Back to High School: To Save Mom, To Love Him

Chapter 9 — Starting From Zero

No matter how hard she tried, Thu Ly had to face one cold, undeniable truth:

She’d been away from school for way too long.

Over a decade of being “assimilated” by the capitalist world had left some serious side effects.

Sure, she could charm her teachers with smooth small talk, casually befriend classmates she never once spoke to in the past, and even earn herself a little extra love by expertly “networking” during breaks. But all those social skills didn’t help when it came to wrangling the chemical valency chart or trying to remember which Newton law involved apples.

If her brain was a machine, it was definitely rusty — creaky, unreliable, and in desperate need of WD-40.

The only subject that didn’t betray her was English.

Her American accent made the English teacher do a double take more than once. The tone? The rhythm? Practically like listening to the radio! Several classmates even asked her for tips during breaks, and Hương Trà practically begged her for the name of her tutor.

Thu Ly could only laugh awkwardly and admit:

“Uh… I don’t have one. I just listen to English programs on the radio.”

As for Literature, well… that was another small win.

Thirty-five years of life experience, a massive vocabulary, and the ability to spin a story that could rival any f*******: philosopher meant her essays were getting solidly good feedback. Her literature teacher even nodded thoughtfully:

“This one’s got depth. Lived experience.”

When it came to algebra, geometry, and trigonometry, her memory took its sweet time waking up, like an old man stretching after a nap. But it was waking up nonetheless. She might not be quick, but at least her math teacher stopped looking at her like she needed academic life support.

But Chemistry? Physics? Biology?

Total disaster.

Those had already been her “dark zones” back in her actual school days. Now, trying to relearn them felt like asking someone with amnesia to compete in a national chess tournament.

Her most recent one-period test results were straight-up tragic:

- Chemistry: 1

- Physics: 2

- Biology: 1.5

And then came the walk of shame.

Each of the three teachers called her up in front of the whole class for what felt like an academic intervention. They didn’t even need to raise their voices — the disappointment in their eyes said it all.

Thu Ly stood there nodding like a bobblehead, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

Time-traveling? Done. But nothing quite prepared her for the trauma of being the weakest student in class.

That break time, she laid her face flat on the desk and mumbled with the despair of someone halfway through a bad report card:

“You think my parents will faint when they see all these 1s and 2s?”

Hương Trà rushed over, patting her shoulder like a loyal comrade:

“Hey hey, don’t be so down. We’ll help you get back on track, okay? Pinky promise!”

Tú nodded solemnly like he’d just joined the army:

“I’ll help you with Physics. You’ll pass next time for sure.”

Thu Ly couldn’t help laughing, even with her brain in knots. She looked at the two of them with teary affection:

“My wonderful ride-or-die sisters. I owe you guys big time.”

Hương Trà burst out laughing at her melodrama. Tú, meanwhile, muttered with an annoyed smirk:

“Who’s your sister…”

But before they could even start their noble “Operation Brain Recovery,” a voice came from the classroom door like the call of destiny:

“Thu Ly, report to the staff room.”

Oh no. Not the staff room. Again.

This time it was Ms. Hằng, the Chemistry teacher, summoning her not for punishment… but to reteach the entire test. Personally.

“I don’t understand how you missed the most basic questions,” she said, flipping through the paper. “Do you not remember anything from organic chemistry?”

Thu Ly gave a sheepish smile.

“I thought… that was advanced content?”

“That was the basic part, dear.”

As if the air couldn’t get any thicker, the door suddenly opened.

And in walked a familiar face: Hoài Nam.

He was carrying a stack of graded tests from class 11A1. He barely glanced around the room before pausing — his gaze landing squarely on Thu Ly. One eyebrow arched in confusion, as if thinking “You again?”

Then he caught sight of her Chemistry test on the table.

And froze.

His expression shifted from mild surprise to silent horror. He looked from the test… to her… back to the test. It was written all over his face:

“How did anyone even get this bad?”

Ms. Hằng, ever the opportunist, saw her opening:

“Perfect timing, Nam. I have to speak with the principal for a moment. Stay and help Ly finish the rest of the review, will you?”

“Uh… sure,” he replied, though his voice sounded like someone volunteering to clean a sewer.

He pulled out a chair and sat beside Thu Ly, flipping through her paper. At first, his face was calm. Then… came the frown. The deepening furrow of someone watching a slow-motion car crash.

Finally, he couldn’t hold it in:

“Did you come to school just to study English? What is this Chemistry test? It’s blank!”

Thu Ly didn’t flinch. She just smiled sweetly and replied:

“As you can see… I’ve completely lost my roots.”

Hoài Nam sighed, folded the test paper back up, and said:

“Alright. We’ll start from scratch. Do you even know how to balance a chemical equation?”

“If there’s an example nearby, maybe. Otherwise… depends on the universe.”

“Do you remember any organic chemistry formulas?”

“I’m not sure if those are formulas or ancient spells.”

He was quiet for a moment. Long enough for her to wonder if he was about to walk out and abandon ship.

But instead, he stayed.

And then… he began.

His voice was steady and calm, surprisingly patient. He explained slowly, clearly, and even drew out neat little molecular diagrams like a part-time chemistry artist. Every time she got something wrong, he didn’t mock or scold — just circled back and said it again, simpler.

And sitting there, watching him walk her through the subject she dreaded most, Thu Ly had a strange realization:

Maybe going back to school wasn’t so bad…

…as long as she didn’t have to go it alone.