The final subject was English.
When Lin Mo set down his pen, the sunlight from outside the window slanted in, landing right on his answer sheet.
“The examination has ended. Candidates, please stop writing…”
The broadcast announcement blared. The proctors began collecting the papers.
A rustling sound filled the classroom—some people let out long sighs of relief, some whispered about answers, and others silently packed their stationery.
Lin Mo stayed in his seat, waiting for the teacher to take his answer sheet and test paper. Then, he stood up and walked out of the testing room.
The corridor was packed. Some were checking their answers, some were shouting that they were finally “liberated,” and others were hugging their friends and crying. A cocktail of emotions filled the air.
Lin Mo wove through the crowd and walked over to the window at the corner of the stairs.
The sky outside was incredibly blue. The sunlight was brilliant.
He thought back to the final voice message Shen Qingyue had sent him three nights ago:
‘For the big question on electromagnetic induction, pay attention to the variations of “Lai Ju Qu Liu.” Goodnight.’
That exact question had appeared on the exam today.
It wasn’t just electromagnetic induction. There was also the question about the motion of charged particles in a composite field—she had specifically organized seven variations and predicted the second one perfectly. Then there was the chemistry experiment design question; she had said, ‘This pattern hasn’t been tested in the last three years, so there’s a high probability it will appear this year.’
Physics, chemistry, and even the genetics question in biology…
Standing before the window, Lin Mo suddenly didn’t know what expression to make.
(ーー;)
The exams were over.
They were really over.
The endless practice problems, the formulas he could never stop memorizing, and the late nights were all finished.
And the person who had helped him get through it all…
He felt the side pocket of his backpack; the physics notebook was still there.
He had looked at the small line of pencil writing on the title page many times:
‘May your pen bring flowers to life.’
***
Three days after the Gaokao ended, it was time for the physical examinations.
This was tradition. All graduating seniors had to participate, and it was divided into two rounds.
The first round was a standard checkup. Height, weight, vision, internal medicine, surgery, blood tests… It was the same as every other year and the same for every school.
Lin Mo stood in the long queue, moving along with the crowd. While measuring his height, he noticed he seemed to have grown 1 centimeter. During the vision test, the nurse said, “Right eye 5.1, left eye 5.0. Not bad.”
It was very ordinary. Very mundane.
Until the afternoon. The second round.
Special Ability detection.
This was a unique requirement of this world. Boys and girls were tested separately.
The girls were led to the Experimental Building on the west side of the campus—an independent building that remained closed most of the year. It was rumored to house the most advanced detection equipment, with data encrypted and uploaded directly to the City Supernatural Management Bureau.
On the boys’ side… things were much simpler.
It was just a temporarily cleared classroom. A white piece of paper was taped to the door with “Male Ability Testing Site” written in sloppy, hurried print.
This was because there had never been a precedent for a male Ability User in this world. The test only existed to follow procedure and demonstrate gender equality.
Lin Mo lined up with the other boys and walked inside.
A silver-white instrument sat at the front of the classroom. A staff member in a white lab coat sat before a computer, his expression dull, his eyelids barely lifted.
“One by one. Step up, reach out, 10 seconds.”
The boys ahead of him stepped up in sequence.
The machine emitted a soft *beep*, and the computer screen flickered a few times. The staff member read out the values mechanically:
“0.0. None.”
“0.0. None.”
“0.0. None.”
“0.0. Next.”
Lin Mo watched this scene from the queue.
He knew the detection for boys was merely symbolic. It was more of a formality to silence anyone asking why the girls were tested while the boys were not.
Soon, it was his turn.
Lin Mo stepped forward, stood on the instrument, and reached out.
10 seconds.
The machine emitted a soft *beep*—just like before.
But immediately afterward, the computer screen flickered. A string of complex, garbled code jumped out and vanished instantly.
The staff member’s fingers paused. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, his brow furrowing slightly, and clicked the mouse a few more times.
The screen returned to normal. A number appeared on it:
0.1
“0.1,” the staff member announced. He froze for half a second but quickly reacted. “No ability. Next.”
He had heard from seniors that some males might have mothers or female relatives who were Ability Users, or they might have been influenced by an Ability User in the past. Because of this, they might register a tiny reading. It was usually between 0.1 and 0.5. While rare, it was considered normal.
Lin Mo stepped off the machine and walked out of the classroom.
He actually felt something. This detection mechanism was essentially a type of Special Ability itself. Since his Ability Immunity blocked all powers, the machine couldn’t actually measure his specific value.
But he knew for a fact that he had an ability.
‘Still, only 0.1. It’s about what I expected.’
What he didn’t know was that at the moment he stepped onto the machine, the data had experienced a brief, abnormal surge. That string of garbled code had stayed in the system for less than 0.3 seconds before being overwritten by another command.
The 0.1 displayed was merely the result the machine provided when it couldn’t calculate the actual cause.
***
The testing on the girls’ side was much more complicated.
On the third floor of the Experimental Building, in the largest detection room at the end of the hallway, the curtains were drawn tight. Several large machines hummed quietly, their indicator lights flashing.
Shen Qingyue stood in the middle of the line.
When it was her turn, she followed the instructions and stepped into a transparent cylindrical container.
She remembered a similar feeling back in the Student Union Office.
The machine emitted a buzzing sound. On the computer screen, data jumped rapidly.
The staff member standing nearby looked at the screen and suddenly widened his eyes.
“S-Rank.”
Another staff member quickly walked over, and the two spoke in low voices. One of them took out a phone and sent a quick message.
Shen Qingyue stepped out of the machine, looking a bit dazed.
“Student, the results will be sent to you via text within a week,” the staff member said, his professional smile returning. “You may head back.”
“Um…” Shen Qingyue hesitated. “Is my result… normal?”
“It’s normal,” the staff member smiled. “Just go back and wait for the notification.”
Shen Qingyue nodded and left the room.
She didn’t know.
S-Rank—only three S-Rank Ability Users had appeared in this city in the last ten years.
She was the fourth.
***
Su Qing’s test came after Shen Qingyue’s.
By the time she entered the room, the atmosphere had returned to calm. The staff guided her into the machine as usual and read the data.
“B-Rank.”
Su Qing wasn’t surprised by this result. She had known for a long time that she was a Mental Type, and her rating was not low. B-Rank was close to her previous estimates.
But as she walked out of the room, she had a strange feeling. When she passed the corridor earlier, she thought she heard something.
“…That girl… S…”
‘S? No way.’
The number of S-Ranks in the entire city could be counted on one hand. She shook her head and didn’t think much more of it.
***
That night.
In the office of the Director of the City Supernatural Management Bureau.
Su Wanqing sat at her desk. Three detection reports were displayed side-by-side on her computer screen.
The first: Su Qing. Mental Type, B-Rank. Stable fluctuations, potential evaluation A-.
The second: Shen Qingyue. Ability type pending, preliminary determination as a branch of the Mental Type, S-Rank. Note: Slight abnormal brainwave fluctuations detected during the process, suspected to be related to recent deep Hypnosis experience.
The third: Lin Mo. Gender: Male. Ability detection value: 0.1.
But below that was a line of small text, an unedited raw data note automatically generated by the system:
[A 0.3-second system delay occurred during detection, suspected to be interference from an unknown energy field. Original fluctuation peak: Undeterminable. Re-testing recommended.]
Su Wanqing stared at that line for a long time.
0.1?
Others might not know what 0.1 meant, but she did.
The theoretical minimum threshold for an Ability User was 1. Below 1, the system should simply display “None.” However, if someone was influenced by an ability, they might show a tiny value, usually between 0.0001 and 0.5.
But…
The key was that 0.3-second system delay.
There were only two possibilities for the detection system to lag:
One, the subject’s ability level was so high it exceeded the conventional threshold.
Two, the subject possessed a certain… resistance toward the ability itself.
Su Wanqing tapped her fingers lightly on the desk. She remembered many years ago, when her daughter Su Qing was still small and had asked her:
‘Mom, do boys have abilities?’
She had answered at the time, ‘Theoretically yes, but no male Ability User has ever been discovered.’
Su Qing had then asked, ‘Will Brother Lin Mo have one?’
She had laughed. ‘Him? Probably not.’
Back then, it was just casual talk. But now…
Su Wanqing moved the mouse, her cursor hovering over the “Modify Conclusion” column.
She could choose to report the truth. Or she could choose…
Three seconds later, she clicked “Confirm Modification.”
On the screen, Lin Mo’s final result was set as:
[No explicit ability. Note: Routine negative.]
The data was uploaded. Archived. Sealed.
Su Wanqing leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She didn’t know what was hidden inside Lin Mo. But she had a faint feeling that it was better not to let anyone know about this for now.
Including her daughter.
The night outside was deep. Su Wanqing opened her eyes and looked out the window.
Under the same night sky.
Lin Mo lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
The exams were done. The physicals were done. Next came waiting for scores and admissions.
He thought of that university 2,300 kilometers away, the application he had already submitted, and the taped-up cardboard box under his bed.
Everything was going according to plan.
But for some reason, he felt like something was happening tonight. Something moving in the shadows that he wasn’t aware of.
(￣～￣) ‘I’m probably overthinking it.’
He rolled over and closed his eyes.
***
At Su Qing’s house.
She came out after a shower, her wet hair wrapped casually in a towel. Her mother wasn’t home yet; she had been very busy lately, mentioning important tasks at work.
Su Qing sat on the sofa and picked up her phone.
Lin Mo’s chat window was still stuck on the message she sent two days ago: “Exams are over, want to come to my house for dinner tomorrow?” to which he had replied, “Okay.”
Tomorrow.
She stared at that “Okay,” the corners of her mouth curling up slightly.
‘Look at how happy you are,’ Demon Su Qing said lazily.
“Shut up.”
‘He’s done with exams, so he has plenty of time for you. It’s normal to be happy.’
Su Qing ignored it. She pressed the phone to her chest and leaned back against the sofa. The moonlight outside was faint.
Tomorrow, she would see him.
***
At Shen Qingyue’s house.
She sat at her desk holding Qiuqiu.
On the desk was a replacement for the physics notebook—a new, blank notebook. She opened the first page and picked up a pen, wanting to write something.
The tip of the pen hovered for a long time before she finally wrote one small line:
‘I wonder how he did.’
Qiuqiu let out a purr in her arms, as if saying, “Just ask him.”
Shen Qingyue shook her head.
‘I won’t ask.’
She would wait for him to say it himself. If he wanted to.
She closed the notebook, turned off the lamp, and lay in the darkness holding her cat. The moonlight, just like many nights before, spilled in quietly.
The night was very peaceful.