Brother Porter was so relentless that Vivienne Cross's CPU nearly overheated. She had just replied with a "No," and he immediately bombarded her with another string of messages. Vivienne barely glanced at them—her head was pounding. It felt like being stuck to a piece of stubborn taffy.
But that was only the beginning.
[Hat-Wearing Pipi] has requested to add you as a friend.
[Lin Long] has requested to add you as a friend.
[Did You Eat a Dinosaur Today] has requested to add you as a friend…
[Would you like to reject all future friend requests?]
Vivienne clicked [Yes], shutting down the friend request function entirely.
Tony Zane burst out laughing when he heard: "You're basically a hot commodity now! There was an old saying in ancient times—scholars catching husbands under the imperial board… and you're… kinda like that?"
He scratched his head. "Something like that, anyway."
Jan Squire didn't say anything. He finally realized, a beat too late, that Vivienne had been trying to avoid him. People had tempers, after all. He started giving her space.
Vivienne felt a little guilty—after all, he had helped her twice. But her deep-rooted heteronormativity quickly overrode that guilt. Well, she'd repay him once she became rich and famous. Just… not right now.
The impact of her SS-level evaluation was nothing short of earth-shattering.
Besides her now-flooded social media, the real change came from her classes—suddenly, every instructor seemed to expect miracles from her.
The news of a new SS-level freshman spread like wildfire across campus. Vivienne now "had the honor" of being called upon in every single class.
"Who's Vivienne Cross?"
"I heard there's an SS-level freshman in this batch? Stand up and let the teacher take a look?"
"Let's have the double-S student in our class answer this one~"
"Wow, haven't seen SS-level mental strength in years! Who is it?"
.....
"This is terrifying," Tony Zane said, visibly stunned. "No skipping class for you—ever again!"
Joey Yu sighed wistfully: "I wish I had such a beautiful burden—painful yet joyful."
Vivienne felt like she was being drowned in an ocean of knowledge.
Stop calling on her, please, teachers!
She was collapsing inside. She really didn't understand a thing!
Every class, she stood up. Every class, she was questioned. Vivienne realized she was just a wooden pole… or maybe a corncob. Wherever she was needed, she had to be there, like a prop.
This miserable routine continued until Wednesday afternoon's Combat class.
Finally, a sigh of relief. Instructor Milo knew her true skill level. She had zero combat foundation—no way she'd be singled out again.
Sure enough, Milo didn't make her stand up and explain herself. Instead, she had everyone start with warm-ups.
—Ten laps around the field. Just a simple 4,000 meters.
Vivienne: "…" She was going to die.
As expected, halfway through, she fell behind.
While she was panting and slow-jogging, a figure quietly appeared beside her without a sound.
"Vivienne, I already heard!" Milo walked beside her, hands clasped behind her back, voice excited. "SS-level mental strength!"
"Mm…" Vivienne couldn't even spare a glance. Even though she was basically walking while jogging, her stamina was abysmal, and sweat was already streaming down her pale skin.
How could she have forgotten—Combat class was terrifying to begin with!
Milo, full of righteous indignation: "Such excellent natural talent! You can't waste it!"
"With your mental power, I can't let you fall behind in physical combat."
"You give it your all, and I'll give mine! Together, we'll reach the peak of physical excellence!"
"The principal's medal is already waving at you!"
Vivienne's brain buzzed—what nonsense was Milo even spouting?
…
"Today's training will focus on live combat. Everyone, suit up!" Milo clapped and pointed at the two boxes of gear stacked in the corner.
Vivienne suited up too. The protective uniform was lightweight and resilient—designed to absorb impact and reduce injuries during sparring.
Of course, while others were going all-in on actual fighting, Vivienne was still far from that level.
So, as always, Bailey Tong and Jan Squire helped her train.
Bailey was all smiles, having overheard Milo's babbling earlier. "Vivienne, Mr. Milo has high hopes for you now."
Seeing her spiritual guide and kind helper, Vivienne sighed helplessly. "You're too kind. I'll be troubling you again this class, Bailey."
"Haha, just call me Tongtong," Bailey winked playfully. "'Bailey' plus 'classmate' is way too long."
Bailey… Bailey Classmate… she had a point.
"Okay then… Tongtong."
Vivienne started punching mechanically.
Bailey and Jan went back to sparring with each other.
Vivienne wondered to herself: Bailey was a Guide too. Why was her combat so strong? Was this the power of a class representative?
Suddenly, her arm was lifted a little higher.
She turned her head to see Jan Squire withdrawing his hand and returning to his spar.
"Don't zone out," he said.
…
"Vivienne Cross, let's spar."
A muscular male student cracked his knuckles and issued the challenge.
Vivienne, in the middle of throwing a half-hearted punch, froze in place.
Sparring?
Wasn't she the known weakling of the entire Combat class?
What she heard was: "Vivienne Cross, let me beat you up."
"You mean… me?" she asked, pointing at herself in disbelief.
"Is that Stone Zhen? What's he doing?"
"I thought his physical grade was A-?" someone whispered. "Isn't that bullying?"
"How is that bullying? Vivienne's SS!"
…
Combat class rules were strict: regular sparring couldn't be declined and had to go for at least three moves.
But one move was all it took. Forced into the match, Vivienne was knocked down with a pitiful yelp.
Even with the protective gear reducing the damage, she was still spinning like laundry in a washer, her head spinning and limbs aching.
To make things worse, she'd also slammed her knee—icing on the cake.
"Vivienne, are you okay? Can you keep going?" Bailey asked, concerned.
Jan stood silently nearby. He glanced at the eager Stone Zhen, then back at the collapsed Vivienne. Still said nothing.
"She's not moving? Is she playing dead?"
Swear to the stars, she was just that fragile…
"Maybe… she really can't get up? Isn't she F-ranked in physique?"
"Seriously?"
"Well, for the universe to open such a grand door with SS, it makes sense to close a window. I feel balanced now."
Vivienne's terrible combat was so genuine, no one could doubt it anymore.
Even Stone Zhen had to shout: "Vivienne, are you looking down on me? Use your full strength!"
Good grief, Ultra-Macho Bro…
Vivienne dragged herself up, pitifully looking toward Milo, hoping the teacher would step in.
But Milo didn't move. In fact, her eyes had a disappointed look.
"Vivienne, get up! Keep going!"
Wait, Milo wasn't like this last week?!
Vivienne screamed internally: Why did everyone suddenly have such unrealistic expectations of me?!
"Stop holding back!" Stone Zhen roared. "Vivienne! Let's have a proper duel! One-on-one!"
Dammm, She was going to get beaten to death by her own classmate, wasn't she?!
Stone Zhen launched at her like a charging bull.
Vivienne wanted to dodge—but couldn't.
Tumble, tumble.
The gear absorbed most of the force, but she still rolled three or four times.
It felt like she finally got to experience the washing machine she never got to crawl into as a kid.
…Not fun at all.
She rolled right to Jan Squire's feet.
So close—he couldn't pretend not to see anymore.
Jan made a token gesture of concern: "You okay?"
Two metaphorical fat tears streamed down Vivienne's heart.
One more hit to go…
Why was she even taking this beating?
In that spark of a moment, something clicked in her mind.
Vivienne made a decision!
"Squire," she called out, "let's have dinner together."