As the Buddhist saying goes: "Stillness begets wisdom, wisdom begets intelligence."Stillness" happens to be a homophone for "Kim", which is why her parents named her Jin Baihui—hoping she would possess boundless great wisdom and achieve remarkable accomplishments. Jin Baihui firmly believed this. From childhood, she grew accustomed to her parents' pressure, as well as enduring insults and punishments.
Her Dad often said: "Spare the rod, spoil the child. Luckily you're a girl—if you were a boy, I'd hang you up and beat you."
Jin Baihui's father worked as an editor at a magazine, while her mother was a bus conductor. Both parents left early and returned late every day, earning meager salaries, yet they understood the importance of education.
They scrimped and saved for years, never buying new clothes or shoes, all to save money for Jin Baihui. They were willing to hire high-priced Math Olympics tutors during her elementary school years, send her to "Cambridge Young Learners English classes," and invest countless efforts in her. By all accounts, these should have been the best parents.
However, they also punished her severely.
For instance, if Jin Baihui didn't rank first in her class but came in second, she would inevitably go without dinner that night—her parents might slap her, and her father would chant her name while berating her incompetence, saying things like: "Jin Baihui, did all the money we spent on your tutoring go down the drain? Tell me, was it wasted?"
Sometimes Jin Baihui would admit it, sometimes she would deny it. Either way, she couldn't escape a beating.
There was no discernible pattern to this.
In some cases, the punishment was relatively mild—her mother would make her reflect in the bathroom. Their bathroom had no windows, and the light switch was placed by the door. Once the door was closed and the light turned off, Jin Baihui's world would plunge into icy darkness, with only the cold droplets from the showerhead responding to the voices in her heart. She would cry until she choked, until she sobbed, until she was gasping for breath, and then suddenly, she would stop crying.
After that, she never cried again.
In second grade, when Jin Baihui was eight years old, she once confided in her deskmate about her parents' educational methods. Her deskmate looked horrified: "Your parents are bad! Evil people!"
She grew even angrier than her classmate: "What do you know? You don't understand!"
Yes, none of them understood.
Jin Baihui grew up in this unchanging family environment until she was twelve—the year that brought both her greatest opportunity and an inescapable abyss.
First, she participated in the provincial No. 1 Middle School's Olympiad class selection competition and unquestionably took first place—no other elementary student deserved the title "Provincial No. 1 Middle School Olympiad Class First Place" besides her. She had already advanced to high school mathematics and was studying college-level math textbooks like "Graph Theory," "Linear Algebra," "Complex Analysis and Integral Transforms," and "Advanced Mathematics."
Jin Baihui's tutor evaluated her: "Naturally talented, diligent and hardworking."
She thought this was the pinnacle of what a good student could achieve.
Until she went to Beijing.
It was the summer of 2004. Beijing was still celebrating the upcoming Olympics, with the Bird's Nest and Water Cube under construction. Jin Baihui's father took her on bus rides, circling Beijing's urban area twice. Father and daughter saw all the majestic imperial cities, magnificent palaces, and grand architecture.Dad pointed to the sky and said, "You, work hard, get into Beijing's Young Talent Class, graduate with a bachelor's degree by 20, and win the Fields Medal by 30. You love math—the world's unsolved problems are waiting for you. Do you have time to waste?"
"No," Jin Baihui repeated, "I don't have time to waste."
Dad bought a green can of Jianlibao—a drink that cost a steep 5 yuan at retail. He didn't drink it himself. Instead, he handed it to Jin Baihui, saying the name was auspicious, symbolizing "strength, power, and treasure," foretelling that Jin Baihui would shine brightly in Beijing's Young Talent Class, using robust strength to unearth the treasures of the mathematical world!
At the time, Jin Baihui believed it wholeheartedly.
She did pass the entrance exam for the Young Talent Class.
The class waived all tuition and fees, aiming to cultivate true geniuses.
Jin Baihui's daily life was confined to the school's small world, briefly freeing her from her parents' control and discipline—yet she remained strict with herself, even developing a habit of "self-punishment."
If she felt she hadn't completed her daily study tasks satisfactorily, she would fast, pinch her thighs, or cut back on sleep... Through these measures, she managed to keep up with the curriculum in the first two months after enrollment.
After that, her spirit was willing, but her strength was lacking.
Jin Baihui struggled on for over half a year, drowning in a sea of problems in both Chinese and English, her nerves stretched to the limit. She abandoned sleep entirely, keeping a small desk lamp lit in her dormitory as she pored over study materials late into the night—this near-manic state caught the attention of her homeroom teacher.
Not long after, Jin Baihui was taken to the school infirmary, where two professional psychologists were assigned to her.
The psychologists spoke with calm, friendly smiles: "Jin Baihui, you're an outstanding student. We'd like you to take a small test—no need to think, just tell us the answers that come to you intuitively."
"You study intuition?" Jin Baihui challenged.
The psychologists didn't respond. They had her sit in front of a computer screen.
Jin Baihui patiently answered over forty questions—all about color choices, scene selections, or personal habits. She consistently chose the brightest reds, the most striking color contrasts, and the bleakest real-life scenarios.
After the test, the psychologists chatted with her briefly based on her answers.
From then on, every Friday afternoon, Jin Baihui was required to report to the infirmary.
The psychological treatment lasted a full month, and Jin Baihui's sleep quality improved significantly. But then, out of the blue, her homeroom teacher suggested she take a leave of absence—Jin Baihui's exam scores had fallen to the lower-middle range in the Young Talent Class. Her condition was unstable. The Young Talent Class, though named for "talent," was in truth for "geniuses," with a rigorous training system in place. Jin Baihui could no longer maintain excellence within that system.
And so, at the age of thirteen, Jin Baihui was forced to leave Beijing.
She remembered it was raining when she left.
Carrying her luggage, she walked out of the dormitory building—not a single classmate leaned over the railing to watch her go.
The relentless rain soaked her hair, dampened her face, and chilled her heart.
After leaving Beijing, Jin Baihui returned to her provincial hometown.It was April at the time. Kim Baihui’s parents dragged her along to visit the Olympiad class teacher at Provincial No. 1 High School, pleading in every possible way for the school to accept Kim Baihui as a first-year junior high student in the 2005 cohort.
After all, she had ranked first in last year’s entrance exam and was poised to maintain her position as "the top student in the junior high division." Provincial No. 1 High School was not the Beijing Young Talent Class—it didn’t gather a group of highly intelligent children from all over the country. Yet the words of the Olympiad class director left Kim Baihui’s father astounded.
The director spoke earnestly: "This year, we’ve also admitted some very bright children—exceptionally bright. Compared to Kim Baihui, they might not fall short. If you transfer your student registration back to Provincial No. 1 High School, the teachers will welcome you with open arms. But let’s be clear upfront: you must adjust your mindset. The Olympiad class here also has formidable competitors. She might surpass you, so don’t put too much pressure on yourself, alright? You’re already outstanding."
After saying this, the director added to Kim Baihui’s parents, "Being able to get into the Beijing Young Talent Class—that’s for child prodigies, isn’t it? Moreover, the child is older now, thirteen or fourteen, and habits are already formed. As parents, we shouldn’t always push our children—I’m specifically referring to highly self-disciplined good kids like Kim Baihui. Just now, while we were talking, Kim Baihui was solving math problems beside us—quickly and with flexible thinking. She’s truly a promising talent…"
Before the director could finish, Kim Baihui’s father interrupted, "Ah, Director, about that very bright child you mentioned who was admitted this year—what’s her name? Would I have a chance to exchange parenting experiences with her parents?"
The director tactfully declined. He said, "Once school starts, the children will get to know each other. They can learn from each other’s study methods, right?"
Kim Baihui’s parents quickly agreed.
That night, her parents repeatedly told her, "You have excellent grades and are outstanding. You’ve just returned from Beijing, having completed the foundational university-level math textbooks. Who else but you could be the top student in Provincial No. 1 High School’s junior high division? Tell me?"
In truth, even without her parents’ reminders, Kim Baihui understood the weight of being "number one." Having withdrawn from her previous school and returned to the provincial capital, she urgently needed recognition from her new school to prove her aptitude and diligence, and to show that she was still suited to bravely pursue mathematics on the path of scientific research.
On the first day of junior high, Kim Baihui noticed Lin Zhixia.
Lin Zhixia was completely different from what she had imagined—Lin Zhixia didn’t wear glasses, had excellent eyesight, with lively and bright eyes, and snow-white, smooth skin, showing no signs of late-night studying or burning the midnight oil.
Lin Zhixia was in Class 17 of the first year. Her deskmate and close friend was Jiang Yubai. Their seats were by the window. Kim Baihui passed by that spot countless times, peeking at their break-time activities—from her observations, Lin Zhixia and Jiang Yubai often played drawing games and crossword puzzles, and sometimes even role-played different historical figures, such as Tian Ji and Sun Bin from the Spring and Autumn Period, or Han Feizi and King Ying Zheng of Qin from the Warring States Period… Jiang Yubai was the history class representative for Class 17, and Lin Zhixia would knowledgeably explain the paradoxes between the Bamboo Annals and Records of the Grand Historian to him, as if aiming to usurp his position as history representative.In short, Jin Baihui couldn’t quite understand Lin Zhixia’s various behaviors.
Lin Zhixia loved tutoring Jiang Yubai, guiding him step by step to solve difficult problems.
When classmates from Class 17 came to ask Lin Zhixia for help with questions, she would always share everything she knew without reservation. She didn’t seem to realize how precious time was. Her time was fragmented into countless pieces, scattered over trivial matters that held no meaning—or so Jin Baihui thought.
So this was her so-called rival.
However, the first major exam of the first semester of seventh grade took Jin Baihui by surprise.
Lin Zhixia ranked first in the entire school, scoring fourteen points higher than Jin Baihui, who was relegated to second place. Jin Baihui took her exam papers home, scrutinizing her mistakes over and over, and wrote a three-thousand-word self-reflection.
That night, Jin Baihui’s dad came home drunk, filling the house with the pungent smell of liquor. He sat down at her desk and demanded she bring out her midterm Chinese exam paper so he could help correct her mistakes.
At the time, Jin Baihui was working on a problem.
She said, “You wouldn’t understand the questions. I’ve figured them out myself. I’m busy right now—don’t talk to me…”
Before the last word had even left her mouth, her dad slapped her hard across the face.
Her cheek burned with pain.
“Think you’re so capable now, huh?” he slurred, reeking of alcohol. “Think your old man’s useless now? Our magazine’s about to go under, and your mom’s twelve-hundred-yuan salary can’t even keep you fed, and now you won’t even show us your exam papers? You’ve got some nerve, Jin Baihui! Coming in second place and already acting like you’re hot shit! Who do you think you are? The top scorer isn’t even bragging! How much higher did she score than you? Answer me! Jin Baihui!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
His thick glasses fell off, and perhaps because he couldn’t see clearly, his fist landed squarely on Jin Baihui’s right hand—the hand her parents had never struck, no matter how angry they were.
A strange thought suddenly crossed Jin Baihui’s mind: “If they crippled one of my hands, would they feel guilty?”
Occasionally, Jin Baihui found herself intrigued by problems beyond mathematics.
To test her theory, she deliberately provoked him: “The top scorer beat me by fourteen points—fourteen! No matter how hard I try, I’ll never catch up to her. Every concept I’ve learned, she’s already mastered. I’m tired of this. I’m not going to college. I’ll just go work in Guangdong after middle school.”
Sure enough, her dad’s fists rained down on her right hand like the meteor hammers described in Water Margin . The bizarre, muffled thuds drew Jin Baihui’s mom, who screamed and shoved him: “You’re hitting her right hand? How’s she supposed to hold a pen and take exams? The magazine’s failing, so you take it out on the hand she writes with? Why don’t you just drink yourself to death on the street?!”
Her dad backhanded her mom across the face. “Who asked you to interfere with how I discipline my child?”
Mom and dad began brawling right there in the bedroom. The fight escalated, smashing picture frames, vases, and even the TV. Neighbors from upstairs and downstairs came knocking, but amid the cacophony of crying, pounding, shouting, and shattering glass, Jin Baihui set aside her swollen, aching right hand and calmly picked up her pen with her left to continue writing on her exam paper.
The chaos outside couldn’t disturb her in the slightest.She was a Zen master in the realm of mathematics, an old monk in the Sea of Questions Strategy, a crusader marching east toward the "century-old problem." Her unwavering conviction had never faltered—only her human shell constrained her. Only the pearls atop the crown of mathematics could help her transcend and be reborn from the ashes. Thus, she needn’t concern herself with her parents’ brawls, her classmates’ gossip, or her teachers’ earnest admonitions.
The renowned mathematician Chen Jingrun had used up tons of scratch paper—how far had Jin Baihui come by comparison? She still had a long way to go.
Her left hand flew across the page with the pen.
In the living room, Mom was wailing hysterically.
Before long, Mom stormed into Jin Baihui’s room and snatched the pen from her hand. “Jin Baihui, you can still study? You’re still doing practice tests? What kind of time is this—don’t you care about your parents’ lives anymore? What’s the use of raising you? What’s the use?”
Jin Baihui was somewhat dazed.
Her right hand ached to the point of numbness, and many corners of her heart had long since grown numb. As a result, her capacity to bear emotions—or rather, to bear so-called “love”—had become far duller than most people’s.
This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
A highly sensitive, highly delicate mind was a double-edged sword—one that would inevitably wound its wielder. Hence the Western saying: “Empathy is a curse.”
In her short thirteen years of life, Jin Baihui had completely shed this curse and laid down that double-edged sword. She had consciously trained her mind to approach pure rationality—an outcome her parents had also hoped for.
Yet today, Mom suddenly asked her again, “Jin Baihui, what’s the use of raising you? What’s the use?”
She looked up and replied frankly, “When I become a world-class mathematician, you’ll be the mother of a mathematician. We’ll both be written into textbooks.”
Mom suddenly wiped away her tears. “You don’t know how to have fun, you don’t excel in your studies, and no matter how long you stay at school, you can’t make friends. Is this what your parents taught you?”
Warm tears fell onto the test paper, scorching the thin sheets with one wet stain after another. Jin Baihui tore off a small piece of tissue and gently dabbed at her paper. “Mom, your tears are wasted. I don’t need friends. Even if I had them, if they didn’t work hard, I’d scold them every day—just like how you treated me when I was little. I’m really too tired to care about others.”
Mom said nothing more.
Jin Baihui knew her mother was also exhausted.
The first semester of seventh grade passed in a flash, and before they knew it, the bitter cold of deep winter had arrived. During the “Olympiad class winter training camp,” Provincial No. 1 High School arranged a diagnostic test—this one wouldn’t be ranked. The teachers would grade each student individually and hand the papers back personally, doing their utmost to protect everyone’s score privacy.
Jin Baihui disapproved of this approach.
In her view, exams were about “survival of the fittest.” Not disclosing the weak students’ results only diluted the strong students’ joy.
To that end, she sought out the camp’s supervisor, Teacher Zhai.
But Teacher Zhai told her, “No one is immune to mistakes. You must learn to be tolerant—of others and of yourself, Jin Baihui.”
That last piece of advice struck her like a hammer.
During the exam, Jin Baihui recalled Teacher Zhai’s words, and her problem-solving pace slowed more and more. She didn’t know what was happening to her—for a while, she simply couldn’t focus on the math problems before her.Thus, in the last exam before the Spring Festival, Jin Baihui suffered a crushing defeat.
Out of a full score of one hundred, she only managed seventy-two.
With such a report card, her parents wouldn’t even let her step inside the house.
On New Year’s Eve, Jin Baihui was punished by standing in the hallway.
Carrying her heavy backpack, she stood in the cold corridor. Leaning against the front door, her backpack sliding down, she stretched her feet slightly forward and mused: Jin Baihui, the door, and the floor formed three straight lines that made a right-angled triangle. Given Jin Baihui’s height of 1.62 meters, what was the range of solutions for the triangle?
While mentally calculating, she gazed out the window.
In the distance, fireworks lit up the dark night sky with dazzling colors from the park’s New Year celebrations. But around nine in the evening, dark clouds suddenly rolled in, bringing a sudden downpour that washed away the fireworks without a trace.
Watching this scene, Jin Baihui felt an unusual calm, like stumbling upon a small flower during an autumn outing or spotting white clouds on the horizon while heading to school. She displayed an adaptability that was rare for someone her age.
For a fleeting moment, a question flashed through her mind—what was Lin Zhixia doing right now?
At this very moment, Lin Zhixia was sprawled on her small bed, stuffed from the New Year’s Eve feast. Her mom sat by the bedside, stroking her hair as she asked, “Still feeling unwell, Xia Xia? Should Mom get you some digestive tablets?”
Lin Zhixia shook her head. “No, I’ll digest it myself… I ate too many shrimp dumplings and fish balls.”
“So you do know you overate,” Lin Zeqiu sneered from the side. “Tonight, you were no different from a little pig.”
Lin Zhixia didn’t retaliate. Instead, she tugged at her mom’s sleeve. “Mom…”
Her mom scolded her brother. “Qiuqiu, speak nicely to your sister. Don’t be so prickly all the time, like a little hedgehog.”
Lin Zhixia burst into laughter.
After her mom and brother left her room, she picked up the landline receiver on her bedside table and called Jiang Yubai to wish him a happy New Year. Over the phone, Jiang Yubai greeted her, “Happy New Year. May everything go smoothly, and may your studies flourish.”
Lin Zhixia remarked, “Jiang-Jiang-Jiang-Jiang Yubai, you’re so formal.”
Jiang Yubai was about to ask, “When am I not formal?” but felt the question crossed the boundaries of friendship. Instead, he said, “Since it’s the New Year, you could be a little more formal too, Lin-Lin-Lin-Lin Zhixia.”
“The most formal I’ve ever seen you was that day…” Lin Zhixia perfectly mimicked his tone. “Thank you for the crown, Lin Zhixia. I will take good care of it.”
Jiang Yubai, reminded of the ceremony where she crowned him with the little crown, felt his left ear—pressed against the phone—grow warm. Just then, Lin Zhixia yawned. “I’m so full, I’m sleepy now. I want to sleep. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
Jiang Yubai bid her farewell. “Good night. Get some rest early.”
“Mhm, you too!” Lin Zhixia replied with her usual enthusiasm.
After hanging up, Lin Zhixia happily lay flat. Stretching her legs and tucking herself under the covers, she fell asleep within minutes—only for the landline on her bedside table to suddenly ring loudly.
She reached for the receiver and mumbled groggily, “Hello, who is this?”Jiang Yubai knew she was going to sleep and would definitely not call again. She guessed the person on the other end of the line must be calling her for the first time, because they remained silent, unusually mysterious, with very faint breathing.
Lin Zhixia, growing drowsy, mumbled indistinctly, "Happy New Year, whoever you are. May everything go smoothly for you, may your studies be successful, and may you pass each day peacefully and steadily..."
Jin Baihui hung up the phone as swiftly as a telecom scammer. She had just returned home and hadn't even taken a bite of warm food before dialing the numbers of several classmates from Class 17 of Grade 7, relying solely on her memory of the digit sequences.
Jin Baihui had no desire to chat with anyone from Class 17. She was merely testing her ability to recall numerical strings.
A few minutes earlier, her first call had been to Shen Fuxuan, who answered with his own imitation of a telecom customer service recording: "Sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and dial again."
Next, Jin Baihui called Tang Tingting.
Tang Tingting snapped impatiently, "Who is this? I'm asking you, disturbing my sleep this late? Have you no common decency? Aren't you afraid I'll call the police? Are you male or female?"
Jin Baihui found nothing to say to her.
Jin Baihui's final call was to Lin Zhixia, and only Lin Zhixia delivered the first New Year's blessing Jin Baihui received that year. She resolved to bury this secret deep in her heart forever—during the 2006 Spring Festival, she had been blessed by the person she despised most. Strangely, she found herself wishing for that blessing to reflect back upon the very group she disliked.
Life would go on, and Jin Baihui would continue competing with Lin Zhixia, yet somewhere in her heart, a voice pleaded for pause. Lying in bed, she listened to the endless rain outside her window, closed her eyes, and silently repeated: "I will achieve academic success and pass each day peacefully and steadily."
Lin Zhixia's blessing suited Jin Baihui perfectly.
Jin Baihui particularly cherished the phrase "academic success."
After all, apart from her studies, Jin Baihui had nothing else.
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