Aside from homeroom teacher Zhou Qing’s English class, Xia Hua attended all her other courses.
It was just that she seemed unable to get along in the class. Once someone took the lead in ostracizing her, the others followed suit.
Even the subject teachers no longer paid much attention to her.
Teachers are as sharp as ghosts—they all knew she had talked back to the homeroom teacher.
And they knew better than to provoke a troublemaker like her.
Everyone likes to pick on the soft ones.
But when someone’s hard, you think twice before going at them.
She still went to her part-time job every day.
Earning those thirty or fifty yuan a day—every bit was hard-won living money.
After work, she returned to that rental unit converted from a garage.
As she did jumping jacks, Xia Hua mulled over a question: “Should I be putting more effort into my studies?”
“From society’s perspective, a good education can change your entire life. It helps you get better jobs. That’s why it’s always been called the threshold for poor kids to leap over the dragon gate.”
“But from my perspective, it doesn’t seem that important.”
“Once you’ve been your own boss, once you’ve started your own business…”
“…It’s hard to go back to working for someone else.”
“……”
The reason this question of studying had resurfaced was entirely because of today’s experience of being isolated.
At school, most things don’t matter—sometimes even money doesn’t work—but academic performance always works.
Whenever she’s been humiliated, Xia Hua always wants to make a comeback.
And what better comeback than academic achievement?
Though she was a poor student, Xia Hua never believed she was truly hopeless.
She had just spent too much time on part-time jobs and punishment cleaning duties.
Her current grades were the kind you’d expect from a guaranteed junior college candidate.
Two months before the college entrance exam, she quit her job. And in the final week, she pushed herself—
In the end, she managed to get into a second-tier university.
She didn’t know if that last-minute miracle was due to her innate intelligence, or just dumb luck.
But one thing Xia Hua did know was this: she lacked time to study. And when she did have time—
She naturally passed the exam and got into college.
Even if that college was barely above the bottom, and nowhere near as prestigious as others—
She still got in.
‘Huff, huff~~ ‘
‘Huff huff huff~~~’
Xia Hua began breathing heavily.
After finishing a full set of fat-burning exercises, anyone who didn’t end up wheezing like a bellows had to be something special.
After a cold shower, she collapsed on the bed.
Her whole body was radiating a slight heat—that post-workout fat-burning afterglow.
“The computer parts should all arrive tomorrow or the day after,” Xia Hua muttered.
“As for internet, I’ll go with China Mobile. They’ve got a new user promotion—240 yuan for a year. After that… will I even be able to spare the time to watch anything?” Xia Hua sighed.
What she found difficult wasn’t finding the time—
It was that she no longer had the heart to quietly sit down and read.
If it were a classic novel that could refine her taste or elevate her mind, maybe she’d be interested.
But high school textbooks—everyone knows—are dry, lifeless, and downright soul-crushing.
If she wanted to make any progress in her studies—
The first thing she had to overcome was that restless, unfocused state of mind whenever she picked up a book.
She wasn’t dumb. In fact, she had once managed to push her way up to the undergraduate threshold in a very short time.
But now, she needed to settle down.
“Let’s start with history then!” Xia Hua declared.
She took out her history textbook.
The events recorded there, at least, could spark some interest.
If she started off trying to memorize classical Chinese prose right away, she knew she’d fail—miserably.
Asking her current self to recite Li Sao or The Red Cliff Rhapsody would only breed resentment and burnout.
Then she wouldn’t want to study anymore, and would just drift back into her little side hustle she loved so much.
“Land annexation worsened. Conflicts grew beyond repair… Prosperity… followed by collapse…”
After just a short time reading, Xia Hua’s eyelids were already growing heavy.
And her body didn’t resist the wave of drowsiness that came over her.
But really, who doesn’t get sleepy while reading?
Do you?
Well, Xia Hua certainly didn’t resist it.
The history book slipped off her pillow.
A faint, musty odor—like that of a sewage drain—lingered in the air.
Maybe it was the environment, but somehow, that god-awful smell—something that should have been disgusting—gave her a strange sense of safety.
And with that, she slept even more soundly.
The next morning arrived as expected—so long as the sun continued to rise.
Xia Hua had to keep living in this world.
Not just survive, but live better.
At the very least, she couldn’t let her past failures repeat in an endless loop.
“Tomorrow… tomorrow I’ll definitely go for a morning run,” Xia Hua said, tears streaming down her face.
Today’s failure to run came down to two reasons: First, she woke up late—it was already six when she opened her eyes. Second, thanks to yesterday’s jog and the fat-burning workouts over the past two days, her entire body ached. She didn’t even want to wiggle a toe.
She changed up her breakfast: one egg, one meat bun, and a bowl of peanut soup.
The bun and soup were gone by the time she was halfway to school.
The egg? That was to replenish her protein.
When she walked into the classroom, she immediately sensed something was off.
On the blackboard, under the duty roster for cleaning the sanitation zone, her name was written loud and clear.
Ye Tingzhu really didn’t treat her like a human being anymore.
Her attitude said it all—your name’s on the board.
Whether you clean or not, that’s your problem.
Either way, when it all falls apart, the blame lands squarely on you.
You dare not sweep?
Xia Hua crushed the eggshell in her palm and was just about to peel it—
When she glanced again at the board.
She paused. Thought for a moment. Then got up and walked out of the classroom.
The moment she left, the classroom’s neat morning recitation collapsed into hushed whispers.
If Xia Hua had seen it, she might’ve sneered, “Wow, you all really think I matter that much? Even fake your morning reading because of me?”
Someone peeked out the door and after a moment shouted excitedly, “Come look! Xia Hua’s headed straight for the cleaning zone. I really thought she’d blow it off!”
“Wasn’t that obvious from the start?” another replied, smugly.
“Give her a hundred chances, she still wouldn’t dare skip it.”
“Cut the chatter—spineless trash like her just asks to be used.”
Ye Tingzhu smiled, then added with scorn, “I really thought she might have a shred of backbone and stand her ground. Guess not. Tch.”
Once bullying and ostracizing Xia Hua became a kind of unspoken moral correctness in the class…
No one saw anything wrong with what Ye Tingzhu said.
Some even felt smug that she was taking over their cleaning duty.
That smugness soon turned into eagerness—to push Xia Hua even harder.
Someone suggested, “Why not have her clean the classroom too?”
The idea was met with thunderous applause.
The classroom once again erupted with unrestrained laughter.
“At the eastern market, I buy a fine horse; At the western market, a saddle and reins; At the southern…”
“At dawn I bid farewell to the Yellow River, By dusk, I reach the Black Mountain’s edge…”
“I do not hear the voices of father or mother—only, only…”
In a bicycle shed that had once been used by students, Xia Hua held a pocket-sized booklet.
She glanced at the page, then softly continued:
“…only the cries of the Yan Mountain cavalry, shrill and piercing…”
Memorizing… really is the hardest part. Absolutely maddening.
She took a bite of her still-warm egg.
On the floor of the cleaning area, eggshells she’d peeled were scattered everywhere.
Not only had she not cleaned the place—
She’d made it worse.
She was being bad.
And she planned to be worse.