My High School

tian would be undermining Jiang Chaoming's support base and disrupting his alliances in order to benefit himself.Hong Xiaotian smiled slightly and asked, "Mr. Jiang, do you have any opinions"Jiang Cha...Chapter 1: My High School

The city of Xia Hai always has endless topics to talk about for years to come, including the continuous rows of camphor trees, ancient streets steaming in summer heat, crisscrossing wires cutting through the sky, and occasionally glimpsed girls dressed in vibrant and fashionable clothes.

However, Xia Hai No. 1 High School has already begun adjusting its efforts for its own preservation path. The core administrative building of No. 1 High School, Tian Jiayu Building, is the most uniquely beautiful in appearance. Below it are planted coconut trees with a touch of tropical flair and lush iron trees. Small paths, radiating out from the building as the center, connect various areas of the school, paved with green grass, giving a sense that all roads lead to Rome.

In this administrative center, in the heart of Xia Hai No. 1 High School, inside a conference hall where one can overlook both the school square and sports field, some senior leaders, class teachers from major classes, and directors from the teaching guidance department and political education department are gathered together. Principal Ding Juntu has a solemn look on his face, creating an atmosphere of tension.

"Tell them what's going on this year," said Ding Juntu as he stood with his hands behind him in front of a glass window, addressing his assistant.

The assistant turned to the school leaders and administrators present, "This year’s city-wide evaluation results are out. Our No. 1 High School still ranks first in total score... "

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief; they entered this meeting hall with Principal Ding's serious demeanor making them feel quite anxious.

Just like Murphy's Law, things will always have an unexpected turn, and the assistant continued with a twist, "However... neither the top scorer in the city-wide high school entrance exam nor the college entrance exam is from our school!"

This statement was akin to dropping a bombshell, causing everyone's excitement to rise. Year after year, the top scorers on both exams and even the number of students admitted to key universities are undeniably highlights in each school’s admission efforts. The reason why No. 1 High School is the most powerful and prestigious educational institution in Xia Hai City isn't because it has a large base of excellent students but rather due to its consistent top rankings for student admissions.

Should one day people's focus and discussions are no longer about assuming that each exam's top scorer comes from No. 1 High School, then there really is a problem within the school.

Everyone knows how serious this issue currently is.

"Not only the college entrance exam champion, but even the top three in the high school entrance examination are not in our school; they're at Hai Middle School outside Xia Hai City. It's said that they’re planning to contact the city TV station to publish their enrollment announcements, with the highlight being the use of both entrance exam champions to boost their reputation."

The severity of the situation was now clear to everyone. If Xiahai City's top three schools were ranked first, second, and third middle school respectively, then Wahi Middle School stood out as an anomaly. Established ten years ago, it had remained relatively unknown but had recently become more prominent with a new principal taking charge. It was rumored that the principal of Wahi Middle School used to be from First High School and had some unresolved issues with Principal Ding Juntao.

Everyone watched Ding Juntao uncertainly; all they saw now was his solitary, contemplative figure.

Much like everyone else present, there were likely others who questioned why Wahi Middle School seemed to target First High School in their recent actions. Apart from the obvious ambition of becoming the best school in the city, this also had something to do with Ding Juntao himself.

Regretful... When Ding Juntao turned around, everyone held their breath.

"You couldn't get those students" asked Ding Juntao as he lit a cigarette and pondered for a moment.

The few responsible for the school’s affairs shook their heads. "We heard Wahi Middle School signed contracts with them: if they become provincial or national top scorers, they would receive 100,000 yuan in scholarship money to study at Tsinghua University or Peking University."

This caused a stir. Scholarships were no longer news back then; some schools had hired outstanding students for high fees and sent them there just to boost their school's reputation. This trend only became prevalent later, but its signs were already evident.

Ding Juntao took another deep puff of his cigarette. The other side was prepared, determined to shake First High School’s position. If no action was taken, would First Middle School still be the best school in the city Though this was certain, a school with a long-standing academic tradition and top-notch teachers wasn't as fragile as others might think. However, if Wahi Middle School rose without any hindrance, it could pose issues affecting First High's admissions and its status atop the education hierarchy.

External factors weren't the only concern; internal factors couldn't be ignored either. The influx of children from influential families to First High was adding to the school’s reputation while simultaneously eroding its original positive academic atmosphere.

The existence of behaviors like comparison, luxury consumption, early romance, and even campus violence had become obstacles in the school's development.

How could they curb these issues from the influential families’ children without causing further trouble How could they control the school’s climate and rectify its academic attitude These were immediate concerns.

Ding Juntao swiftly issued three requirements: First, starting with the newest high school cohort, implement a targeted cultivation program. After one year of study, students would be divided into special classes or regular classes based on their end-of-year exam scores, without any exceptions. Second, there would be four special classes—one for liberal arts and another for science—each led by an experienced and top-notch senior teacher. The performance evaluation of other freshman class teachers would be based on the proportion of students sent to special classes. Third, allocate 200,000 yuan in school funds specifically for this targeted cultivation plan; it was time to start changing from now!

Countless people were amazed and pleased. They were shocked about whether such a system of dividing key classes from regular classes would cause controversy, dampen the enthusiasm of ordinary students, and make them feel neglected by the school, leading to a lackadaisical attitude towards their studies. The pleasure stemmed from the fact that it was directly related to teachers' personal interests; they could earn 200,000 yuan in bonuses next year within their high schools.

Each grade had an average of seven classes due to Yichun No.1 High School's reputation and its bloated status quo. With one homeroom teacher per class, the teachers responsible for the first-year students would share a piece of cake, which was indeed fortunate.

Xiao Rihua previously grumbled about having to be in charge of the first-year homeroom at the start of the term but now saw it as a great opportunity. He thought about changing apartments because his wife had long complained that their dormitory was too small for their family, and their neighbors were idle old teachers who liked to pry into others' private matters. They wanted to move out of the old dormitory and get a new one built by the school in a new housing project. Unfortunately, they lacked several thousand yuan, but now it seemed like an opportune moment. With just a bit more effort in nurturing top-performing students, the goal should not be too difficult.

Within the Tian Jiayu administrative building at Yichun No.1 High School, Principal Ding Juntao's voice was still lingering when he had already painted a promising future for all present teachers.

All teachers with vested interests began praying that they would draw an excellent group of students in the upcoming computer-generated class allocation.

...

On August 31st, the day new students registered and received their books, Su Cun changed into a clean casual outfit, left home carrying a newly bought backpack (practical but not fancy, allowing it to hold many books), and went out. He arrived early at his destination and first had breakfast at a rice noodle shop outside his workplace.

Su’s parents were busy; the store was already in operation, and every morning, his mother would get up at seven o'clock to open it, followed by his father who would assist her with cleaning the premises before returning to work.

The sun shone on the nearby streets and bus stops. The street and trees in front of him still carried a slight dusk glow; Su Cun's brown eyes reflected everything he saw, filling his heart with infinite beauty.

He had imagined that if someone were to be reborn, they would be full of ambition and dreams, pursuing all the regrets from their past life until achieving an exalted status in society.

However, nothing like this happened.

Upon a true rebirth, he found himself cherishing and yearning for even the mundane routines he went through day after day in the world and times eleven years ago.

Each place in his past lives that remained unchanged, those DVD rental rooms, budding video store rentals, the familiar elders at the unit gate waving fans under the sunlight from when he was a child, the still young and not yet towering camphor trees, bus stops that had yet to change their routes, old supermarkets without renovation or remodeling, and the flower beds in the heart of the neighborhood now overgrown with weeds instead of flowers planted for the future – all these memories blend into the taste of this bowl of beef rice noodles: rich, hearty. In a moment, it pierces through time and space, evoking the flavor of nostalgia from ten years ago.

Su Cen knows that he is not an ambitious person; although there are dreams in his heart, they have never been overly exaggerated or bizarre. Even after being reborn, he does not believe himself to be capable of achieving great things and has never planned a life like a rocket, shining brightly as it follows its dazzling trajectory.

So he continues to live contentedly, enjoying every moment of the rebirth that heaven has bestowed upon him.

Therefore, those who are moved by the withering of grass and trees or the falling of flowers into sorrow may not be solely Lin Daiyu; perhaps it includes Su Cen as well, sighing at how each bite of his rice noodles decreases its deliciousness by a fraction.

"Hey, what are you daydreaming about" A voice interrupts his reverie. It's Xue Yi Yang.

Xue Yi Yang is wearing new clothes: jeans and sneakers from Anta, exuding vibrant energy that hints at the romantic encounters he expects in the upcoming semester. He looks down with interest at Su Cen’s bowl of noodles and says, "Oh, it looks good! Beef noodle soup!"

"Want to join me I'll treat you," Su Cen smiles.

Xue Yi Yang is momentarily tempted but then sees bus number 8 swaying down the street. He quickly swallows his saliva and shakes his head, "Never mind, the bus is here. I have to go sign up. By the way, they say our class this semester will be filled with beautiful girls!"

It's an undeniable fact that No. 1 High School has many beauties, but Xue Yi Yang’s mention of it might come off as showboating.

"Alright then, I'll go now," and Xue Yi Yang gracefully jumps onto the bus. "If you finish eating early, head to school sooner; perhaps you can meet your other half there!"

Su Cen opens his mouth as if he wants to say, "Actually, we could have gone together." But before he can speak, bus number 8 has already carried the smug-faced boy away.

===during a candlelight concert, people could be described as jubilant. A speaker took the stage and said, "Sorry, Americans, we shot down your stealth plane, and we didn't know it was invisible."On Apri...