Math Teacher, Please Get Lost (GL) - Chapter 11

In the blink of an eye, it was already midterm exam time. During the last monthly test, the kids in Yao Shuhan’s class had done really well—they placed third among the parallel classes. But the kids in Class Twelve had done even better, taking second place.

The moment the rankings were posted, Shu Yan rushed up to the third floor to find Yao Shuhan, waving a crumpled piece of paper back and forth in her face. She shook it so hard that it gave Yao Shuhan a headache. With one hand, Yao pushed it aside.
“Enough, I saw it. Why are you waving it like that? Aren’t you annoying?”

Shu Yan didn’t care in the least. She leaned across the desk, pointing at the column where the homeroom teachers’ names were listed, chanting under her breath:
“See here—Shu Yan, Yao Shuhan. Ha! I’m on top of you!”

“……”

Yin Dapeng, who was drinking water, puffed out his cheeks. He nearly sprayed the tea all over Teacher Lei’s face sitting opposite him. What kind of nonsense was this?!

The other teachers in the office turned their heads, their eyes full of curiosity and disbelief.

Zhao Tongtong, being sharp, immediately noticed Yao Shuhan’s lips pressed into a thin line—sign that the great talent was about to explode. Under the desk, she gave Shu Yan’s pants a tug, her face fixed in a big smile.
“Shu Yan, you’re so funny, haha.”

Shu Yan didn’t notice the warning tug at all. Seeing Zhao Tongtong smile at her, she honestly thought it was praise for her wit. She lifted her chin proudly.
“Right?”

Zhao Tongtong almost choked on her own laughter. She was anxious on Shu Yan’s behalf—come on, can’t you read the room? When the first attempt at a hint failed, Zhao Tongtong tried again, waggling her eyebrows.
“But let’s not jinx it—Shuhan, work harder, and Class Thirteen can take first place in the midterms!”

“Haha.” Shu Yan straightened up, leaned against the desk, and shook the ranking sheet smugly.
“Won’t work. No matter how much she struggles, she’s still underneath me!”

Pfft—

Yin Dapeng, who had been holding it in for ages, finally couldn’t resist. He sprayed another mouthful of water straight across at poor Teacher Lei.

Teacher Lei froze on the spot. Yin Dapeng scrambled to hand him tissues, apologizing non-stop:
“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t hold it—”

Meanwhile, Yao Shuhan’s lips had curved further—but downward this time.

Zhao Tongtong panicked. She tugged Shu Yan’s sleeve and whispered:
“Shu Yan, mind your words.”

Shu Yan was completely confused. She didn’t feel like she had said anything wrong.
“What? What did I say wrong?”

She lifted her eyelids again, started shaking the paper, and even pulled a fountain pen from Yao Shuhan’s pen holder. She circled “Shu Yan” and “Yao Shuhan” on the sheet and slapped it down on the desk.
“See? Shu Yan is on top, Yao Shuhan is on the bottom. And you, Zhao Tongtong, are even on top of Yin Dapeng!”

Pfft—

This time, Yin Dapeng didn’t even try to hold it back. The moment Shu Yan’s words landed, the water he had just gulped down sprayed out again.

Teacher Lei’s face darkened instantly, his glare murderous: Yin, you damned bird, you and I are not done here!

Yin Dapeng was crying inside, frantically offering tissues.
“My bad, Lao Lei, my bad! Please, don’t be angry—”

“……” Zhao Tongtong froze for two seconds, then burst out laughing. She doubled over, holding her waist, nearly splitting her sides.
“Oh my god, Shu Yan, the way you said that—brilliant, just brilliant!”

Shu Yan tilted her head smugly.
“Hehe, thanks for the compliment.”

The others just shook their heads. The language teachers in the office all assumed this young math teacher’s… way with words was simply very creative.

But let’s be clear—among those language teachers was not Yao Shuhan!

“Shu Yan.” Yao Shuhan tilted her chin ever so slightly, her fine brows arched upward.
“How many points did you even get in Chinese on your college entrance exam for D University to have accepted you?”

Shu Yan blinked, her eyes lighting up with delight.
“How did you know I went to D University?”

Oh, crap. She’d slipped. There was no way Yao Shuhan could admit: The year you graduated, I stayed glued to the school’s admissions page every day, just to see which university you got into.

Her tongue stumbled before she forced it out:
“I… I just know. So? How many points? Or did you not even pass and can’t bear to say it?”

What?! Daring to imply she failed Chinese? Sure, she was terrible with classical texts and essays, but she never actually failed! Shu Yan huffed. Yao Shuhan, how dare you look down on me?

“Who says I failed? I scored ninety-three!”

“……” Yao Shuhan suddenly didn’t know how to respond…

Shu Yan frowned. She felt that Yao Shuhan’s hesitant silence was dismissive, and she hated being ignored or looked down on—especially by Yao Shuhan.

She slapped the desk, defending herself loudly:
“I got 148 in math, a perfect score in physics, and I even won first prize in the national math Olympiad! So what if my Chinese was a bit lower—I made up for it! What, you think you’re so much better just because you’re good at Chinese? That maxes out at only a bit over 130! If you’ve got the guts, tell me what you scored in math!”

Yao Shuhan’s face hardened. She sneered.
“Oh, Teacher Shu, you really are amazing. Don’t forget, you also invented that little gadget to test battery power. You can change lightbulbs, kill cockroaches. My math is bad, yes. On the entrance exam I barely scraped into three digits. Just—barely—above—passing!”

Shu Yan gaped theatrically.
“Oh! Yao Laoshi, you actually broke into triple digits on math! When I was class rep, I remember always seeing a few people in the double digits. One of them was—”

“Teacher Shu!” Yao Shuhan shot to her feet, smiling coldly as she gestured politely to the door.
“This is the third-floor language office. Math teachers, please leave.”

“Yao Laoshi, I’m still a teacher. Teachers can enter any office. You can’t kick me out.”

“The first floor is science, the second is history, the third is languages. Since the school set it up this way, as teachers we should set an example and follow the rules. Teacher Shu, please return.”

“Yao Laoshi, why be so petty? We’re colleagues. A little communication is good for everyone!”

“Thanks, but since our fields are completely different, there’s nothing for us to communicate about.”

“Yao Laoshi, you can’t be like this!”

“……”

Midterm exam day.

Yao Shuhan sliced open the seal on the test papers with her small knife, divided them up, and handed them out. She settled in with a copy of Youth Digest to supervise.

The bell rang. The students started writing.

It was an English exam. Soon, the listening section began over the loudspeakers.

Just as it reached the key part, an extremely loud noise broke the silence:
“Hoooonk—”
In the third row against the wall, a girl pulled out a big pack of tissues, grabbed three at a time, clamped them to her nose, and blew so loudly it drowned out options A, B, C, and D.

Several students had just caught the keywords and were about to mark their answers when—“Hoooonk—” All gone.

Finally, the girl sitting next to the “snot monster” couldn’t take it anymore. She raised her hand.
“Teacher, I want to file a complaint.” She pointed at the girl. “She’s ruining our exam!”

Yao Shuhan froze. First time she’d ever encountered something like this. How was she supposed to handle it?

Once one student spoke up, others who had been fuming followed, demanding the listening section be replayed.

Yao shook her head. That wouldn’t do. The school had rules—if anyone could demand a delay, the whole system would collapse.

She clapped her hands.
“Alright, quiet down. Focus on the rest of the test. It’s not entirely her fault—she’s sick, she’s uncomfortable. Please be understanding. Yes, you may lose a few points on this section, and that’s unfortunate, but that’s life. Out in society, you’ll encounter all sorts of unavoidable things—you have to learn to accept them. Now hurry and finish your test.”

The students only wanted to vent their frustration; no one really expected the rules to bend. Hearing her words, they calmed down and bent back over their papers.

Relieved, Yao glanced at the girl by the wall. A whole pack of tissues had already dwindled to two-thirds. She blew her nose and stuffed the used ones in the desk. Whoever owned that desk was in for a nasty surprise.

Yao sighed, shaking her head, then went back to flipping through her magazine. Still an hour or two to go.

After a few pages, nothing caught her interest. At the door, someone was hovering suspiciously. She ignored it, eyes on the page.

“Yao—Lao—shi—” A deliberately low, drawn-out voice came from the doorway.

Rubbing her temples, Yao turned her head.
“Shu Yan, what do you want now?”

Shu Yan leaned on the doorframe, blinking dramatically, and crooked her finger.
“Come here a sec.”

Yao glanced at the students—everyone was buried in their papers. She walked to the door and glared.
“What are you doing? You should be watching your students. Don’t bother me. Are you crazy?”

Shu Yan pouted.
“Yao Laoshi, how many times have I told you—you’re a literature teacher, you can’t use crude words. And how can you call me crazy? Think about it—if you remember that you once liked someone, and then realize that someone’s a lunatic, wouldn’t that hurt you? And besides—”

“Can you shut up? Just say what you came for. I’m invigilating. Go back.”

Shu Yan pursed her lips in grievance.
“Fine.” She fished a little green packet out of her purse and held it out with a bright smile.
“Here, Yao Laoshi—have one. Green Arrow for a green mood~”

Yao blinked, taking the stick of Wrigley’s gum from her palm. With a click of her tongue, she slipped it into her bag.
“Alright, good mood, good mood. Now scram.”

“Hehe, I’m going, I’m going.” Shu Yan walked a couple steps, then turned back.
“Shuhan, just wait—at the midterms, I’ll be on top again~”

“Get lost!”

Yao tried to recall who had taught Class One’s Chinese back in high school. To think they could produce someone like Shu Yan… For a person whose language skills were this catastrophically bad to even survive in today’s highly civilized world was a miracle.

She sat back down, flipped a couple more pages, then gave up and stood to pace around.

After two rounds, she was bored again. With nothing better to do, she slipped to the back door and pulled out the Green Arrow Shu Yan had given her.

A slim green stick with a dark green double-arrow logo, white lettering across the middle, and two little red hearts at the ends.

“I want to be good to you.”

Yao stared at the neat white letters, the corners of her mouth slowly tugging upward.

But just as quickly, she erased the smile, face flattening into a mask, muttering under her breath:
“Who shows up during an exam just to give gum? Shu Yan, you’re seriously messed up.”