Reborn as a high school freshman with an awakened system, a fat boy transforms into a male god.

Su Wantang looked up and saw it was him. Her expression didn't change much, but her eyes lit up slightly.

"The first lesson from my English tutor," Lin Bei placed the plastic bag on her desk, trying to sound like a serious person doing serious business, "today's food expenses."

Su Wantang glanced at the plastic bag, then at Lin Bei.

"Didn't we agree that we didn't need to bring lunch?"

"My mom made it, and we can't finish it all," Lin Bei said. "If you don't accept it, she'll have to throw it away. But my mom can't stand wasting food."

Su Wantang remained silent for two seconds.

"Then... give it to me at noon," she said softly, glancing at the other students in the classroom as if afraid of being seen. "It's too early now."

Lin Bei followed her gaze and glanced around, then understood. A girl had a lunchbox from a boy on her desk; at that age, it was bound to raise eyebrows. He wasn't someone who lacked tact; he had that much sense.

"Okay." Lin Bei turned to leave, then paused and added in a low voice, "But I'll give you a heads-up: the braised pork at noon will taste even better than it does now, because the meat will spend an extra morning in an insulated bag to reach the pinnacle of flavor."

Su Wantang couldn't help but let a small smile curve her lips.

Lin Bei felt he might have found a new direction to focus his efforts on: making her laugh. Losing weight was the main task, making money was a side task, and making Su Wantang laugh was a hidden task—the kind of hidden task with no reward, but one you just wanted to complete.

He walked back to his seat and sat down.

The first class was Chinese. The Chinese teacher was over fifty years old, with gray hair and wearing reading glasses.

"Hello students, I am your Chinese teacher, my surname is Chen, Chen Deming."

He wrote his name on the blackboard, his handwriting neat and precise.

"Today is the first class, and I won't be teaching the text. I want to talk to you about what Chinese language is."

The classroom fell silent.

"Chinese language isn't about memorizing, doing exercises, or taking exams." His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear, and he enunciated each word precisely. "Chinese language is... what do you think Chinese language is?"

No one answered.

A typical high school class scene: the teacher poses a question, the students lower their heads and pretend to be dead, a stalemate ensues, waiting for the first brave soul to break the silence. Everyone hopes others will raise their hands while they hide in the back, resulting in nobody raising their hand.

Lin Bei lowered his head, his gaze fixed on his textbook, praying he wouldn't be called on. He even deliberately adjusted his posture, shrinking his body under the desk, trying to use the "target reduction" principle to lower the probability of being called on. The image of a 200-pound fat boy trying to hide himself was absurd in itself, like an elephant trying to hide behind a telephone pole.

Chen Deming glanced at the audience, his gaze sweeping over the young faces before finally settling on the corner.

"Hey, you chubby guy in the last row, what's up with him?"

Lin Bei's heart skipped a beat.

He knew this would happen.

Sitting in the last row, with such a conspicuous size, makes you the first one noticed when the teacher calls roll, even more dangerous than sitting in the first row. The teachers in the first row can see you but are too lazy to call your name, while the teachers in the last row can't see you very clearly but really want to call your name.

All eyes turned to Lin Bei.

He slowly stood up.

"Chinese is..." His mind raced, searching through the "golden quotes" he had read in his previous life. Those sentences floated before his eyes like bullet comments: "Chinese is the outlet of the soul," "Chinese is the reflection of life," "Chinese is another kind of breathing"... Each one more pretentious and fake than the last.

In the end, he chose the most simple one.

"Speaking and writing."

A low chuckle rippled through the classroom. The chuckle was subtle; it wasn't mockery, nor was it jeering, but rather the kind of laugh that said, "He makes such a good point, I'm speechless." It's somewhat like asking someone, "What is eating?" and they say, "Putting food in your mouth, chewing it, and swallowing it." That's true, but it seems too simplistic.

Chen Deming didn't laugh. He looked at Lin Bei, waiting earnestly for him to continue.

Lin Bei thought for a moment, then added, "It's about writing down what you want to say in a way that others can understand."

He paused for a moment after saying that. Hmm, that statement actually makes a lot of sense? It sounds profound coming from his mouth, with a philosophical flavor, like something a great writer would say.

He saw it on a public WeChat account in his previous life, thought it was really well written, and wrote it down on a whim. He never expected that after being reborn, these words would have such a convincing effect coming from his own mouth. This is what they call "a person with knowledge naturally exudes elegance," uh... no, this is what they call "it's good to have some knowledge in your head."

Chen Deming nodded.

"Well said." His voice was still not loud, but there was a serious hint of approval in his tone. "Language is about expression. You have thoughts, feelings, and stories in your heart, how do you let others know? Through language."

He turned around and wrote four large characters on the blackboard: "Literature carries the Way."

"You might not understand these four words right now." Chen Deming turned around, pushed up his reading glasses, which slid down his nose a little before being pushed back up. "It's okay, you'll understand in time."

Lin Bei sat down, glancing at the front row of the classroom out of the corner of his eye.

Su Wantang was taking notes with her head down, the pen scratching on the paper, very seriously.

At lunchtime, most of the students had left the classroom.

Lin Bei took the plastic bag out of his schoolbag and walked to Su Wantang's seat.

Su Wantang was still looking at her English textbook when she heard footsteps and looked up.

"Eat first." Lin Bei placed the plastic bag on her desk. "You can catch up on your lessons after you eat. Studying on an empty stomach is less efficient; this has been proven by scientific research. I forget which specific study it was, but it definitely exists."

Su Wantang looked at the plastic bag, then at Lin Bei.

"What about you? Aren't you going to eat?" Her gaze fell on Lin Bei's empty hands.

"I brought it. I'll go back to my seat to eat. My seat is at the back, half a classroom away, so we won't bother each other... no, we'll each eat separately."

"Then... let's go together." Su Wantang's voice was very soft, so soft that Lin Bei almost thought he had misheard. "Anyway, there's no one else in the classroom."

Lin Bei was taken aback. The words carried a different weight when they came from her mouth.

She wasn't the type to proactively invite others; she was more like a door, always closed, occasionally opening a crack, but never actively letting anyone in. Now she said "Let's go together," though her voice was soft, but that door had opened a crack wider than yesterday.

He nodded, went back to his seat to get his lunchbox, and sat down in the seat next to Su Wantang.

The two people were separated by an aisle. The aisle was about sixty centimeters wide, a very delicate distance. Not too far, not too close, not too intimate, not too distant.

They each opened their lunchboxes.

Lin Bei's lunchbox contained braised pork, stir-fried shredded potatoes, and rice. Su Wantang's lunchbox contained the same thing, only in smaller portions.

Su Wantang picked up a piece of braised pork, put it in her mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and then suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong? Does it not taste good?" Lin Bei asked.

Su Wantang shook her head, her eyes a little red.

Lin Bei's heart clenched.

"It's delicious," she said, her voice a little hoarse. "It's really delicious."

Lin Bei didn't say anything, and lowered his head to eat a mouthful of rice.

The classroom was quiet, with only the sounds of two people eating, the clinking of chopsticks against their lunchboxes, and the rustling of sycamore leaves in the wind outside the window.

After eating for a while, Su Wantang suddenly spoke up.

"Lin Bei".

"Um?"

Why are you helping me?

Lin Bei put down his chopsticks and turned to look at her.

Su Wantang didn't look at him, her head was down, and she poked around in the lunchbox with her chopsticks, but didn't pick anything up.

"I mean..." Her voice was very soft, so soft that it was as if she were talking to herself, "Your mother made soup, your mother made braised pork, and your mother said there was too much to eat. But I know that there isn't that much 'too much to eat'."

Lin Bei remained silent for two seconds.

"You tutor me, and I'll bring you meals," Lin Bei said. "This is to make you teach me more diligently. Think about it, if you eat my mom's cooking, you'll feel bad about slacking off when you're teaching me. It's called 'being obliged by someone's kindness,' it's my little trick."