Nobody said that teachers at elite academies have to be heartthrobs.

In the original storyline, Lin Xun, who suffered from bullying, did not simply endure it silently. Instead, he connected with countless other C-level students who were also bullied and actively fought for their rights. This attracted the attention of the F4, and after experiencing a series of emotional entanglements, he finally became the youngest prime minister in the history of the empire with their help, promoting the equal rights movement.

But now, the romantic storylines of the F4 have been cut short by Butterfly, and Lin Xun is no longer arguing her case as she did in the original storyline.

Yu Fuli founded the student council and appointed Lin Xun as its vice president in order to bring the storyline back on track.

"Okay, I understand. I'll take charge of all student council matters from now on."

With Wen Qiaoan agreeing to take over the student council's affairs, Yu Fuli finally felt relieved. It wasn't that he wanted to be a hands-off manager; he simply didn't have the time. The mess in Class F alone was enough to keep him busy.

I initially thought that having F4 and Qiaoqi transfer over would raise the average score, but reality slapped me in the face.

Aside from Yunbai and Xiao Chi, who were passable, the rest were simply unbearable to watch.

Qiaoqi looked like a quiet and well-behaved girl, but the red crosses on her test paper were strung together.

Jiang Yu was even more ruthless; he didn't take the exams at all, and apart from Yu Fuli's classes, he was practically nowhere to be found on the timetable.

Yu Fuli stared at the glaring blank spaces on the attendance sheet, her teeth itching with anger.

The college ranks teachers based on class attendance and grades every month. He doesn't care about bonuses, but he has to save face!

Just thinking about being singled out and criticized at the end-of-month meeting makes his scalp tingle.

The sky outside the window darkened, and he was the only one left in the office.

Two piles of things were spread out on the table, one on the left and one on the right: on one side was a student council proposal that could shake up the entire college, and on the other side were monthly exam results that barely passed.

Both sides are in dire need of attention, and neither can afford to be delayed.

He wiped his face and picked up a red pen.

Alright, let's finish grading this stack of papers first.

As for those troublesome little brats...

He squinted, the tip of his pen drawing heavy lines on the paper.

……

After the news of the student union's formation was officially released, undercurrents surged throughout the college.

Wen Qiaoan was extremely busy. As soon as the recruitment notice was posted, applications from all sides poured into the temporary office like snowflakes.

Although a vice president was appointed and Lin Xun was indeed capable, his current situation was such that the students in the A and B level circles would not take a top student seriously at all.

Lin Xun's effective connections and organization are mainly focused on the long-marginalized C-level and ordinary student groups.

The truly tough nuts to crack—the A and B level students from prominent families with quick minds, and the final decision on the selection of key department heads—all require Wen Qiaoan's personal involvement.

The good news is that, thanks to the surname "Wen" and the S-level assessment, no one dared to deliberately trip them up, and the process proceeded relatively smoothly.

But the bad news also stemmed from this: too many people saw this as a golden opportunity to curry favor with the Wen family, and their application forms were filled with all sorts of roundabout expressions of "sincerity" and hints.

The application forms had undergone initial screening, but he still had to personally review the final list.

At this moment, Wen Qiaoan leaned wearily against the sofa in the student union's temporary office, her fingertips rapidly swiping across the tablet screen, the densely packed resumes and background notes on the screen making her dizzy.

After staying up for several days in a row, his eyes were already showing a faint bluish-black color, and he didn't even notice when someone pushed the door open and came in.

Jiang Yu crossed her arms, leaned against the doorframe, and watched him for a while before slowly saying, "Oh, is our Dr. Wen going to dedicate himself to serving the people?"

Wen Qiaoan snapped back to reality, looked up, a hint of surprise flashing across her face, quickly masked by her usual gentle smile, though the smile betrayed a hint of weariness: "Why are you here?"

Jiang Yu casually sat down next to him and leaned her head right in front of the tablet: "I couldn't find you at the infirmary, so I had to ask around before I finally found my way here."

He squinted at the screen, his brow furrowing instantly at the dense text. "What the hell is this? It hurts my eyes!"

Wen Qiaoan reached out and gently pushed the shiny golden head away, her voice low and hoarse from lack of rest: "Don't bother me, I'm busy."

"Busy? Busy with this?" Jiang Yu's voice suddenly rose as if she had heard something absurd, and she even sat up straight. "Wen Qiaoan, are you out of your mind? What kind of serious business is a lousy student council? Didn't you swear before that you would graduate early and get into the Royal Academy to get your prestige?"

According to Wen Qiaoan's original plan, he was already preparing for graduation, and then seamlessly transitioned into the Royal Academy, which symbolized top academic achievements and a promising future. After accumulating enough impressive resume and results there, he would naturally return to his family and take over their affairs.

This is a smooth road that every member of his family has walked, and it is also the road he will walk next.

However, all plans went awry that afternoon in the infirmary.

He stepped out of the elevator and saw Yu Fuli, who was pale despite her broken bones, but still stunningly beautiful.

That image was like a fine needle, silently piercing his originally meticulously planned life blueprint.

"The plan has changed." Wen Qiaoan didn't look at Jiang Yu, her gaze returning to the tablet. Her fingertips slid across the screen, her tone so calm that it was impossible to detect a ripple of emotion, yet it caused a slight change in Jiang Yu's eyes.

"It seems our Teacher Yu is quite charming," Jiang Yu said, arms crossed, a playful smile playing on his lips. "Even Dr. Wen is willing to change course for him and stay here to cause trouble in this little pond."

"Jiang Yu." Wen Qiaoan's finger paused slightly as she swiped the screen. She looked up at him, her tone a little heavier than before, "It's not what you think."

He put down his tablet, leaned back on the sofa, rubbed his tired temples, and when he spoke again, his voice was as calm as ever: "I just suddenly felt that the path everyone praises is too boring. Awards, titles, you know, you can get them anytime."

He paused, then calmly met Jiang Yu's probing gaze. "Those things meant nothing to me."

The Royal Institution, a place regarded by countless people as an academic mecca, a place that is difficult to reach even if one tries desperately, was described by him as something he had no choice but to do step by step.

Yet no one could question his confidence. With Wen Qiaoan's talent and the resources represented by the surname "Wen," he was indeed qualified to say such things.

Jiang Yu let out a short, mocking laugh, leaned back, and casually draped his long legs over the edge of the coffee table: "Heh, so after going through all this trouble, being a student council president who's always worrying, working hard, and being watched by all sorts of forces, is that interesting?"

He spoke in a drawn-out tone, each word dripping with barbs.

Wen Qiaoan gently placed the tablet on her lap, finally raising her eyes to look at Jiang Yu.

He didn't immediately refute, but instead thoughtfully observed the other person for a moment. Then, the corners of his lips curved upwards very slightly, his voice still gentle, yet accurately seeing through the essence of the matter:

"Jiang Yu, has anyone ever said," he paused, a knowing smile playing on his lips, "that your words right now are dripping with sourness?"