The Dawn of Doubt

The sun began to rise.

The morning light of May was refreshing and pleasant. Under the gentle sunlight, clusters of locust flowers covered in dew hung on the branches like pearls of snow, shimmering brightly. The sweet floral scent filled the entire campus, carried by the morning breeze.

In this serene morning, Fu Ziqing slipped into the shadows of the dormitory building. Meanwhile, the boys and girls of Chuanbei Middle School, bathed in sunlight, hurried, walked calmly, or moved lazily—each with their unique demeanor—entering the classrooms to begin a new day of learning.

The Dingsheng Building was built exclusively for the top students in the senior year, separate from the regular classes of the junior and sophomore years. It was situated far from the sports field, but closest to the dining hall and dormitories. The atmosphere in the entire building was always tense, and with May upon them, only a month left until the college entrance exams, every second counted.

It was now the time for morning self-study, and each classroom maintained a quiet atmosphere as students focused on their practice tests. Even those who usually dozed off had to stay alert, knowing they couldn’t fall behind. They were classmates now, but in a month, during those critical three days, they would be rivals.

A man wearing a wine-red plaid shirt and sporting a receding hairline stepped out of the teacher’s office, carrying a stack of test papers. His oil-slicked leather shoes glinted as he walked briskly, each step almost soundless on the tiled floor. His expression was stern, and as he entered the back door of Class 13, his demeanor turned even harsher.

At a seat near the back door, a boy lay sleeping with his head on the desk. The teacher glared at him and, without hesitation, raised the stack of test papers.

“Slap!”

The sound echoed, and every eye in the classroom turned to see the familiar receding hairline. After a quick glance, they returned to their tests, but many hands slowed, ears straining to catch the commotion.

The teacher ignored the students and grabbed the boy, pulling him to his feet.

“Stand outside for half an hour!”

With that, the teacher walked to the lectern. Looking down, his eyes flashed with anger as he shouted, “Ming Zhong! Get out! Stand in the hallway for half an hour!”

The boy, though standing, kept his eyes closed, performing a ‘sleeping while standing’ act. Ming Zhong opened his eyes, said nothing, and left the classroom. The teacher watched Ming Zhong’s calm expression, his chest heaving with frustration, but seeing the high-scoring test paper with Ming Zhong’s name, his anger subsided.

Ming Zhong, despite being slightly lopsided in his subjects, relied heavily on science and math to boost his grades, but overall, he was still considered a top student. This was precisely why the teacher was even more irritated. Time was running out, and while it was too late to improve his weaker subjects, he should at least maintain his strengths. Yet, at such a crucial time, he was slacking off.

The teacher, a math instructor, couldn’t interfere with language arts or English, but he felt he had a say in math. In recent tests, although Ming Zhong still scored high, the teacher noticed a decline. Previously, Ming Zhong almost always achieved perfect scores.

Instructing the class representative to distribute the test papers, the teacher suddenly left the classroom. After teaching for three years, he knew that Ming Zhong wasn’t a true math prodigy; rather, he had a genuine passion and a bit of talent, coupled with immense hard work.

Seeing the boy leaning against the hallway wall, half-asleep, the teacher didn’t lose his temper. Instead, he approached, deciding to have a talk with Ming Zhong, even though he wasn’t the class advisor.

“Cough, cough!”

“Brother Yang, oh… Teacher Yang…”

Ming Zhong woke up and, upon seeing the teacher, instinctively called him by his nickname. Back in freshman year, Math Teacher Yang DeFa was not yet known for his receding hairline. He had a full head of thick, slicked-back hair, always wearing a stern expression, walking with a commanding presence. He looked more like a gangster than a teacher, so students privately called him “Brother Yang.”

Yang DeFa was taken aback and smiled, “It’s fine, calling me Brother Yang is good too.”

He rarely smiled, and now, his smile seemed forced, pulling at his skin, looking unnatural. Realizing his awkward smile, he quickly returned to his serious expression and asked, “Have you encountered any issues recently?”

Ming Zhong, startled by the teacher’s odd smile, briefly considered running away. Seeing the teacher revert to his usual stern demeanor, he relaxed. Clearly, the teacher was genuinely concerned about his grades, not harboring any ulterior motives.

Ming Zhong replied, “No issues, thank you, Teacher Yang!”

Yang DeFa’s expression remained unchanged as he pressed further, “Then why do you keep falling asleep in class?”

Ming Zhong pondered for a moment and said, “Probably because I study too late at night.”

“Studying hard is good,” Yang DeFa acknowledged, not doubting his dedication. He knew some diligent students continued studying in their beds, even after lights-out. Nodding, he approved of Ming Zhong’s efforts but sternly added, “However, you must manage your time wisely. Starting today, go to bed earlier and ensure you get enough sleep, understood?”

“Yes, understood, thank you, Teacher Yang!”

“Go back in,” Yang DeFa concluded after a few words. Ming Zhong followed the teacher, his gaze involuntarily drawn to the receding hairline. Suddenly, Ming Zhong lowered his head, keeping it down even after returning to his seat. Soon, the morning self-study session ended, and a ten-minute break began.

“Old Second, how was it? Is Brother Yang fierce?”

A burly man with a crew cut plopped down on Ming Zhong’s desk, towering over him with a smirk. Ming Zhong looked up at his roommate, Zhang Qiang, who despite his rugged appearance, had a playful grin.

Ming Zhong rolled his eyes and didn’t respond, then yawned. Zhang Qiang dropped his teasing act and asked, “I’m serious, Old Second, you’ve been the earliest to sleep in our dorm lately. Why do you look so tired?”

He reached out to feel Ming Zhong’s forehead, clearly concerned. Ming Zhong quickly dodged, noticing several girls watching them with curious smiles. Zhang Qiang’s muscular build and rugged good looks, paired with Ming Zhong’s more refined features, made them an intriguing sight for some students.

Ming Zhong shook his head, “Don’t touch me, I’m probably fine.”

“Probably fine? What does that mean?”

Zhang Qiang was confused. Ming Zhong glanced at the teacher writing on the blackboard and asked, “Have you noticed anything?”

Zhang Qiang stroked his chin, studying the teacher, then exclaimed, “Brother Yang’s receding hairline is even more pronounced!”

Ming Zhong looked at Zhang Qiang, who asked, “What are you looking at me for? You noticed it too, right?”

Ming Zhong stared at him for a moment before nodding, “Yes, so I’m saying, use your brain less and sleep more, or you’ll end up like this.”

“I… wow…”

Zhang Qiang was stunned, realizing Ming Zhong’s concern. Looking at their teacher, Zhang Qiang thought Ming Zhong’s observation was surprisingly accurate. Ming Zhong patted Zhang Qiang and said, “I’m fine, go back to your seat, class is starting.”

“Oh…”

Zhang Qiang returned to his seat, deep in thought. Ming Zhong rubbed his eyes and glanced at the teacher again. The teacher was still writing on the board, his receding hairline the only notable feature. Yet, beside the teacher, a semi-transparent female figure flickered in and out of view.

Ming Zhong quickly averted his gaze, focusing on the math test paper on his desk. He wasn’t sick; he was just losing faith in science.