To the students of Grade One, Class 14, a single class period had never passed so quickly, nor had it ever been so bizarre.
Yang Mingyu didn't delve into profound mathematical theories, nor did he even touch upon the example problems in the textbook. He simply used an extremely plain, almost dry tone to explain the most basic high school mathematics study methods—how to preview, how to listen in class, how to take notes, and how to organize incorrect problems.
They had heard these contents from elementary school through middle school, and their ears had long since grown thick calluses. If any other teacher had lectured on this, the classroom would have been filled with sleeping students within three minutes.
But today, not a single person fell asleep.
Not even a single person zoned out.
Everyone sat upright, like a group of elementary school students attending their first class, with their ears perked, listening to these 'platitudes' they once scoffed at. They didn't dare not to listen, because the man on the podium had just personally overturned their worldview. They were afraid that if they weren't careful, they would miss some crucial information that could 'rewrite the script.'
This highly concentrated mental state made them feel as if an age had passed when the dismissal bell rang.
When Yang Mingyu, holding his textbook, uttered the words "Class dismissed" and turned to leave the classroom, the entire class remained in an eerie silence. It wasn't until his back completely disappeared at the doorway that the tightly strung bowstring finally released with a 'buzz.'
"Whew—"
A long, relieved sigh echoed through the classroom.
"My... my god, my back is drenched in sweat!"
"This teacher... is he a devil? I didn't even dare to breathe just now!"
"How did he know all those things? It's too bizarre!"
The discussions, suppressed for an entire class, erupted like a bursting dam. Students gathered in twos and threes, excitedly and quietly discussing everything that had just happened. Everyone's face was a mixture of excitement, lingering fear, and intense curiosity.
Wang Hao did not participate in any discussions. He just sat blankly in his seat, the two endings Yang Mingyu had spoiled for him echoing repeatedly in his mind. Bankruptcy... or glory? This multiple-choice question weighed heavily on his heart like a mountain. For the first time, he realized that his father's seemingly indestructible business empire might just be a sandcastle in the wind.
Lin Tian, in the corner, silently pulled out his GBA, turned it on, then off, repeating the action. What appeared in his mind was not game graphics, but Yang Mingyu's calm and profound eyes. He tried to analyze this teacher with his meticulous logic, only to find that the other party was a 'BUG-level existence' that could not be categorized or predicted.
And Zhao Min silently put her small knife, carved with countless marks, into the deepest part of her pencil case.
Grade One, Class 14, the class widely recognized by the entire school as a "garbage dump," was quietly undergoing some invisible chemical reaction on the first day of school.
However, the center of this storm—Yang Mingyu—could not enjoy a moment of peace.
No sooner had he stepped into the teachers' office than he was called out.
"Teacher Yang, please wait."
A slightly slick voice came from behind him.
Yang Mingyu turned around and saw a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and sporting a beer belly, looking at him with a forced smile.
Wang Haide, Director of the Moral Education Office.
In his previous life, this old fox had often made things difficult for him. He was best at mediating, playing tai chi, flattering superiors, and pressuring subordinates.
"Director Wang, are you looking for me?" Yang Mingyu's expression was calm, as if he didn't recognize the person in front of him at all.
"Oh, it's young Teacher Yang!" Wang Haide enthusiastically walked up and patted Yang Mingyu's shoulder intimately, with such force and familiarity that it seemed they were old friends of different generations. "How's it going? First day taking over Class 14, everything smooth?"
"It's good," Yang Mingyu replied blandly.
"Good is good, good is good." Wang Haide nodded with a smile, pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses, a shrewd light glinting in the small eyes behind the lenses. "Young people, just starting work, full of drive and enthusiasm, that's a good thing. However, as an older colleague, there are some things I need to clear up with you."
He pulled Yang Mingyu to an empty corner of the office, lowered his voice, and said in a heartfelt tone, "Young Yang, you might not know yet, but this Class 14 you've taken over... is a bit special."
He deliberately drew out his words, observing Yang Mingyu's reaction.
"The students in this class, how should I put it? Sigh..." He let out a heavy sigh, a 'my heart aches for you' expression on his face. "They are all 'problem students' that our school had no choice but to admit through various channels. Either they are troublemakers from wealthy and influential families, or they are stubborn blockheads who can't grasp things, or they are marginalized individuals with psychological issues. In short, it's a 'dumpster.'"
He said the words "dumpster" lightly, yet they were full of undisguised disdain and contempt.
"So, young Teacher Yang," Wang Haide's tone became earnest, "the school leadership doesn't have too high expectations for this class. Our requirements are very simple, just two."
He held up two fingers.
"First, ensure safety. No fighting or causing trouble in school."
"Second, a smooth transition. Just make sure they can successfully get their high school diplomas."
"As for academic performance..." Wang Haide scoffed and waved his hand. "You, don't bother with that. Those kids, you can't teach them well in a few classes. As long as you keep an eye on them and prevent any incidents, that's a great achievement! Getting through these three years smoothly is better than anything. Do you understand what I mean?"
These words were almost identical to what Yang Mingyu had heard in his previous life.
In his previous life, he, young and impetuous, felt utterly disheartened upon hearing these words. He felt his passion for education was doused from head to toe by a basin of cold, dirty water of bureaucracy and self-interest. It was from that moment on that he began to entertain the thought of giving up on Class 14.
But this time, Yang Mingyu's heart was calm, even finding it a bit laughable.
He looked at Wang Haide's slick face, at his condescending 'I'm giving you advice' expression, and calmly interrupted him.
"Director Wang."
Wang Haide, in the middle of his enthusiastic speech, was slightly startled by the calm address. "Hmm? What is it?"
"I understand what you mean." Yang Mingyu's gaze met Wang Haide's small eyes hidden behind his glasses, his voice not loud, but firm and clear. "However, my view might be a bit different from yours and the school leadership's."
Wang Haide's smile froze for a moment. "Oh? Is that so? Then what's your brilliant idea, young Teacher Yang?" His tone already carried a hint of imperceptible displeasure.
"I have no brilliant ideas." Yang Mingyu shook his head, his tone, however, was exceptionally firm. "I only believe one thing—students are not garbage; every single person is a genius."
This statement, in any educational setting, is absolutely "politically correct." But coming from Yang Mingyu's mouth, coupled with his calm yet undeniable gaze, it made Wang Haide feel a hint of offended provocation.
"Director Wang, I don't think the children in Class 14 are garbage," Yang Mingyu continued. "They are just lost at an age when they most need guidance. What they need is not supervision, not abandonment, but an opportunity."
"An opportunity to prove themselves."
The smile on Wang Haide's face completely vanished.
He stared at this young man, who didn't know the immensity of heaven and earth, in silence for a full five seconds. Other teachers in the office also felt the low pressure from their side and cast curious glances.
Suddenly, Wang Haide laughed.
He laughed again, but this time, there was no trace of "enthusiasm" in his smile; instead, it was filled with disdain, sarcasm, and a kind of pity as if looking at an idiot.
"Heh heh... heh heh heh..." He shook his head, as if he had heard the funniest joke of the year. "Young man, having drive and ideals is a good thing. Really, it's a good thing."
He patted Yang Mingyu's shoulder again, but this time the gesture was like dusting off some non-existent dirt.
"But, ideals are plump, reality is bony. Once you truly deal with those little ancestors for a long time, you'll know how golden the advice I'm giving you today is."
He straightened up, adjusted his collar with a condescending posture.
"Alright, I've delivered my message. You're on your own."
He paused, as if remembering something, and added, "Oh, right, there's a grade-level meeting at four this afternoon. All Grade One homeroom teachers must attend. You'll also get to hear how other veteran teachers who teach regular classes 'educate' their students."
With that, Wang Haide no longer looked at Yang Mingyu, puffed out his beer belly, and slowly ambled back to his seat with an official gait.
He knew he didn't need to say anything more.
Reality would teach this naive young man the most profound lesson.
In the office, some veteran teachers who had overheard parts of their conversation looked at Yang Mingyu's back, showing expressions of either sympathy or amusement.
"Another one who wants to save the world."
"Tsk tsk, still too young, doesn't know how deep the waters of Class 14 are."
"Just wait, in less than a month, this young man's edges will be smoothed out."
Yang Mingyu was oblivious to the whispers around him. He simply walked calmly back to his desk, pulled out his chair, sat down, and began to methodically organize his lesson plans.
On his face, there was no anger, no frustration, not even the slightest emotional fluctuation.
He knew that Wang Haide's "concern" was just an appetizer.
The real main course was the grade-level meeting in the afternoon.
There, he had another "old friend" he needed to confront head-on.
Liu Feng, the homeroom teacher of Class 1, the honors class.
A veteran teacher with excellent teaching abilities, but who was also harsh, narrow-minded, and utterly looked down upon so-called "poor students."
In his previous life, he had often used the "rottenness" of Class 14 in public to highlight the "excellence" of his honors class.
The corners of Yang Mingyu's mouth curved into a nearly imperceptible smile.
He picked up the cup of tea on his desk, which had long since gone cold, and took a small sip.
Very good.
Everything was exactly as in the script he remembered.
Then, let this storm rage even more fiercely.
He had waited thirty years.