Afternoon.

*Sob…sob…*

The quiet classroom was suddenly pierced by a low, muffled sob. Everyone turned in unison, eyes locking on the boy slumped over his desk in the second-to-last row.

Eric Carter. Eyes shut tight, tears rolling down his cheeks. His whole body was still, but his face kept shifting—anger, despair, frustration, helplessness, regret… every kind of misery rolled into one.

"Eric, I think we should break up. You’re a nice guy, really. Thank you."

"Eric, the company’s gone bankrupt. The boss vanished with a billion yuan in debt and his sister-in-law in tow."

"Eric, it’s time to pay the mortgage. And the car loan, too."

"Eric, you’re just so dependable. Let’s go ahead and get married..."

His whole life had played out like some bad dream. Misfortunes flashing by like a slideshow from hell.

Little Eric: cute and well-behaved. Middle school Eric: quiet and responsible. High school Eric: the guy who never stopped cramming. College Eric: full of hope for the future.

Then bam—graduated and unemployed. All dreams shattered. Reality hit fast and hard.

Eric, your story’s just… brutal. College inflation, break-ups, job loss, economic crashes, debt crises, skyrocketing housing prices…

Up at the front, Clara Johnson was lecturing fiercely about the practice Chinese exam, handwriting flying across the board. In the top-left corner, bright red words screamed:

31 Days Until Gaokao!

She’d been a homeroom teacher for over a decade. Bad students? She’d seen them all. ADHD, skipping class, fighting, getting themselves expelled—nothing new.

But this? A decent kid falling asleep and crying? That was a first.

Eric wasn’t a troublemaker. In fact, he was one of the few quiet students who made the monthly top 100 list—even if he barely scraped in at the bottom. Still, that was rare in this class.

Everyone started whispering.

"Eric cried in his sleep. Must’ve dreamt he failed the Gaokao."

"Nah, he studies the hardest out of all of us."

"His family's poor. He wears the same uniform every day. His hair’s super long—guess he can’t even afford a haircut."

"Third year’s brutal. Wakes up before the sun, sleeps past midnight, works like a machine."

Clara’s eyes turned cold. Without warning, she hurled a piece of chalk straight at Eric. Years of "dark weapon" training paid off—it hit his head dead on.

Still, Eric didn’t budge. Out cold, face pressed against the desk.

Bold kid. Sleeping during Clara’s class—and crying while at it? Total disrespect.

Pissed, Clara grabbed more chalk and launched them one after another like a machine gun. The projectiles bounced off his head, flying in all directions, even hitting innocent classmates nearby.

*Sob…sob…*

Eric was completely out, like he couldn't even feel pain. His nightmare clearly wasn’t over.

“No worries, Miss Johnson. Let me help.”

From the very back of the class, a lanky figure stood up—Tony Miller. The biggest troublemaker around. Sharp features, squinty eyes, a grin that screamed bad news. With limbs like a spider and dark skin, the guy looked more like a prankster than a student. Over six feet tall and all attitude, Tony stood, ready to stir things up.Clara Johnson had a weird look on her face and reached out to stop him, but Tony Miller was quicker—he stood up in one swift move. Tall and scrawny like some overgrown monkey, he slapped Eric Carter on the back of the head with a loud, crisp *smack*.

Slap!

Jolted out of a nightmare, Eric shot up, eyes bloodshot and tears lingering at the corners. He looked furious, his face twisted in pain and rage. He smacked the desk, his hand landing right on his old, metal Slam Dunk-themed pencil box—the only one he’d used throughout high school. The flashy Sakuragi print now felt like a trigger.

He whipped his head around and glared at Tony, his longtime nemesis—the same guy who'd bullied him all three years, always picking on him out of jealousy for his smarts.

Seriously? This guy had the nerve to mess with him even in his dreams?

Not today.

Eric sprung to his feet, raised his heavy metal pencil case high like a brick, mimicking that iconic slam dunk pose, and brought it crashing down on Tony’s head.

Boom!

The thud of metal against skull echoed through the room.

Tony gasped and toppled, eyes rolling upward, a big lump instantly swelling on his head. A faint whiff of smoke, or maybe it was just steam from the pain. He writhed on the floor, groaning, unable to get up.

Feeling pretty damn good, Eric planted his green school sneaker right on Tony’s twitching face and gave it a slow grind, looking down at him with a mix of triumph and relief.

“Tony,” he scoffed, “I’ve waited three years to do this.”

Tony clutched his head and wailed, “Eric, are you crazy?! You cracked my head open—for real?! Ms. Johnson told me to wake you up! Get your foot off me!”

Eric snorted, “So what? I’m dreaming anyway. What’s she gonna do, send me to the principal’s office? Bring it on. I’ll mess *him* up too.”

The entire class basically held their breath, wide-eyed but secretly thrilled. Half of them wished they'd had the guts to do what Eric just did. Tony had it coming.

“Eric, come on, snap out of it! Apologize to Ms. Johnson!” a clear, melodic voice chimed in.

A girl with twin ponytails stood up from the front row. Her thick bangs framed her face perfectly—slender brows, sharp eyes, upturned nose, red lips, and pale skin with a pink hue. That oversized school uniform couldn’t hide her figure at all—it legit looked HD. For Eric, it was like someone had pressed play on an old memory.

“Colette... Lee?” Eric blinked, light pouring into his eyes. He stared at her, a playful smile spreading slowly across his face. The girl he’d been crushing on since freshman year—his dream girl. There she was, right in *this* dream.

Those memories never really left. Late-night tossing and turning, glancing at her from afar, three years of silent yearning. To him, Colette was always the prettiest girl in school—a goddess he never had the guts to talk to.

Back when he was shy and unsure of himself, she was untouchable.

Now, here she was, right in front of him.

Clara Johnson’s face was as dark as a thundercloud, brows twisted in fury. “Eric Carter... you—!”

“Shut it.” Eric cut her off without missing a beat. He glanced at the board where the bright red “31 Days Until College Exams” glared back at him. Stepping off Tony’s face like it was nothing, he walked straight toward Colette.

Clara stood frozen, mouth half-open, completely stunned by the change in Eric. There was something in his posture, the flare in his eyes... had he lost it?

The classroom went dead silent, not a single breath out of place.Everyone in the class stared at Eric Carter with their eyes wide open, mouths half-hanging, watching him walk like he owned the place—back straight, chin up, eyes angled like he was staring down destiny itself. Every step screamed rebellious confidence like he was floating on some insane beat.

"Colette Lee, you probably don’t know this, but I’ve had a crush on you for three years. From the first day of school, I’ve liked you. I just never had the guts to say it... until now."

His voice was low and steady, smooth like a radio host's, echoing through the room as he walked straight ahead without missing a beat. No hesitation. No fear.

"In my class, you—how dare you…!" Clara Johnson was shaking with rage, about to cut him off.

But Eric didn’t even glance her way. He flicked his hand coolly, as if brushing off dust, and said without turning around, "Ms. Johnson, you've been eating eggs from my family for three years, so I don’t think you’re really in a position to stop me.”

"What...!" Clara froze like she got electrocuted. Her face went ghost-white, and she slumped like someone had pulled the plug on her.

The class burst into disbelief.

Everyone knew Eric’s family lived by selling farm eggs—his dad worked in a factory, and his mom raised chickens at home—a whole army of five hundred hens. So what he said? Totally checked out.

Realizing the truth, the whole classroom buzzed harder. Clara, the always-put-together teacher, turned out to be mooching eggs for years… gossip gold.

But honestly? No one cared about the eggs. Everyone was locked in on Eric, who was clearly still dreaming. No one in reality would diss the teacher like that and then just go straight up and confess to the school goddess.

Question was... what would happen when he finally snapped out of it?

Right now, Colette was frozen in place, face tinged with pink. As Eric got closer step by step, her heart started pounding uncontrollably, unsure whether to shy away or stay still.

“These last three years, the best part of my high school days... they were spent silently liking you. With only one month left before college entrance exams—will you be my girlfriend?”

Eric stopped in front of her, eyes full of genuine emotion.

“Eric,” Colette answered softly, calm and composed, flashing her sweet, signature smile—the kind that gently pushed everyone just far enough away. “You're a good guy. Thank you for your feelings... but this isn’t the right time. Let’s both focus on the exams first. If we both make it to our dream universities… I promise you’ll get your chance to win me over, okay?”

"...Wow," Eric mumbled, frustrated, his go-to phrase slipping out. Even in a dream he got rejected? Not just rejected, but given the classic “nice guy” card by the girl he'd been in love with. Brutal.

Whizz!

A chalk piece shot through the air and smacked him square on the forehead, leaving a faint white streak before bouncing away.

“Who’s eating eggs from your house, you brat?!” Clara was red-faced, pointing at Eric like she was about to explode. “Sleeping in my class is already bad—but confessing your love right here? Out! Go run ten laps on the track! I want a deep, thousand-word reflection on my desk first thing tomorrow!”

Eric ignored her yelling, raised his hand, and softly patted Colette’s head—a gentle, affectionate motion, like the finishing touch on his dream.

"If fate wants us to meet, we’ll meet again. What’re the odds, huh? Even in a dream, you still turned me down. That’s why you’re my high school goddess—got standards sky high."