The Firecracker in Class F

Under the firm insistence of A Class’s geography representative, Wu Qie ended up empty-handed and successfully distributed the exercise books to the remaining four classes.

But by the time he entered Class F, he was still running a bit late.

He practically stepped in with the bell.

The classroom was, as usual, noisy and chaotic.

Zhao Shu wasn’t there.

Lin Zuwen, however, was slumped over his desk, seemingly asleep.

Based on academic ranking, Zhao Shu should have been placed in Class A.

Rumor had it that Lin Zuwen’s grades weren’t great, and after the two became close, he kept begging Zhao Shu to stay with him.

In the end, Zhao Shu put down roots in Class F.

Wu Qie returned the mostly blank exercise books to each student as they were.

When the bell rang, everyone reluctantly shuffled back to their seats.

Class F was actually easy to teach.

The core philosophy was that no matter what you said, they wouldn’t listen.

You could do the splits on the podium and no one would clap.

So Wu Qie calmly read a section of the PPT from where the last class had ended, then turned to write key points on the whiteboard.

He was writing quite contentedly to himself.

Until the classroom door was pushed open.

A tall figure appeared in the doorway.

The arrival made the buzzing chatter die down for a brief second.

“Report.”

The voice was lazy, faintly hoarse, and entirely careless.

The black-haired young man paused mid-stroke with the whiteboard marker and turned around.

The late-arriving boy stood at the door.

He clearly had no understanding of dress code.

His school shirt sleeves were rolled up messily, the blazer slung over one shoulder.

He stood there casually, lowering his head to remove the sweat-dampened wristband from his arm.

Wu Qie held the marker and looked at him for a moment.

Only then did the boy slowly raise his head.

Their eyes met.

Zhao Shu’s movement paused.

Then his brows gradually furrowed.

…

Two months.

It had been a full two months since the news of “a new geography teacher” had entered one ear and left the other.

For the first time, Zhao Shu truly looked at the face of this…

To him, excessively background-character-level geography teacher.

Unfortunately.

That face overlapped perfectly with the plain, forgettable face in the photo his brother had sent him on WeChat today.

…

Wu Qie watched, helplessly, as the young master of the Zhao family’s expression shifted from blank to confused to troubled, and finally into the look of someone walking peacefully down the street and suddenly spotting something unpleasant ahead.

He guessed that in that instant, the boy had realized the unusual connection between them.

The beautiful Alpha now looked extremely guarded.

As if Wu Qie were a toad preparing to devour a swan.

“….”

Under the watchful eyes of the whole class, Wu Qie couldn’t exactly tell him, “Dear swan, you’re imagining too much.”

Several Alpha students in the front row were already shifting uneasily in their seats.

The scent of sun-baked tequila pheromones thickened in the air, going from noticeable to sharp.

If this continued, the Omegas in the class wouldn’t be able to sit here peacefully for the next three days.

On the podium, under the increasingly intense scrutiny, the black-haired Beta remained steady.

He nodded lightly.

“Go back to your seat.”

Zhao Shu didn’t move.

He stared at him.

The tequila-like pheromones continued to spread silently, so strong they were almost choking.

Wu Qie sighed inwardly.

Only immature kids who couldn’t control their emotions failed to control their pheromones.

And as a teacher, he truly had no interest in a fledgling swan who fluffed up his feathers and filled the ground with his scent.

If he said that aloud, it would cause an uproar.

So Teacher Wu swallowed his words and, in a pacifying tone, called his name again.

“Zhao Shu, steady your breathing, then return to your seat.”

His voice was gentle.

The boy, still bristling, froze when he heard his full name spoken in such a soft tone.

A moment passed before he seemed to realize he had been standing there too long.

His expression darkened.

He walked back to his seat without a word.

Zhao Shu sat beside Lin Zuwen.

They were desk mates.

Lin Zuwen sat inside near the wall.

Zhao Shu’s seat was by the aisle.

He dragged his chair out and dropped into it heavily.

Lin Zuwen stirred at the noise and raised his head slightly.

Seeing Zhao Shu, he straightened a bit and whispered something.

The voice was too soft to hear clearly.

Zhao Shu leaned over with one hand braced on the desk, listening.

He even carefully examined Lin Zuwen’s complexion.

Only then did he sit upright and face the podium.

Not that he sat properly.

The nearly one-meter-ninety boy leaned back boldly in his chair, long legs stretched forward almost onto the desk.

His black eyes lost the reluctant patience he had shown his desk mate.

Now they fixed on the podium with a dark intensity.

On the podium, when Wu Qie finished writing and turned to continue the PPT, he could feel it.

A gaze, scorching and relentless, burning into his face as if trying to sear through it.

At first, Wu Qie endured it.

Until the rest of the class noticed something was off.

They snapped out of their distraction and looked back and forth between the Zhao young master and the new Beta teacher.

“What’s going on?”

“Brother Shu, what’s wrong?”

“Did this Beta teacher do something to you?”

Seeing the loudest one practically about to raise his hand, Wu Qie finally set down the mouse.

He looked up at the boy whose gaze threatened to devour him whole.

“Zhao Shu, would you like to answer this question?”

The boy didn’t glance at the PPT, which displayed a question about cold fronts and climate changes.

He didn’t speak.

He just stared at the person on the podium.

The black-haired young man still wore a hoodie and jeans.

Different colors, different styles, but the casual, completely unconcerned-with-projecting-mature-teacher-vibes look was far too familiar.

Only now did Zhao Shu realize.

This person wasn’t just the fiancé arranged by his family.

He was also the busybody who had meddled at the basketball court yesterday.

The source of his bad mood for the past two days.

All the same person.

The realization made the young Zhao heir feel a surge of almost astonishing irritation.

In the end, that irritation turned into silence.

“I can’t answer.”

His voice remained low and hoarse.

Needlessly sharp.

After speaking, he finally withdrew his gaze.

He openly pulled out a test paper from his desk—clearly not geography—and began writing swiftly.

Wu Qie stood ignored on the podium for a second.

Then he continued reading the PPT as if nothing had happened.

…

Sometimes Wu Qie thought he was overly naive.

He believed that pretending nothing was wrong would keep things peaceful.

But when one side was a lit firecracker, no amount of appeasement could prevent the explosion.

The heavy atmosphere and the class’s curiosity made him regret countless times.

He should have let Zhao Guipu scold Zhao Shu earlier.

Maybe he would behave better.

This was the hardest class of his teaching career.

For the first time, Wu Qie frequently glanced at the phone on the podium, shamelessly checking the time.

He sincerely prayed for the bell to ring.

Instead, what came was a notification from a colleague in the group chat tagging him.

The leadership was doing classroom inspections.

Comrade suffering in Class F, stay strong.

“Everyone knows the Himalayas and the East African Rift were formed by horizontal crustal movement, but—”

Wu Qie froze mid-sentence.

He looked up at the classroom.

Students sprawled everywhere.

Not a single one was listening.

His vision nearly went dark.

His family wasn’t poor.

But his dry throat earned blood-and-sweat money.

Every sleeping student cost two hundred yuan.

No upper limit.

This one classroom alone could make him work for free all year.

He didn’t dare calculate the total.

He clapped sharply, waking the drowsy class.

The Discipline Office was inspecting.

If caught, he would lose pay, and they would have to give public self-criticisms at next week’s flag-raising ceremony.

Class F’s princes and princesses feared nothing.

But humiliating themselves under the national flag on Monday?

That gave them pause.

They wiped drool from their lips and sat up, randomly flipping open their geography textbooks.

Seeing them cooperate, Wu Qie breathed in relief.

Everyone was upright now.

From the podium, any slacker would stand out.

His gaze finally fell on the figure still slumped against the wall in the corner.

After hesitating, he stepped down from the podium and walked toward Lin Zuwen.

His steps were light.

But light enough for a fully matured Alpha to sense an outsider approaching his territory.

Even from four or five desks away, Zhao Shu abruptly stopped writing and looked up.

As the black-haired young man approached, the Alpha’s dark eyes flickered, gradually revealing hostility.

But this time, Wu Qie’s purpose wasn’t him.

Stopping beside their desk, Wu Qie called Lin Zuwen’s name.

His voice was still gentle.

Zhao Shu’s brows instinctively tightened.

“He’s not feeling well. Don’t disturb him. Don’t touch him.”

Wu Qie glanced at him but didn’t respond.

All he could think was, “The leaders are coming. My salary is about to vanish.”

He called again, “Lin Zuwen.”

At the same time, he reached out to lightly tap him awake.

But just as he bent forward and extended his hand—

A large hand appeared out of nowhere and seized his wrist.

“Can’t you understand human language?”

The palm, rough from years of dominating basketball courts, was warm.

It tightened silently around the Beta’s wrist.

“I said,”

The boy lifted his eyes.

His black gaze was cold.

“Don’t touch him.”