Flores de Damasco Desabrochando

“Get out here!”
In the classroom, the homeroom teacher grabbed Zhang Qin and dragged him outside.
Zhang Qin had been lying on his desk, fast asleep, when he was suddenly pulled out.
But this Zhang Qin was not the same as before—he was the Zhang Qin of ten years later, reborn into his younger self.
The introverted Zhang Qin surveyed his surroundings. Wasn’t this the very scene from when he was wronged?
He would never forget this moment: the day he was falsely accused by his homeroom teacher.
What exactly had happened? Zhang Qin was in the high school sports class. As an athlete, he had to train every single day. Morning training began at 5:30 a.m., and by 8:30 on a September morning, the weather was already stifling. Training ended at 7:30, with half an hour set aside for breakfast.
So when class started after training, the classroom was dim, the air conditioning humming, curtains drawn, and soon everyone was fast asleep. Many teachers didn’t even bother to teach the first period, knowing no one could concentrate—those awake were groggy, the rest were dozing.
Zhang Qin was in Senior Three, Class Twelve, a physics track class—the later-numbered classes in the year were all science-oriented.
The trouble began because, every afternoon, the entire athletic team trained together, leaving their bags on the stage by the field. Yesterday afternoon, a student from Class Six, a liberal arts class, lost a hundred yuan.
This morning, that student came to the classroom and confronted Zhang Qin. Soon, Mr. Chen, the homeroom teacher, hea