Chapter 26: The Submissive, Obsessive Top Student

At 6:25, the school gate bustled with crowds, everyone rushing in the final five minutes to avoid being late. Amid the throng of students, two figures stood out awkwardly.

A blonde girl was followed by a pitiful little tail, tears streaming down unconsciously. She clutched an old blue schoolbag tightly to her chest, stumbling along as she squeezed into the school.

A small space cleared around them.

No one dared provoke the infamous Shi Qingyi, and they carefully steered clear of the tail behind her.

The gate was only half-open, making it extremely crowded to pass through. A girl accidentally brushed against the little tail’s bag. Even after the pair passed, she kept shaking her sleeve vigorously, as if she’d touched something utterly disgusting.

“Dirty or what…”

The words reached Jiang Zhiyi’s ears, and her face paled further. She actually kept herself very clean, washing up every day even without hot water. Maybe she’d picked up the smell of alcohol while cleaning that morning, or perhaps the cold sweat still seeped from her body…

—Or maybe she hadn’t done anything wrong at all.

She instinctively lowered her head, wishing she could bury it in her school uniform. The girl’s fragile self-esteem was terrifyingly brittle, shattering at the slightest blow.

The girl muttering curses was still fussing with her bag when she suddenly felt a chill on her back. She looked up and met the blonde girl’s gaze. The girl glanced back coldly.

From head to toe, she scanned her once, followed by a slight scoff.

The bright morning sunlight fell on the blonde girl’s ear, where a diamond stud gleamed on her fair lobe—sparkling and expensive, dazzling the eyes.

Her downward gaze carried a hint of mockery, cold as icicles, freezing the disgusted expression on the girl’s face.

Shi Qingyi glared at her once, then turned back to the little tail behind her. The tail kept her head down, trembling timidly, not daring to look up.

She’d finally mustered the effort to glare at someone, but the little tail hadn’t even peeked.

At 6:30, Shi Qingyi entered the classroom just as the bell rang its final note. Jiang Zhiyi slipped in through the back door, heading straight for her seat by the rear. Even hugging the wall, someone in the back row dragged their chair, the metal legs screeching harshly against the marble floor.

Jiang Zhiyi’s spine stiffened, and she quickened her pace.

Shi Qingyi’s eyes darkened. She glanced up at the girl deliberately scraping her chair—it was a familiar face, Deng Sisi.

“What was she doing yesterday?”

“What do you mean?” The system was utterly baffled, not catching on.

“Deng Sisi—she locked Jiang Zhiyi on the rooftop all night, and then the storm hit. Nearly got someone killed. She wasn’t just calmly attending evening self-study, was she?”

“Oh, no,” the system flipped through the script. “She was supposed to skip class for a concert, but the rain canceled it. She went home to game and sleep.”

Shi Qingyi: “…”

The system said earnestly, “Don’t expect humanity from cannon fodder. If they had any, Jiang Zhiyi wouldn’t have been driven insane.”

Shi Qingyi leaned coldly against the classroom door, silent. Her natural icy face bloomed like spring when she smiled, but unsmiling, it froze everything in a three-foot radius. The chill made many students’ backs prickle.

As math class rep, Deng Sisi had to stand under the pressure. “Um, Shi, you clashed with Old He yesterday. He had your desk moved out and dumped in the hallway…”

Shi Qingyi hadn’t noticed until she said it. She turned to look down the corridor.

“…”

Sure enough, as expected, Mediterranean had tossed her desk by the toilet. Her brows twitched, the corners of her mouth tugging down unconsciously, her face souring further.

Sensing trouble brewing, a girl in the back rows—who was still stuffing breakfast—jumped up and waved. “Qingyi, want to sit next to me? Lu Feng’s absent today—”

Before she finished, a tall boy burst into the room like a whirlwind, slamming onto his desk with bag and all. “I was only a minute late! Old Ban isn’t here yet, right?!”

“…”

The classroom fell into an eerie silence, the atmosphere mortifying. From the other end of the hall came the click-clack of high heels, drawing near.

Old Ban was almost there.

“I’ll take the last row.”

The girl punched the intruder lightly. He yelped in confusion. “Why’d you hit me?”

He shut up quick when the extremely displeased-looking Shi Qingyi sat in the last row.

Grade 3 Class 7 was a key class with only about forty students. The back row was usually empty, the corner piled with brooms and trash cans, save for one lone occupant.

No one wanted to be near her, let alone sit beside her—especially since she harbored those disgusting thoughts toward Shi Qingyi?

Under the class’s myriad disgusted stares, Jiang Zhiyi ducked her head lower, biting her lip.

Even Deng Sisi’s gaze turned odd. Shi Qingyi was truly pitiful—no seats left, stuck with that disgusting one. Better to fetch the desk from the toilet now.

But sympathy didn’t last; Old Ban stepped onto the podium and rapped the blackboard with her textbook. Everyone snapped their heads forward.

The Grade 3 Class 7 homeroom teacher taught English—a woman in her thirties. She scanned the class instinctively upon entering, pausing at the glaring blonde hair. She’d thought after yesterday’s chaos, this troublemaker wouldn’t show. Good that she did; saved approving a leave. Her gaze shifted, then snapped back. Next to that arrogant blonde was a tuft of brown hair, huddled tight in the corner. She paused, unable to stop a frown.

As soon as Shi Qingyi arrived, Jiang Zhiyi shrank into the corner, half her body against the wall, still pressing inward as if Shi Qingyi were a flood or wild beast.

She really was like one—the girl carried a faint bodily fragrance, slouched improperly over the desk to sleep, crushing one corner of Jiang Zhiyi’s book.

Jiang Zhiyi didn’t dare pull it away or move, her mind buzzing. Any motion recalled that day outside the door, hearing the girl lean on her desk and speak.

Her lips curved in a thin, cold arc—beautiful even when hurtful.

“So disgusting? Just toying with her…”

Cough cough cough—Jiang Zhiyi’s face paled two shades. She couldn’t hold back a cough. The girl in front, Jiang Jun—Deng Sisi’s bestie—turned, eyes full of disgust and revulsion, slamming her book on the desk.

“Can’t you let people memorize vocab? Coughing like that—annoying much?”

When others disliked you, everything you did was wrong—even a cold-induced cough.

She said nothing, suppressing desperately to stifle it, her back hunched like a bow about to snap.

But her body rebelled, a sound leaking out. Jiang Jun whipped around again, frowning irritably, about to snap when a book flew past from beside her.

The blonde girl, still half-asleep, lifted her head slightly, tone hostile. “You annoying or what? Let me sleep, huh? I cough, got a problem?”

Everyone was doing morning reading, yet she slept brazenly, even roaring back at complainers.

She looked fiercely hungover, her lush brows furrowed, silencing any retort. Jiang Jun backed down awkwardly, sitting again.

The insult she’d swallowed was something like: Poor ghost, can’t afford meds, why bother school? Go pick trash!

Jiang Zhiyi really had scavenged trash—in bone-chilling winter, digging through garbage with frostbitten hands. The world was small; she ran into a classmate dumping trash. They stared wordlessly; soon, top student Jiang’s trash-picking spread.

Even without odor, rumors painted her as emerging from a dumpster.

Old Ban returned from the office with homework. The classroom filled with reading voices again, occasional low coughs ignored now.

After morning self-study came breakfast time. Shi Qingyi, dozing on her desk, was woken by Old Ban. She didn’t bother sitting up, just lifting her head halfway.

Old Ban had no temper for her, whispering, “Don’t push it just ’cause your mom’s called ahead. Math teacher just scolded you a bit—did you have to storm out, make a scene, and get soaked?”

She paused, then asked, “Heard you coughing in class. Caught a cold?”

Shi Qingyi nodded opportunistically, wanting no nagging, and buried her head to sleep. The teacher looked awkward, sighed helplessly.

Assuming her asleep, voices gossiped outside.

Someone smacked their lips softly: Look at that treatment—Old Ban doesn’t care. But wasn’t it her cold? Faking to skip?

Then came hacking coughs nearby—gut-wrenching, doubling her over, pale hand unconsciously rubbing her stomach.

The system whispered, “She’s starving. Hasn’t eaten since last night, not even water.”

Shi Qingyi shot up, striding righteously to the office.

Healthy as she looked—no cold symptoms—she still got a sick leave slip easily.

—Next was math; teacher wanted no clash.

Those gossips gave her a brilliant idea.

The school infirmary was well-equipped—a three-story building with dedicated wards, donated by Shi Qingyi’s family early that year, still new. Shi Qingyi boldly claimed a cold; the doctor eyed her speechless, then professionally advised an injection for quickest recovery.

As the needle poised on her fair arm, Shi Qingyi suddenly stood, yelling “Wait!”

The doctor’s hand halted, temple throbbing.

Jiang Zhiyi felt like a drowning person, one breath from submersion.

Cold, headache, fever, stomach churning in agony—she couldn’t speak through the pain. She didn’t want to cough, but her body wouldn’t obey; her throat itched unbearably.

Just one self-study down—how to survive the day?

She slumped slowly over the desk, clutching her lower abdomen. The seat beside her empty again—had the girl left early because she was too disgusting?

As expected.

She trembled in pain, cold sweat trickling from her brow, heart and body aching indistinguishably.

Someone kicked her desk leg. “Hey, Shi Qingyi says go to the infirmary.”

The jolt hit her stomach; forehead beaded sweat, but she caught the name.

A big clock on the wall—she glanced up; class near. The messenger kicked again impatiently, from afar, not approaching.

“Go already.”

Don’t let that grim reaper wait and dump blame on her.

A bit schadenfreude—this freak liked girls, even crushing on Shi Qingyi the living hellking. Infirmary in the grove—who knew the beating awaiting.

Last guy who groped Shi Qingyi, vowing she’d be his girl, got beaten so bad he still avoided No. 3 Middle School’s gate.

Just a beating—what of it?

Jiang Zhiyi gripped the desk, stood shakily, and shuffled out. The morning breeze was still, but chillingly cold on her skin, shrouded in heavy gloom, trudging like a corpse.

Passing students veered away, dodging a revolting heap of trash.

—

Shi Qingyi waited half an hour in the infirmary before someone shuffled slowly from the grove—bent over, head down, staggering, legs trembling.

Her face deathly pale, ears flushed red like fever, standing before her like a wilting flower.

“Shi…”

She didn’t even dare call out Qingyi’s name. Her voice was hoarse and unpleasant, and the more she spoke, the lower her head dropped, almost burying itself in the dust.

Shi Qingyi leaned back in her chair, playing on her phone. She only glanced at Jiang Zhiyi once before casually telling the doctor, “Give her the shot.”

Jiang Zhiyi had no idea what kind of injection it was and didn’t feel like asking anymore. Her mind buzzed the entire way there, and the nausea grew worse. It was probably revenge, right? Injections couldn’t be given randomly—they could kill people. But staying alive didn’t seem all that great either…

Her head felt so heavy, throbbing as if it might split open. Finally, she couldn’t hold on any longer. Her vision went black, and she collapsed with a thud. But instead of hitting the ground as expected, someone caught her in the blur.

The doctor was speechless. He couldn’t just ignore his professional ethics and give a random shot. He went over to check on her and was just about to pry open Jiang Zhiyi’s mouth to look at her throat when someone stopped him.

The girl set down her phone, rested the unconscious person’s head on her lap, and pried open the fever-cracked lips of the girl.

The doctor shone a light and took a look. “It’s pretty serious. Tonsillitis. The medicine I prescribed earlier isn’t suitable.”

Medicine couldn’t be taken randomly, and neither could injections.

In her haze, Jiang Zhiyi felt someone gently stroke her dry, cracked lips. A faint voice, emotionless, said, “Then change the medicine.”

“By the way, could you trouble yourself to bring a cup of hot water?”

A long while later, Jiang Zhiyi felt something warm and liquid moisten her lips. Someone propped her up a little, and a warm cup pressed to her mouth, feeding her water.

Her throat burned dry, so she eagerly leaned in—only to choke. She coughed violently, heart-wrenching, sputtering out most of the water. A hand lightly patted her back. She realized she’d coughed most of the cup onto the other’s clothes. With her eyes closed, she murmured endless apologies. “Sorry… sorry… cough cough, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…”

But her eyes were too heavy; she couldn’t open them.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. No problem.” The voice was aloof and cool, but the hand patting her back was gentle. It sounded just like… Shi Qingyi’s voice.

The doctor took her temperature and jumped. “Nearly 104°F. No wonder she’s talking nonsense. Her brain must be fried from the fever.”

Then he gave Shi Qingyi an odd look. She was burning up like this and hadn’t asked for leave, but you, perfectly healthy, were quick to fake one.

Shi Qingyi ignored him. She carefully fed water into Jiang Zhiyi’s mouth, paused as if remembering something, then looked up. “Do you have a tetanus shot here?”

She unfurled the girl’s tightly clenched palm. Inside were scattered cuts—some from accidentally nicking herself on a broken wine bottle that morning while cleaning, others from last night on the rooftop, where she’d desperately tugged at the iron door trying to call for help.

And with hands like these, she’d been taking notes that very morning.

—

Jiang Zhiyi was delirious with fever, unsure if she was even alive. It felt like her soul had left her body, watching from afar.

She watched as Shi Qingyi got some gauze and cleaned the wounds on her palm with iodine. When it hurt and she flinched, Shi Qingyi gently blew on it. After cleaning, she applied Yunnan Baiyao and lightly massaged her forehead. Only then did Jiang Zhiyi notice the huge lump where she’d been hit that morning—that was why it hurt so much.

She thought she must be dreaming. Shi Qingyi held her, lost in thought, her expression complex and weary. After a long moment, the girl lowered her head and lightly tapped her chin against Jiang Zhiyi’s forehead.

Jiang Zhiyi slept deeply and long. When she woke, she was alone, curled up in a chair. Shi Qingyi was still playing on her phone nearby. Seeing her awake, she stood and told the doctor, “Put the injection on my tab.”

Then she grabbed her bag and left, without a hint of reluctance.

Jiang Zhiyi’s eyes dimmed. No one noticed as she clenched her teeth. The nearby students showed knowing expressions.

They all thought this person was ruthless. Medicine and shots couldn’t be given randomly. Faking a leave slip and medical record by making someone else take the shot? That was too much…

Was this how rich people were? But since it was that disgusting thing, whatever.

The doctor was dumbfounded. Shi Qingyi’s family had donated half the school’s building fund half a year ago to get her in, so of course he knew her. That afternoon, he’d even gotten a text from her mom asking how her cold was.

But a tetanus shot probably wasn’t to fool her parents, right?

He was puzzled but didn’t dwell on what these students thought. It wasn’t his business. He was just the guy who gave shots.

Shi Qingyi skipped class brazenly and went back to sleep, like the reincarnation of the sleep god. In the classroom, coughs occasionally rang out—hack hack hack hack, annoying as hell—but no one said a word.

They hoped the nearest one, Shi Qingyi, would snap and lash out. But she was so close and never said anything.

At ten p.m., after evening self-study, Jiang Zhiyi passed through the construction site. She walked slowly today, taking nearly an hour to reach the alley entrance.

Her forehead still faintly sweated, but it was much better than morning. The trash at the alley mouth hadn’t been cleared, piled into a heap with flies buzzing around.

She stood at the alley mouth for a bit, then suddenly turned back as if seeing something. Just then, a neighbor came to dump garbage, filling the tiny gap.

Jiang Zhiyi’s face went deathly pale. Under the bleak moonlight, she actually dug out a small soy milk cup.

—Bearing a familiar logo.

For some reason, she suddenly lowered her head to sniff her palm. It was still covered in wounds, not carefully bandaged like in her dream. But as she leaned down, she really smelled the strong medicinal scent.

Jiang Zhiyi’s eyes, hidden in the darkness, suddenly came alive from their wooden dullness.