Chapter Twelve: Where Is Your Book?

The person called Yan Shu adjusted his glasses.

He said nothing, seeming somewhat timid, and quickly nodded.

Sang Wan let out a sigh of relief.

“Yangyang, you can sit here for now. You might need to buy your own books. After school, I can accompany you to the bookstore.”

From the moment Jiang Wuyang saw Yan Shu’s face, she was frozen in place.

Fear surged within her, a chill sweeping through her body, her complexion involuntarily paling.

Her steps halted as if someone had rooted her to the spot, unable to move.

This Yan Shu... was the very person who had killed her in her previous life! She couldn’t be mistaken. Even with a changed hairstyle and bangs covering his eyes, there was no way she wouldn’t recognize him!

Seeing Jiang Wuyang stunned and unresponsive, Sang Wan gently called her name again.

Only then did Jiang Wuyang snap out of it, cold sweat dripping from her forehead.

Suppressing her fear, she nodded and sat down beside Yan Shu, keeping as much distance as possible.

Yan Shu was unwell! Literally mentally unwell!

He was mentally unstable! In the previous life, it was precisely because of this that, after killing her, he wasn’t severely punished—just a few years in prison.

This time, she would stay as far away from Yan Shu as possible! Others might only dare to talk big, but someone as obsessively disturbed as Yan Shu would truly dare to do anything!

Not long after taking her seat, the bell rang signaling the start of class.

Coincidentally, this first lesson was Chinese.

The teachers for Chinese and math in Science Class A were the same, only the English teacher differed.

So when the Chinese teacher entered, she immediately noticed Jiang Wuyang’s empty desk.

Her sharp gaze fixed on Jiang Wuyang. “Jiang, why are you here? Aren’t you in the liberal arts class? Where are your books?”

Before Jiang Wuyang could speak, Sang Wan stood up.

Calm and composed, she replied, “Teacher, Jiang Wuyang has been officially transferred to our science class with school approval.”

“Teacher Xi asked me to help her adjust first. I’ll accompany her to buy books this evening.”

The Chinese teacher, Zeng Xin, was a woman in her forties.

Zeng Xin tended to favor top-performing students and despised any form of favoritism or backdoor dealings.

She didn’t believe Jiang Wuyang’s grades were good enough to get into Science Class A on her own; after all, girls’ aptitude in science subjects was generally weaker.

Moreover, Jiang Wuyang’s grades in Liberal Arts Class A hadn’t been outstanding, so what right did she have to transfer to Science Class A? While others might not know her background, her teachers certainly did.

It was likely through her father, a school board member, that she managed to transfer smoothly.

But Sang Wan was different; her grades were consistently excellent across all subjects and she was the teachers’ favorite.

Seeing her prized student stand up for Jiang Wuyang, Zeng Xin’s displeasure grew.

“Enough! Stop defending her. You don’t have the science textbooks, fine, but what about Chinese, math, and English? Or did you not study those in the liberal arts class?!”

Zeng’s voice rose sharply, her tone clearly angry.

Sang Wan wanted to respond but was silenced by a sharp glance from Zeng Xin.

Jiang Wuyang remained silent.

This was indeed her problem.

Her Chinese grades were not good.

Zeng Xin had disliked her all along, but Jiang Wuyang didn’t begrudge her.

It wasn’t just Jiang Wuyang she disliked—Zeng Xin equally despised all underperforming students, including Ruan An’an.

Seeing Jiang Wuyang’s silence only fueled Zeng Xin’s anger.

“Go get your books from the liberal arts class now! Bring them back before continuing!”

Jiang Wuyang could only nod and stand, resigned to fetch the books, though she wondered who was teaching the class at that moment.

She sighed inwardly.

Just as she turned, a lazy voice called out from behind.

“Teacher, let Jiang use my books. I don’t need them anyway.”

Zeng Xin turned toward the voice, her anger flaring even more.

“Mu Ziye! How dare you say that when you scored only 100 on the monthly Chinese exam?! Don’t you know that the college entrance exam is—”

“It’s like a thousand soldiers crossing a narrow bridge,” Mu Ziye interrupted, “You’ve said that so many times, aren’t you tired of repeating it?”

“You!” Zeng Xin was furious.

Before she could regain her composure, her prized student, Sang Wan, spoke softly.

“Teacher, it’s not a big deal. Maybe I could lend my books to Jiang Wuyang for this class.”

After Sang Wan spoke, several classmates chimed in.

“Yeah, teacher, it’d be disruptive to go fetch books from the liberal arts class now. Their teacher is still teaching.”

“We all have books; it’s fine to share.”

A chorus of agreement followed.

Zeng Xin’s face flushed with anger; she sneered coldly.

“Fine, fine, this class is really united! Let’s start the lesson! Mu Ziye, go stand at the back and listen!”

The matter was dropped, and Jiang Wuyang felt a warm wave flow through her from head to toe.

It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time—being protected by others.

Mu Ziye was no stranger to punishment and, originally seated in the last row, he casually moved to stand nearby like a guardian.

Before leaving, he passed his books to the student in front.

Then the books were passed forward again.

Until a classmate behind gently tapped Jiang Wuyang on the shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, not daring to look back, only leaning slightly backward.

The person said nothing but handed her a book.

Jiang Wuyang glanced and saw it was the Chinese textbook for this lesson.

Surprised, she opened to the title page.

The elegant handwriting was there:

“Mu Ziye.”

She silently repeated the name in her mind, not looking back, just committing it to memory.

Zeng Xin saw this as well but restrained her temper and said nothing.

The students in Science Class A were increasingly unruly—she would have to speak seriously with Xi Wencheng sooner or later.

Forty-five minutes later, class finally ended.

Zeng Xin stormed out, leaving the class trying to suppress their laughter.

Jiang Wuyang held the book and walked toward Mu Ziye’s seat.

“Here’s your book. Thank you.”

She smiled faintly, a rare sweet smile.

Mu Ziye raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall.

“Just a verbal thanks?”

Jiang Wuyang didn’t expect that reaction and raised her own eyebrow.

“Repaying a favor?”

Mu Ziye grinned, his charming eyes curving.

“So? Will you repay it or not?”

“I’ll treat you to a meal. You can choose whatever you want.”

She didn’t banter further; to avoid similar situations, she still needed to fetch her books from the liberal arts class.

“Sure, better today than later. Let’s eat in the cafeteria at noon.”

Mu Ziye didn’t expect her straightforwardness and agreed.

Jiang Wuyang nodded and turned to leave.

Mu Ziye watched her graceful figure go, a faint smile playing on his lips as he looked forward to lunch.

Sang Wan had been watching Jiang Wuyang’s side carefully.

As soon as they finished, Sang Wan stood up.

“Do you want us to help bring your things from the liberal arts class?”