Even this sort of obscure knowledge is familiar to you. Looks like Student Lu Weixi pays a lot of attention to climate issues.”

“Maybe it’s because District 16 still has Rust Rain seasons,” Lin Zhiyan replied sincerely after thinking for a moment. “Once Rust Rain starts, you can’t even leave the house. So… whether I want to care about climate or not, I still have to.”

Something flickered in Jiang Yi’s dark eyes.

Her expression was calm, as though she were casually explaining why one plus one equaled two.

Several seconds later, he finally looked away.

“Sit down.”

Lin Zhiyan relaxed.

That look earlier had felt like he was looking at a beggar. He was probably pitying her.

Good.

He probably wouldn’t call on her again now.

And she guessed right. For the next twenty minutes, Jiang Yi didn’t call “Lu Weixi” again. She could finally stop losing pieces of her soul.

His lectures were organized and engaging, nothing like how unbearable he was in private conversations. Fifteen minutes before class ended, he pulled out a stack of papers.

“This is a short quiz,” Jiang Yi said, glancing at his watch while passing the papers to the front rows. “Mostly multiple choice and short-answer questions. There aren’t many. Everything comes from the material I just covered. Anyone who listened carefully should remember it.”

“I’ve discussed it with the professor,” he continued. “This will count toward your participation grade, so please answer seriously. Once you hand it in, you may leave.”

The classroom erupted into another wave of protests.

“Ah?!”
“Teacher!”
“That’s not fair!”

But Jiang Yi was clearly the type who showed absolutely no mercy—and was irritating enough to deserve being cursed out.

Expressionless, nearly cold, he said:

“Timing starts now.”

Everyone immediately buried themselves in their papers. The room filled with rustling and scribbling. A few students tried peeking around, only to hear Jiang Yi’s icy voice:

“Keep your head down and work.”

Even stranger, he wasn’t even looking around the room. He was leaning against the podium staring at his terminal, yet somehow seemed to know everything happening in the classroom.

Lin Zhiyan privately concluded that Military-Political Department students probably had surveillance chips installed in their bodies.

She glanced through the questions and realized that while Jiang Yi was annoying, at least he still had basic morals. The test was indeed short, easy, and entirely based on what he had just taught.

She finished in under ten minutes.

Raising her hand to hand it in, she saw Jiang Yi walking toward her. He bent slightly and tapped the desk beside her with his knuckles.

“Lu Weixi? Hmm?”

His voice sounded almost like a whisper.

Lin Zhiyan said, “I want to hand in—”

“Stay after class.”

Then he left.

Lin Zhiyan: “…”

Detention. Sigh.

She folded the paper back up and checked it again out of boredom. After what felt like ten thousand years, class finally ended. Students gradually lined up to submit their papers and leave.

Eventually, only the two of them remained.

Wind drifted through the hallway, pushing the classroom door half open.

Lin Zhiyan walked to the podium with her test paper.

Jiang Yi stood and fully opened the half-closed door.

She found it a little funny.

“You’re very practiced at this.”

Jiang Yi raised a brow. “Even if I’m only a teaching assistant, I still possess the moral standards I should have.”

Returning to the podium, he looked at her.

“Go ahead.”

“Go ahead with what…” Lin Zhiyan sighed. “It’s exactly what you think. He gave me money and asked me to answer attendance for him.”

“You actually agreed?” Jiang Yi’s eyes carried mockery. “Wasn’t your backbone pretty strong?”

“I couldn’t really refuse.” Lin Zhiyan looked at him seriously. “He looked really anxious and begged me for help. Then he left immediately. Of course I thought he had an emergency. I figured doing it once wouldn’t get noticed. I didn’t expect…”

Jiang Yi waited for her to continue.

Lin Zhiyan lowered her eyes and sighed.

“Are you going to fail me?”

Then she looked back up, biting her lip with deliberate innocence.

“Report me? Expel me? Call the police?”

Jiang Yi heard the sarcasm immediately and frowned.

“I just wanted to understand the situation. There’s no need for you to be so hostile.”

“Fine.” The expression on Lin Zhiyan’s face faded. “So after understanding the situation, what excuse are you planning to use to make things difficult for me?”

Jiang Yi suddenly found himself speechless.

“You think I kept you behind just to make things difficult for you?”

“Otherwise?” Her words carried sharp thorns. “It’s not like you’ve never done it before.”

Again, Jiang Yi didn’t know what to say.

He felt irritated, though he couldn’t tell whether it was because of her barbs or something else entirely.

In the end, he held out his hand.

She passed him the paper.

After only a few glances, Lin Zhiyan immediately asked:

“You’re not secretly giving me a zero, right?”

Jiang Yi: “…”

The fire in his chest shot straight to his head.

“Lin Zhiyan!” He took a deep breath and looked up at her. “Are you done yet? I already told you before—since you managed to get away with it, I wouldn’t keep pursuing it, and I certainly wouldn’t use this as an excuse now.”

“I know exactly what you think of me. Unfortunately, I don’t care. But you’d better hide those thoughts well, because I do know how to use power to make your life miserable.”

His expression remained calm, his dark eyes fixed on her as he delivered the cold warning.

But after he finished, she merely blinked.

Not intimidated in the slightest.

Not even angry.

Instead, there was a smile at the corner of her lips.

Jiang Yi laughed from sheer frustration.

“What are you laughing at?”

“I’m laughing because you’re annoyed too,” Lin Zhiyan said, leaning against the corner of the podium. “You obviously know I’m not called Lu Weixi, but you still called me that five times. And every time you picked those obscure questions for me—did you think I wasn’t angry?”

Her smile widened.

She lowered her eyes toward the paper in his hand, strands of hair falling onto his shoulder.

“I may not have power. But apparently I can still make you feel miserable too.”

Jiang Yi caught the faint scent of herbs and mint from her for only a brief instant.

He turned his head away. The anger she had provoked had already cooled, yet his body still felt oddly light and unsteady, like air leaking out of him.

“If being called by someone else’s name bothers you so much,” he said, “then stay away from Lu Weixi, Miss Lu Weixi Lin.”

“Sounds like you really dislike him.” Lin Zhiyan paused, smiling. “After all, what you said wasn’t ‘don’t help people answer attendance again.’”

“You’d better not do it again.”

After saying it, he added:

“You are not allowed to do it again.”

The second sentence was supposed to sound harsher, but somehow it came out even weaker.

Jiang Yi found the whole situation strange, so he focused entirely on grading her paper.

Three minutes later, he looked up.

“You’re far more outstanding than I imagined.”

“Maybe we students from the Humanities Department are simply good at obeying and listening in class.”

Those had been his own earlier words.

Jiang Yi was momentarily choked silent, but didn’t get angry.

“Your strategic policy analysis in the short-answer section is very insightful. You may leave. But remember—if this happens again, I’ll fail you.”

“Then you’ll understand why I’m so practiced at opening doors and talking to students after class.”

Meaning: he had failed many students before, and plenty had privately begged him afterward.

Lin Zhiyan understood immediately and smiled as she stood to leave.

But after only a few steps, Jiang Yi stopped her.

“Lin Zhiyan.”

After thinking for a moment, he said:

“Leave me your contact information.”

He continued, “I’m only the teaching assistant, and this course was originally supposed to be taught by Professor Tang. But he got into a car accident this morning, so I’ll be the main lecturer for quite a while.”

“I need you to act as an assistant and help handle some of the TA work.”

Lin Zhiyan turned around blankly.

“So I’m outsourced labor for outsourced labor?”

Jiang Yi found the description unexpectedly funny and let out a quiet laugh.

He nodded.

“I’ll transfer the TA salary to you.”

Lin Zhiyan widened her eyes.

“You’re not even taking half?”

“Do you think I need that salary?” Jiang Yi asked.

Then he added:

“And I think you need it more.”

After a pause, he supplemented the statement.

“Your abilities are worth it.”

Lin Zhiyan: “…Oh. Right.”

Damn Celestial Dragon aristocrat. Showing superiority again, huh?

Still, considering he corrected himself afterward—and because she genuinely needed money—she decided not to argue and happily exchanged contact information before leaving.

The lecture hall stood empty, gauzy curtains fluttering in the wind.

Jiang Yi organized the materials, changed into his uniform in the lounge, and drove away.

But when he arrived outside the council building, he couldn’t resist opening his terminal and looking at the newly added contact.

Something about it felt strangely subtle.

True, she was capable enough for the job. Hiring her made sense. But the school could have transferred payment directly instead of… doing it this way.

Still, she was undeniably talented.

Maybe he was just helping her. Supporting her. Whatever.

He shoved the thought aside and entered the council chamber.

He was too busy to dwell on such things.

The afternoon sunlight was brilliant.

First period after lunch always made people drowsy.

Lin Zhiyan wandered sleepily into her new elective classroom. But the moment she stepped inside, a light voice sounded behind her.

“Lin Zhiyan.”

She turned around.

Instantly, all traces of drowsiness vanished.

It was Li Siheng.

His expression was calm, gray-black eyes fixed on her as he curved his lips slightly.

“What a coincidence. Let’s sit together.”

Lin Zhiyan desperately wanted to refuse. But now that she knew he had been her former deskmate, she realized refusing probably wouldn’t work. Someone capable of twenty-four-hour high-intensity surveillance wasn’t exactly easy to reject.

So she nodded.

Soon, the two of them took seats in the back row.

The moment he sat down, Li Siheng smiled faintly.

Lin Zhiyan looked at him. He returned her gaze.

“It feels a little like when we used to sit together.”

“Haha,” she replied dryly, praying internally.

Please let this be an easy class.

Then she could just sleep through it and avoid talking to him entirely.

Before learning Li Siheng’s true identity, she had mostly felt disgust toward him.

After learning it, what she felt was more helplessness.

She didn’t want to face him.

She wished the past could remain buried forever.

Unfortunately, the world never obeyed her wishes. It always pushed back instead.

So only two minutes after they sat down, she saw two familiar heads of red hair walk into the classroom.

Lin Zhiyan immediately used her old trick—supporting her forehead with one hand and staring out the window as though hypnotized by the scenery.

Until Li Siheng suddenly laughed softly beside her.

“You’re scared?”

She lowered her head and glanced at him.

“Scared of what?”

Then she added:

“Le Mans already knows.”

Light and shadow crossed Li Siheng’s face as strands of hair fell beside his cheeks.

“So you’re afraid I’ll keep pestering you and ruin things between you and him?”

“…No.” Lin Zhiyan took a deep breath. “I’m just tired.”

“Oh.” His tone rose slightly. “I already told you. I won’t do anything.”

Then he lifted his hand and waved toward the distance.

“Le Mans, Ai Wen, over here.”

Lin Zhiyan: “…”

Aaaargh!

Li Siheng looked at her seriously, though there was strange amusement in his eyes.

“You should act more natural. Otherwise they’ll misunderstand, won’t they?”

Before she could answer, Le Mans and Ai Wen had already walked over.

“You picked this class too?” Lin Zhiyan asked weakly.

Ai Wen nodded.

“Yeah. I was just wondering where you were.”

But Le Mans stared directly at Li Siheng’s seat with folded arms.

“I was bored, so I came to accompany Li Siheng.”

“Looks like you wanted to surprise me,” Li Siheng replied with a smile.

Le Mans frowned when Li Siheng made no move to stand up. He looked ready to explode.

But after thinking for a second, he swallowed whatever he had wanted to say and instead walked to the seat in front of Lin Zhiyan.

Then he turned around and sprawled directly across her desk.

Lin Zhiyan froze.

Most of Le Mans’ face was hidden behind his arm. His green eyes gleamed beneath messy red hair as he looked at her.

“The sun’s too bright,” he muttered. “It’s hot. If I stay like this, the sunlight won’t hit my face.”

…What a terrible excuse.

Lin Zhiyan lifted the hair from his forehead with her pen.

“How about now?”

“A little cooler,” he answered. “Just a little.”

Ai Wen sat beside Le Mans, turned sideways, and watched their interaction silently. Whatever she originally wanted to say got swallowed back down.

She lowered her head, feeling stuffy inside.

She had originally thought she and Lin Zhiyan could sit together and talk a lot.

But now she couldn’t enter Lin Zhiyan’s world at all.

Ai Wen bit her lip.

Beside them, Li Siheng held a fountain pen as though reading, but ink had already spread into a large blot on the page.

He lifted a hand to his forehead, fingers hooking strands of hair away from his face. His lips pressed together, breathing slightly uneven.

Buzz buzz buzz—

Lin Zhiyan’s terminal vibrated.

She pulled it out and checked.

[Jiang Yi: 【File】]
[Jiang Yi: These are some details regarding the assistant position. You can read through them when you have time—what you’ll be responsible for, approximate salary, and so on.]

[yzy: Okay, I’ll look when I’m free.]
[Jiang Yi: Mm.]

The conversation ended there.

Just as Lin Zhiyan was about to lock the screen, another message popped up.

[Jiang Yi: What does the character combination in your name mean?]
[Jiang Yi: Is it some encrypted password? It doesn’t match your initials.]

[yzy: Oh, it’s an emoticon.]
[Jiang Yi: ?]
[yzy: YzY]
[yzy: It’s a pouting crying face. Can’t you see it?]

[Jiang Yi: …]
[Jiang Yi: No.]

Tsk.

What a boring person.

Lin Zhiyan turned off the screen, only to hear Le Mans ask:

“Who are you chatting with?”

“A classmate,” she answered casually.

“Which classmate?” Le Mans pressed. Then he turned his head. “Ai Wen, look. Tell me which classmate it is.”

Ai Wen blinked in confusion. “Who?”

Lin Zhiyan: “…”

Wait.

Was this seriously becoming an interrogation already?!

While her brain spun frantically, another voice suddenly cut in.

“Le Mans,” Li Siheng said lightly, “I’m very curious. What exactly is the relationship between you two?”

Lin Zhiyan looked over and saw pure confusion painted across his face.

At that moment, her heart shattered into pieces.

She realized this sentence would become the bugle call of war.

And sure enough, Le Mans exploded.

“What relationship?” Fire burned in his eyes as he pressed his lips together. “Whatever relationship we have has nothing to do with you, right?”

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