“Sorry, I woke you.”

Below bed number four, Gao Jun was packing up his tools and equipment. When he saw Su Yuan stick his head out, he gave him an apologetic smile.

Su Yuan waved his hand, took out his phone, and checked the time—it was four in the afternoon. Suddenly, he felt an ache at his waist, along with a faint warmth. Reaching down, he realized the jade piece had ended up beneath his body.

The jade had absorbed plenty of heat and felt smooth and warm to the touch. He casually tossed it toward the edge of the bed and glanced downward, only then noticing that Ji Yehao had arrived at some point as well. A light-blue suitcase sat beside his chair, still unpacked, while he was holding a physical novel borrowed from a bookstore and reading it.

Hmm—looking down from this angle, Su Yuan suddenly realized this guy was actually quite handsome, almost on par with himself. But then again, why was someone this good-looking still single? Truly puzzling.

“When did you guys get here?” Su Yuan climbed down from the upper bunk, tore open a box of biscuits, and asked while eating.

“I got here at two. Gao Jun about half an hour ago.” Ji Yehao flicked a glance at Gao Jun rummaging through his toolbox, then returned his gaze to the novel.

Su Yuan nodded. He and Ji Yehao were from the same hometown—both from Haizhou City. They had attended different high schools, though: Su Yuan went to Haizhou No. 1 High School, while Ji Yehao attended No. 2 High School.

After that, no one spoke. The dormitory was filled only with the thumping sounds of Gao Jun organizing his things and the sound of Su Yuan chewing biscuits.

About ten minutes later, Gao Jun finally finished. Wiping the sweat from his face, he walked over behind Su Yuan and rested a hand on the back of the chair. Seeing a thick book placed in front of Su Yuan, its tadpole-like symbols exuding a lofty, aloof aura, he exclaimed in surprise, “You actually feel like reading advanced math?”

In the dorm, Su Yuan was usually too lazy to even touch textbooks. Gao Jun then broke into a gloating grin. “Don’t tell me… you failed last semester?”

Clearly hitting a sore spot, Su Yuan slapped the Calculus textbook shut and flipped it face down on the desk. Turning around, he said coldly, “Shut up! You think everyone’s like you? Advanced math is hard!”

“It’s not that bad…” Gao Jun shrank back under Su Yuan’s glare. Seeing that smug look still lingering on his face, Su Yuan felt his anger rising.

“You really failed?” Gao Jun asked cautiously.

“I failed.”

Last semester’s Calculus exam hadn’t gone well. He barely brushed the passing line, and the advanced math teacher showed no mercy in handing him a make-up exam pass. Su Yuan only regretted that he hadn’t built a better relationship with the teacher.

Gao Jun pursed his lips and wisely stopped talking. With his chatter gone, things felt much quieter. Spreading out his notebook—filled with carefully copied theorems and transformations of differential and integral formulas—Su Yuan buried his head and started working on problems.

Calculus itself wasn’t particularly hard; it was just a mathematical tool. But perhaps because he hadn’t fully grasped it, he always made small mistakes here and there during calculations. After an entire summer, he had forgotten most of what he’d learned before, leaving Su Yuan on the verge of tears. Still, it was his own fault.

The make-up exam was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Su Yuan had only one day to cram. Maybe the summer had somehow cleared his head—when he picked up Calculus again, at first glance he’d completely forgotten what he’d learned last semester, but on a second look, he found that he could miraculously understand much of it. The effect was even better than during finals.

This boosted Su Yuan’s confidence greatly, and he completely immersed himself in problem-solving. His pen constantly rubbed against the notebook, leaving behind lines of ink.

When the sky outside darkened, the three of them went out for dinner together. Afterward, Su Yuan resumed his intense review, continuing until nearly nine o’clock.

“Hey, we can’t get online, right?” Ji Yehao, who had been in a meditative, monk-like state since dinner, finally finished the borrowed novel and tried to go online to keep up with updates—only to find that the network wouldn’t connect.

Without lifting his head, Su Yuan replied while holding his pen, “It already didn’t work yesterday when I got here. The software was probably blocked by the telecom.”

“No wonder. I was wondering why we didn’t hear those animals in the neighboring dorm howling like ghosts!” Ji Yehao realized belatedly. At the time, World of Warcraft was extremely popular, and the neighboring dorm was full of groups grinding dungeons, making earth-shaking noise that carried through even with the doors closed.

Putting down his pen, Su Yuan shot him a glance. “Boss, can you not be such a noob? Something this obvious, and you’re only noticing now?”

Ji Yehao frowned, calmly closed his laptop, and issued an order to Gao Jun. “Fatty, I’ll give you one night to write a new piece of software. I’ll stay offline today and wait for your good news.”

Su Yuan snickered and chimed in from the side. In his view, there was no one better suited for this kind of hard labor than Gao Jun. Gao Jun’s face darkened as he exclaimed in shock, “One night? Boss, even an old ox isn’t that hardworking! And why am I the one writing this software?”

“The more capable you are, the more work you do.” Ji Yehao elegantly flicked his fingers. Su Yuan hurriedly added, “Don’t look at me—do I look like someone who can write programs?”

If you could write programs, pigs would climb trees.

Gao Jun shot him a disdainful look and resisted stubbornly. “No way. I’ve never written this kind of software before. I can’t.”

“Aren’t you a tech geek? You don’t even know how to do this?” Ji Yehao raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Different specialties, okay?”

Ji Yehao sighed. “Then it looks like none of us can get online.”

“Fine, I surrender. I do know some programming, but I’ll need at least a week.”

“A week? The daylilies will be cold by then!” Su Yuan protested before Ji Yehao could speak. He didn’t need the internet much today or tomorrow because of the make-up exam, but once it was over, the internet was his spiritual sustenance.

“At the fastest, three days!” Gao Jun snapped back. Suddenly realizing something, he glared at Su Yuan. “Su Yuan, shouldn’t you be studying your Calculus? The fire’s at your eyebrows already, and you still have time to join Yehao in making noise—are you planning to retake the course next year?”

“Don’t curse me!”

Retaking a course was way too demoralizing.

“GO! GO! GO!”

Su Yuan closed his textbook, grabbed a pen, several books, and a notebook of key points, and headed outside. At the door, he waved his fist with heroic fervor. “I’m going to the overnight classroom! If I don’t take down ‘Advanced Math Girl’ tonight, I won’t stop!”

Ji Yehao shot him an approving look. “Wish you success!”

“Thanks for the good words!” With that, Su Yuan tucked the stack of materials under his arm and left the dormitory.

The overnight classrooms at Binhe Institute of Technology, as the name suggests, were study rooms open to students all night. Usually near finals or make-up exams, these rooms—like the library—were often packed to the brim.

You’ll never believe why I moved to… Sidoarjo
My life in emojis: ✈️, 🏄, 🍣, 🚵‍♂️

Stopping by a supermarket, he bought a can of coffee. After walking for more than ten minutes, he finally reached the classroom. As expected, it was already full—men and women gathered together. Su Yuan could only find a seat in a corner near the back door.

Opening his textbook, listening to the sounds of pages turning around him and the “rustle rustle” of pens on notebooks, the atmosphere was surprisingly evocative. Deeply affected, Su Yuan sat up straight and began studying with renewed determination.

The night was calm and serene, and the overnight classroom was bustling with people.

Several central air-conditioning vents blew cold air with a steady hum. From the distant sports field, faint chants from freshman military training could be heard—sometimes loud, sometimes soft. Gradually, even the chants faded away, presumably signaling the end of night training…

Immersed in this scholarly atmosphere, without realizing it, Su Yuan had flipped to the last page of the textbook. He yawned and finally couldn’t resist the drowsiness, resting his head on the desk for a short nap.

…

After an unknown amount of time, his head slipped from his crossed arms and bumped onto the hard desk. He took out his phone to check the time—it was already 1:30 a.m.

The surroundings had become empty, with only a few students still studying diligently.

“Huh? My head hurts!” Waking up, Su Yuan found his head throbbing badly. Rubbing his forehead, he yawned sleepily and thought, So overnight studying is this exhausting. Never doing this again.

His lower abdomen felt bloated—his body urging him to go to the restroom. About thirty meters outside the classroom was a bathroom. He slipped quietly out the back door, reached the restroom, identified the men’s room, and went in.

The restroom lights had broken at some point, leaving the inside pitch-black, as deep and shadowy as the nearby landscaped grove. The Master does not speak of the supernatural, but unfortunately Su Yuan hadn’t reached that level. At this moment, strange thoughts surfaced in his mind—according to ghost stories, hallways and restrooms were the places where things most often went wrong.

“Damn it, the more I think about it, the creepier it gets!” Perhaps it was psychological, but the restroom now seemed eerily quiet. Occasionally, the sound of dripping water echoed, amplified a hundredfold. He glanced around nervously, his scalp tingling, goosebumps rising all over.

“Amitabha, may the Buddhas protect me!”

For some reason, it felt as though something was not quite right.