Cold sweat dripped down his forehead as he ignored the Chinese teacher's chilling gaze, looking instead at Su Jian, who was leisurely grading his own scribbled essay.
"Su Jian, you, you are..." His words were left unspoken.
The Chinese teacher's icy stare instantly swept over him, and he felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar, his entire body frozen by that gaze, unable to move anymore.
...The teacher would no longer tolerate a student whose mind wandered time and again.
A cane appeared in the teacher's hand, materializing out of thin air. Wang Xingkong even saw fresh blood that had not yet dried on it, but the other students seemed accustomed to it, heads bowed, engrossed in their essays. A cold wind crept in through the door crack to the nape of their necks, making Wang Xingkong's calves tremble as he watched the cane slowly draw nearer, his tongue stuck in fear, clueless on how to escape the peril—
