This year’s freshman class had a surprisingly high overall quality. The reigning campus belles from the previous year hadn’t even gotten a chance to compete yet before they were overshadowed and pushed aside.
As of now, the top-ranked newcomers were none other than Su Liumeng and Si Xinyan.
The other contenders each had their own appeal—some were goddess-like figures with long legs and towering heights—but Si Xinyan had skyrocketed in popularity with her irresistible angelic face and ample chest. Although she was a bit on the short side, she still managed to become the untouchable “white moonlight” in many people’s hearts.
Some even claimed her petite height was part of her charm—it wasn’t a flaw at all.
Of course, there were also detractors. One post went viral questioning her height: “It’s the modern era. Nutrition’s improved across the board. The average height for girls is close to 165 cm. If she’s not even 160, maybe there’s some genetic defect involved. Who knows if she’s all there up top either.”
That comment sparked a massive backlash. Replies flooded in like a tidal wave, and the original poster panicked, deleted their account, and vanished the same day.
Nobody likes to be dissected and judged by strangers. I hadn’t even known there were these kinds of meaningless debates going on. If I had, I definitely would’ve told Su Liumeng to take down my photos.
The first class ended before long.
I closed my textbook. My notebook was still completely blank.
I wasn’t the kind of student who liked taking notes.
Compared to scribbling furiously on paper, I preferred to spend that time memorizing key points directly in my head.
As if by design, the class rep—our class assistant—just so happened to walk past me. She glanced at my empty notebook and let out a soft, knowing snort.
I snapped my pen onto the desk with a pa! and glared up at her. “What’s your problem? Why do you keep staring at me?”
The class rep was a lot taller than me. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down coolly. “I haven’t even said anything yet, and here you are jumping to defend yourself.”
“Typical slacker. Acting like you’re seriously studying when you clearly aren’t. What’s the point? Even if you stopped putting on this fake act, no one would dare do anything to you anyway.”
“You—!”
Getting agitated during pregnancy was the absolute worst thing to do. A wave of stifled frustration surged in my chest. I didn’t even finish my sentence before I slumped weakly onto my desk.
“You’re crying already?”
Seeing me look like I might break into tears, the class rep faltered for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossing her face.
This rich young lady… was even more fragile than she’d expected.
She realized she might’ve gone a bit too far and left behind a cold remark: “I’m not targeting you specifically. If you study seriously and get good grades, I’ll treat you just like everyone else.”
“Get lost.”
I wasn’t crying. I just couldn’t breathe well. Without even lifting my head, I grabbed the pen on my desk and blindly flung it in her direction.
“Mommy, don’t get angry! Don’t get mad! She’s not gonna live long anyway.”
From inside me, Si Zhiruo’s little voice sounded panicked, clearly upset at my discomfort. “Does it hurt? Should we go to the hospital? Did you stress out the baby?”
“She’s such a bitch. Why does she keep coming after you like that?”
“I’m fine…”
After resting for a while, I finally started to feel a little better. I lifted my pale face, startling the girl sitting next to me.
“Are you okay? Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?” she asked, clearly worried.
I shook my head. “Thank you. I’m okay.”
Leaning on the desk for support, I stood up slowly, still feeling a little woozy.
The slow, faltering back as I made my way to the bathroom somehow stirred a pang of sympathy.
The girl sitting next to me looked uneasy seeing my pale state, and quickly ran over to support me by the arm.
“Hey, let me help you to the restroom.”
“Thank you.” I lifted my head slightly and expressed my gratitude.
Fifteen minutes later, the bell signaling the start of class rang just as I returned to the classroom.
The lecturer frowned at me but didn’t say a harsh word.
Instead, she simply ignored me and kept her eyes on the lecture, only glancing at me from the corner of her eye as I made my way back to my seat.
“Mama, are you still feeling sick?”
“A lot better,” I whispered in reply, eyes dropping to the lesson on the screen.
Even missing just a few minutes, we’d already gone through half a page of material.
Luckily, I’d already studied most of this content before college—otherwise I really would’ve been completely lost.
Back in high school, I could score over 700 on the entrance exams. On top of that, I’d frequently participated in academic competitions, so I’d already been exposed to college-level content for a while.
Even the notoriously difficult advanced calculus—I’d self-studied most of it.
Chemistry had always been my strongest subject in high school.
So when it came time to choose a major, I didn’t hesitate at all and put Applied Chemistry as my top choice.
On the application page, if it weren’t mandatory to fill in backups, I would’ve listed only one school and one program.
Because I never once thought I’d fail to get in.
Maybe because I wasn’t a valedictorian, and because of the strict rules of the Su family, I’d never accepted any media interviews—which led to the rumor that I only got in through “connections.”
“Yi Yixin.”
“You answer this question.”
The lecturer suddenly paused and called a name no one had expected.
I had been zoning out just now and didn’t fully catch the last topic, so when I stood up, my eyes were momentarily confused.
At the very front row, the class monitor couldn’t help but let out a quiet snicker.
‘Seriously? This young lady really is hopeless. Probably spacing out the whole time. Doesn’t even realize she’s being called on.’
Although I hadn’t heard the question, the board had the problem written on it.
I wasn’t one to speak too much, so I simply raised my hand and said, “Professor, may I solve it on the board?”
The lecturer looked at me, surprised—clearly not expecting that I’d have the confidence to write on the board.
Her attitude was just like the class monitor’s.
Ordinary. Very ordinary. And deep down, she resented students who got in through connections more than anyone.
After all, it had taken her thirty years of earnest teaching to make it from a teaching assistant to a lecturer.
Meanwhile, her peers with similar qualifications had already become associate professors—thanks to their connections.
It was something she could never let go of, a source of deep frustration.
So when she first saw me—this so-called young lady with connections—her instinct was to make things difficult for me.
So satisfying.
Even though she couldn’t do anything to me, within her scope of authority, asking me to answer a few more questions wasn’t something anyone could find fault with.
Several students turned their heads, watching as I walked toward the podium. I was wearing a flowing, fairy-like dress—elegant and ethereal. My hairstyle and outfit were perfectly coordinated, and my fair skin resembled the finest mutton-fat jade. Not a single flaw could be found on me; even my hair was dark as ink. The smile at the corners of my lips was just right—grace seemed carved into my very bones. Every move I made was the embodiment of aristocratic etiquette.
“Take this pen.”
The lecturer handed me a black marker.
Schools didn’t use chalk anymore; the so-called blackboard was actually just a whiteboard now. But people were so used to saying “blackboard” that the name had never changed.
Below the podium, the class rep had a faint smile on her lips, as if waiting to watch me make a fool of myself.
I raised my pale wrist.
No bracelets or accessories adorned my arm—bare and unadorned, hardly what you’d expect from a so-called young lady. Yet, I still drew everyone’s attention effortlessly.
I wasn’t very tall. There were three whiteboards in total, and I could only write on the lowest one.
At first, there were eyes filled with scorn. But as I neatly laid out the analysis and formulas in a clear and logical manner, more and more students instinctively held their breath, afraid to disturb the figure standing at the front.
Three minutes later.
In the face of my clean and precise solution, the classroom fell completely silent.
The untrained eye watches for drama; those who understand watch for skill.
My approach to solving the problem was even more concise than the lecturer’s earlier explanation. Quite a few students lowered their heads in shame.
They asked themselves honestly—if they had been called up, could they have solved it more perfectly?
The answer was obvious: no.
Everyone who got into Beiqing was already the cream of the crop.
And if you wanted someone like that to genuinely admire you, you had to be even better.
As someone who had passed the first four rounds of the Su Family’s trials, I clearly had the qualifications.
Up front.
The class rep, who had been twirling her pen, had frozen mid-motion. Her expression was full of disbelief and absurdity.
At last—
She slowly lowered her head, no longer looking at the figure on the podium.
“Teacher, did I answer correctly?”
My clear voice rang out—calm and composed—pulling the lecturer back to reality.
“Yes, your answer was completely correct.”
“However,” he added, “the method you just used isn’t taught until junior year. I didn’t expect you to have already grasped it. That shows you’ve been studying ahead on your own—you’re a diligent and motivated student.”
“I sincerely apologize for underestimating you earlier.”
“I’m sorry.”
The lecturer, who had spoken so indifferently before, was now enthusiastic and warm. In his eyes—
Only someone truly passionate about academics would have that kind of fiery glow in their eyes—it was as if she were looking at a rare treasure with limitless potential.
She was a very pure person.
She hated all forms of injustice, but when faced with a student who genuinely loved learning, she would show unreserved favoritism.
“It’s fine,” I replied, shaking my head, my expression calm and unreadable.
Under the stunned gazes of the others, I returned to my seat with composure.
“Mommy, you were so cool just now.”
“You probably didn’t see it, but their expressions were completely wrecked.”
The girl next to me suddenly leaned over and asked in a low voice, “Hey… how many points did you get on your college entrance exam?”
Since she had helped me out earlier and left a decent impression, I replied with a smile, “707.”
“Huh?” Her eyes slowly went blank. “Se–seven hundred and seven?”
“I only got 675…”
Only those who’ve gone through high school understand just how hard it is to score over 700.
Anyone who scores over 700 is a top-tier elite—someone with both natural talent and relentless effort. A true prodigy.
She opened her mouth, then awkwardly muttered, “So… were you the top scorer that year?”
“Nope,” I said, a smile flickering in my eyes. “The top scorer in my year got a raw score of 725.”
“Wha—” This polite and elegant young lady was so shocked she blurted out a curse.
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