On the day Lin Xiaoman transferred to school holding a Cantonese-style sugar water cup, a heavy rain in the mountain city of northern Fujian was drenching the corridors of key classes.
From the Pearl River Delta International School to the county and provincial key schools, she thought the biggest challenge was the monthly exam red list, until she discovered that the math teacher taught derivatives in dialect.
"What are you talking about?" She stared blankly at the blackboard filled with earthworm-like writings. The boy at the back table suddenly threw a note: "He said the derivative is like your ponytail, with the left side curled up and the right side slumped."
When the plastic Mandarin of Zhou Yu, a top student in the key class, collided with the loose dialect of the Cantonese girl, the surveillance camera of the dean began to appear:
The salty lemongrass passed down in the morning reading class, the mint grass secretly planted in the evening self-study, and the folk guitar hidden in the locker.
"The first rule of key classes," Zhou Yu wiped off the water mist on the glass windows, "students in key classes are not allowed to talk to students in ordinary classes."
Rain seeped in along the rusty anti-theft net. Lin Xiaoman raised his phone and said, "Does speaking Cantonese count?"
Purpose: Find a gap to breathe freely in the exam-taking cage