Transformed into a High School Deep Closet Goddess Teacher in a Hot Romance with a Scumbag Girlfriend - Chapter 1

After all these years, the person in her dream was still her.

Sheng Xining felt a pang of frustration as she tried to suppress the lingering palpitations from the dream. Groggily, she ran a hand through her disheveled hair and noticed the faint light of dawn seeping through the fluttering curtains—fresh and tinged with blue.

Instinctively, she opened her mouth and stretched her arms to yawn—

“Ah—”

Before she could even finish the motion, a soft, drowsy murmur sounded alarmingly close to her. The voice, thick with sleep, seemed to grumble about being disturbed by her sudden movement. The vibration of a woman’s morning voice, pressed against the skin of her lower abdomen, sent a tingling sensation creeping up her body…

…Wait, what?

Sheng Xining froze, her gaze blank like a dead fish. After a few seconds, her eyes slowly, jerkily trailed downward. Without thinking, she lifted the corner of the blanket—only to find a beautiful, sleep-mussed head resting on her stomach, draped in a silver-white silk nightgown.

In the dim, warm cocoon of the covers, the woman blinked up at her with cold yet drowsy eyes. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment before the woman reached out and helpfully tugged the blanket open a little more.

“You’re awake?”

Without waiting for an answer, the woman nestled her chin back against Sheng Xining’s stomach like a cat, closing her eyes with a satisfied flutter of lashes, as if quietly awaiting a response.

Sheng Xining: “…………”

This scene wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. The heart-pounding thrill from her earlier spring dream suddenly surged back through her body without warning. Sheng Xining could clearly feel her bl00d pulsing excitedly, her temperature rising in increments.

What the hell? A dream within a dream? Since when was she this skilled?

Had she unknowingly unlocked some advanced dreaming technique after all these years of… ahem, practice?

Weird, why hadn’t she woken up yet?

The woman’s warm breath fanned against her navel in rhythmic puffs. Damn, it tickled—it felt way too real.

Wait, had she… time-traveled back?

Sheng Xining muttered to herself internally, torn between whether this was a dream or reality. Just then, a sharp, lightning-like pain shot through her stomach.

She immediately looked down—only to see Ji Bingyan baring her pearly white teeth, nipping at a tiny patch of Sheng Xining’s skin. With a challenging smirk, she mumbled, “Sheng Xining, why do you never change? Always ignoring people after the fact.”

“?”

“Answer me. Say, ‘I’m awake.’ Three simple words—” Ji Bingyan’s mesmerizing eyes narrowed coldly as she tilted her head and tugged at the skin again. “Is it that hard?”

“Ah—!” Sheng Xining yelped, tears springing to her eyes from the pain. She bolted upright as if possessed by her high school self and reflexively shouted, “M-Miss Ji, I-I’m sorry!” She was this close to bowing in apology, scrambling off the bed, and facing the wall in repentance.

The air visibly shuddered at her words before settling into an eerie silence—

In those suspended seconds, memories and thoughts stretched infinitely, magnified. Now 24 years old, Sheng Xining felt the past shoot straight through her heart yet again—for the thousandth time.

Ji Bingyan—the goddess teacher who captivated the entire school during her high school years, the very definition of a privileged child, the synonym for purity and nobility, the embodiment of elegance and allure, the closest thing to an enchantress.

This woman, effortlessly graceful and utterly unaware, dominated Sheng Xining’s adolescent fantasies for a full three years—over a thousand days and nights—draining every ounce of her youthful desire for romance, single-handedly absorbing the abundant, secret, yet ceaseless surge of teenage hormones.

Yes, a full three years.

If there was ever a day she was spared, it was the day before the start of her first year of high school, when she hadn’t yet met Ji Bingyan.

As for why she fell for her? Simply put, it was love at first sight.

No deep backstory, no gradual buildup—16-year-old Sheng Xining was just that shallow and straightforward, instantly smitten by the 25-year-old Ji Bingyan.

She became one of the countless ordinary admirers bewitched by the goddess Ji.

Years later, Sheng Xining could still vividly recall the first time she saw Ji Bingyan. Under the morning sunlight, Teacher Ji, dressed in a simple dress, held a pristine white chalk and wrote her name on the blackboard.

Turning around with a faint, gentle smile, her gaze cool yet tender, she said, “My name is Ji Bingyan. I’ll be your homeroom teacher and Chinese literature instructor. Nice to meet you all.”

In that moment, Sheng Xining’s heart inexplicably clenched violently.

The inexperienced girl thought she was having some kind of medical emergency, about to drop dead on the spot.

Later, of course, Sheng Xining realized this was what love felt like—and more painfully, she understood that a forbidden romance between a female student and her teacher could never play out in real life, not even as one-sided affection.

So she carefully concealed her girlish infatuation. The boldest move she ever made was declaring to her friends that she had fallen in love with Chinese literature, or occasionally asking Teacher Ji a few extra questions during evening self-study or breaks.

Or giving Teacher Ji gifts on every possible occasion—Women’s Day, Thanksgiving, Teacher’s Day—

Only to fade into the crowd, predictably unnoticed.

Since Teacher Ji was exceptionally captivating yet remained single, rumors and speculations about her swirled endlessly among the students. Some even ventured wild guesses:

“Do you think Teacher Ji might be into women? She gives off such an asexual vibe.”

“Last time after school, I saw her walking really close to a female friend, then getting into her car, blah blah blah…”

Indeed, that so-called female friend was the scumbag girlfriend Ji Bingyan had been madly infatuated with before her death—who, bizarrely enough, shared the same name as Sheng Xining.

That scumbag Sheng Xining, after cheating and betraying her, left the goddess Ji heartbroken, drowning her sorrows alone in alcohol, until an unfortunate accident cut her life short at the tender age of 27.

The humble, lovestruck student Sheng Xining was shattered, nearly missing her college entrance exams in grief.

Now, after working overtime on her birthday and collapsing from exhaustion, Sheng Xining—who, in her final moments of consciousness, had wished to return to the beautiful days of high school—found herself trembling, hands braced against the bed, staring wide-eyed at the very much alive Ji Bingyan beneath her.

Teacher Ji, emerging from the warm tangle of blankets, clung to her neck with disheveled clothes, her initial surprise already smoothed away.

She nuzzled her nose against Sheng Xining’s, looking utterly besotted and shamelessly spoiled, murmuring in a soft, coquettish voice, “Fine, fine, you made a mistake—no need to shout so loud, you scared me.”

“Acting like a lunatic,” Teacher Ji added, lips parting as she shot her a glance—cool yet smoldering.

Under that glance and sidelong look, Sheng Xining’s brain, flooded with an overwhelming amount of information, raced at lightning speed as she quickly recalled the illustrious image of that scumbag ex-girlfriend from years ago who shared the same name.

To be honest, in her reckless youth, Sheng Xining had once stalked her and discovered that she had an extremely bad temper, was moody, loved giving the silent treatment, was a pathological liar yet possessed an uncanny ability to charm people. Most crucially, she seemed to be… exceptionally skilled in bed, leaving the goddess Ji utterly addicted?

Snapping back to reality, Ji Bingyan had already turned her back and was sitting on the edge of the bed, readjusting the slipped strap of her dress. She turned her profile slightly and said coolly, “I’ll go draw your bath.”

She seemed accustomed to the silent treatment from her scumbag girlfriend Sheng Xining after their intimate moments.

Sheng Xining forced herself to stay calm and, mimicking the original girlfriend’s manner, gave an indifferent “Mm” in response.

Only upon hearing this did Ji Bingyan step barefoot onto the floor and walk toward the bathroom. Midway, she glanced back discreetly at Sheng Xining, who remained frozen on the bed like a stone statue, as if sensing something slightly off.

Soon, the sound of running water echoed from the bathroom.

Seizing this moment, Sheng Xining let out a long exhale, her heart finally settling back into place after nearly jumping out of her throat. Only then did she have the presence of mind to survey her surroundings.

This appeared to be Teacher Ji’s home. Textbooks lay on the nightstand beside the bed. The spacious one-bedroom apartment had no TV in the living room—just an enormous bookshelf densely packed with volumes.

Next to it stood a massive potted plant, and the soft-carpeted floor was strewn with student assignments awaiting grading, seemingly haphazard yet methodical.

Teacher Ji actually graded papers while lying on the floor?

Dismissing this unexpectedly endearing detail, Sheng Xining suddenly remembered something and immediately crouched down to examine the papers closely. She realized these were entrance exams for the first year of high school—clearly, the timeline was just at the start of the academic year.

After searching for a long time, she couldn’t find her own exam paper. Even her deskmate’s paper was there, along with every other classmate’s—none were missing.

Except hers. It had vanished without a trace, as if she had never existed in this world.

At this moment, Sheng Xining had no choice but to understand and accept the reality: she had traveled back in time and transmigrated into the body of that scumbag ex-girlfriend Sheng Xining.

It was inexplicable and unbelievable.

Faced with her own “disappearance,” Sheng Xining wasn’t the least bit concerned. In fact, she even felt an indescribable flicker of joy.

Right now, she resolved to turn the tide—to prevent Teacher Ji from being betrayed by that scumbag girlfriend, drowning her sorrows in alcohol, and meeting an untimely demise. She wouldn’t let that tragedy repeat itself.

But the thought that she had inexplicably become the mysterious girlfriend of Teacher Ji—the goddess she had secretly admired for three years—made her bl00d run cold, her mind go blank, her ears ring, and her heart pound uncontrollably. She kept swallowing hard, her throat dry with nervousness.

Her thoughts were in turmoil, utterly chaotic. Light-headed, she stumbled to the open bar, poured herself a glass of red wine, and downed it in one gulp, her face pale.

After a long while, she wiped the wine stain from her lips with her hand, cast a deep glance toward the bathroom, and murmured to herself, “Teacher Ji, I’m sorry for keeping this from you. I’m your student, Sheng Xining—not that Sheng Xining.”

“But it’s okay, I… I don’t like you anymore. Keeping it from you was just to save you, so…” Sheng Xining’s expression was pained as she threw back another gulp of red wine. “I won’t take advantage of you! I swear.”

After making her vow, Sheng Xining immediately slapped herself across the face—even she didn’t believe it.

In the quiet house, the sudden, sharp sound of the slap made Ji Bingyan pause his steps as he emerged from the bathroom…

Ji Bingyan: “Xining, you—”

“Oh, there was a mosquito.” Sheng Xining set down her wine glass and turned stiffly, one jerky movement at a time. Wearing the beautiful face of her scumbag-girlfriend persona, she smiled calmly at Ji Bingyan. “Just killed one.”

Ji Bingyan glanced at the nearly empty decanter, then fixed his gaze on Sheng Xining’s wine-stained lips. Hesitantly, he said, “Last night, didn’t you curse at me, saying the wine I bought was garbage? You even spat in it. Why are you drinking it again—”

Sheng Xining: “………………”

Ji Bingyan walked over with a suspicious look, tilting his head as he studied her for a few seconds. Then, with a gentle smile, he ruffled her hair. “Never mind, you probably blacked out from drinking last night.”

“The bath is ready. Let’s go wash up.”

Ji Bingyan hooked his fingers around Sheng Xining’s secretly trembling ones and led her toward the bathroom.