Having prior experience as a substitute teacher, Xia Miao wasn’t nervous about officially starting her new job teaching a class of students. She was assigned to second grade, and upon receiving the class roster, she realized there were only six students in total.
But this wasn’t surprising. After all, most students had moved to the cities, leaving fewer and fewer children in the rural towns.
Before stepping into the classroom, Xia Miao took a deep breath and put on a flawless, gentle smile—one that would surely leave a good first impression on her students.
Fully prepared, she pushed open the door and greeted them cheerfully, "Good morning, class!"
A clump of mud flew through the air and smacked squarely onto half of Xia Miao’s face. With a wet splat, it slid down, staining her new dress.
The white linen dress was now dotted with mud, matching the smear on her face, creating a rather comical sight.
Laughter erupted in the classroom.
Wiping the mud from her face, Xia Miao fixed a deathly glare on the child whose hands were still covered in dirt.
"We don’t want you here! We don’t need a teacher! Get out!"
With that child’s rallying cry, the others immediately joined in, chanting, "Get out! Get out! Get out!"
Xia Miao’s perfect, gentle smile shattered. Setting down her things, she strode toward the boy.
Blocking the barrage of thrown books with one hand, she grabbed the boy’s collar with the other, bending down to his level with a terrifying grin. "I’m your teacher, so I won’t hold this against you. Apologize, and I’ll forgive you."
The boy was pale and painfully thin, standing no taller than Xia Miao’s thigh, as if malnourished. Yet despite facing an adult, he showed no fear, brandishing a dull knife and stabbing at her leg.
"Stupid human! Let me go, or I’ll chop you up and dissect you on the operating table!"
The tiny boy had little strength, and his blunt knife posed no real threat.
Xia Miao lifted him effortlessly, smiling down at him. "I appreciate your warm welcome. Rest assured, I’ll take good care of you from now on."
This was the first time the boy had ever been hoisted into the air. Xia Miao’s grip was ironclad, and he thrashed wildly. "Let me go! Let me go! Damn it, why aren’t you guys helping me?!"
The other five children charged forward.
"Attack!"
"For our freedom!"
At the front was a fair-skinned boy with yellow hair, baring his claws and fangs—clearly capable of tearing through flesh with ease.
But Xia Miao simply stuck out her foot. He tripped in his haste, face-planting onto the floor and breaking a fang, howling in pain like a wounded dog.
Meanwhile, a girl in a dress lunged from the east. Xia Miao was gentler with girls, merely sidestepping while still holding the boy. The girl crashed into a desk, collapsing to the ground. Something must have hurt, because her head suddenly burst open like a blooming venus flytrap, revealing a gaping, bloodthirsty maw.
The carnivorous flower girl burst into loud, dramatic sobs.
"Bully! Let my friend go!"
From the south, a small black figure darted forward—a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy whose back sprouted countless tentacles, sharp as blades, all aimed at Xia Miao.
She raised the boy in her grip as a shield. The razor-sharp tentacles impaled him like needles, and he shrieked, kicking wildly. One foot struck the tentacle boy’s face, sending him crashing onto the still-recovering carnivorous flower girl.
From the west, a boy covered in scales charged, his long tail whipping through the air.
Xia Miao retreated to the window. As the scaled boy rushed her, she yanked it open, then slammed it shut—trapping his tail. He let out a pig-like squeal, writhing on the floor in agony.
Finally, Xia Miao turned her gaze northward.
A boy in a tiny suit had wooden joints like a puppet. He had been ready to attack, but the moment Xia Miao’s eyes locked onto him, he shrank back, pressing himself into a corner, his dark eyes glistening with fear.
The boy in her grip continued waving his knife. "Charge! Don’t back down! Never surrender to tyranny!"
Xia Miao hoisted him higher, staring him down.
The boy clutched his knife tightly and fell silent.
---
"Principal, Xia Miao is just an ordinary human. Are you sure it’s wise to assign her to the most unruly class?"
Director Lin, the bald disciplinary head, was a gaunt, kindly man. He had opposed hiring an outsider to teach the students from the start.
But the Principal had a point—if the little monsters didn’t learn human ways, how could they ever take over their roles as master manipulators?
The Principal was a portly middle-aged man with a round belly, always clutching a tub of red ice cream. No one knew how it was made, but when it melted at the corners of his mouth, it dripped like blood, lending his ever-present smile a sinister edge.
"Director Lin, your concerns are valid. That’s why today’s first lesson is crucial—we should go check on her and help keep order." The Principal took a spoonful of ice cream. "You’ll also need to keep an eye on discipline in her class. We can’t let those brats drive away the teacher I worked so hard to recruit."
Director Lin nodded hurriedly.
As they neared the second-grade classroom, his unease grew—the usual chaotic noise was eerily absent.
He quickened his pace. "Oh no… I warned those little demons not to reveal their true forms. Did they scare the teacher to death already?"
Suddenly, a sharp BANG echoed from the classroom, startling both the Principal and Director Lin in the hallway.
"Is this a school or a marketplace?! The bell rang ages ago, and you’re still making a racket like a bunch of gossiping old folks at the village square!"
"Let me make one thing clear—you’re not studying for your teachers or parents. You’re studying for your own futures!"
"And certain students—I won’t name names, to spare their dignity—bringing weapons to school and disrupting the peace? Unacceptable!"
The pale boy in his seat trembled.
The female teacher, her face and clothes still smudged with dirt, angrily slammed her book on the lectern again. "I hope certain students understand—when you waste ten minutes of class time, with six students sitting here, that’s sixty minutes lost. If you don’t want to learn, fine, but don’t drag your classmates down with you. Do we even want to continue this lesson?"
The "certain student" in question cringed inwardly, their toes curling in embarrassment, scalp prickling with dread.
The six children in the class sat rigidly at their desks, not daring to make a sound. An inexplicable sense of foreboding had already settled over them like a dark cloud.
