Chen Jiaqi comes from a long generational line of scholars and scientists.
Fifteen generations of brilliant minds — from Qing Dynasty court astrologers to postdoctoral researchers at Tsinghua — down to her little cousin who just graduated high school as the provincial top scorer. She's majoring in biophysics and ancient dynastic law because, of course, she is.
Chen Jiaqi?
Well, she started as a dance major.
Then she switched to marine biology because she saw a documentary on jellyfish and whales and thought, "Yeah, I could do that."
Then she watched three seasons of The Victim's Game and an old drama about Judge Dee, and suddenly she was in law school. She switched before the professor could even say, "I object." She even played an actor too but couldn't stand the stress of the cameras on her.
Then came yoga. (Let's not talk about when she pulled something she didn't know she had.) She even got into welding and glassblowing. But she wanted to save her poor cheeks, though welding she actually finished that class as it was only a 3-month Course her parents were quite happy and even gave her the car she has currently as a present.
She's a jack of all trades, master of none — unless you count nap-taking or doomscrolling through cultivation forums online. (She doesn't.)
Which brings us to this moment: the family intervention.
They were seated in the old ancestral hall, which made everything feel about ten times more dramatic than it needed to be.
Portraits of their ancestors lined the walls, staring down at Chen Jiaqi like disappointed Confucian memes.
Her mother, Lin Xinhua, cleared her throat in that way she always does right before delivering bad news.
"Ahem. Sweetheart, we called you here today because we wanted to have a chat…"
She paused. Of course, she paused. Always with the theatrics.
Just tell me I'm adopted or cursed or being sent off to marry a warlord — anything but the slow-burn monologue!
Sensing Chen Jiaqi's expression flattening into the family's patented deadpan disappointment face, her father, Chen Haoyu, stepped in to translate.
"What your mother means is, we want to talk about your… future. We've noticed you've changed majors a few too many times. At this point, your advisor's threatening to resign if you don't finish something."
He folded his hands solemnly, like this was a diplomatic summit between nations.
"We just think maybe… It's time you took a break. Go stay with your aunt and uncle for a while. Help out at the village academy. See if maybe — just maybe — teaching is your calling."
Teaching.
As in Chen Jiaqi, in charge of other humans, with responsibilities and lesson plans.
She stared at them for a long time. Not because she was offended. Just thinking.
Was she doing anything important with her life? Not really.
Did she like money? Absolutely.
So she asked the most important question of all:
"How much? Because I don't work for buckets — only bucks. Real ones. The kind with dead presidents or ancient philosophers on them."
Her mother muttered something like, "You can't even wake up for morning classes," but Chen Jiaqi ignored her.
She zeroed in on her father, scanning his face for any signs of lies, exaggeration, or — heaven forbid — unpaid internships.
"Sigh," her father took a deep breath, turning his head away, embarrassed and too ashamed to look.
"No room, yes board, but… You get 10,000 yuan a month."
"No room? Where will I stay? A villager's house?"
"Uhm… I'm sure they have something in place for you, sweetie… Plus… a special teaching supplement from your uncle's side of the family."
Her father cleared his throat, dodging her eyes as he didn't have all the details.
That caught her attention.
Her head snapped to the left to look at her mother for clarification.
"Special supplement, oh?"
Her mother rolled her eyes. "It's not that kind of supplement."
Her father just smiled cryptically. "You'll see."
And that's how Chen Jiaqi — eternal college hopper, nap enthusiast, and proud non-scholar — ended up taking her beat-up car to the middle of nowhere, armed with nothing but sarcasm, a half-functioning laptop, and a yoga mat she hadn't touched since the incident.
She thought she was just going to fake her way through a few months of teaching for some quick cash.
⸻
She only meant to stop for gas. But of course, fate has a thing for catching you when you look the worst—in wrinkled sweats, no bra, and an energy drink in hand.
She was filling up her tank trying to be quick and back on the road. And that's when she heard it. A high-pitched, wet-sniffling wail.
"Ugh."
Chen Jiaqi turned, eyes twitching. Some snot-nosed kid sat on the curb next to the convenience store, face scrunched up like he just got told Santa was fake and taxes were real.
Chen Jiaqi crouched in front of him, sighed, and muttered, "Shut up before I kidnap you."
He immediately cried louder.
"Oh, come on! Seriously?"
Chen Jiaqi winced, looking around like someone else would step in. No one did
She tried logic. "Tsk. You're a boy, right? Boys don't cry over small stuff. Men are supposed to carry the world on their shoulders!"
He hiccuped mid-sob. "Yeah, exactly."
Chen Jiaqi patted his shoulders and tugged at his tiny T-shirt like she was straightening a suit. "Better. Now tell me: where are your parents?"
He sniffed. "Not here. I stay with my uncle and mom."
"And… where are they?"
No answer.
"Okay, how about someone I can call? Grandpa? Cousin? Emergency phone number on a laminated card in your little man's wallet?"
"I have a grandpa," he brightened, then looked down again. "But Mommy says I can't talk to him anymore."
Tears welled again.
Chen Jiaqi panicked. "Hey! No crying, no crying—look!"
Chen Jiaqi crouched again and held up a finger. "Is your mom here?"
He shook his head. "Exactly! So she won't know. Fine. This'll be our little crime of love."
He hesitated… then handed her his tiny SpongeBob wallet. Inside was a sticky, hand-written number labeled GRANDPA ❤️
As Chen Jiaqi tapped the number into her phone, she noticed his shoelaces. Untied. Floppy. Pitiful.
"Kid. Your shoe's undone."
"I dunno how to tie 'em," he mumbled.
Of course, he didn't.
"You're a piece of work."
Chen Jiaqi sighed and squatted again. "Fine, I'll teach you."
"One bunny, two bunny… they dance around, one dives through the tunnel, the other wraps around, and now they're stuck. Boom. Foot prison. Done."
The kid blinked. "…Like magic."
[DING!]
[Synchronizing…]
[1%… 15%… 37%… 69%… 82%… 99.1%…]
[Complete.]
[Congratulations, Host!]
[Welcome to the Best Educator Teacher System (B.E.T.S.)!!]
Chen Jiaqi stared at the glowing hologram floating mid-air, flickering gently like a pop-up ad from a parallel dimension. She blinked twice. Still there. She rubbed her eyes again—nope, still there.
Then she turned to the kid. "Hey… are you seeing the same thing I'm seeing?"
She pointed at the translucent message hanging in the air in front of her. The kid gave her a look—the kind only kids can give adults when they think you've officially lost your mind—and shook his head frantically.
"Cool cool cool," she muttered. "So just me then."
She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm and squinted up again. Still there. Still hovering. Still glowing like an app update she never agreed to.
"Is this what happens when I skip my daily nap?" she said out loud to absolutely no one. "Yeah. Definitely going home to nap once I survive this."
[You're now officially registered as a Provisional Host under the Best Educator Teacher System!]
[Assigned Domain: Multi-Subject, Multi-Discipline Human Development]
[Teaching Level: 0.0 – Intern Substitute]
[Current Uniform: Questionable Sweats. Please change before hosting first lesson.]
"Hey, at least I'm wearing a nice shirt, okay?!" Chen Jiaqi snapped. She glanced down… then noticed a mystery stain creeping out of the lower corner of said shirt.
She glared at the hologram. "Barely. But they count."
[As the newly activated Host, your task is to guide, teach, discipline, and shape the next generation.]
[Please remember: Good Teachers do not bribe, cheat, or nap on school property.]
"You really don't hold back, huh?" Chen Jiaqi felt directly attacked.
[Error: Host sarcasm detected.]
[Recalibrating expectations… done!]
Chen Jiaqi narrowed her eyes. "You found me. I didn't ask you to contract me. I didn't summon you. I was just out here trying to live my beautiful salted-fish, peaceful life."
She groaned, stood up, and stretched like this was just another fever dream she had to walk off. The crying kid was now wiping his nose and watching her cautiously, like maybe he'd made a mistake trusting this grown-up. Too late, kid.
[Host Acknowledged: Resistance Detected.]
[Note: Denial Stage is common among late-blooming educators.]
[Adjusting optimism filters…]
Chen Jiaqi stared at the glowing blue screen floating in front of her. The crying kid was wiping his nose with his sleeve and staring at her like she'd grown a second head.
She looked up at the sky and exhaled. "Say, whose heavenly thighs did I cling to in my last life to deserve this level of divine interference?"
All she did was tie a shoe. she should've known it was a set up from the start.
[Optimism filter completed!]
[Would the host like to accept system]
[Yes or No?]
[No]
Chen Jiaqi picked without a second thought.
*Option unavailable*
She clicked it a few more times getting the same alert before throwing her hand up.
[No]
*Option unavailable*
"Dammit! Hey no fair that's cheating I picked no! In fact its a Hell No!" she shouted at the air looking even crazier.
[⚠️ Verbal Conduct Alert: Host should watch her language in front of the children.]
[Thank you host for accepting BETS system! Yeah, go team!]
And now she had a magic teaching system?