He was a disabled military officer who doted on his research work in the Northwest.

The tips of the other person's ears were red, clearly indicating nervousness.

"Sit down." Shen Tang moved her chair aside to make room, opened her notebook, and found the page on force analysis. "Is there anything you don't understand? I'll explain it to you."

The girl was stunned.

She looked up and met Shen Tang's gaze—calm, without mockery or resentment, and without feigned magnanimity or saying anything like "I forgive you." It was as if nothing had ever happened.

"Th-thank you." She sat down, blushing.

Seeing this, another girl quickly followed.

Shen Tang spent the entire break between classes explaining things to them. From the basic steps of force analysis to how to break down the direction of forces in complex situations, and then to the easily confused determination of frictional force—she explained things in a simple and easy-to-understand way. The pace was a little slower than the teacher's in class, but every step was explained thoroughly.

The two girls' eyes sparkled after hearing this.

"Oh, I see!" one of them exclaimed in sudden realization. "I read that example problem in the textbook three times and still didn't understand it, but now I get it right after you explained it!"

"Thank you, Shen Tang! Thank you so much!"

Shen Tang waved his hand and closed the notebook.

As the two girls walked out of the classroom, they ran into Shen Yao, who was coming from the other end of the corridor.

Shen Yao was wearing the new floral dress that Zhao Jianhui had bought for her a few days ago. She had her signature pitiful smile on her face and was about to greet the two of them.

The two girls glanced at her.

Then they all rolled their eyes and walked past her.

"Let's go, let's go back and do our homework."

"Okay, let's work through that problem again before the next class."

Shen Yao's smile froze on her face, her outstretched hand, which she had reached out to greet someone, hung in mid-air, unable to move forward or backward.

She watched their figures disappear around the corner of the stairs, her fingers slowly clenching the hem of her skirt.

These people had clearly been won over by her before—she had given them candy, helped them copy homework, and cried pitifully in front of them to gain their sympathy.

What now?

They wouldn't even give her a second glance.

Shen Tang seduced Mu Qinghan, causing her to ignore him, and even rallied his classmates to turn against him!

You bitch!

……

A week before the diagnostic test, the learning atmosphere in Class 2 was so intense it seemed to overflow.

Shen Tang's lead sparked a chain reaction. Everyone discovered that instead of burying themselves in textbooks they couldn't understand, it was much more efficient to ask someone who was good at the subject. Asking them led to sudden enlightenment, which was more than ten times more effective than struggling on their own.

Gu Bei was the first to jump out and respond.

"Let's form a mutual aid group!" He stood on the podium, waving his arms like a captain. "Those good at math will take charge of math, those good at physics will take charge of physics, those good at chemistry will take charge of chemistry—ask whoever you don't understand, it'll save time and effort!"

"Which subject are you good at?" someone asked.

Gu Bei hesitated for a moment: "...I'm good at Chinese."

"You only got 60 points on your essay last time!"

"That's because my teacher can't appreciate my great talent!"

Laugh out loud.

But the suggestion was adopted.

Shen Tang was in charge of math and chemistry. A boy named Zhang Ming was quite good at physics; his father was a communications soldier in the military region, so he was particularly strong in electromagnetism from a young age. Chinese was taught by Zhao Xiaoya, a quiet girl in the class who wore glasses; her classical Chinese translations were the most accurate in the class.

During breaks and lunch breaks, you can always see a few students gathered together in Class 2 discussing problems. Some are drawing force diagrams on the blackboard, some are arguing with the person next to them about balancing chemical equations, and some are copying down key sentences from classical Chinese texts translated by Zhao Xiaoya on small slips of paper and stuffing them into their pockets.

Noisy, lively, and full of life.

Sun Xiulan stood outside the back door of the classroom, looking at the scene inside through the glass, and her lips twitched slightly, a rare occurrence.

She has been a homeroom teacher for twenty years and has taught countless classes. She has seen smart students and hardworking students, but it is rare to find a class that can foster such a spirit of mutual help and support.

And it all started with that girl who sat quietly and handed her notebook to someone else.

Sun Xiulan withdrew her gaze and turned to walk towards her office. As she passed Class 1, she glanced at it out of the corner of her eye—

The students in Class One were all engrossed in their work, quiet and well-behaved. Ma Decai sat at the podium grading assignments, occasionally glancing up at the classroom; everything was under his control.

……

Class 1 Office.

Ma Decai sat at his desk with his legs crossed, holding an enamel mug in his hand, and took a sip.

He certainly knew about the mutual aid groups that Class Two had been organizing lately—the news was brought back by students from Class One, who described it vividly: "The students in Class Two are discussing problems in the classroom during breaks. Shen Tang is explaining math to them, and Zhang Ming is explaining physics to them..."

Ma Decai chuckled.

Just messing around.

What can students teaching students really achieve? A sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl, no matter how smart, can't replace a teacher's systematic instruction. Mutual aid groups? Frankly, it's just a bunch of people haphazardly getting together to create the illusion of learning.

His class didn't need these fancy things. His students quietly did problems, memorized formulas, and did practice tests—that was the right way. What's the core of exam-oriented education? It's the sea of ​​problems strategy. Doing a hundred problems is always more effective than discussing ten.

Moreover—he glanced at the report card on the table—the students in Class One were already better than those in Class Two.

When the classes were initially assigned, he recruited almost all the children of high-ranking officers from the machinery factory and the military region into his class. These children came from well-off families, with some hiring private tutors and others buying supplementary learning materials, giving them a significantly stronger foundation than the ordinary military children and factory workers' children in the second class.

Except for Shen Tang.

When Ma Decai thought of that name, the smile on his lips faded slightly.

Shen Tang was an accident. A high-achieving student who should have been his was snatched away by Sun Xiulan.

But no matter how talented one person is, they can't change the class average. His class has more than twenty students with solid foundations—no matter what, their average score won't be lower than that of the second class.

He passed the preliminary test with flying colors.

After the preliminary exam, there will be a city-wide mock college entrance exam. The class average rankings from the city-wide mock exam will be directly reported to the Education Bureau. Principal Zhou will retire next year—there are currently only two candidates for the next principal: him and Sun Xiulan.

He had connections—Deputy Director Liu of the Education Bureau was his cousin-in-law. But connections alone weren't enough; he also needed impressive teaching results. His ranking in the city-wide mock exams was his strongest asset.

As long as the average score of Class 1 surpasses that of Class 2, his position as principal will be secure.

Ma Decai took another sip of tea, crossed his legs and swung them around, looking quite pleased with himself.

Sun Xiulan? An old-fashioned teacher who only knows how to teach rigidly, with no connections or background, what makes her think she can compete with him?