Enlightened in Class, I Have Transcended

When Chen Mo took a nap in math class, the cinnabar leaking from the pen formed a rotating Bagua formation on the draft paper. From then on, he looked at trigonometric functions as if he were observing the stars, listened to English as if he were hearing Taoist sounds, and the breath he exhaled while dozing off at the table became a whirlpool of spiritual energy. The dining window in the cafeteria is lined up in a Beidou formation, the dissection of frogs in the biology class coincides with the art of poisoning, and the dean's bald head is a living specimen in every thunderstorm. When the cinnabar pattern on the back of his hand resonated with the May 3 question bank, Chen Mo understood that there were cultivation precepts hidden in the school rules. The monthly exam is a foundation-building assessment, the teacher's office has a zodiac lamp, and the countdown sign for the college entrance examination is actually a thousand-year calamity clock. Now he draws talismans with his left hand to prevent the class teacher from checking him, and uses his right hand to solve big physics problems, which is a bug in the spiritual world between the classroom and the cave. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.