[Chapter 15 ]

Class: Microeconomics 101

Teacher: Professor Han Jiawei – Stern, methodical, the kind whose glasses tap like a metronome when he’s thinking.

Lan Zhan POV

The classroom smelled faintly of chalk dust and coffee. Sunlight sliced across the desks, highlighting the faint sheen of panic on my classmates’ faces. I slid into my usual spot near the window, notebook open, pen ready—but my mind wasn’t on the lecture.

Pop quiz today…should I make it tricky? Maybe marginal costs?

Professor Han’s thought flickered even before he spoke: “Start with the basic cost curve…” My pen moved of its own accord, sketching formulas, jotting reminders, and preempting the mental twist he was about to throw in.

Nearby, whispers started:

“Did he…just start writing?”

“Before the quiz?”

“Is he…cheating, psychic, or possessed?”

A brave—or desperate—student squinted at me and whispered, “He…he’s reading the teacher’s mind, right?”

Another muttered, “No, no. I read on a forum that people like him are actually economics wizards from another dimension.”

I suppressed a twitch of a smile. Focus on your own work.

Professor Han cleared his throat. “Pens ready. Begin.”

Pandemonium. Chairs squeaked. Papers slid. One student attempted to peek over my shoulder, wobbling dramatically, elbow catching the desk in a perfect chain reaction. Another student behind him clutched their pencil like a sword, whispering to no one in particular, “He must have unlocked the secrets of the universe.”

And then…a third student tried to discreetly record my paper with a phone. It fell. Loudly. Onto the floor. Plop.

Mo Longyan, carrying graded assignments past the classroom on his way to the professor’s desk, paused. He arched a brow, perfectly still, and the would-be acrobat immediately froze, eyes wide, phone hovering midair. “Uh…gravity test?” they squeaked.

I glanced at Mo briefly. A flicker of acknowledgment. Calm. Precise. And maybe…a little amused at the chaos.

Professor Han walked down the aisles, scrutinizing papers. He paused at my desk, eyes lifting briefly, then continued. My pen didn’t stop. I filled in answers as if the quiz had already been solved in a previous life.

Mo Longyan POV

Delivering graded assignments, I crossed the classroom just as the chaos erupted. One student flailed mid-peek, another muttered about interdimensional economics, and a third attempted to record Lan Zhan with dramatic flair.

I raised an eyebrow. Perfect. Invisible tether established.

Lan Zhan, completely calm amid chaos. His aura alone made the most absurd attempts at cheating collapse like poorly constructed Jenga towers. I left the papers on Professor Han’s desk with a faint smile.

Lan Zhan POV (back inside)

I leaned back, feeling the tension dissolve around me. Whispers, suspicion, absurd theories—they didn’t touch me.

Somewhere near the door, I sensed Mo’s presence. Observing. Polite. Present. Unobtrusive.

A subtle smirk passed between us. Mission: accomplished. The classroom was a mix of panic, awe, and sheer ridiculousness, but everything—every wobbling student, every whispered “wizard” theory—made perfect sense in its own chaotic way.

Prepared. Calm. Invisible yet undeniably brilliant.

[Author’s Note]

Okay, everyone, serious question: was Lan Zhan cheating? Let’s break it down. He didn’t peek at anyone’s answers. He didn’t whisper with a magical decoder ring. He just…somehow knew the quiz before it even started.

Meanwhile, his classmates went full conspiracy mode. “He’s a wizard!” someone gasped. “A psychic!” whispered another, shaking like they’d just seen a ghost. One student swore he saw tiny sparks around Lan Zhan’s pen. And yes, someone actually drew him with a pointy hat and a crystal ball on the margin of their notebook.

So, tell me—genius? Telepath? Secret Hogwarts transfer? Or is he just quietly, terrifyingly, effortlessly brilliant? Either way, let’s all agree: it’s absurd…yet somehow perfect.