When Marcus heard that, the pride on his face instantly stiffened, and he muttered under his breath with a hint of pain, "Oh come on, Ethan... Let's take it easy! If this is a rough start in the market... I won't even have money for ramen..."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, leisurely wiping his hands and teasing, "Oh? Chickening out already? Who was just boldly claiming to be the next Warren Buffett? That unsure of your own judgment? If you don't have confidence, why even play?"
That landed right on Marcus's pride.
His face flushed and he stiffened up: "Who's chickening out! We're eating! We're definitely eating! Excuse me! Two more garlic ones!"
All to defend the dignity of "Little Buffett." He went all in.
Ethan: "...." Fine. Now it's really getting filling.
Before the new order arrived, a slight commotion came from the direction of the stairwell.
Marcus was in the middle of peeling shrimp. His eyes drifted over casually and his mouth dropped open, completely forgetting what he was holding.
Beside him, Derek and Kevin froze like someone had hit pause, eyes wide, staring in that direction, forgetting to breathe.
Ethan followed their gaze and looked over.
He saw Ms. Carter coming up the stairs.
Today she had dropped her usual formal attire. Her hair was pulled up in a fresh high ponytail, a few loose strands floating gently, showing a smooth, full forehead.
What caught everyone's eye was the outfit. A simple fitted camisole that showed off her figure, revealing delicate collarbones and rounded shoulders. Her bottom half was a pair of extremely short denim cutoffs, putting a long pair of straight, slender, blindingly fair legs on full display. Clean white sneakers on her feet.
She radiated youthful energy — sensual and innocent at the same time, a strange combination that worked. Against the slightly greasy backdrop of the dining hall, she looked like something that had no business being there.
If you didn't know she was a teacher you would have easily mistaken her for one of the campus girls grabbing lunch.
Ms. Carter, like Mr. Hayes, was also a faculty advisor — from the neighboring section. They shared the same office and had been around each other since the semester started.
Kevin practically drooled: "Damn, Ms. Carter, this... Is this even fair? Where is this a teacher? She's basically a..."
Ms. Carter walked into the dining hall, glanced around, and quickly locked onto Ethan's table.
A bright smile broke across her face as she waved from across the room: "Ethan! You're here too!"
She walked straight over, glanced down at the pile of shrimp shells and the bright red spicy shrimp on the table, smile sharpening with a hint of teasing: "Well, well... Ethan's living pretty well!"
Ethan set down the shell in his hand, grabbed a napkin to wipe his fingers, and met her gaze calmly, smiling back: "Ms. Carter, you're in a great mood today. That outfit — fresh, youthful — if someone didn't know you, they'd definitely think you were some campus girl coming in for lunch."
"Tsk, that mouth of yours just keeps getting sweeter." Ms. Carter's eyes curved with obvious pleasure.
Marcus and the other two nearby were floored, their minds going haywire — Damn! Ethan's just casually chatting and laughing with a teacher that looks like that! The nerve! The ease! Can't learn it, just can't.
Ethan smiled naturally, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and lit one for Mr. Hayes and the other male teacher who had come in with them.
He looked at the three of them — clearly just done with work and about to eat — and waved them over warmly: "Ms. Carter, Mr. Hayes, we just ordered three more rounds of shrimp. Want to sit down and join? More the merrier."
Ms. Carter was naturally easy-going and carefree. And honestly, she was only a few years older than Ethan and the others, with none of the stiffness of a teacher at all.
She didn't hesitate. She pulled out a chair and sat down next to Ethan: "Alright, don't mind if I do."
Mr. Hayes smiled and waved a hand: "Just shrimp won't be enough for me. I'll grab a proper plate." He headed toward the food counter.
The other male teacher was a little uncertain at first, but seeing how naturally Ms. Carter had sat down, and with Mr. Hayes already going along with it, he half-reluctantly took a seat.
Right then, three plates of shrimp arrived — one spicy, two garlic.
"Oh wow! Better to be lucky than good!" Ms. Carter's eyes lit up. She dropped all pretense, reached straight for the biggest garlic shrimp, turned her head and started peeling. The tender shrimp meat dipped in sauce went down with obvious satisfaction.
That easy, unpretentious energy was infectious.
The 208 trio, who had been quietly intimidated by the teachers, unconsciously relaxed and dove back into the shrimp.
Second floor of the dining hall. Spicy and garlic in the air, noise and laughter all around.
Mr. Hayes sat back down with a fresh plate of rotisserie chicken rice, took a couple of bites, swallowed, then looked at Ethan: "Ethan, let's talk business. Tonight's the class meeting. Training's over, academics officially start. The meeting needs to elect class officers — class president, student rep, the key positions. What are your thoughts?"
When it got serious, the easy smile on Ethan's face dropped instantly. His gaze went calm and sharp, like a different person had stepped in.
He set down the shrimp shell, wiped his hands carefully with a napkin, then spoke plainly: "It's simple. Anyone who wants to run — class president, student rep, any position — signs up voluntarily. Then the whole class votes, democratic and fair, highest count wins. The person elected that way has everyone's respect. No complaints."
Mr. Hayes nodded. "Right. Fair and open voting leaves no room for anyone to object."
Then his expression shifted to something a little more worried: "I heard that before training started, when you and Summer came to pick up the uniforms, Summer went back and bought personal supplies for every girl in the class out of her own pocket. Spent a decent amount. And she talked to each of them individually, making sure they'd vote for her when the election came."
He looked at Ethan. "I'll be straight with you. I really want you to be class president. Your academic record is untouchable, no question. But grades alone aren't enough — class president takes charisma, responsibility, the ability to organize and coordinate. In my view, out of this entire year's intake, your overall ability is the strongest. If you're class president, my job gets a lot easier, and I can actually guide you properly over these four years. So... maybe start getting ready?"
He was clearly worried Ethan was going to be too relaxed about it.
Ethan just shrugged, calm, a quiet but unshakeable smile at the corner of his mouth: "Mr. Hayes, don't worry. She can't beat me."
His tone was easy. But there was no doubt in it at all.
"As long as I want to be class president, the position is mine."
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