10: Chapter 10 The Man's Bet: Go Back to Class

Zhao Dazhuang's chest heaved, his forehead covered in sweat.

He hadn't lost that last Ranked match unfairly, but he had lost it miserably; his skills hadn't collapsed, but his mindset had been shattered by Fang Jiming's mouth.

Fang Jiming stood up from his chair, stretched, and swept his gaze over the three students in the private room.

Zhao Dazhuang sat in front of the computer, his face flushed with anger; Ma Xiaotiao huddled in the corner, wishing he could stuff himself behind the monitor; Lin Xiaoxi remained with her head down, Drawing, but her ears twitched slightly, signaling that she had been listening the entire time.

"Alright, the game has been watched, and the faults have been picked out."

Fang Jiming looked at Zhao Dazhuang with his hands in his pockets.

"Go back to class."

"Not going."

Zhao Dazhuang blurted out.

"Why?"

"Why should I go back?"

Zhao Dazhuang's voice was filled with irritation.

"I can't take in a single word of what you teach; sitting in the classroom is like being in prison."

Fang Jiming wasn't angry.

He even nodded.

"You make a valid point."

Zhao Dazhuang hadn't expected Fang Jiming to respond this way; his mouth opened and then closed again.

"I won't force you."

Fang Jiming pulled the chair back, sat down, and crossed his legs.

"But I have a proposal for you."

"What proposal?"

"Play one match. If you win, you decide whether or not to attend class from now on, and I won't interfere."

Zhao Dazhuang's eyes lit up.

"What if I lose?"

"If you lose, you will sit in the classroom at eight o'clock sharp tomorrow morning, and you won't miss a single class for a week."

Zhao Dazhuang stared at Fang Jiming for two seconds.

"Just a week?"

"Just a week."

Fang Jiming held up one finger.

The corner of Zhao Dazhuang's mouth twitched as he quickly calculated the deal in his mind.

One game in exchange for a week of freedom—this was a guaranteed win with no risk.

Furthermore, he was ranked in the top one hundred on the entire server. Even if Fang Jiming, a teacher, knew some theory, how strong could his actual gameplay be?

"Fine, what mode are we playing?"

"Ranked. We'll queue separately, start at the same time, and see who loses first."

Zhao Dazhuang frowned.

This rule was a bit strange; it wasn't a direct head-to-head, but rather playing separate Ranked matches to see who lost first?

"Queue separately? Then how do we account for the teammate factor?"

"You're in the top one hundred on the server; are you still afraid of being dragged down by teammates?"

Zhao Dazhuang was left speechless by this remark.

"Fine, let's play. Whoever loses first is a coward."

"No, whoever loses first just needs to be obedient."

Fang Jiming sat down in the empty seat next to Ma Xiaotiao and took the mouse and keyboard.

Ma Xiaotiao quickly gave up his seat and retreated to the side to stand against the wall.

Lao Fei, at the doorway, watched this scene and curled his lips.

He was actually curious to see what tricks this teacher could pull.

Both computers started queuing for matchmaking at the same time.

Zhao Dazhuang took a breath to focus. He selected his best role, Assassin, preparing to crush his opponents as quickly as possible to prove himself.

Fang Jiming selected a Support role.

Ma Xiaotiao, standing nearby, flashed a look of confusion when he saw Fang Jiming pick Support.

"Teacher Fang, aren't you playing a damage dealer?"

"Damage dealing is too tiring."

Fang Jiming replied casually, his fingers adjusting the settings on the keyboard.

The match began.

Zhao Dazhuang played very aggressively on his side, solo-killing his opponent in lane within the first three minutes and taking an economic lead.

His hand speed was indeed fast, and his gameplay had genuine flair; what Fang Jiming had said earlier about his solid fundamentals wasn't just being polite.

But the situation on Fang Jiming's side was also very stable.

He roamed the map with his Support, controlling vision and blocking abilities for his teammates. The timing of his crowd-control abilities during key team fights was disgustingly precise.

He also occasionally typed in the public chat to direct his teammates' positioning and attack rhythm; the whole team moved as if pulled by an invisible thread.

Ma Xiaotiao looked back and forth between the two computers and realized something.

Fang Jiming's way of playing the game was completely different from Zhao Dazhuang's.

Zhao Dazhuang played a solo show, relying on mechanics to suppress the opponent's core damage dealer.

Fang Jiming played rhythm control, relying on information processing and timing to make the entire team run like a machine.

At fifteen minutes, problems arose on Zhao Dazhuang's side.

While counter-jungling, he was surrounded by three opponents. A potential double-kill turned into him being killed, and his economic advantage was wiped out instantly.

"Damn it!"

Zhao Dazhuang slapped the table.

Fang Jiming's side remained as steady as a rock.

His Support had zero deaths throughout the match, his assist count was already in the double digits, and the team's economic lead was over three thousand.

Zhao Dazhuang started to get anxious.

His playstyle became increasingly aggressive, attempting to use individual mechanics to compensate for the team's disadvantages, but the more anxious he got, the more mistakes he made.

At twenty minutes, the base crystal on Zhao Dazhuang's side was destroyed.

Zhao Dazhuang leaned back against his chair, his hands hovering over the keyboard without putting them down.

He had lost.

The match on Fang Jiming's side was still ongoing, but the victory was already clear.

He put down the mouse and turned to look at Zhao Dazhuang.

"You lost."

Zhao Dazhuang gritted his teeth and said nothing.

Ma Xiaotiao stood to the side, not daring to breathe.

Lao Fei, at the doorway, put his hands down. The look of amusement on his face was gone, replaced by an indescribable wariness.

Fang Jiming stood up from the chair and patted the non-existent dust off his body.

"See you in the classroom at eight o'clock tomorrow morning."

He didn't say any extra nonsense, nor did he take the opportunity to lecture the other party with clichés like "you should study hard."

A bet is a bet; if you lose, you own up to it.

Fang Jiming walked toward the door of the private room and paused as he passed Lin Xiaoxi.

He looked down at the Sketching on Lin Xiaoxi's screen.

It was an extremely detailed architectural sketch of the abandoned brick factory at the end of the old street; the texture of the chimney and the cracks on the walls were restored stroke by stroke, and the level of light and shadow handling far exceeded what a high school student should possess.

Fang Jiming watched for three seconds, then walked out without saying a word.

But his footsteps faltered for a half-beat at the door, and he noted a piece of information in his mind.

This quiet girl had an unusually high talent for Drawing.

When he walked out of the Interstellar Internet Cafe, the sunlight hit his face, making him squint.

Lao Fei followed him out of the internet cafe entrance and called out to him while standing on the steps.

"Little Teacher."

Fang Jiming turned around.

Lao Fei had an unlit cigarette in his mouth and tilted his head to look at him.

"You're quite interesting."

"You're quite interesting too. Running an internet cafe and taking money from high school students—doesn't your conscience hurt?"

Lao Fei's smile stiffened for a moment.

Fang Jiming didn't wait for his answer; he got on his shared bike and pedaled away.

On the way back to school, he took out his phone and glanced at the System Panel.

"Number of students present today: 24."

"Number of unexcused absences: 6."

"Zhao Dazhuang's return probability assessment: 87%."

"Ma Xiaotiao's return probability assessment: 91%."

"Lin Xiaoxi's return probability assessment: 43%."

The first two numbers made him breathe a sigh of relief, but the last number made him frown.

Lin Xiaoxi hadn't said a single word from beginning to end, showed no emotional fluctuations, and displayed an isolated indifference toward his presence.

This girl's problem might be even more troublesome than Zhao Dazhuang's and Ma Xiaotiao's combined.

Fang Jiming tucked his phone back into his pocket and increased his pedaling speed.

In the hallway, Teacher Wen Ruyan was just coming out of the Class 17 classroom.

She saw Fang Jiming returning on his shared bike, covered in sweat, and blurted out a sentence.

"Did you find the people?"

"Found three. Two should be able to come back, but the other one is hard to say."

Teacher Wen Ruyan looked at the beads of sweat on Fang Jiming's forehead and his white short-sleeved shirt, which was wrinkled by the wind.

She turned toward the office, walked a few steps, and then stopped.

"There's a bottle of water on the desk; I bought an extra one."

She said this and left without looking back.

Fang Jiming walked into the office and, sure enough, saw an unopened bottle of mineral water on his dilapidated metal desk.

He sat into that 82,000-yuan ergonomic chair and unscrewed the mineral water, downing half the bottle.

Then he leaned back against the chair, looked at the water stains on the ceiling, and chuckled.

Teacher Wen Ruyan is the type of person who is always telling you not to meddle in other people's business, while secretly handing you water.

Fang Jiming took another gulp of water, and his phone vibrated.

A bank text message.

It wasn't the kind from the system, but his monthly salary.

"Your savings card ending in 8848 has received 3,700.00 RMB."

Three thousand seven hundred.

He glanced at the number, then looked at the 82,000-yuan chair under his butt.

Fang Jiming placed his phone face down on the desk and closed his eyes for a moment.

One million will arrive tomorrow.