Chapter Forty-Two: Teacher, I Was Wrong

Zhao Zejun had known Ou Chen in his previous life as well.

The freshman dormitory assignments at the University of Science and Technology were probably based on entrance-exam scores, because the makeup of his dormitory this time was somewhat different from before.

Of his current roommates, Ou Chen and Bai Jun, who rarely showed his face, had also been his roommates in his previous life. With that bond between them, Zhao Zejun had naturally grown somewhat closer to the two of them from the beginning.

Especially Ou Chen. They had remained on good terms after graduation, making him one of Zhao Zejun’s few genuine friends.

As for Bai Jun, he and Zhao Zejun had been only so-so during their university years, but they would later become deeply connected: the company Zhao Zejun worked for had been founded by Bai Jun.

In his previous life, working under Bai Jun, Zhao Zejun had earned considerably more than he would have sitting in an office. But the company had kept him so busy, and Bai Jun was the sort of hands-off boss who lived like a playboy and never bothered with business, that Zhao Zejun had ended up handling everything, from beginning to end. In the end, he had worked himself to death for that money.

Because of this, Zhao Zejun instinctively kept his distance from Bai Jun in this life.

As for Bai Jun’s family connections, his father was merely a division-level official in a non-core post—not even remotely in the league of a deputy-department-level cadre. In Zhao Zejun’s eyes back then, that had counted as a powerful position. Now, however, it seemed almost irrelevant.

After more than a semester together, Zhao Zejun discovered that neither man’s personality had changed much from his previous life. Bai Jun was still the same: he rarely interacted with anyone in the dormitory, had a certain selfishness buried deep within him, and concealed his thoughts very well. Ou Chen was the exact opposite. He had his own schemes too, but he was the kind of person who would never deliberately hurt others and always took their feelings into consideration. Such a person made an excellent friend, though he was also very easy to take advantage of.

As for Ou Chen’s girlfriend, Guo Xiaochao might have been a nonstop braggart, but his eyes were remarkably sharp. In his previous life, Ou Chen had suffered a minor but significant setback because of that woman, and had fallen into a deep depression for quite some time.

Ou Chen was already completely infatuated. Nothing anyone said would have helped; it would only have made them look like the villain. Guo Xiaochao’s remarks, however, had made Zhao Zejun pay a little more attention to him. He had never noticed it before, but beneath that seemingly unreliable exterior, the man was actually quite thoughtful.

…

The final week flew by, and in the blink of an eye, the final examinations arrived.

Zhao Zejun discovered, to his great sorrow, that the academic star of his high-school years had become a complete academic failure at university.

Back in high school, he had set himself the goal of getting into college and had carved out time to study no matter how busy he was.

Once he entered university, he had never intended to devote his time to his major. His aim was to broaden his horizons. Over the course of the semester, he had wandered through various departments and attended countless lectures, and he had indeed expanded his knowledge.

As for his major courses, he had spent nearly all his time sleeping through them or skipping them altogether.

When the final examinations arrived, Zhao Zejun was utterly helpless.

Fortunately, the professors still possessed a little humanity. Before the examinations, most of them had outlined the key points for review. University teachers were not under the pressure of graduation rates and generally had no reason to deliberately make things difficult for students. Final grades were usually an average of homework scores, attendance scores, and the examination itself.

With the key topics in hand, Zhao Zejun reviewed strategically. He also treated his roommates to several lavish meals and quietly sent gifts to a few professors. In the examination halls, slips of paper flew everywhere, and hands flashed through signals as though the thousand-armed Guanyin had descended in person. After much difficulty, he managed to scrape through several courses.

But the final subject—and the most difficult one—was advanced mathematics. There was simply nothing he could do.

Advanced mathematics was the great obstacle standing before every first-year student, and everyone in the dormitory felt their scalps prickle at the mere thought of it.

After her previous fall, their advanced mathematics teacher, Su Yun, had taken a month’s leave to deal with family matters and recover from her injuries. When she returned to work, she seemed to have become an entirely different person—formidable, even. For most of the semester, she had not shown them a single smile.

The final examination was far more difficult than anyone had anticipated, and there had been no pre-examination review session or list of key topics.

Zhao Zejun copied from here and glanced over there, somehow managing to score forty-eight points. When the final results were released, nearly a third of the class had failed.

“Looking at it this way, my score is actually pretty good,” Zhao Zejun thought shamelessly.

There was no alternative. He would have to go and appeal to Professor Su’s better nature. Advanced mathematics was a core subject, and if he failed it, he would never be able to graduate.

When he saw Su Yun in the office, two words inexplicably surfaced in Zhao Zejun’s mind: what a pity.

No matter how one judged her, Su Yun was by no means unattractive. Strictly speaking, she had both a lovely face and a beautiful figure. With the bearing of a doctorate and the halo surrounding a university lecturer, she possessed, in the eyes of an old lecher like Zhao Zejun—someone accustomed to looking at women through tinted lenses—a provocative air beneath her solemn, proper exterior. At times, it could even stir the vulgar impulse to tear away her sacred facade and force her beneath him.

But ever since returning from leave, Su Yun had looked constantly exhausted. Her thin face was deathly pale, almost entirely without color, and she resembled a flower on the verge of withering.

The radiance that belonged to a woman was gone.

Others did not know why Professor Su had taken leave, but Zhao Zejun did.

In the end, her child had still been taken away by her former husband, who had brought the child overseas to settle there. From then on, mother and child would live in different countries, with no idea when they might see each other again. Su Yun was still young, but she was involved in national research projects, and for reasons of confidentiality, traveling abroad was extremely difficult.

Su Yun was only a little over thirty. Life had to continue. After a month’s leave, she had returned to her post.

Once she learned why Zhao Zejun had come, Su Yun looked at him speechlessly. He usually seemed fairly clever—how had he managed to score only in the forties?

Then again, she had hardly ever seen him attend her class.

In any event, Zhao Zejun had worked tirelessly to help her after her fall, leaving a very favorable impression. Strictly speaking, she still owed him a favor. After thinking for a moment, she said, “I’ll be staying on campus during the winter vacation. If you have time, I can tutor you.”

After a pause, she added, “I’ll also be setting the make-up examination next semester.”

“Professor Su, why don’t you just tell me the questions now?” Zhao Zejun said shamelessly.

Su Yun tilted her head slightly. Her eyes narrowed bit by bit as she stared at him expressionlessly.

“Professor, I was wrong,” Zhao Zejun said.

She had not expected his ability to change with the wind to be so perfectly polished. The corner of Su Yun’s mouth twitched, and she was about to smile.

But she stopped halfway. In the end, she still did not smile. She merely nodded and said as gently as she could, “Thank you for understanding. I am, after all, still a teacher.”

“Then I won’t disturb you, Professor. I’ll come back during winter vacation.”

“Wait.” Su Yun glanced at her watch. “It’s just about quitting time. You helped me so much when I sprained my ankle, and I never had a chance to thank you. There’s a rustic local restaurant near the university. I hear the food is excellent. Let me buy you dinner.”

“Sure.”

Zhao Zejun knew which restaurant she meant. It was distinctive and would later open several branches in Jianwu City, becoming quite famous.

This time, it had been open for less than two months, yet it was already unbelievably popular. A television food program had even come to interview the owner. The last time the people from the dormitory had gone there to eat, they had not even managed to get a table.

The restaurant had an extremely old-fashioned name: Tang’s Country Chicken. It specialized in large roosters, and its signature dish was chicken stew. The restaurant was not far from the University of Science and Technology, and Su Yun arrived in her red Citroën Fukang within a few minutes.