Chu Tao had never hugged anyone his own age—not even his brother, Chu Xingning.

Jiang She’s embrace was strong, steady, and open.

Chu Tao felt Jiang She’s arm firmly supporting his balance, his large hand nearly covering his entire waist.

Jiang She even tilted his head slightly, careful not to accidentally bump Chu Tao’s chin.

Chu Tao’s hands rested on Jiang She’s shoulders, but his palms were damp with sweat.

If this keeps up, he was afraid the Sex Ed professor’s warning might actually come true.

“Hey, what’s the class rep doing with She Ge?”

“Oh wow, they’re hugging!”

“She Ge’s teasing the class rep again, tsk tsk.”

“Kiss, kiss!”

The students in Class Three cheered rowdily, eager to enjoy a rare bit of fun. They joked around freely, confident that there was nothing actually happening between Jiang She and Chu Tao.

Jiang She laughed and whispered, “They want us to kiss.”

Chu Tao’s face turned bright red as he snapped, “Kiss your uncle.”

Jiang She raised an innocent eyebrow. “My uncle’s on vacation on the open sea right now; he’s not young, so that wouldn’t be right.”

Chu Tao swallowed, trying to soothe his dry throat. He pushed Jiang She away, looking down with a serious face. “Weren’t you supposed to be keeping time?”

Jiang She didn’t push it. As soon as Chu Tao struggled, he let go.

“Fang Sheng’s doing it.”

Chu Tao shot him a glare, brushed past him to find Fang Sheng, muttering, “I Knew I couldn’t count on you.”

“Tsk,” Jiang She muttered, twirling his phone in his fingers. “What kind of way is that to talk about me? Don’t you want me to delete it?”

“Keep it,” Chu Tao said nonchalantly.

It was just a video, after all—no big deal. It wasn’t like it had the same effect as triggering his mental gland.

Soon, the PE teacher gathered the class together and, with a serious expression, said, “You’ve all seen today’s test results. Half of you didn’t pass! I’m not even asking for perfect scores, but not getting your diploma because of failing PE—doesn’t that seem a bit much? The graduation exam is in only a month. I hope everyone will put in some effort, and come out to the track after school. If you stick to daily training, your scores will definitely improve.”

Xu Bo Xue piped up, “So if we passed, we don’t have to practice?”

The PE teacher gave him a look. “Passing now doesn’t guarantee you’ll pass on exam day. Exercising regularly is for your own health. Physical well-being is the foundation for everything; you can’t put all your energy into academic subjects alone.”

“Pfft!”

“Hahaha, what academic subjects are you talking about?”

“Teacher, don’t you know our class? We never study!”

“Our class really values our health. We’re terrified studying might affect it, so don’t worry, teacher!”

Chu Tao was already used to their antics.

Subconsciously, he didn’t separate himself from the Class Three group.

The PE teacher chuckled. “Ah, so you’re the remedial class, dragging down the grade average, huh?”

Fang Sheng retorted proudly, “Hey, teacher, you can’t say that. Our class has hidden talents!”

But Class Three, with all its “hidden talents,” was soon dealt a harsh blow by their chemistry scores.

A bunch of them trudged back from the track, shoulders slung around each other, only to see their graded chemistry tests waiting on their desks.

The chemistry teacher sat behind the podium, holding his lesson plan, glaring at each student who walked in as he simmered in frustration.

Truthfully, this test was pretty difficult; the grade-level director had cobbled it together from mock exams in provinces with notoriously hard college entrance exams.

Even the top student in the grade wouldn’t be able to answer everything.

Chu Tao looked down at his paper: out of a hundred, he’d scored a dismal seventy.

His face paled.

The bright red correction marks stood out sharply on the paper, making the once meticulously written chemical formulas look like a pile of garbage.

He had never received such a low score before. Even though chemistry was a weak subject for him, Chu Tao usually managed to stay above 80 points.

This time, the result was terrible, especially after a month of online classes.

The students in front, Dai Wenjian and Qin Wei, were indifferent, casually rolling up their papers and stuffing them into their desks, clearing space for an ice-cold cola.

The chemistry teacher said sarcastically, “Laugh, you still have the nerve to laugh! Look at the papers in your hands!”

Fang Sheng chimed in, grinning, “Calm down, teacher. We’re not worth you getting upset over.”

The chemistry teacher was very competitive; besides Class Three, she also taught an Omega class.

In comparison, every student in the Omega class was practically an angel, consistently ranking at the top in chemistry.

But the reason she hadn’t been praised by the head of the chemistry department was that Class Three was holding her back.

“Each and every one of you is hopeless! The only decent score in this class is Chu Tao’s; the rest of you didn’t even score above sixty!”

Chu Tao: “…”

He couldn’t help but smile wryly.

This class certainly had a way of giving someone confidence—no matter how poorly you did, in Class Three, you’d still be a standout and the teacher’s “star” student.

The chemistry teacher slammed her lesson plan down on the podium. “Take out your papers, and pay attention. Look at where you went wrong!”

Jiang She glanced at his paper: 20 points.

Those 20 points came entirely from multiple choice and fill-in-the-blank questions since he barely looked at the test and had guessed most of it.

He never cared about grades, so he casually flicked his paper, making a crisp sound.

Fang Sheng couldn’t sit still, and when he heard the teacher praise Chu Tao, he craned his neck to take a look.

Chu Tao hadn’t hidden his score; it was clearly marked on the paper.

“Whoa, seventy points! Class rep, are you a genius? How did you manage to score so high on this?”

Jiang She felt a strange sense of pride hearing Fang Sheng praise Chu Tao.

Somewhere along the way, he had started to see Chu Tao’s achievements as his own. Complimenting Chu Tao felt like complimenting him.

In the past, Chu Tao would’ve responded to Fang Sheng since he didn’t like ignoring people.

But right now, he simply didn’t have the energy, not even to reply.

Jiang She’s satisfaction lasted only a moment before he noticed something was off with Chu Tao.

Although the score seemed high to them, it likely didn’t meet Chu Tao’s expectations at all.

For a good student like Chu Tao, he must always expect a perfect score.

He remembered Chu Tao mentioning that he was getting extra help in chemistry and that the teacher wasn’t very good.

Jiang She’s expression grew more serious as his smile faded.

When the chemistry teacher explained the mistakes, Chu Tao listened intently, realizing he still had many gaps in his understanding.

Each mistake had its own reason; it wasn’t just carelessness on his part.

And this was only one test—he dreaded to think how many other gaps he might have in the entire high school chemistry curriculum.

Now, with most of the material covered and only two elective books remaining, the intensive mock exams would begin once senior year started, and his scores would likely drop even more.

Chu Tao felt down all day. Even after class, as the room buzzed with noise, he stayed at his desk, going over his mistakes.

With a signal from Jiang She’s eyes, no one dared to disturb him.

After school, Chu Xingning glanced at the despondent Chu Tao and couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong?”

Chu Tao’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a deep breath.

The cool evening air was refreshing as it filled his lungs, slightly lifting his mood.

“My chemistry test results came in, and I didn’t do well.”

Chu Xingning nodded thoughtfully, trying to reassure him. “Don’t worry. Our teacher said this test was tough, and everyone did about the same—even Fu Kaiyi only got an eighty-nine, so it’s not like you’re falling behind.”

Fu Kaiyi was the top student in their grade and a rival of sorts to Chu Xingning, who often kept track of his scores.

Normally, Fu Kaiyi’s scores in every subject were near perfect.

Chu Tao felt a bit better, but this also meant that even with a test this challenging, someone still managed to score in the high 80s.

“The online classes haven’t been that helpful. The teacher jokes around more than he covers the material. It’s entertaining, sure, but I’m not learning much. I think I’ll stop taking them.”

But this was something he could only confide in Chu Xingning.

Chu Xingning patted his shoulder. “Honestly, our local teachers know our exam requirements better, and with a few hundred students in a single online class, that teacher can’t pay attention to everyone. But don’t worry; if you don’t understand something, we can go over it together.”

Chu Tao had discussed things with Chu Xingning before, but it hadn’t helped much.

Chu Xingning did well on tests but wasn’t necessarily a great teacher himself, and he couldn’t organize the whole subject’s knowledge framework. If he could, he wouldn’t need to attend school.

That evening, when they got home, their father, Chu Jiangmin, had returned from a business trip and brought back many local snacks, including crispy sweets, soft cakes, and marinated treats.

Song Mian opened a bag of crispy sweets, poured them into a small dish, and set it on the coffee table.

Both brothers loved sweets, and they’d gotten used to snacking while studying.

The dishes were heated, the food was served, and the family gathered around the dinner table. Under the bright lights, the beef stew sent up a fragrant steam.

Chu Jiangmin smiled and said, “Your mom used the pressure cooker on this beef stew for hours. It’s especially tender.”

Just as Chu Tao was about to pick up his chopsticks, Song Mian suddenly asked, “I saw in the parent group chat that the chemistry test results came in. How did you both do?”

Chu Tao paused and put his chopsticks down.

Chu Xingning glanced at Chu Tao and softly said, “Mom, I’m starving, let’s talk about the grades later.”

Song Mian couldn’t wait: “It’s not like I’m stopping you from eating, you can eat while talking. Shen Hongfang did terribly this time. I saw that Aunt Tang was so upset; she just sent me a message asking about your scores.”

Shen Hongfang also attended Huainan No. 1 High School, but wasn’t in the same class as Chu Tao and Chu Xingning.

His mother, Tang Lingmei, was a colleague of Song Mian. The two often saw each other at work, and after losing ambition in their careers, they’d frequently compare their children’s grades.

Although they were both competitive, secretly upset when their children didn’t perform as well as others, they were still very close friends and often met for beauty treatments together.

When Shen Hongfang didn’t do well on his exam, Tang Lingmei immediately texted Song Mian, complaining about her son’s poor performance, while indirectly inquiring about Chu Tao and Chu Xingning’s grades.

Song Mian was annoyed by her questions and had little patience for talking with Chu Jiangmin. After waiting for the two kids to come back, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

Chu Xingning, looking down, was about to speak when Chu Tao interrupted.

Chu Tao said casually, “I scored seventy.”

As soon as he said that, the whole family fell silent for a few seconds, no one picking up their chopsticks.

Chu Xingning closed his eyes and shook his head.

He scored eighty-seven, but there were two multiple-choice questions he didn’t know how to solve, so he had just guessed since there was no time left.

By some miracle, he guessed both answers correctly, and those two questions alone accounted for six points.

His real score was closer to eighty, which meant the test was really tough.

But Chu Tao had just stated his score without explaining anything, as if he had given up entirely.

Song Mian threw her chopsticks down onto the table, took a deep breath, and her face immediately darkened. “How many points?”

Chu Xingning quickly explained, “This test was really hard. Our teacher said the questions were difficult. Even the top student only scored eighty-nine.”

Song Mian licked her lips, then turned to Chu Xingning. “How much did you get? For your mom’s sake, I’m begging you, don’t scare me again.”

Song Mian was genuinely angry now, so her tone with Chu Xingning was much more stiff.

Chu Xingning looked up. “Eighty-seven, but two of the questions I guessed.”

Song Mian rubbed her face with her hand and then turned the blame back on Chu Tao. “Guessing? Well, even guessing right is a skill! I laughed at Shen Hongfang for getting seventy-five, but now what right do I have to laugh at Chu Tao? At least Shen Hongfang didn’t attend extra classes, but you’ve been getting extra help for over a month!”

Chu Tao’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, but he stayed silent.

Chu Xingning whispered, “Mom, we’re eating.”

Song Mian shot him a glare: “You’re just performing normally, you still need to put in more effort, understand?”

This was her way of telling Chu Xingning to stop talking.

But Chu Xingning still wanted to say something, so Chu Tao pressed his hand under the table to signal him to stay quiet.

Song Mian had a temper and couldn’t hold it in; she had to vent her frustration.

Chu Tao understood why she was angry. Ever since Chu Jiangmin’s career started to decline, the family’s income had been tightening, and every penny had to be spent carefully.

On top of that, both Chu Tao and Chu Xingning were preparing for the college entrance exams, which was stressful and time-consuming. Song Mian had to manage both her job and take care of everything at home, so her pressure was far greater than others, making her more vulnerable emotionally.

However, in a normal family like theirs, these pressures and negative emotions were never really addressed, and Song Mian certainly didn’t seek professional counseling.

She had no better way of dealing with it except to transfer the pressure and vent her anger.

Song Mian took a deep breath: “Chu Tao, where is your focus? Last week, when the teacher was giving the lesson, you ran out. What were you doing? I can see you’re not taking this seriously at all!”

The food on the table still smelled delicious, but the steaming hotness slowly faded away.

After a long pause, Chu Jiangmin finally spoke up to smooth things over: “Let’s eat. From now on, focus on your studies and don’t waste time during class. The college entrance exam is just over a year away. Stick with it and get into a good school, then you can do whatever you want.”

Chu Jiangmin had been away on a business trip for more than a week and didn’t fully understand Chu Tao’s current academic situation. He could only go along with Song Mian’s words.

Chu Tao pressed his lips together and quietly said, “Got it.”

Song Mian muttered angrily, “It’s useless! It doesn’t matter how much you study or how many extra lessons you take. I don’t know what to do anymore! Why don’t you just drop that class? It’s just wasting money!”

Even though he knew Song Mian was just venting, Chu Tao really didn’t want to continue the class.

“Okay, I won’t go anymore. I don’t want to go either,” he said, secretly wishing Song Mian would just stop the extra lessons right away.

Song Mian widened her eyes in surprise, clearly not expecting him to speak up like that.

“Then don’t eat, go study!” she snapped.

Chu Xingning pressed his temples, feeling the weight of the situation.

He didn’t know whose side to take in the argument between his mom and younger brother.

Chu Jiangmin was equally troubled.

From his experience, when Song Mian said something, you just had to listen, not argue back, and she’d eventually forget about it. But for some reason, Chu Tao insisted on saying he didn’t want to attend the class anymore. Didn’t he know he was only making things worse?

Chu Tao silently put down his chopsticks, pushed back his chair, and without saying another word, went to his room.

A door separated him from the bright, busy household.

He looked up at the clean window.

Inside, it was dark, so the lights from outside seemed especially bright.

In the neighborhood, almost every house had their lights on, white, yellow—faint shadows moving, TV screens changing images.

But not every well-lit home meant happiness inside.

He lay down on his bed, his arms propped behind his head, and the light and shadows in front of him became blurry.

His phone in his pocket buzzed a few times relentlessly. He felt it, but didn’t have the energy to check who it was.