After the first monthly exam of the new semester, Jing Qichi's science scores had jumped to the top of the class, and his overall grades showed significant improvement. At the same time, the books on his desk were replaced with English materials, and every morning during self-study, he could be seen diligently memorizing English vocabulary without fail.
Jing's Mother said he had spent the entire winter break buried in chemistry, working through three entire supplementary textbooks.
As they entered the comprehensive review phase, classes became a cycle of solving and explaining problems. He hardly paid attention to lectures anymore. When subject teachers scolded him, he would obediently listen before immediately returning to his own books. He rarely spoke, rarely glanced at the playground, and rarely completed homework. A few times, he worked on math problems during Lao Xu's class, but Lao Xu only tapped the desk as a reminder—neither criticizing nor forbidding it. Jing Qichi later told Huan'er that this was an agreement he had reached with Lao Xu.
"There's too much to catch up on. I can only tackle one subject at a time." He had his own plan and followed it step by step. Once his stubbornness kicked in, no one could stop him. His tone held neither frustration nor anxiety when he said this, as if he were a weather forecaster dispassionately stating facts.
Change can transform a person. Those sudden misfortunes might fill an originally kind and sincere heart with restlessness and resentment, turning them against everyone and the whole world. Or perhaps, they could be interpreted as fifty percent motivation and fifty percent persistence, eventually becoming the catalyst for maturity, shaping a brand-new soul of resilience and steadiness. Fortunately, Jing Qichi was the latter.
Only those who understand gratitude and cherish what they have can become the latter.
That day, the problem he asked about was one Huan'er could no longer solve. About half an hour later, he listed all the steps on scratch paper and slid it over. "It should be like this."
The formulas and calculations were clear and precise, the answer leaping out with the solver's reasoning.
Chen Huan'er felt a crushing sense of defeat.
She wouldn't admit that boys had more talent in science, but she had to acknowledge that Jing Qichi learned things much faster than she did.
Of course, he wasn't like Song Cong, whose intellect was extraordinary and could grasp ten things at a glance. Jing Qichi studied example problems and analyzed approaches—his strength lay in his ability to understand and synthesize concepts with just a hint. Or perhaps, with a fire lit under him, he was channeling all the energy he had accumulated over the past decade, making him more powerful than ever before.
That night, Jing's Mother was on the night shift, so after evening self-study, Jing Qichi came straight over to mooch a late-night snack. Chen Ma quickly set two bowls of wontons on the table and sat to the side, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the two high school seniors wolf down their food with a smile. "Slow down. A few seconds won't make a difference."
"It will." Huan'er pointed her chopsticks at the boy across from her. "Mom, you have no idea—he's been running on pure adrenaline every day."
Chen Ma chuckled. "If Qi Chi keeps this up, he could get into a good medical school."
Huan'er agreed. "Yeah, he can go to your department and be your assistant."
"What's wrong with our department?" Qian Yisheng protested loudly. "The interns this year are better than ever, way more reliable than you. Ignorant prejudice."
"See my mom?" Huan'er tapped the bowl of the person silently eating beside her. "Pushing someone else's kid into the fire pit without hesitation."
Seeing Jing Qichi crack a rare smile, Chen Ma suddenly felt a pang of heartache, her tone softening. "Your mom used to worry so much about you not studying. Now that you're putting in the effort, she's still worried. Back when we were in medical school, she lived upstairs from me. Goodness—when she heard there was a fellow townsgirl among the juniors, she acted like a parent, even fetching hot water for me. Now that she really is a parent, she doesn’t know how to handle it."
"Auntie," Jing Qichi set down his bowl, "my mom hasn't fully recovered yet. Please take good care of her.""Brat, since when are you so polite?" Chen Ma ruffled his hair with her hand. "The relationship between me and my senior sister isn't for you to comment on." After a pause, she added, "Qi Chi, you need to believe your mother is someone with resilience who can handle things. She's not as fragile as you imagine. Communicate more with her—the more you bottle things up, the more worried she'll be."
"Understood," Jing Qichi nodded.
Chen Ma then asked, "Do you have any goals with all this studying?"
This time he remained silent, instead pointing his chopsticks at the girl across the table.
Huan'er immediately countered, "Dream on."
Though he improved each time, Huan'er's overall grades were now among the top in their grade.
"Give me two more exams," he replied, completely serious.
His expression, tone, and choice of words inexplicably provoked Huan'er. She suddenly felt she needed to work even harder, or else she wouldn't be able to keep up with him in the future.
Jing Qichi was definitely capable of more than this.
After dinner, the two returned to their rooms to study. Huan'er fell asleep face down on her desk while writing and woke up at 2 a.m. A fleece blanket was draped over her, and beside her were half-finished math problems, her phone, and her schoolbag—but he was gone.
Her heart skipped a beat. The house was pitch black, her mother already sound asleep. After searching the living room, kitchen, and bathroom to no avail, she grabbed her keys without even changing her shoes and ran out the door.
The night was as cold as a hospital morgue. Only a few lights were still on in the compound, and there was no one around—no clues whatsoever.
She ran out of the building toward the hospital, but as soon as she stepped onto the main road, she heard a voice call, "Huan'er."
She froze in place and saw Jing Qichi in the distance, holding a book and walking toward her.
In that instant, relief washed over her. But immediately afterward, an inexplicable rage surged up. She took two steps toward him and demanded, "Why didn't you say anything before leaving?"
In the silence of the night, her voice sounded especially sharp.
Jing Qichi was taken aback. He waved the book in his hand. "I just went home to grab a reference book. I took Auntie's keys, and since you were asleep, I—"
"Then why didn't you just go back!" Huan'er scolded sharply. "You could've packed your things and left properly! And take your phone—do you even realize that?"
"I forgot..."
He truly had forgotten. Stuck on a problem halfway through, he remembered having done a similar type before and hurried off to find the reference, planning to return and continue. Jing Qichi took in her appearance—her hair was a mess from just waking up, she was still in her school uniform, and she was wearing slippers. His heart softened. "I'm sorry."
He knew she was afraid he might do something foolish again.
But Chen Huan'er, I won't.
Huan'er, still fuming, clenched her fists tightly at her sides. "I woke up and you were gone. Do you have any idea how I—how I—"
Jing Qichi pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry."
It was a comforting gesture—more of an embrace than a hug.
Chen Huan'er pressed against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his school uniform. The heartbeat of a teenage boy—vigorous and full of life.
The lingering fear still gripped her, intertwining with that rhythm to make everything feel unreal, like a fairy tale built before bedtime in childhood, afraid of waking up and losing the beloved prince and princess.
Huan'er's body remained tense. She whispered, "From now on, you have to tell me before you go out."
"Okay."
"Call, text, leave a note—anything."
"Got it."
"Jing Qichi," she gradually relaxed, "you scared me."
"I promise." The boy let go of her and pinched her nose. "It won't happen again."
Only then did Huan'er fully relax. She took the book from his hand. "What problem were you stuck on?""Let's go up first." Jing Qichi steadied her shoulders and turned her around. "It's cold out."
If loss was the wager, Chen Huan'er would have folded at the very start.
She couldn't afford to gamble.
Day after day, the routine repeated itself. Endless poems, vocabulary, equations to memorize, and an unceasing stream of test papers and practice problems. Occasionally during self-study sessions, she'd look up to see rows of heads buried in books—faces that felt utterly foreign. When headaches threatened to split her skull, Huan'er sometimes fantasized about throwing down her pen and giving up. Why torment oneself on this single narrow path when the world offered so much? But a glance at Jing Qichi would immediately banish such thoughts. If he could endure, why couldn't she?
Support and encouragement went both ways, as did rivalry and stubbornness.
Bedtime stabilized around midnight, with occasional overruns granting her the privilege of watching sunrises. The countdown board went up, the hundred-day pledge rally was held, and the scent of coffee in the classroom grew thicker. The finish line, once seemingly unreachable, now loomed faintly in sight. Parents preached perseverance as victory, teachers promised clear skies after the storm, while the students themselves clutched at the fleeting hours—sometimes brimming with confidence, other times utterly lost.
During the April mock exams, Jing Qichi ranked one place above Huan'er—107th in their grade.
One monthly exam, one major mock—exactly as he'd predicted when he said "two more tries."
Class Five took it in stride. Everyone had noticed Jing Qichi transforming into a study machine since last semester's end, quietly defying all teachers while his scores skyrocketed. He was no longer just a Special Enrollment Student. The real stir happened schoolwide—no one witnessed his gradual climb from 800th to 500th to 200th, nor saw the thick stack of scratch paper and spent pen refills in his desk. To them, he was an unknown dark horse emerging from nowhere.
On the verge of graduation, Jing Qichi became Tian High's legendary figure.
Legends spawn stories. Underclassmen scanning the honor roll would gasp—wasn't this the soccer coach's favorite captain who led Tian High to third place? The juicier version claimed he and the former top student were inseparable best friends; after the latter transferred, grief fueled his meteoric rise.
Spectators began gathering at their classroom's back door. Bold girls would blush while shouting "Go for it, senior!" while shyer ones left drinks and chocolates on his desk when he wasn't looking. Jing Qichi mostly laughed it off, distributing all treats to Huan'er and Du Man like some ascetic monk renouncing worldly temptations. Liao Xinyan secretly complained to Huan'er, "Each batch gets bolder than the last."
She didn't seem interested in confessing either. Sometimes Huan'er thought she resembled Jing's Mother—that proud parental vibe when watching one's child come into their own.
Of course, Huan'er didn't dare ask. Distracting anyone during this critical period was taboo.
On their way home, Huan'er cheerfully recounted these rumors, adding soulful commentary: "I'm such a lucky charm. You three are blessed to have met me."
Jing Qichi ignored her. "Lao Song's aiming for Peking University Medical School. Have you decided?"
Song Cong remained steady—of course he had what it took for top institutions.
Huan'er shook her head. "Anyway, we'll go our separate ways eventually. Don't miss me too much, you two."
"Chen Huan'er, both of us need to push harder."
"Haven't we done enough?"
She consistently ranked around the top hundred now. Even setting aside Tianhe's local key universities, this performance virtually guaranteed admission to a top-tier institution barring any mishaps."Not enough." Jing Qichi pondered for a moment. "Ten more points."
"Why ten?"
"Don't ask. Just remember."
Because I could score ten more. Because I knew what I wanted.
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