They Dumped Me—Now They’re Reincarnated and Obsessed? - Chapter 9
During morning reading, Mei Jian noticed something was off with Xie Tingxue.
“What’s wrong?”
Xie Tingxue paused. “Nothing. I didn’t sleep well.”
She didn’t want Mei Jian to know what had happened in the dorm the night before. She was ashamed of that helpless, weak version of herself, and didn’t want him to see it.
People are strange like that—the more your dignity is trampled, the more you cling to pride.
Xie Tingxue had a strong sense of self-respect. It was already humiliating enough that Mei Jian knew she was being ostracized in class; she refused to let him know how things were in the dorm too.
“You don’t need to memorize that grammar,” Mei Jian said, sliding a notebook toward her. Inside was a transcribed English article. “Memorize this instead. I’ll burn the audio onto an MP3 for you next week.”
Xie Tingxue hesitated.
“Trust me,” Mei Jian said. “Otherwise, your English won’t improve.”
Meanwhile, Yan Ze didn’t come in through the front door like usual. He slinked in from the back and sat silently during morning reading, eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.
The English teacher arrived for morning inspection and saw Yan Ze sleeping through class. She thought of how she had to get up at 5 a.m. in the freezing cold—just weeks after maternity leave—to supervise this, and her anger surged. She kicked Yan Ze’s chair with her high heels.
He looked up, confused.
The reflection of her glasses glinted. “You’re the new transfer student, right? Just arrived and already sleeping in class. Why transfer at all? What’s the point?”
Yan Ze muttered, “I’m just tired…”
The teacher kicked his chair again, harder this time. “Still talking back?! If you’re tired, go home and sleep! What are you doing here—putting on a show? You think it’s easy being a teacher? I wake up before five, can’t even take care of my own kid, and rush here just to teach you—and this is the thanks I get?!”
The classroom fell silent.
“Keep reading!” she snapped. “Who told you to stop?!”
Yan Ze stood up after a long pause.
He was a full head taller than the teacher, and she instinctively took a step back.
Before she could react, he said gently, “You’ve got it rough… I wouldn’t have thought about this before—would’ve argued with you. But now, I get it. Adults really do have it harder. Thank you, teacher.”
The teacher was stunned.
His tone and expression were sincere, with a surprising softness that felt oddly out of place on a rebellious-looking boy—but she could tell he wasn’t joking.
Yan Ze continued, “My English is actually decent. I know all the vocab. I just wanted to use this time to catch a little more sleep. It’s not that I don’t want to study. But now, I won’t sleep anymore. I should respect your effort. Otherwise, your job’s just too thankless.”
Then, true to his word, he sat down and started reading aloud.
The surrounding students, many of whom had only been pretending to read, stared at him like he’d grown another head. The room went unusually quiet.
At the front of the class, Mei Jian turned his head, unsure what had just happened. He saw the English teacher frozen beside Yan Ze’s desk while Yan Ze read aloud from an English article.
Listening for a moment, Mei Jian’s breath caught.
Yan Ze’s English was… professional. At least his spoken English was. It was obvious he’d received serious training.
Suddenly, Mei Jian recalled an entertainment news story from years ago: After Yan Ze became famous, he aimed to break into the international scene. For a major Hollywood role, he hired a team of language coaches and practiced relentlessly.
He eventually landed the part, turned his reputation around, and rode the momentum to become a cultural ambassador for both countries. He even became the face of a language school, whose stock soared after his endorsement.
Snap— Mei Jian broke another pen in his hand.
From the corner of her eye, Xie Tingxue saw it and thought nervously, “I knew those one-yuan pens were too fragile. Next time, I’ll buy the two-yuan ones…”
Second period was English class.
The English teacher looked exhausted, like she had a lot to say but couldn’t find the words. She held it in the entire period. When class ended, she quietly assigned homework and left without a word.
Third period was Chinese.
The beautiful Chinese teacher kept stealing glances at Yan Ze, a mysterious smile lingering on her face.
Near the end of class, she finally couldn’t help but say, “The most fulfilling part of being a teacher is watching students grow and change for the better. I once read a quote: ‘If you’ve made up your mind to do something, the best time to start is now. It’s never too late.’”
She glanced across the room. “Some of you are giving us real hope. Teachers don’t ask much, but when we are truly understood, it gives us the strength to keep going—no matter how hard it is.”
She came this close to praising someone by name.
But Yan Ze wasn’t even listening.
His mind was racing, desperate for class to end so he could sprint out of school and shave off the ridiculous bird’s nest on his head.