“No way.”
“That’s… that’s insane!”
I didn’t respond.
Nor did I tell her who that terrifying 725-scorer was. I just turned my attention back to the textbook in front of me.
I liked chemistry.
And it wasn’t the kind of ‘like’ that people casually throw around. It was a deep, driving passion—so much so that when I was filling out my college applications, I already had my one and only goal in mind.
In other words, memorizing knowledge from these textbooks gave me a strange kind of joy.
I called it the dopamine hit that only the ultimate academic overlord could feel.
Compared to passive studying, it boosted my efficiency by at least 50%.
Because—
So far, I hadn’t met many people who genuinely got happier the more they studied.
Back when I used to hate studying, I loved mocking those people and calling them “inhuman beasts.”
The younger me had only one question in mind:
How could anyone—be born loving to study?
Two class periods passed in the blink of an eye. As the lecturer walked past me, she said,
“You did very well. I really like students like you—motivated and proactive.”
“I’ll vouch for you. You’re definitely not the useless young lady or pretty face that others make you out to be.”
There was a certain intensity in her gaze—one that only those truly devoted to academic pursuits would have. It was like she was staring at a rare treasure from the future.
She was a very pure person.
She despised all forms of unfairness. But when faced with a student who genuinely loved to study, she would show blatant favoritism without any hesitation.
“It’s fine,” I said, shaking my head, my expression unreadable.
Amidst the shocked stares from everyone around, I calmly walked back to my seat.
“Mamie, you were so cool.”
“You probably didn’t see it, but those people’s faces—totally crushed.”
A girl sitting beside me leaned over and whispered, “Hey, how many points did you get on the college entrance exam?”
She had just stood up for me, so I didn’t mind her too much. I smiled and replied, “Seven hundred and seven.”
“Huh?” The girl’s expression slowly went blank. “S-Seven hundred and seven?”
“I only got six hundred seventy-five…”
Only those who have gone through high school know just how hard it is to break seven hundred on the college entrance exam.
Anyone scoring above 700 is a once-in-a-generation talent, a seed candidate who has both natural ability and relentless dedication.
She opened her mouth, her voice dry and stilted. “Then… are you the top scorer of your year?”
“Nope,” I replied with a hint of amusement in my eyes. “The top scorer that year had a raw score of 725.”
“Wok—”
This elegant and polite girl was so shocked that she actually cursed.
“No way.”
“T-That’s just… insane!”
I didn’t respond.
Nor did I tell her who that terrifying person with a 725 score was. Instead, I turned my attention back to the book in front of me.
I liked subjects related to chemistry.
And that liking wasn’t just lip service. It had driven me to choose a university major with clear focus and zero hesitation.
In other words, the moment I memorized the knowledge in those books, a strange joy would bloom inside me.
I called it the dopamine exclusive to the true King of Grinders—boosting my efficiency by at least 50% compared to passive learners.
Because honestly…
I hadn’t met many people who actually got happier the more they studied.
Back when I absolutely hated studying, I used to jokingly refer to those kinds of people as beasts.
My younger self had only one question in mind:
How could anyone—
Possibly be born loving to study?
Two class periods flew by. As the lecturer passed by my desk, she said to me,
“You did very well. I really appreciate students like you who take the initiative.”
“I’ll be sure to vouch for you—you’re definitely not the useless young lady or empty vase others make you out to be.”
There was a subtle shift in my expression.
I hadn’t liked that lecturer from the very beginning.
She’d only called on me the entire class—what that implied, I knew all too well.
I hated being singled out. If apologies were all it took, then what would we need the police for?
Now that she was speaking to me like this, what was I even supposed to say?
I could only respond perfunctorily, coldly saying, “Mm.”
The lecturer didn’t seem to mind my reply. She clutched her books and rushed out in a hurry, matching her typically sharp and decisive personality. She was the first one out of the classroom the moment class ended.
At that moment—
The class assistant walked over to my side.
She bit her lip, a flicker of humiliation in her eyes, as if she was about to say something extremely difficult to get out.
Her strong, clear sense of morality was urging her to make the “right” choice.
“…S-Sorry.” She lowered her eyes, squeezing out the words between clenched teeth. “I underestimated you.”
I let out a soft chuckle and began packing my books at my own pace. “I don’t accept your apology.”
“What you said this afternoon really made me dislike you.”
If it were just a harmless comment, I might’ve let it go. But she nearly made me lose the baby—that, I couldn’t tolerate.
I hated people who were stubborn and impossible to reason with.
I brushed past her without a pause, leaving only a graceful figure in everyone’s view.
My likes and dislikes had always been that simple and straightforward.
Much like first impressions.
If I came to dislike someone, chances were I’d dislike them for life. It was very hard to change the image they held in my mind.
“…Sorry.”
The class assistant murmured the words with her head lowered and left the classroom, full of shame.
But she hadn’t gotten far before a tall figure blocked her way.
Shangguan Xiyue’s gaze was icy cold. “Did you treat my warning like it was nothing?”
“I told you not to provoke her. Do you not understand human language?”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to.”
“If you hadn’t kept whispering to Professor Li, implying she was some privileged young lady who got in through the back door, would the professor have called on her in class like that?”
“Y-You knew?” The class assistant’s eyes widened in fear.
She suddenly raised her voice, “I just can’t stand people who use connections! What did I do wrong? Why is it that I work so hard and still have to sit in the same classroom as someone who didn’t even earn their place?”
“I’m not okay with it, don’t you get it?”
“You’re the head of our student council department. You, of all people, should understand better than anyone what it’s like for regular students like us.”
“All those behind-the-scenes jobs we do—it’s only because the ones with power and status can’t be bothered with the grunt work, so they toss it all to us to deal with like beasts of burden!”
Shangguan Xiyue fell silent for a moment. “…I understand how you feel.”
“But what does that have to do with Xinxin?”
“What gave you the right to assume she’s some rich young lady, and then target her behind the scenes?”
“Do you have any idea how close your mistake came to causing a disaster?”
Her tone grew heavier. “Xinxin isn’t the kind of person you think she is. She’s innocent.”
“You shouldn’t have taken your anger out on her.”
“You vented your resentment onto an innocent person.”
“Her emotions must not be disturbed.”
“So—I’m sorry.”
The class assistant shut her eyes, despair written all over her face. “…You don’t need to deal with me. I’ll handle myself. I did wrong—I’ll take responsibility for that.”
“She really isn’t like those typical ‘young ladies.’ I judged her based on appearances. That was my mistake.”
“President Shangguan… please tell her I’m sorry.”
She removed her student council ID badge and staggered away, her figure drenched in sorrow.
She’d always said the student council work was just the kind of menial task thrown at them by those with power and influence…
But the truth was, it was a position coveted by many ordinary students.
For someone like her to rise to the rank of class assistant, she must have beaten out countless others for the role.
If she had kept at it, she might’ve even stayed on after graduation—maybe as a teaching assistant.
(Let’s not talk about the real-world pay of just a few hundred bucks.)
And now—
She had personally thrown away her future.
By the staircase on the third floor, she wiped away her final tear and ran her arm across her face.
So what if she had to start over from zero? It was nothing. Shen Jingyi wasn’t the kind to shy away from consequences.
I held my books in my arms, walking slowly forward.
In my mind, I heard Si Zhiruo’s voice: “Mommy, do you want me to take care of her?”
I stopped in my tracks, then kept walking. “No need.”
“Mommy, I really love the gentle side of you,” Si Zhiruo sighed. “Whenever I see you like this, I just want to…”
“To what?” I smiled softly, a faint glow of maternal warmth on my face.
“Obviously—be born right now!” “I want to lie in Mommy’s gentle arms and be spoiled!” Si Zhiruo whimpered.
For the first time, he truly resented how slow his development was.
But it didn’t matter—no one could take his mommy away.
You’re my mommy, and mine alone.
“You’re being way too eager. You still need to grow arms and legs first.” I teased her with a laugh.
“Who said I’m that slow? I already have arms and legs,” Zhi Ruo pouted, her tone more like she was acting cute with me.
“Mm, soon you’ll be able to kick me.”
“Not that soon. It’ll still be a few more months before I can kick.” Zhi Ruo rolled around in my consciousness, sounding a little frustrated.
The pregnancy experience for me was painful, but for her, it felt more like imprisonment—losing a sense of freedom she’d never known before. That’s probably why she ended up reading every book I’d bought for her. She was just that bored most of the time.
Suddenly thinking of something, I sent out a thought wave in sync with my daughter. “You’re not allowed to read those books I bought anymore.”
“But I already finished reading them all,” Zhi Ruo replied in a soft, childish voice. “If Mommy won’t let me read them, then—”
“—does that mean you also think those books weren’t exactly… wholesome?”
At that, my steps faltered. I nearly tripped over flat ground.
My face flushed red as I tried to argue back, “You little brat, stop talking nonsense.”
This whole thing…
It only hit me after I’d actually read through the contents of those books myself.
And to think Zhi Zhi had already figured it out.
After all, what kind of proper book has a name like “Ultimate Guide to…”? They were all that kind of title.
Of course, being just as stubborn as Zhi Ruo, I wasn’t about to admit it out loud.
I had to maintain my dignity in front of my daughter, right?
“Mommy, are you going to tea art class now?”
“Mm.”
“It’s not far. I can walk there.”
Bathed in golden sunlight, the ethereal hem of my skirt swayed gently with my movements.
In that moment—
There was only one thought in my heart:
No matter what, I’m never buying those weird books again.
Why?
Because I can’t risk corrupting a child’s mind.
She’s a blank canvas.
I have to raise her properly.