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

Lin Bei changed his shoes and followed her into the living room. On the coffee table sat half a watermelon, next to a spoon; the watermelon flesh had been scooped out, leaving a bumpy, uneven surface. The TV was playing "The Voice of China," and the judges were vying for contestants.

"Are you eating watermelon all by yourself?" Lin Bei sat down on the sofa.

"I can't finish this by myself." Su Wantang pushed the watermelon to the middle of the coffee table. "Can you eat some for me?"

Lin Bei picked up a spoon, scooped out a spoonful, and put it in his mouth.

Very sweet.

He chewed a couple of times, then suddenly felt a gaze fixed on him. He looked up and found Su Wantang staring blankly at him, the tips of her ears turning red at a visible speed.

With a watermelon in his mouth, Lin Bei's mind raced.

What's wrong with her? Is there something wrong with the watermelon? No, it's very sweet. Is there something on my face? I looked in the mirror before going out today, and a few more pimples have disappeared, so it shouldn't be anything to scare anyone.

and many more.

He glanced down at the spoon in his hand.

I glanced at the coffee table again. There was no second spoon.

It looks like this spoon... she just used it?

[The system detected that the host used Su Wantang's spoon... This is called "indirect kissing."]

Lin Bei almost choked on the watermelon.

Su Wantang quickly grabbed the remote, pressed the volume button, and the TV volume soared from 12 to 32. Yang Kun's signature voice, reminiscent of a judge on "The Voice of China," burst forth: "I have 32 concerts this year!"

The entire living room was shaking.

"Um..." Su Wantang's voice was almost inaudible due to the television noise, but she still managed to say, "The watermelon is quite sweet, isn't it?"

"It's quite sweet," Lin Bei said, his voice a little unsteady.

Neither of them mentioned the spoon or that thing again.

[Your current situation can be summarized as "I know you know I know, but neither of us says anything." In psychology, this is called "tacit understanding"; online novel readers call it "shipping"; and the system calls it "host, you'd better watch yourself."]

Lin Bei: ...

Su Wantang took a deep breath, turned the TV volume back to normal, and asked in a deliberately relaxed tone, "Lin Bei, you went to her house today... and met her father?"

"I saw him."

Su Wantang tapped her fingers lightly on her knee twice, a gesture somewhat similar to that of Grandpa Shen. People often make small movements when they are nervous.

"What kind of person is her father?"

Lin Bei thought for a moment: "It's hard to describe. He doesn't talk much, but every word he says seems carefully considered. When he looks at someone, it's like he's looking at a contract."

Su Wantang's lips twitched slightly; she didn't smile, but she didn't stop smiling either.

"And what about her grandfather?"

"Her grandfather is a good person," Lin Bei said. "He's a rather lonely old man."

Su Wantang didn't ask any more questions.

Lin Bei leaned back on the sofa, watching TV.

Neither of them spoke; they just sat there quietly.

The cheers on the television came in bursts, but there was an indescribable tranquility in the living room.

Lin Bei glanced at the coffee table out of the corner of his eye. The spoon lay quietly next to the watermelon, a little watermelon juice still clinging to its rim, glistening under the light.

"Lin Bei".

Su Wantang's voice suddenly rang out, softly, as if afraid of disturbing something.

"Um?"

"Were you nervous going to her house today?"

Lin Bei thought for a moment and then told the truth: "A little. Her house is much bigger than I thought."

Su Wantang's fingers paused on her knee for a moment, then began to tap gently again.

How big?

Lin Bei thought for a moment: "There's a fountain at the entrance, and the garden is as big as a small park. The chandelier in the living room hangs down from the second floor, and the sofa is white. I don't dare to sit on it too hard, for fear of getting it dirty."

"...I was asking about the area," Su Wantang said.

Lin Bei paused for a moment: "Oh. I didn't dare ask. I was afraid it would make me seem unsophisticated."

Su Wantang's lips curved slightly.

"Do you get more nervous when you eat?"

"No, not at all," Lin Bei said. "Her grandfather kept putting food on my plate, and I was so busy eating that I didn't have time to be nervous."

Su Wantang chuckled softly.

The laughter was short, almost like a sigh. But Lin Bei heard it clearly.

On TV, another contestant took the stage and sang a slow song. The mentors turned around and started vying for her, chatting excitedly and creating a lively atmosphere.

Su Wantang suddenly spoke, her voice even softer than before.

"Lin Bei, will you... go every week from now on?"

Lin Bei turned to look at her.

She didn't look at him; her gaze was fixed on the television, but her fingers had stopped tapping and were gripping the remote control.

"Okay, I agree," Lin Bei said. "I'll go on Saturday morning to play chess with her grandfather. I'll be back in an hour or two."

Su Wantang nodded.

"Then I'll make breakfast earlier on Saturday," she said, her tone casual, as if it were something natural. "You can go after you've eaten."

Lin Bei was taken aback.

He thought she would ask, "Are you still coming for breakfast?", but she didn't. She simply said, "Make it earlier."

It's not a question, it's a statement.

It's not "Are you coming or not?", it's "I'm waiting for you to come."

"Okay," Lin Bei said.

Su Wantang's lips curved slightly, a small curve, but Lin Bei could see it clearly.

After watching TV for a while, Lin Bei went back to study.

He sat down at his desk, opened his English textbook, turned to the chapter on relative clauses, and began to review.

Su Wantang explained it to him last week, and he remembered it, but his understanding was not deep enough.

The memory palace helps him remember grammar rules, but he still hesitates when doing exercises. It's not that he can't remember them, but that he's not proficient in using them. It's like having a toolbox neatly arranged, but when you pick up a wrench, you still need to know which screw to tighten.

[Host, your analogy is good; the system is very satisfied. We suggest you replace "tightening screws" with "typing on a keyboard," as it better suits your character as a novelist.]

"roll."

【okay! 】

Lin Bei did several more English practice exercises, and his accuracy rate increased from 50% to 75%.

After using the memory palace for more than ten days, Lin Bei clearly felt that his English, Chinese, biology, history, politics, and geography were improving rapidly. Those subjects that required memorization were no longer difficult for him. He could memorize all the knowledge points in the biology textbook after flipping through it once, and he could recite the ancient poems and prose in Chinese better than anyone else.

But mathematics, physics, and chemistry are different.

Memorizing formulas for these three subjects isn't enough; you need to know how to apply them, calculate them, and derive them. A memory palace can help him store all the formulas and examples, but when faced with a new problem, how to approach it, what methods to use, and how to optimize the intermediate calculation steps—these rely on logical thinking and problem-solving experience, not just memory.

There are sixteen days left until the monthly exam.

He needs to improve his accuracy rate in each subject to over 85% to have a chance of making it into the top ten.

Lin Bei took a deep breath and opened his physics textbook.

The following weekend, Lin Bei studied diligently, wrote a few chapters of his novel, ran regularly, did push-ups, and of course, ate breakfast made by Su Wantang on Sunday morning.

On Sunday morning, she made pumpkin porridge, but the pumpkin was overcooked and the porridge turned into a mushy mess. Lin Bei glanced at it, then glanced at it again, picked up the bowl, and drank three bowls.

Su Wantang looked at him and said, "If you don't like it, you can eat less."

"It's delicious," Lin Bei said. He wasn't lying; it really was delicious, just not very appealing. Pumpkin porridge, after all, how good can it look? You can't exactly carve flowers out of pumpkins.

Su Wantang didn't speak, but the corners of her mouth curved slightly.