SWTHTC - 33

Chapter 33: “7.1m/s”

The mock exams in senior year were usually more challenging than the actual college entrance exam. The more prestigious the high school, the more brutal the mock exams became.

This wasn’t as evident in the Chinese exam, but it was glaringly obvious in math and the comprehensive science test. The difficulty level of these subjects was so extreme that some students burst into tears right there in the exam room.

Ge Ao was different. He was optimistic and confident. If he had a clear approach to a problem, he believed his answer was correct. If he didn’t have a clue, he assumed others were equally clueless. After the exam, he felt refreshed and even looked forward to seeing his results.

However, it would take several days for the mock exam results to be released. Ge Ao couldn’t wait that long, so after the second day of exams, he dashed into the first exam room—the fastest place to find out how well he’d done.

The first exam room was where the top students gathered. As soon as the exams ended, the top few would compare answers, quickly determining their scores. When Ge Ao burst into the room, he found Yan Lin and Hou Zihao passionately discussing the final physics problem. A circle of students had formed around them, waiting for their conclusions—it would determine whether they had passed or failed.

Ge Ao pushed through the crowd and saw Yan Lin frowning while flipping through his scratch paper, tugging at Hou Zihao’s sleeve. “The coefficient of kinetic friction is 0.2, and g is taken as 10. Don’t you need to calculate the distance between point P and the end of the conveyor belt first?”

“Exactly,” Hou Zihao replied, glancing at his own scratch paper. “What did you get for the elastic potential energy?”

Yan Lin: “1.0 joules.”

“That matches what I got,” Hou Zihao said, marking a check on his scratch paper. “After that, isn’t it just the collision equation? Then apply conservation of energy and kinematic formulas.”

At this, Yan Lin frowned, hesitating. He grabbed Hou Zihao’s scratch paper to compare.

This process was time-consuming because they had used different variables, and now they had to unify them. Watching Yan Lin struggle with this tedious task, Hou Zihao decided to cut to the chase. He turned his head and asked Zhou Leqi, sitting in the first row, first seat: “What did you get for the third part of the final question?”

The students waiting for the verdict all turned to Zhou Leqi, thinking this was the moment of truth. Within a second, she answered:

“7.1 m/s.”

Her answer matched Hou Zihao’s.

They exchanged glances, subtle emotions flickering in their eyes. It was hard to describe—a unique feeling that only arose when someone else matched your answer, someone who was on the same intellectual level as you. They both saw admiration in each other’s eyes, and their shared confidence grew even stronger, though more subdued.

It was a feeling difficult to articulate.

But Ge Ao didn’t care about their silent exchange or their feelings. All he could think about was his impending doom—he hadn’t gotten the same answer as Hou Zihao, Zhou Leqi, or Yan Lin!

Damn.

This meant no matter who was right, he was definitely wrong!

Ge Ao’s composure began to crumble, but he took a deep breath to steady himself. He bravely compared answers for a few more major questions in chemistry and math, only to discover that his performance in this mock exam had been consistent—his answers were uniquely incorrect across all subjects.

Not matching any of the gods.

What kind of human suffering was this?! This wasn’t something resilience could fix!

In the end, Ge Ao’s heart shattered.

And things only got worse three days later when the results were released. His grade ranking had dropped by more than twenty places.

His fall was significant, but others who had been ranked in the middle or lower half of Class One experienced even more dramatic changes. Some soared into the top ten, while others plummeted, performing worse than students from Classes Three and Four. The release of results brought joy to some and sorrow to others.

Only the rankings of the top tier remained stable.

Zhou Leqi was still first with 723 points, Hou Zihao second with 701 points, and Yan Lin third with 692 points.

Although Hou Zihao had narrowed the gap by a whopping 60 points, he still hadn’t achieved his goal of keeping the difference within 20 points, leaving him feeling utterly exhausted. Yan Lin was even more drained. Despite his efforts, he hadn’t surpassed Hou Zihao. Wasn’t Hou Zihao constantly dating? How could he still score over 700?

Wasn’t this absurd?

But despite their exhaustion, good news awaited them both. For Hou Zihao, the good news was that seats were being rearranged again—he could try to sit closer to Zhou Leqi once more. For Yan Lin, the good news was that Mi Lan had regressed in this exam, not only failing to break into the top 25 but also dropping from 46th to 87th.

Compared to Hou Zihao’s joy, Yan Lin’s happiness wasn’t as intense. Although he did feel a sense of relief when he saw the liberal arts rankings, he didn’t feel particularly triumphant. Especially when Mi Lan, visibly upset, came to Class One’s door to complain to him during break time, his happiness diminished even further.

Her head hung low, her face downcast, she hadn’t even tied her usual braids. Standing miserably at the classroom door, she complained to Yan Lin, “I don’t know why my math score was so bad… Math was the only subject I bombed; if I’d done better, I wouldn’t have fallen behind…”

As she spoke, her frustration grew, and she became angry with herself. “Why am I so stupid! I’ve been studying math every single day! I even enrolled in a tutoring class! Is the class useless, or am I useless?!”

She stomped her feet, looking like she was on the verge of exploding.

Yan Lin, hands in his pockets, watched her silently for a moment before saying, “The class is useless. Your foundation is decent; self-study is actually more efficient.”

Mi Lan pouted, still feeling defeated. After a while, she looked up at Yan Lin, making him uneasy. “What are you looking at me for?”

Mi Lan sniffled and asked, “Nothing. I’m just wondering… according to your previous rules, does this mean next time you’ll expect me to rank in the top 20?”

Her voice trembled, and her eyes reddened, as if she were about to cry.

Yan Lin had never seen Mi Lan like this. Taken aback, he thought, Is she really this upset? Well… she had started as one of the bottom two hundred in liberal arts and had worked incredibly hard recently. Honestly, breaking into the top hundred was already an achievement. Now, with dark circles under her eyes, it was clear she hadn’t slept well in a long time.

He suddenly felt a pang of sympathy.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Yan Lin said. “Next time, aim for the top 30.”

Hearing this, Mi Lan immediately perked up, her earlier sadness forgotten. She jumped up and down, her tears vanishing without a trace. Smiling brightly, she teased Yan Lin, “Did you say that? Next time, top 30? I recorded it, you know!”

With that, she held up her phone triumphantly, waving it at him as she laughed. In moments, she disappeared around the corner of the teaching building.

Yan Lin frowned, realizing he had been tricked—her earlier teary act had been completely fake.

He was annoyed and reached out to grab her, but Mi Lan was slippery as an eel. Twisting away, she ran off, shouting back, “You said it! Top 30 next time! I’ve got it on record!”

Yan Lin was left seething, but as he turned back toward the classroom… he was smiling.

________________________________________

On the same day the results were released, Hou Zihao made a request while accompanying Zhou Leqi home.

He asked, “Can I go back to my old seat this time?”

Of course, his request was denied by Zhou Leqi.

Hou Zihao sighed and began trying to persuade her, arguing that since they had both performed well this time, Teacher Pan would understand that they weren’t dating—or at least that even if they were, it wouldn’t affect their studies.

His words left Zhou Leqi both amused and exasperated.

“Who said we’re dating?” she shot him a sidelong glance.

“You’re not, you’re not—it’s all wishful thinking on my part,” Hou Zihao replied good-naturedly. “Even if I unilaterally want to sit next to you, how can Teacher Pan object to that?”

Logical, reasonable, and self-consistent.

…Unfortunately, his argument was still rejected.

Hou Zihao could only sigh.

But where there’s a policy, there’s always a workaround. While Zhou Leqi refused to let him sit next to her, she couldn’t stop him from choosing the seat directly behind her.

When it came time to pick seats, Zhou Leqi went first, as usual, and chose her favorite spot by the window in the third row. When it was Hou Zihao’s turn, he confidently walked straight toward her. Teacher Pan, standing at the podium, watched helplessly as Zhou Leqi’s palms began to sweat. She frantically signaled Hou Zihao to stop, but… he sat down right behind her anyway.

Zhou Leqi: “….”

Teacher Pan probably hadn’t expected Hou Zihao to come up with such a sneaky move. But for the moment, he couldn’t find fault with it, so he could only stew in frustration for a bit before calling Yan Lin to choose his seat.

Yan Lin glanced around and ultimately decided to abandon his original choice of the central seat in the second row. Instead, he opted to sit next to Hou Zihao—not out of friendship, but out of curiosity. He wanted to see how someone supposedly “dating” could still outperform him no matter how hard he tried!

Thus, the concentration of academic excellence in the third and fourth rows by the window became overwhelming. With three top students sitting there, an air of intimidation settled over the area. Who dared to approach? Naturally, everyone avoided it.

There were a few bold ones, like Wang Chuanzhi, who had briefly sat next to Zhou Leqi. But as soon as he approached her desk, he caught Hou Zihao’s icy glare. Feeling a chill run down his spine and beads of sweat forming on his forehead, he quietly retreated.

In the end, Zhou Leqi’s deskmate was still Ge Ao.

Ge Ao had thought he’d finally escaped this position, ready to retreat to a corner of the classroom to slack off and rest his sore back muscles. But after all this circling, he had returned to square one. It was hard not to see this as the shackles of fate.

Ge Ao resigned himself to his situation and began searching for silver linings in his misery.

Yes, silver linings. Sitting next to the stern Zhou Leqi made him uncomfortable, but behind him were Hou Zihao and Yan Lin. With three top students surrounding him, how could he possibly lack access to quality homework to copy? Even during regular quizzes, he could rely on them.

Patience brings calm seas, and stepping back broadens the horizon. Damn, it really made sense.

Ge Ao had an epiphany. A complete, utter epiphany.

Now, the only one left without enlightenment was Zhou Leqi.

After the new seating arrangement was finalized, Teacher Pan left. Zhou Leqi, unable to contain her irritation, turned around and glared at Hou Zihao, intending to confront him.

But as she turned, she met his gaze—he had been watching her the whole time, even when she hadn’t looked back.

Like a loyal German Shepherd devoted entirely to its master.

…It made it impossible for her to stay mad at him.

Zhou Leqi froze, caught between advancing and retreating. Meanwhile, the young man behind her continued to smile, cool yet mischievous, and asked, “You have something to say to me?”

Annoyed, she turned back around, her huffy expression beautiful in Hou Zihao’s eyes, prompting him to chuckle softly.

Beside them, Yan Lin and Ge Ao felt like complete outsiders. They both wished they were under the bus rather than inside it, convinced that choosing to sit here was the biggest mistake of their lives.

Especially Yan Lin, who began questioning his own intelligence. Why couldn’t he surpass Hou Zihao, who was supposedly preoccupied with dating?!

________________________________________

Author’s Note:

Our German Shepherd is no longer a stray dog! Not.