NOVEL WEB Chapter 22: Gods and Grades
The next morning, Zhurong, the literal God of Fire, enrolled as a transfer student.
He filled out the paperwork with a pen made of solidified lava.
His student ID photo was just a picture of a raging inferno.
He showed up to Li Wei's 8 AM "Modern Chinese History" class wearing his full, divine, asphalt-melting armor.
He took a seat in the back row.
The desk promptly burst into flames.
**
Professor Miller, who was still recovering from Li Wei's tactical analysis of the business school, paused mid-lecture.
He stared at the seven-foot-tall god of destruction trying to fit into a student desk built for a five-foot-seven history major.
"Can I... help you?" the professor asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Zhurong's voice was the sound of a forest fire.
"I am Zherong," he announced, mispronouncing the name on his new student ID. "A humble transfer student, here to learn."
He gestured vaguely at Li Wei.
"And to... monitor a fellow student for a... group project."
He then proceeded to set the classroom thermostat to a comfortable 200 degrees Celsius.
The plastic chairs began to warp.
The students started to sweat.
Li Wei wanted to die.
**
It got worse.
The news of a god enrolling at the university apparently went viral on the celestial plane.
The next day, the faculty meeting had some new attendees.
The new gym teacher was a burly, scarred man who introduced himself as "Mr. Guan." He had a very large, very sharp glaive for a pointer stick.
The new poetry professor was a woman of impossible beauty who made all the students fall madly in love with her just by reading the syllabus. Her name was "Professor Aphrodite." Apparently, she was on an exchange program.
The Dean of Admissions was replaced by a slick, fast-talking man in winged sneakers who kept calling everyone "cuz."
The gods weren't fighting Zhurong.
They were spying on him.
And Li Wei was caught in the middle of a divine cold war where the battlefield was his course schedule.
**
Academic life, which had already been a nightmare, became a literal life-or-death struggle.
The gods were competitive.
And they graded harshly.
Mr. Guan's gym class involved dodging actual cannonballs.
Professor Aphrodite's poetry assignments were graded on how many hearts you could break with a single sonnet.
And Zhurong, or "Professor Fire" as he now insisted on being called, taught a single, mandatory course.
"Introduction to Spontaneous Combustion."
The final exam was surviving it.
This is fine, Yin Mode whimpered in Li Wei's head, trying to take notes while his desk was actively on fire. I'm getting a world-class education. From literal gods. This is a privilege.
Their pedagogical methods are inefficient, Yang Mode countered, his golden eyes calculating the trajectory of an incoming cannonball during gym class. The student survival rate is statistically unacceptable.
**
The pressure was immense.
Every move Li Wei made was scrutinized.
By everyone.
The math cult followed him, documenting his "divine theorems."
The normal students followed him, hoping to get on his reality show.
And the gods followed him, watching, testing, judging.
He was the most popular, most powerful, and most miserable student on campus.
He couldn't even go to the bathroom without Hermes, the new Dean of Admissions, zipping in to ask him about his "progress."
It all came to a head on a Thursday.
After failing a pop quiz in "Advanced Theological Smack-Talking" (taught by Sun Wukong, who had apparently decided being a barista was boring), Li Wei cracked.
He fled.
He ran to the one place he thought he could be alone.
A dingy, forgotten bathroom on the third floor of the science building.
He locked himself in a stall, slid to the floor, and just... broke.
The confident general was gone.
The cold calculator was offline.
He was just a scared kid again.
He buried his head in his hands, his body wracked with silent, terrified sobs.
He was so tired.
Tired of the quests.
Tired of the gods.
Tired of being a cosmic joke.
He just wanted it to stop.
**
The stall door creaked open.
He didn't look up.
"Go away," he mumbled into his knees.
A pair of elegant, crimson boots appeared in front of him.
"No," a soft voice said.
Feng Yue.
She didn't say anything else.
She just slid down to the floor across from him, her back against the stall door, and sat.
In the dirty, disgusting, forgotten bathroom.
She didn't try to fix him.
She didn't tell him to be strong.
She just... sat with him.
Sharing the silence.
Sharing the misery.
And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel completely alone.
He eventually stopped crying.
He looked up, his face a mess of tears and shame.
"How did you find me?" he whispered.
"I have my methods," she said, her voice still soft. Then a flicker of the Ice Queen's logic returned. "And you have a unique chaotic energy signature that's surprisingly easy to track when you're having an emotional breakdown."
He let out a watery, choked laugh.
"Of course I do."
They sat in silence for another minute.
"Thank you," he said finally.
"Don't mention it," she replied. "Now get up. We have an exam."
**
The exam was in "Introduction to Spontaneous Combustion."
The lecture hall was silent, except for the gentle crackle of Zhurong's flaming armor.
He passed out the test papers.
They were fireproof.
A thoughtful touch.
Li Wei stared at the first question.
1. A mortal is exposed to 1,200 degrees Celsius of divine flame. Calculate the exact moment their soul separates from their incinerated corpse. Show your work.
He was going to fail.
He was going to fail and then be incinerated.
He looked over at Feng Yue.
She was breezing through the test, her answers written in elegant, flaming calligraphy.
Of course she was. She was a fire bird. This was her native language.
He panicked.
He did the only thing a failing student could do.
He tried to cheat.
He leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse of her paper.
She saw him.
She rolled her eyes, a gesture of pure, exasperated affection.
She subtly angled her paper so he could see.
He squinted. He still couldn't read it.
He leaned closer.
She, trying to be helpful, leaned her paper closer to him.
A single, tiny spark from her flaming signature floated off the page.
It drifted through the air.
And landed directly on Li Wei's test paper.
WHOOSH.
The "fireproof" paper, which was apparently not "phoenix-fireproof," instantly burst into a column of brilliant, white-hot flame.
Li Wei screamed and fell out of his chair.
The entire class turned to stare.
Zhurong rose from his desk, his fiery gaze fixed on the pillar of flame that used to be Li Wei's exam.
This was it.
He was dead.
The Fire God strode over to their desk.
He looked at the ashes.
He looked at the terrified Li Wei on the floor.
He looked at Feng Yue, who was trying to look innocent.
Then, a slow, terrible smile spread across his face.
He began to applaud.
A slow, deliberate clap that echoed like thunder.
"Magnificent," Zhurong boomed, his voice filled with genuine admiration.
"I have taught this course for three millennia, and no student has ever had the courage to give such a... practical demonstration."
He looked down at Li Wei.
"You have not just answered the questions," the Fire God declared. "You have become the answer."
"A+."
📣 [SYSTEM NOTICE: AUTHOR SUPPORT INTERFACE]
Did this chapter bless your braincell or ruin your will to live (in a good way)?
Drop a comment or throw a power stone — it's like XP for my soul.