Chapter 1

I was reported by parents in a joint complaint, saying I assigned too much homework.

So I simply canceled all homework and evening study sessions, strictly implementing "happy education."

When the monthly exam results came out, the parents exploded. They blocked the school gates, crying and begging me to restart the tutoring classes.

I was called to the principal's office before dawn had fully broken.

The cold air of a winter morning cut across my face like a knife.

"Miss Harper, take a look at this first."

Principal Anderson's face was ashen as he pushed his phone toward me, his voice suppressing barely controlled fury.

On the phone screen was the city's most popular education forum.

A bolded, red-highlighted post stabbed into my eyes.

High School Teacher Forces Supplementary Classes, "Honors Class" Becomes "Student Torture Chamber"

Followed by a red "TRENDING" badge.

My heart sank sharply.

The post's content was an "anonymous" plea for help, eloquently written and highly inflammatory.

"We're not learning machines. We have flesh and blood too. We long for the sunlight outside the window and a moment to breathe. But here, all we have are endless 'enrichment worksheets' and our nights and weekends---time that should belong to us---ruthlessly taken away. Miss Harper says the SAT is a war, and we can rest after we win. But we haven't even reached the battlefield yet, and we're already collapsing in the darkness before dawn..."

"We're so tired. We want to cry. Watching students in other classes participate in club activities, reading books they enjoy during study hall---we're so envious. It's not that we don't work hard. We just... don't want to exhaust all our passion for the future in this suffocating 'student torture chamber'..."

The letter also included several maliciously edited audio recordings.

My statement "Suffering a bit now gives you more choices in the future" was cut down to just the cold phrase "suffer a bit."

My encouragement "Once you cross the SAT hurdle, the world opens up---everyone just hang in there" was reduced to an impatient "cross it."

The image of a cold, obsessive "demon teacher" who only pursued grades and disregarded students' lives leaped off the page.

The comment section had completely exploded.

【Oh my God! Which school is this? Terrifying! Still doing this kind of cramming education!】

【Support the kids! Gen Z should speak up bravely! Someone expose this teacher!】

【'Honors Class'? More like 'Hell Class'! Doesn't the Department of Education care?】

【My heart breaks for these kids. Hugs. This teacher doesn't deserve to educate anyone! Should be fired!】

【I'm from the class next door at this school, can confirm they study until after 10pm every day. So intense!】

【Need insider students to come forward! Let's see how twisted this Miss Harper really is!】

【@CityDepartmentofEducation come do your job!】

...

Holding the cold phone, a chill crept up from between my vertebrae.

Not anger, but a tremendous sense of absurdity at being betrayed.

Those "enrichment worksheets" I stayed up nights organizing, selected from over a thousand practice sets---in their mouths, they became the straw that broke their backs.

The personal time I sacrificed to supervise their evening study sessions, always available to answer questions---that became "ruthless occupation."

Showing them the most difficult but most effective path to top universities---that made me the "chief architect of student torture"?

The phone buzzed on the office desk.

Principal Anderson's voice trembled slightly: "Miss Harper, the Department of Education is calling. They say they've received numerous complaints and are demanding we investigate immediately and give the public an explanation!"