I'm A Math Idiot, So What? - Chapter 5

I am 22 years old and have been fooled by teachers more times than I’ve solved math problems, fully understanding that the words of a teacher can be deceitful. To someone like me, who struggles with math, a casual “let’s see where everyone stands” hides deeper intentions.

The catch is, if I hand in a blank paper, I’ll become the target of the teacher’s critical eye in class. If I leave to go to the restroom, it looks like I’m planning to escape. Sleeping at my desk shows a lack of progress. But if I attentively listen, I might be called upon to answer, serving as a contrast for top students, like a rough stone to be polished and compared against their shining solutions.

Failing to submit anything at all just proves I’m absent. The only area I feel confident about is my attendance record—I can’t let a minor thing ruin my only sure points and miss out on those easy marks.

I glanced around. The densely packed area of top students was frantically scribbling away. Their shiny, settled heads reminded me of ripe wheat in a harvested field. Meanwhile, the fewer companions in the leisure area had quickly formed alliances, discreetly passing confidential notes under the table. As for the retirement zone—er, I was the only one there.

At this moment, I felt like an isolated island.

I leaned back, feeling the warmth of a human presence behind me. I turned my head and saw someone sitting there.

Oh, I forgot, today I’m sitting in the second-to-last row. This person must have come in through the back door while I was asleep; there was no one there before the class started.

Wow, this fluffy head really stands out, unique and unmatched. See that empty desk as clear as a lookout tower, those elbows buried like a tomb mound, and the upright tuft of hair defiantly standing on top—it’s a true embodiment of “everyone’s awake but me.”

A real warrior dares to sleep soundly amidst the bleakness of life and the abundance of blood.

I’ve been out of this game for many years now.Back in my high school days, I was really into the spirit of martial arts. The idea of “even thieves have principles,” applied to helping each other with homework, was familiar to me. However, I never cheated on exams. I was even considered a moral beacon among my peers for my integrity in such matters, proudly upholding the motto “living great and dying honorable.”

Another reason stemmed from my father’s martial arts philosophy, having mastered a certain unbeatable palm technique. If he caught wind of my cheating, my sturdy head wouldn’t withstand his ferocious blows descending from the heavens.

There was a single exception during my first year of high school during a mock exam. The experience brought chaos to my life, and my father almost beat me to the point of tragedy. After that, I backed down quickly, deciding to give it up altogether.

But cheating, like domestic violence and infidelity, comes down to this: it’s either zero times or countless times.

Isolated on my island, I gave myself an out—technically speaking, this test wasn’t an exam, just a preliminary assessment. Since it was a gauge of our standing and didn’t count towards our grades, it felt more like homework in essence.

The moral standards around copying homework aren’t as strict. Besides, if I don’t copy, what other options do I have? I couldn’t just make up answers to the math questions, especially since I didn’t even understand them.

So, I stealthily took out my phone, turned off the flash, and snapped a quick photo of the test questions while Professor Fang wasn’t looking. I sent the photo to Xu Zheng with an accompanying “SOS.”

My long-time friend immediately caught on and replied, “Starting bid at 200.”

“250, how about it?”

“Never mind if you’re not serious.”

“Alright, alright, take advantage of the situation if you must. People like you would definitely exploit others during wartime.”

“I see you still want to argue. Should I not do the questions and just chat with you?”

“Oh, ancestor, please focus. I’m at your mercy.”

After ten minutes, Xu Zheng sent back a photo with the answers. I quickly copied them down, filling the once-blank paper in just a few minutes. It had been years since I’d engaged in such frantic scribbling, and completing it in one go even made me feel strangely like a math genius.