Chapter 8: The Teacher's Concern
Until the end of gym class, Wang Hai hadn’t acknowledged Zhang Yu once—treated him as if he were invisible, offering no instruction, no guidance, not even a glance. Under Wang Hai’s lead, the other students instinctively avoided Zhang Yu too, as though a silent, invisible barrier had formed around him, creating an empty zone no one dared cross.
“This old Wang… how petty can one person be?”
But Zhang Yu had no choice now. He simply lay back down on the ground and resumed resting.
As the bell rang, students began streaming toward the cafeteria. After everyone had left, Zhou Tianyi walked over to Zhang Yu and gave him a thumbs-up. “Brave man. Did you buy accident insurance yet?”
Zhang Yu slowly sat up, brushing off his pants. “What’s there to fear? Once my cultivation advances significantly and my grades skyrocket, there’ll be plenty of teachers willing to protect me.”
He glanced confidently at the Feather Scroll in his palm. His Physical Strength Level had risen from 0.83 to 0.84—no injections, no supplements, no special food, just pure training through the Jianti Thirty-Six Forms.
The thought sent a shiver of excitement through him. If the Jianti Thirty-Six Forms continued to improve, his strength would grow faster and faster.
Just imagining it made him marvel once more at his own untapped potential.
Zhou Tianyi, watching Zhang Yu’s sudden burst of confidence, raised an eyebrow. “You find a new supplier for that miracle drug? Got something good? Don’t forget your brother.”
Zhang Yu clenched his fist and smiled. “Kid, I’m naturally cultivating—no shortcuts.”
Outside the training room, Bai Zhenzhen emerged, flushed and drenched in sweat, her body radiating heat after a brutal session.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
She knocked on the door. “Zhang Yu, done pretending? I’m starving. Let’s go eat.”
The three of them joined the throng heading to the cafeteria. Though they arrived late, Zhang Yu and his companions—Model Class students—had priority access and could enter through the VIP lane.
They stepped into the cafeteria amid a sea of curious stares from students of other classes.
It was hard to describe the feeling. If Zhang Yu had to put it into words, it was like a top-tier cultivator from the inner sect walking into a commoner’s tavern, drawing glances of envy, jealousy, or even the quiet ambition of those who thought they could one day replace him.
Once inside, Bai Zhenzhen said, “I’m going up to the second floor today. I’m doing nutritional supplementation.”
Nutritional supplementation—food infused with spiritual elements and carefully crafted with medicinal herbs—was essential for recovering from intense physical training. It boosted physical resilience, repaired damage, and enhanced both cultivation and breath regulation.
It was invaluable for spiritual development.
The only reason Zhang Yu hadn’t eaten it was because it was astronomically expensive. A single meal cost hundreds at minimum, and rare ingredients could run into thousands. Even when he’d had money before, he’d never dared eat it daily. Now, with his finances in shambles, it was completely out of reach.
Watching Bai Zhenzhen walk up the stairs alone, Zhang Yu felt the divide between the second floor and the first floor as sharp as the one between the cafeteria and the long queue outside.
But a question stirred in his mind: Aizhen isn’t broke, is she? How can she afford the second floor?
...
Not long after lunch, Zhang Yu was summoned to the teacher’s office during his nap.
A middle-aged man sipped tea, eyeing Zhang Yu from behind his desk. “Wang Hai told me about what happened.”
The man was Su Haifeng—class advisor for Model Class and head of the first-year grade.
He looked at Zhang Yu with visible disappointment. “Do you remember what you told me during your interview?”
Zhang Yu froze. He had absorbed the memories of his original body, but recalling specific details wasn’t instantaneous.
Su Haifeng sighed. “I remember you said you wanted to get into a prestigious university.”
He leaned forward. “And yet, during gym class, you didn’t buy medicine, didn’t get injections, just lay there pretending to rest… even dared to talk back to your teacher. Is this really the attitude of someone aiming for a top university?”
Zhang Yu was speechless. How could he explain that he was too poor and too weak to afford medicine or injections? That his body had just begun to awaken its potential, so he didn’t need to fake effort anymore?
Silence hung in the air.
Su Haifeng sighed again. “Zhang Yu, your performance over the past three months has been solid. I know you’re a good kid.”
He paused. “Has something happened at home?”
Zhang Yu blinked, stunned by the genuine concern in the man’s eyes. “Wait… this school actually has teachers who care about students?”
He hesitated, then muttered, “Yeah… just a little family disagreement. I’ll sort it out. I’ll get back to normal soon.”
Though touched by the concern, Zhang Yu just wanted to get out of the conversation. He’d explain everything once his grades improved—then no one would question his choices.
But Su Haifeng frowned, clearly annoyed. “You can tell me anything. Why hide it?”
He leaned in. “Has your family’s financial situation taken a hit?”
A beat passed.
“Loan platform collectors have already called the school.”
Zhang Yu shot upright. “They… called you?”
Su Haifeng nodded gravely. “If it hadn’t been for their call, I wouldn’t have known you were in so much debt. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Zhang Yu opened his mouth, then closed it.
He’d never thought telling the school would help. Especially at Songyang High—where the culture was already harsh, and word would spread fast. He figured it’d only make things worse.
But Su Haifeng let out a long, soft sigh, his expression gentle. “I know the school can be strict. You’re afraid to come forward. But we’re your teachers. We’re here to help you.”
He reached into his drawer and pulled out a document, handing it to Zhang Yu.
“This is a special application I filed for you—the Poverty Student Aid Program. Sign it quickly.”
Zhang Yu took the paper, touched. “Thank you, Teacher.”
He’d been wrong about this school.
There’s Wang Hai, the useless one… but there’s also Su Haifeng—truly a mentor at heart.
Su Haifeng smiled and passed him a pen. “Go ahead. Sign it. I’ll submit it before the end of the day.”
Zhang Yu lowered his head, scanning the document.
Then he froze.
Su Haifeng chuckled. “What’s wrong? Sign it already. I’ll make sure it’s in by closing.”
Zhang Yu’s voice dropped. “Teacher… this is a Debt Restructuring Contract, isn’t it? Did you… misread it?”
Su Haifeng chuckled. “Poor students are poor because they’re in debt. By restructuring your debts, we’re helping them. That’s exactly what the Poverty Student Aid Program is.”
Zhang Yu stared at the contract. It detailed a consolidation of all his debts, with the school lending him money to pay off his creditors.
From that point on, the school became his sole creditor.
He calculated the new total. After fees, interest, principal, handling charges, and the infamous “prepaid interest”—the amount had ballooned to over a million.
“This isn’t debt restructuring,” Zhang Yu thought, fury boiling beneath his calm. “This is loan chasing loan—a debt trap!”
He wanted to scream: Even the teacher’s a loan shark?
Is there no honest teacher left in this school?
He exhaled slowly, suppressing his rage.
“Teacher… I think I’ll pass. I’ll pay it myself.”
Su Haifeng pressed gently. “A child like you—how can you afford this? Let the school handle it. We’ll take the burden.”
He smiled. “The repayment plan is very lenient.”
Zhang Yu shook his head. “No, really. I don’t need it.”
After refusing again and again, Zhang Yu abruptly tossed the contract onto the desk and turned to leave.
Watching his retreating back, Su Haifeng lifted his teacup, blowing gently across the surface.
A moment later, he answered his vibrating phone.
“He refused.”
“Yeah… I’ll try again later.”
He smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. Poor people… eventually, they’ll break. And when they do, they’ll come crawling back for help.”
(End of Chapter
(End of Chapter)
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