After waiting more than ten minutes with no sign of the Instructor returning,
Jiang Cheng stepped out of the lounge and gazed at his own class's formation in the distance.
Right now, block after block of formations were practicing Military Boxing under the scorching sun on the wide drill ground.
He'd only been standing outside a short while, yet Jiang Cheng could already feel sweat forming on his skin.
The sun was merciless.
Listening to the whistles the Instructors blew again and again,
he shook his head and stopped thinking about it.
What's there to think about in this heat?
He turned and went straight back into the lounge, playing on his phone without a care in the world.
With the cool air-conditioning and a small fan, Jiang Cheng soon started to doze off.
This was his first time living on campus; although everyone in the dorm got along well enough these past two days,
the bedding was perfectly comfortable,
but the noise drove Jiang Cheng crazy.
The school's dormitory floors were built paper-thin.
Coupled with Jiang Cheng's exceptionally sharp hearing,
he could clearly hear chairs being dragged or footsteps from the dorm upstairs.
Especially at night, the slightest turn from a roommate or chatter in the corridor would jolt him awake.
Once Military Training ended, he'd move off-campus immediately.
He didn't know how long he'd slept before the sound of shifting boxes woke him.
Jiang Cheng slowly opened his eyes to find three extra people in the lounge.
They were moving crates of mineral water.
The two groups locked eyes.
Spotting Jiang Cheng lying on a chair, one boy's face suddenly changed; he spoke in a sarcastic tone, "Classmate, you're wearing a training uniform—why aren't you out training?"
Realizing the remark was aimed at him, Jiang Cheng frowned; the guy looked familiar, though he couldn't place him.
But the hostility in the boy's stare made it clear he'd come looking for trouble.
Jiang Cheng didn't bother with courtesy and asked coolly, "And you are?"
The boy cleared his throat, straightened his back, and said proudly, "I'm with the Student Union, a Sophomore—your Senior. Tell me, you don't look sick; are you slacking off in here?"
Seeing the guy's overbearing, nose-in-the-air attitude, Jiang Cheng couldn't help snorting.
So he was from the university's Student Union.
No wonder his eyes were glued to the ceiling.
Everyone knows universities are full of clubs and societies.
Chess Clubs, hip-hop crews, photography circles… The biggest and most powerful is the Student Union, followed by departmental associations and various societies.
Some are college-level, others campus-wide.
Many freshmen, encountering such groups for the first time, find them novel and exciting,
even developing a bit of worship for the Seniors running clubs and the Student Union.
A handful of students think that once they join the Student Union they're somehow special; granted the tiniest bit of authority and made a minor Cadre, they start throwing their weight around.
In Jiang Cheng's previous life, the Student Union at his school had constantly flaunted petty authority.
If a student wrote the meeting theme in the wrong order, a Cadre would punish him by making him copy it out ten times.
Or during meetings the President or Minister would always order others to run off and buy drinks.
In truth, these people wouldn't count for half a position in the real world; they just bully naïve students who haven't entered society yet.
They play at being seasoned officials, but it's just kids playing house.
After acting important at school for so long, they actually believe they're big shots.
Ridiculous.
Ignoring the boy's interrogation, Jiang Cheng simply closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
"Hey, what kind of attitude is that? Think you're something just because you have a bit of money? I'm talking to you!"
When the guy still wouldn't drop it, Jiang Cheng's temper flared.
"Who the hell do you think you are to question me? Get lost!"
Jiang Cheng's striking looks, plus the fact he'd topped the campus Forum these past few days, made him instantly recognizable.
The other two boys who'd entered with the first naturally knew who he was.
Seeing Jiang Cheng's dark expression, they quickly tried to smooth things over. "Senior Zhang Wei? Let it go; we're just here to move water. Maybe he really doesn't feel well."
Zhang Wei? The moment the name hit his ears, Jiang Cheng pictured a simp's face.
He finally remembered: this was the Student Union guy who'd handled freshmen registration with Lin Qingxue on check-in day.
No wonder Zhang Wei was so hostile—Lin Qingxue was clearly the reason.
Feeling Jiang Cheng's icy stare, Zhang Wei suddenly felt an invisible pressure wrap around him.
Sure, Zhang Wei knew Jiang Cheng was loaded—but so what?
This was a school; what could Jiang Cheng do to him?
And with two freshmen watching, Zhang Wei was desperate to assert Senior authority.
He recalled the rumor he'd heard recently: Lin Qingxue had supposedly gone to the male dorm to look for Jiang Cheng on her own initiative.
The thought made Zhang Wei lose his cool completely.
Puffing up, he declared, "As your Student Union Senior, maintaining safety during Military Training is our responsibility. I suspect you're dodging training—you'd better explain yourself."
Watching Zhang Wei deliver this ridiculous line,
Jiang Cheng couldn't hold back his laughter at the guy's posturing and borrowed authority.
His Mind Perception Skill told him Zhang Wei was extremely nervous yet unwilling to be belittled;
caught in that contradiction, Zhang Wei could only clench his fists, red-faced, and hurl hollow threats.
Seeing Jiang Cheng treat his warnings as a joke and burst into laughter,
Zhang Wei felt a crushing sense of humiliation.
Was his warning that funny?
Jiang Cheng was clearly looking down on him.
And truthfully, Jiang Cheng didn't take Zhang Wei seriously at all.
Even when Zhang Wei glared with what he thought was a fierce expression, to Jiang Cheng it was no different from a child waving a toy knife.
Far from feeling threatened, Jiang Cheng found it downright amusing.
Was this guy really an adult?
The way he talked was straight out of a middle-schooler's chuuni playbook.