Ultimate Teacher

"You can't bully me—I've already been bullied enough."

What kind of crappy excuse is that?

For a split second, the classroom fell silent, then the students burst into even louder commotion.

"Teacher, does your mom know you're this cute?"

"So, who was it that did us the favor of dealing with a public menace?"

"Hahaha, he really is a monkey sent by the Goddess of Mercy to entertain us. Mr. Fang, can you do a backflip? Show us a backflip!"

Fang Yan wasn't angry at all. He stood on the podium, smiling cheerfully as the students jeered and mocked him.

Gradually, the students realized something was off.

Silence is the calm before the storm. This guy is smiling so slyly, so confidently—it's clear he has a big move up his sleeve. Some of the smarter ones started to quiet down.

One by one, more and more students fell silent. The classroom grew quieter and quieter.

"What gives you the right to be my teacher?" A sudden voice rang out from the back.

The students turned to look and saw it was Huang Haoran, the boy with thick glasses who always had his nose buried in an ancient, thread-bound copy of the Twenty-Four Histories. Their eyes lit up with excitement.

This was going to be good!

Huang Haoran was smart, but unlike the other students, he didn't stay silent.

There are things others won't say, but he will. There are things others won't do, but he will.

Huang Haoran's father was a reporter for the Huaxia Metropolitan Daily, and his mother was a university professor. Strictly speaking, his family was well-educated and cultured.

Huang Haoran's Chinese was excellent, his writing skills top-notch. He had scored the highest in the class in Chinese during the entrance exams and was immediately appointed as the temporary Chinese class representative of Class Nine.

His dream was to become a journalist who exposes corruption and injustice, so he was like a sponge, absorbing all the knowledge and information he could.

But this is the Chinese teacher the school assigned to us?

"What did you just say? I didn't hear you clearly," Fang Yan asked, looking at Huang Haoran.

"I said, what gives you the right to be my teacher?" Huang Haoran met Fang Yan's gaze without flinching.

Fang Yan squinted and smiled.

He had only questioned Fang Yan's qualifications to be his teacher, not our teacher, which showed just how proud and arrogant he was.

In his eyes, the other students weren't even worthy of comparison.

Fang Yan's curiosity was piqued. He wanted to see what kind of "difficult" students Class Nine really had.

"I'm curious—what are the standards for being your teacher?" Fang Yan asked.

Huang Haoran closed the Twenty-Four Histories in his hands and spoke loudly, "My teacher should have extensive knowledge of both ancient and modern times, a great memory, a deep understanding of official history, and the ability to analyze folklore. They should have rich life experience and insightful thoughts. Only such a person is qualified to be my teacher."

Huang Haoran's eyes bore into Fang Yan, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What do you know?"

A challenge!

A blatant challenge!

Many students' eyes sparkled with excitement, and even more had sly grins tugging at the corners of their mouths.

This was going to be fun—really fun.

They were all curious to see how this young, inexperienced teacher would handle Huang Haoran's challenge.

If Fang Yan couldn't give a satisfactory answer today, if he couldn't put down Huang Haoran, this academic genius, he would have a hard time establishing any authority in this class going forward.

A teacher who couldn't even handle his students—who would respect him?

Fang Yan sighed softly, scanning the room with a wistful look, and said, "Well, at this point, I have no choice but to come clean—I've always been a very low-key guy. You know what they say, 'the bird that sticks out gets shot.' I'm not one to seek attention."

"But since you're all so insistent on an answer, and since there should be open and honest communication between teachers and students, I've decided to be upfront with you—"

The room went quiet, everyone holding their breath in anticipation.

Fang Yan straightened his back, stood tall on the podium, his eyes deep, his brows sharp. Slowly, he said, "Extensive knowledge of both ancient and modern times, a great memory, a deep understanding of official history, and the ability to analyze folklore. Rich life experience, and insightful thoughts. I… am exactly the kind of teacher you want."

Silence.

A deathly silence.

What kind of answer was that?

Was that even an answer?

How could he say something like that with a straight face? Was he shameless?

Someone couldn't hold back and burst out laughing.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to!" A chubby boy's face turned bright red as he waved his hands apologetically.

The laughter spread like wildfire. After a few seconds, the whole class was laughing.

"Mr. Fang, don't do this! I think I'm starting to like you."

"Mr. Fang, forget teaching Chinese! You should teach us how to tell jokes!"

"That's just shameless—absolutely shameless!"

Huang Haoran's expression darkened with frustration. He was completely disappointed. An incompetent and arrogant teacher like this—what a letdown.

Fang Yan knocked on the desk with the eraser and shouted, "Quiet! Quiet down, everyone! Let's be serious, we're in the middle of class—"

And just like that, the students laughed even harder.

This guy is hilarious!

Fang Yan grinned along with them and said, "You all don't believe me?"

"No!" the students shouted in unison.

"How can I make you believe me?"

"I'll ask you three questions. If you can answer them correctly, we'll consider you qualified," Huang Haoran said. "Don't worry, I won't make them too hard. And if you think that's unfair, you can ask me three questions too."

"Is the test limited to high school Chinese knowledge?"

Huang Haoran sneered. "Is high school Chinese all you know?"

"I just don't want you to accuse me of cheating when I ask something outside of the high school curriculum," Fang Yan said.

"Let's start," Huang Haoran snorted. "In ancient times, besides being used as musical instruments, clocks and drums also referred to time. What time does the drum represent?"

"Night," Fang Yan answered without hesitation.

Huang Haoran wasn't surprised that Fang Yan got this one right. It was common knowledge. Anyone with a broad range of reading could easily answer such a question.

"The phrase 'sending letters via wild geese' comes from which historical story?"

Fang Yan turned to the students and asked, "Do any of you know the answer?"

"No idea. And even if we did, we wouldn't tell you—"

"Teacher, other people's answers don't count! If someone else answers, you lose—"

"That's cheating, totally cheating—"

Fang Yan chuckled. "I was just asking if you knew the answer—so that when I give it, I can show how much smarter I am, and prove that I deserve to be your teacher."

Fang Yan turned to Huang Haoran and said, "This phrase comes from the story of Su Wu Herding Sheep. In the Book of Han, Volume 54: 'Several months later, Emperor Zhao took the throne. Several years passed, and the Xiongnu made peace with the Han. The Han requested the return of Su Wu, but the Xiongnu claimed he was dead. Later, a Han envoy visited the Xiongnu, and Chang Hui requested to meet the envoy in secret. He explained that the Emperor had been hunting in Shanglin Park and shot down a wild goose, which had a letter tied to its foot, stating that Su Wu and the others were in a certain marsh. After hearing this, the Xiongnu leader allowed Su Wu to return home. From then on, people used wild geese to symbolize letters and those who deliver them.'"

Huang Haoran's face shifted. While quoting the Book of Han wasn't particularly difficult, reciting the original text verbatim was no easy feat.

Huang Haoran considered himself well-read, and while he knew many historical anecdotes and could explain the background and general story, he couldn't recite the original text like Fang Yan had just done.

"Is that answer correct?" Fang Yan asked.

"Is he for real? That's impressive!"

"Who's got a copy of the Book of Han? Quick, check it! If you don't have the book, use your phone! Haven't you heard the saying, 'If you're unsure about history, ask Baidu; if you're unsure about the world, ask Google?'"

"The answer is correct," Huang Haoran said, his voice heavy. "Now for the final question."