After the Reborn Young Master Embraced a Life of Wellness – Chapter 9

Chen Mo first went to the second-year teachers’ office. The homeroom teacher of the experimental class was Xiang Shenglong, a physics teacher who taught over a third of the students in the grade. He was in his thirties, wore glasses, and had a scholarly appearance.

“Our class’s dormitory quota was already full at the beginning of the semester,” Xiang Shenglong sat behind his desk and looked at Chen Mo with a questioning gaze. “There’s still space in the mixed dormitory. Are you okay with that?”

Chen Mo took the two forms, flipped through them, and replied casually, “Either works for me.”

“Chen Mo,” the homeroom teacher called his name. When Chen Mo looked up, his expression was cautious. “The mixed dormitory can be a bit chaotic, and the study environment isn’t as focused as in our class dormitory. You’ve just transferred in not long ago… Are you sure you want to live on campus?”

Chen Mo understood his subtle attempt at dissuasion.

He smiled slightly. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright,” Xiang Shenglong gave in, “If you’re fine with it, then just fill out this application form and the commitment letter, and hand them over to the class monitor. He’ll submit them to the dormitory management office for processing and stamping.”

Chen Mo nodded and was about to leave when a voice came from the doorway.

“Reporting in.”

The person at the door spoke in a casual tone.

When Xiang Shenglong saw who it was, he turned to Chen Mo and said, “Fill it out here.” Then, he waved at the newcomer, “You came at just the right time.” His tone was familiar, almost relaxed. “Help Chen Mo fill out the form and then take a trip to the dormitory office to push them to finish the paperwork by today.”

“Isn’t that your job?” The visitor asked lazily.

As he spoke, he stepped inside and placed two stacks of documents on Xiang Shenglong’s desk. He wasn’t wearing a school uniform, and when he rolled up his sleeves, his arm lightly brushed against Chen Mo’s elbow, bringing with it a faint, familiar cool scent.

After dropping off the documents, he leaned against the desk and glanced at the computer screen. “Physics Institute’s research report? Wasn’t this published in a journal last year? Why are you still milking it?”

Xiang Shenglong shot him a glance and replied, “My professor is leading this research. Do you think everyone’s like you, with no sense of respect for their teachers?”

Xi Siyan straightened up and sneered. “I didn’t say anything. You’re the one jumping to personal attacks.”

“Less nonsense. Did you collect the class’s mobile phones?”

Xi Siyan shook his head. “Is there any point? Everyone has two phones nowadays—one turned in for school rules and another hidden in their pockets. Instead of collecting phones, why don’t you just patrol the back door during self-study? You’d get better results.”

Xiang Shenglong grabbed a book and tossed it at him. “Do I need you to teach me how to do my job?”

Xi Siyan caught it effortlessly, grinning, then turned his attention to the other person in the room.

He glanced at the two forms in Chen Mo’s hands, raised his eyebrows, and asked, “You’re applying to live on campus?”

“Yeah,” Chen Mo replied, thinking, Isn’t that obvious? Why even ask?

The next second, Xi Siyan reached out toward him.

Chen Mo hesitated for a moment before handing over the forms.

Xi Siyan shook his head. “Not these. Hand over your phone first.”

A habit ingrained in Chen Mo for years suddenly kicked in. His privacy awareness went on high alert. He didn’t move, his brow furrowed slightly, and his gaze toward Xi Siyan carried an unmistakable trace of dissatisfaction.

“Heh.” Xi Siyan let out a soft chuckle. “Old Xiang, looks like someone here refuses to cooperate.”

Only then did Chen Mo remember—high school students weren’t allowed to use mobile phones on campus.

He convinced himself: You’re just a high school student now. You have to go to class, take exams… and yes, you have to take the college entrance exam again.

Before the overwhelming reality could fully sink in, Xiang Shenglong spoke up. “Chen Mo doesn’t have to turn it in for now.”

He then turned to Chen Mo, his tone warm. “Live in the dorms for a couple of days first and see if you can adjust. If you need to call your family, you can do that. Just don’t bring your phone into the classroom. Turn it in starting next week.”

Xi Siyan immediately let out a sarcastic laugh. “You’re talking like you’re coaxing a kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. Xiang,” Chen Mo said sincerely. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “No need to call my family. I just have trouble sleeping without checking my phone at night. Give me two days to get used to it.”

Xiang Shenglong frowned. “Electronics are addictive. You should play less.”

Chen Mo found it amusing but also a little distracting.

Two days at the Yang house, and he had almost forgotten—what made his high school life unbearable wasn’t just people like Li Rui, nor the endless rumors. It was also the ever-watchful eyes of teachers who never truly trusted him.

Most of them weren’t as straightforward as Director Lai, which only made it worse.

Yuhuai Village was poor, but it wasn’t some remote mountain village with no roads. His childhood school had been a Hope Primary School built through charitable donations, but his junior high and high school were at least in the county.

He had used a phone before, though it was an old keypad model.

He knew where the amusement park’s entrance was. He knew that if you slipped the security guard at the skating rink a ten-yuan bill, they’d let you in after hours. He even knew the county’s only two bars, where part-time jobs could earn you a couple hundred a night.

Not to mention the current Chen Mo.

How was he supposed to explain to this homeroom teacher—who would be overseeing him for the next two years—that he wasn’t some “perfect student”?

In his previous life, he had barely managed to keep up with the so-called three-good student image. Back then, academics were his only way out. Later, he worked himself to the bone just to prove himself, barely recognizing the faces of his classmates. His impression of Xiang Shenglong had been of a young, amiable teacher who got along well with students.

But now… he neither wanted to compete with Yang Shule nor needed to prove anything through academic achievements.

Still, he asked a seemingly absurd question:

“Mr. Xiang, is the experimental class still a flexible placement system?”

“No,” Xiang Shenglong frowned slightly, surprised at the question. “It used to be, but it was abolished last year. Don’t stress yourself. The class won’t easily replace students.”

Chen Mo: “…I see. Thanks, teacher. I’m not worried.”

What a pity. His plan to get kicked out of the experimental class had gone to waste.

Leaving the office alongside Xi Siyan, Chen Mo was headed back to the classroom, while Xi Siyan went in the opposite direction toward another office building.

Just before parting, Chen Mo called out, “Hey, squad leader.”

Xi Siyan turned. “What?”

Chen Mo asked, “Which floor is the second-year Class 1 classroom on?”

“You messing with me?”

Chen Mo raised his hands in innocence. “Swear to God, I’m serious.”

Xi Siyan stared at him for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether he was joking, then finally said, “Second floor, turn left.”

Chen Mo nodded. “Thanks, squad leader. You’re a good person.”

Xi Siyan narrowed his eyes. “You could at least fake your smile better.”

When Chen Mo found Class 1’s classroom, the bell for the end of morning self-study had just rung.

The room was buzzing with activity.

Some students fetched water, others were goofing off, but most were still focused on reviewing exercises.

The moment Chen Mo walked in, the classroom noticeably quieted down.

Qi Li’s deskmate glanced at his swollen forehead, which was now a deep shade of purple.

“Why aren’t you talking to Yang Shule today?” His voice carried genuine surprise.

Yang Shule sat in the third row, right in the middle—the standard seat for a model student. He had been absent from school for half a month. Even though he had heard about what happened over the weekend, stepping into the school building still made him the center of attention.

A group of classmates gathered around him, asking about his well-being.

But today, Qi Li, who usually stuck to Yang Shule like glue, remained in his seat, showing no intention of approaching.

Hearing the murmurs around him, Qi Li coldly flipped open a book and said, “I just don’t want to go. Why should I?”

His deskmate muttered, “I was just asking, why are you snapping at me?”

“What does it have to do with you?”

His voice was so loud that it caught the attention of the whole class.

Even Yang Shule turned to look.

“Shule, what’s up with Qi Li today?”

“Yeah, he’s acting weird.”

Someone sneaked a glance toward the entrance and whispered, “What do you mean? He got beaten up by Chen Mo like that. It’d be weirder if he were in a good mood.”

Yang Shule remained seated, watching as Chen Mo entered the room.

Chen Mo glanced around, seemingly searching for something. Finally, after a quiet nudge from a front-row student, he moved toward his designated seat.

That seat—right next to the podium—was the only single desk in the entire class.

Most students didn’t know the reason behind it, but Yang Shule did.

That seat was a special privilege.

It put its occupant in the most visible spot, making it easy for them to be noticed. Chen Mo had been in the spotlight at home these past two days, and now he was sitting in that seat? How could he remain indifferent?

But surprisingly, Chen Mo didn’t sit down with confidence, nor did he seem uneasy.

Instead—he moved the desk away.

The scraping sound of wood against the floor caught everyone’s attention.

Chen Mo knew the entire class was staring at him, but he didn’t care.

Thinking back to his previous life, when he had sat here feeling restless and suffocated for two whole months, he realized—he hadn’t been crazy back then, and he still wasn’t crazy now.

He dragged the desk all the way to the last row, near the window, and set it down with a bang.

Immediately, whispers erupted throughout the classroom.

“What is he doing? Did the teacher tell him to move?”

“Who knows? He just wants to stand out. He can beat people without blinking. He probably paid his way into our class. What’s the big deal about changing seats?”

“Well, aside from that, I heard his grades aren’t actually bad.”

“If they’re so good, the upcoming monthly exam will prove it. It’ll be hilarious if he fails.”

Just then, Gou Yiyang entered through the back door, accompanied by two boys Chen Mo had met on Friday.

The moment Gou Yiyang spotted him, he called out dramatically, “Mr. Mo, what’s this? Have you become my dream lover?”

The boy slinging an arm over Gou Yiyang’s shoulder—Jiang Xu—burst out laughing. “Shameless. Wasn’t your dream lover that guy lurking in the back alley bathroom? The one gaming in the garbage room? Even a stray dog wouldn’t find you there.”

The students in the back row cracked up.

It was as if the classroom was split into two separate worlds—the front filled with wary tension, while the back overflowed with easy laughter.

Chen Mo ignored the subtle division and casually responded, “I don’t mind. We can hold hands in the garbage dump. First one to crawl away is a dog.”

“Who wants to hold your hand?” Gou Yiyang scoffed. Then he frowned. “Wait, isn’t this seat way too far from the garbage room?”

A few students squeezed into the seats around Chen Mo. Gou Yiyang turned to him and muttered, “But bro, Lao Xiang specifically said no one was allowed to sit here. How’d you get away with it?”

Chen Mo lazily tidied up his desk, running his fingers over the unfamiliar sensation of pens and rulers.

He answered casually, “I didn’t ask.”

“…You’re really fearless, huh?”

Chen Mo glanced across the room.

At the front of the class, a single desk mirrored his own—the one near the door.

And seated there, all alone, was Xi Siyan.

Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t I sit here?”

Jiang Xu elbowed Gou Yiyang aside, mimicking Xiang Shenglong’s lecturing tone. He grabbed a ruler, smacked it on the desk, and declared, “You think you’re the second Xi Siyan now? You think there isn’t enough space in the experimental class for you to sit anywhere else?”

So that’s who the single desk belonged to—the experimental class monitor.

Chen Mo hadn’t remembered.

In his previous life, he had been so focused on studying that he changed seats every month based on his exam rankings. After the first two months, classmates came and went from the desk beside his, but their faces had all blurred together.

The first period was Chinese.

The Chinese teacher was an old man, someone who had been teaching for decades.

He showed no reaction to the missing desk at the front, nor did he question the sudden presence of a student at the back. Instead, he simply shook his head and began to recite,

“Haven’t you seen how the Yellow River comes from the sky, rushing into the sea and never returning? Haven’t you seen how, in the bright hall mirror…”

Midway through his reading, he suddenly paused.

“You, at the back—stand up and translate.”

No response.

The old teacher frowned. “The student in the last row.”

The entire class turned to look.

And there, by the window, sat the so-called special transfer student.

Bathed in the golden morning sunlight, his slightly tousled hair glowed under the rays.

One arm rested lazily against the back of his chair, the other tucked behind his head.

Fast asleep.