Chapter 1: “Clashing”

The August heat in City A was oppressive, suffocating even the dogs and cicadas into silence. Only humans remained active, especially the senior students of No. 1 High School, who somehow still had the energy to take their first mock exam.

Impressive.

This was 2013, a time when the call for reducing student workload hadn’t yet reached its peak, and the education bureau’s crackdown on holiday cram schools wasn’t as stringent. The kids themselves weren’t as bold or defiant as they would later become. Thus, they were rounded up by early August to begin their first round of review sessions. Before they could even grasp vector problems, the first mock exam was upon them. By the end of August, the results were plastered on the school bulletin board.

As for this so-called “honor roll,” it wasn’t much of an honor for most students. With a total score of 750, many barely managed scores in the 400s—a dismal performance for a prestigious school like No. 1 High.

“Guess I don’t deserve it…” everyone thought silently.

But no big deal—there was plenty of time left. After three rounds of review, they’d surely bounce back. Besides, what did it matter if they scored in the 400s? Even their top-ranked genius, Hou Zihao, only managed a 640. And Hou Zihao… well, he was…

Wait.

Hold on.

The top scorer wasn’t Hou Zihao.

The top scorer was…

“Zhou Leqi.”

Everyone checking the list froze: Who was Zhou Leqi? Why did that name sound vaguely familiar?

But none of that mattered. What truly caught their attention was the score next to her name… 726???

???????

What the hell?!

Out of a possible 750, she scored 726? What’s the point of even reviewing anymore!

The crowd was dumbfounded. Finally, someone remembered who Zhou Leqi was and shouted, “Oh! Zhou Leqi! Isn’t she that god-tier student from the class of 2009?”

Class of 2009?

Ah, yes. They remembered now.

There was indeed such a legendary figure.

The 2009 class dominator, always securing the top spot in every exam, the representative speaker at the hundred-day pledge rally, and a household name among high school seniors across the province.

But what made her even more legendary was… her disastrous performance in the 2012 college entrance exam.

How bad was it?

She was considered a top contender for the provincial champion but ended up ranking outside the top 30,000 that year. In 2013, after retaking the exam, she scored within the top 10,000—but still not where she was expected to be.

And now, here she was again, retaking her senior year.

Why was this senior back for another round of hell?

Everyone sighed in disbelief, whispering about her misfortune before eventually dispersing, unable to bear the sweltering August heat any longer. Tomorrow marked the official start of the school year, and there would be plenty of gossip to discuss then.

Across China, the lives of high school seniors were probably all the same: classes were rearranged at the start of the term based on exam performance. Higher scorers entered advanced classes, while lower scorers were placed in regular ones. A month later, after the second mock exam, classes would be reshuffled again, repeating this cycle until just before the college entrance exam. However, only a small number of students moved between classes; for the majority, their positions were largely fixed.

No. 1 High School in City A was one of the top schools in the province. Each grade consisted of around 2,000 students, with 1,500 being science majors. The competition was fierce.

There were only two advanced science classes: Class 1 and Class 2. Entry was reserved for the top 80 students in the grade, with Class 1 being particularly brutal—it housed the top 40 students. As long as nothing catastrophic happened during the college entrance exam, these students were practically guaranteed admission to China’s top universities (“985 Project” schools).

Among those admitted to Class 1 were perennial high achievers as well as lucky outliers who guessed correctly on multiple-choice questions. On the first day of school, some diligently worked on practice problems while others excitedly chatted, each reacting differently.

However, when the legendary Zhou Leqi quietly walked into the classroom, backpack slung over her shoulder, everyone instinctively stopped what they were doing and looked up at her.

This was a genuine legend, whether good or bad.

And yet, her entrance was remarkably ordinary.

She wore the standard school uniform, carried a plain off-white backpack, and had her hair tied in a simple ponytail. She walked in with her head slightly bowed, avoiding eye contact, and chose a seat in a quiet corner of the room. She sat down silently without uttering a word.

The only thing extraordinary about her was her appearance: she was incredibly fair-skinned, almost glowing. While not strikingly beautiful at first glance, she exuded a clean, pure beauty.

Ah… she was stunning.

It was just unfortunate—or perhaps cursed—that she always bombed during the college entrance exams.

Truly tragic.

Her mere presence seemed to silence the chatter in the room. Everyone exchanged glances, unsure why they felt the need to be so cautious, but they instinctively kept quiet and avoided making noise.

This mysterious atmosphere persisted until their homeroom teacher and Chinese literature instructor, Pan Yunxiang, walked into the classroom.

Old Pan was the classic “Mediterranean” type, his balding head a testament to the fact that he had tirelessly taught four consecutive senior classes. He had earned titles such as “Model Worker of No. 1 High,” “Most Inspiring Figure of the Year,” and “The Most Persistent Man of No. 1 High” (rumor had it that he personally preferred the third title).

Old Pan’s reputation for teaching seniors was unparalleled, and there were at least three reasons for this:

First, he was exceptionally adept at catching students in the act of puppy love. No matter how discreet they tried to be, Old Pan could instantly detect romantic entanglements—or even budding intentions—and swiftly extinguish any sparks through mysterious conversations, followed by relentless monitoring to ensure they didn’t reignite.

Second, he fearlessly berated science students for being illiterate. Despite being a Chinese literature teacher, Old Pan served as the homeroom teacher for science classes and regularly lambasted students during weekly class meetings for obsessively drilling math and science problems. His opening line was often, “Nine out of ten science students are functionally illiterate,” and he concluded with, “If you keep going like this, you’ll definitely end up as illiterates.” This framing created a thought-provoking contrast, motivating science students to improve their Chinese scores.

Third, he possessed an unwavering determination that surpassed even his students’. Old Pan once vowed to personally mentor a provincial champion before retiring as a senior homeroom teacher. Zhou Leqi had nearly fulfilled this dream for him, but alas, she bombed the exam twice in a row… Undeterred, Old Pan returned once again to teach the senior class.

In short, Old Pan was formidable, and Old Pan was ruthless.

True to form, the moment Old Pan entered the classroom, his stern expression made it seem as though he was teaching the bottom-ranked Class 37 instead of the elite Class 1. Students quickly took their seats, bracing themselves for their homeroom teacher’s lecture.

Old Pan didn’t disappoint. After a brief introduction, he predictably began with, “Nine out of ten science students are illiterate,” launching into a scathing critique of the class’s abysmal Chinese scores, which naturally extended to their overall academic performance. Finally, he delivered the obligatory motivational speech to kick off their final year of high school.

He delivered an impassioned speech: “Getting into Class 1 is only the first step in your senior year journey. If anyone thinks they’re already excellent, you’re dead wrong! Class 1 doesn’t tolerate lazy students. If you want to keep your current seat, you’d better pull yourself together and give it your all. Otherwise, make room for those who are willing to fight!”

These words were cliché, but they worked wonders on the naive new seniors. Everyone silently steeled themselves, thinking: I will not fall behind! My youth will be without regrets! The Tsinghua and Peking University admissions offices might as well get ready to call me, hahaha!

Just as their daydreams reached their peak, Old Pan pulled out the mock exam score sheets and coldly announced: “Everyone, stand up, pack your bags, and prepare to rearrange seats.”

The entire class froze, suddenly remembering another one of Old Pan’s notorious classroom management tactics: seating by rank.

It was pure survival of the fittest. The top scorer got to pick their seat first, followed by the second-highest scorer, and so on until the last student had no choice left. The hierarchy of academic performance was laid bare, brutally stomping on the self-esteem of underperformers.

The class was silent, but too intimidated to protest. They obediently packed their bags and stood up.

Old Pan looked satisfied, holding the score sheet with a flick of his wrist, clearing his throat before announcing: “First place, 726 points, Zhou Leqi.”

In unison, the entire class instinctively turned their gaze toward the legendary repeat student.

She didn’t look up, remaining as quiet as ever. After scanning the room with her backpack still on, she walked over to a seat by the window in the third row. The boy originally sitting there immediately gave up his spot, his demeanor unmistakably respectful.

...What could they do? She scored 726 and was their senior after all.

Old Pan said nothing further, continuing to announce: “Second place, 643 points, Hou Zihao.”

After a long pause, no one moved. Old Pan repeated the name, but still no response.

Old Pan grew irritated, raising his head and frowning: “Where is he? Late on the first day of school?”

No one dared to breathe a word.

Old Pan sneered, angrily marking the name on the list before moving on to call out names one by one.

Gradually, everyone found their seats—some aiming for the best view, others reuniting with old friends from previous classes, happily settling in.

But no one sat next to Zhou Leqi.

It wasn’t that they intended to isolate her… they just weren’t familiar with her. How could they sit beside her?

However, there was one brave soul: Wang Chuanzhi, ranked 17th in this mock exam and also one of the school’s top students. Whether motivated by a desire to learn from the legends or simply captivated by her beauty, when it came time for him to choose a seat, he picked the one next to Zhou Leqi. Zhou Leqi glanced at him briefly but said nothing, and just like that, they became desk mates.

With that, the seating arrangement was settled. Except for Hou Zihao, whose tardiness had already been noted by Old Pan, everyone now had a seat. Coincidentally, the first lesson of the new school year was Chinese literature, so Old Pan instructed everyone to take out their exam papers for review.

As Wang Chuanzhi rummaged through his bag, he caught a glimpse of Zhou Leqi’s paper—it was as clean and polished as she was, with a stunning “138” marked at the top. He glanced at his own score: “107.”

Indeed, the gap was enormous.

He wanted to strike up a conversation with Zhou Leqi, but just then, footsteps echoed from the doorway, followed by a clearly sleepy “report.” Everyone looked up to see none other than the former grade leader, now second-ranked—Hou Zihao.

The young man was tall and handsome, at least 185 cm, with deep-set eyes, a prominent nose, and sharp, angular features that hinted at foreign or ethnic minority ancestry.

He was undeniably attractive.

...Except, he seemed half-asleep, exuding a languid, carefree vibe.

And how could Old Pan tolerate such laziness and insubordination!

“Hou Zihao, right?” Old Pan began to assert his authority. “Late on the first day of school! What’s this? Do you think you’re so good that you can act above everyone else? Do you think you’re untouchable and can ignore school rules?”

“I’ll tell you!” Old Pan’s voice grew more forceful. “There’s always someone better than you, and there’s always a higher sky! Do you know how far behind you are from the top scorer? 83 points! Zhou Leqi didn’t get cocky, so why are you? Why are you acting smug? Tell me!”

Everyone watched as Hou Zihao endured the scolding.

This was a rare sight!

Who was Hou Zihao? Ever since his sophomore year, he had been revered as a god, consistently ranking first in every exam. In a school as competitive as No. 1 High, he had never faltered. He was the pride of the class of 2011—until Zhou Leqi, the two-time repeater, swooped in and snatched the top spot.

Old Pan was bold, even daring to reprimand a living legend—but given Hou Zihao’s notoriously laid-back attitude, surely he wouldn’t care what Old Pan had to say...

Just as everyone thought this, they suddenly noticed the previously sleepy-eyed, lazy Hou Zihao abruptly lift his head. His expression... was indescribable.

It seemed shocked, yet tinged with something else... hard to pin down.

Then, everyone saw Hou Zihao quickly scan the room, his gaze locking onto Zhou Leqi by the window. His expression... became even more indescribable.

The onlookers were thrilled, electrified!

Damn, Hou Zihao was so worked up! Why?

Obviously, because his position as the top student had been taken away!

Obviously, because his score had nearly fallen into obscurity!

Obviously, because he was about to clash with this unexpected, scene-stealing repeater legend!

They were clashing, clashing, clashing!!!