Zhang Shu's interview aired that very evening.
It was broadcast during the period right before evening self-study, playing on nearly every classroom screen across Nanli News.
The headline: Courageous Youth Zhang Shu Returns to School for Gaokao Preparations, Warmly Welcomed by Classmates.
As soon as the anchor finished saying, "Now for the detailed report," the screen immediately cut to footage of sixth-grade students waving small flags in the hallway, cheering "Warm welcome." Sheng Xia's moment of presenting flowers flashed by briefly without showing her face.
Seated below, Sheng Xia let out a sigh of relief.
Thankfully, it was a relatively serious media outlet.
Next came Zhang Shu's interview at the school gate.
Reporter: "It's been a while since you've been back at school. Are you excited?"
Zhang Shu: "What's there to be excited about going to school? It's hard work... but I'm really looking forward to seeing my teachers and classmates."
The class burst into laughter.
"Brother Shu accidentally told the truth, hahaha!"
"They actually left that in!"
Reporter: "There are less than 50 days left until the Gaokao. Are you confident?"
Zhang Shu: "Just give it my all and have no regrets."
Reporter: "What are your expectations for yourself regarding the Gaokao?"
Zhang Shu: "Still just to have no regrets."
Reporter: "Your act of bravery has moved many people. This year, you've been nominated for Nanli's Top Ten Outstanding Youth. What are your thoughts on this?"
Zhang Shu: "I'm grateful for the care from the government and all sectors of society, but I wouldn't call it an act of bravery. That day was just an accident for me—I happened to pass by and got involved. I only rushed in because I believed I could make it out alive. There was consideration involved."
Reporter: "Many people passed by, but you were the only one who ran toward the danger."
Zhang Shu: "Maybe I'm just physically stronger and react faster. I believe any student from Nanli High School would do the same if they had the ability to protect themselves, because our school motto includes virtues like benevolence and universal love."
The segment then cut to footage of Zhang Shu studying in class, with a voiceover wishing him success in the Gaokao.
As soon as the news ended, everyone turned off the TV.
The class erupted into discussion.
"Brother Shu is awesome—he even managed to compliment our school in passing. The admissions office should pay you for that!"
"What's the use of being one of the Top Ten Outstanding Youth anyway?"
"It's like a merit record, an honor!"
"The mayor will personally present the award!"
"Wow."
Xin Xiaohe leaned in to whisper in Sheng Xia's ear: "When he said he just happened to pass by, was he trying to debunk the online rumors that he got injured saving you during a date?"
Sheng Xia's gaze traveled through the crowd of figures, landing on the back of Zhang Shu's head.
He must have heard about it from Hou Junqi—what happened that day when she got into a fight with someone.
He hadn't told her he knew, nor had he offered any direct but ineffective comfort.
He always seemed to be like this—taking action, solving problems.
"Yeah," Sheng Xia nodded.
He wasn't someone who enjoyed being talked about, though he wasn't afraid of it either. But actively inviting discussion was impossible—unless it was because of her.
Sheng Xia's heart warmed. She wanted to retrieve that letter and add a few more lines.
...
The third mock exam arrived abruptly.
When the exam schedule was announced, everyone felt somewhat dazed—how was it already time for the third mock exam?
Hadn't they just finished going over the second mock exam papers?
Had they even digested that material before facing the third mock?
Everyone said the third mock would be easy, that grading would be lenient to boost morale before the Gaokao.
But when the actual exam came, students everywhere were scratching their heads in frustration.
Where was the promised simplicity?
The education bureau had gone mad.
This was everyone's collective thought after finishing the math exam.Sheng Xia also felt that the exam questions seemed a bit off—she didn’t understand why the third mock exam was still structured this way.
However, the English and science sections the next day were much better, fairly standard, with the science section noticeably easier.
Everyone speculated that this time, the math section would be the deciding factor for scores.
The third mock exam was still a city-wide joint test, with papers graded uniformly.
The wait for results was undoubtedly agonizing. The school forum was flooded with anxious posts about scores, interspersed with a few threads speculating about Zhang Shu’s performance.
The discussions remained heated, but overall, the pessimists outnumbered the supporters.
During lunch, Hou Junqi asked, "Shu, how do you think you did?"
Zhang Shu looked up, thought for a moment, and said, "Probably around fiftieth or sixtieth in the school."
"Huh?" Hou Junqi didn’t believe it. "You’re being modest, right?"
Sheng Xia also thought he was underselling himself.
Anyone could see how hard Zhang Shu had been pushing himself lately. Sheng Xia went to bed at 1 a.m., but he was just starting to review his mistakes for the day—meaning he likely stayed up until 2 or 3 a.m.
He arrived at the classroom by 6 a.m., earlier than ever before.
And because of his medication, which made him drowsy, he dabbed menthol oil under his nose, behind his ears, and beneath his eyelids to stay alert.
Last week’s weekly test had gone exceptionally well for him—full marks in math and English, and his science scores had returned to his usual standard.
Only Chinese was still slightly weaker.
Zhang Shu raised an eyebrow. "Just wait and see. This time, the scores won’t have much spread—the top scores won’t be too high, and the lower ones won’t be too low. The top ranks might even be clustered together, with several people tied for first."
On the day the results came out, Sheng Xia and Hou Junqi exchanged stunned glances from across the room.
The outcome matched Zhang Shu’s prediction almost exactly.
Had he hacked the education bureau’s system or something?
Zhang Shu ranked 43rd, while four students tied for first. The second-place rank started at fifth, with multiple students sharing the same score, and the gaps between subsequent ranks were minuscule.
So while Zhang Shu was 42 places behind the top rank, the actual point difference was less than 20.
On the forum, the naysayers quickly emerged to "prove their point"—
"See? Forty-third on such an easy test—what’s even the point anymore?"
"Right? In previous years, Fuzhong had about 40 students admitted to Heqing and Haiyan. His chances are looking pretty slim, huh?"
"Zhang Shu’s done for."
"Let’s bet on someone else. Talk about other people—I’m sick of this."
"Even if it’s slim, he can still easily get into a top-tier 985. What about you guys? Can you even make it into a 211? Stop worrying about others."
"Same old story—what a shame, what a pity."
"If that’s the case, maybe Zhang Shu should consider a prep year? It’s really such a waste."
"You’re already writing his ending based on one mock exam? Mind your own business."
"Can’t we discuss this reasonably? He was supposed to be a top scorer—are we not allowed to talk about it?"
The noise was unbearable, with arguments erupting daily.
Many new accounts had also joined the fray, their posting style and tone clearly marking them as outsiders—likely students from other schools here for the drama.
Sheng Xia had initially avoided reading the forum, but Li Shiyi would recite every post she came across, sometimes even cursing under her breath.
Some classmates from Class Six would occasionally reply to the posts, but when they couldn’t win the arguments, they’d just sulk in class.
Sheng Xia remembered how Zhang Shu often said that studying was a personal matter.
But after everything that had happened, the outcome he wanted seemed increasingly out of reach.
This time, the grade director didn’t summon Zhang Shu for a talk.
The vice principal didn’t either.The situation seemed just as the post had described: Fuzhong High had also given up on Zhang Shu.
Given up.
That word was too painful.
Sheng Xia felt a lump in her throat, unable to eat or sleep well for days.
She herself had performed quite well, especially in math, scoring higher than Xin Xiaohe and Yang Linyu with 130 points.
This score was already Sheng Xia's personal best in math.
Not to mention, this time's math exam was a differentiating subject—quite difficult.
It was strange.
Sheng Xia didn’t find it particularly hard.
She knew it was challenging, but it didn’t feel difficult to her.
That was the strange part.
It felt like she had done all the problems before, but in reality, they were new, and many classmates said the questions were obscure and twisted.
While organizing her mistake notebook, Sheng Xia realized that many of the problems involved knowledge points and techniques Zhang Shu had previously asked her about. She had then consulted the teacher and explained them to him again, making them especially memorable.
Although the techniques seemed obscure, the core knowledge points remained unchanged.
Zhang Shu scored the highest in math in the grade—143 points.
In the past, the top math scores in the grade were usually perfect or near-perfect.
His biggest setback was still Chinese.
During evening self-study, both Wang Wei and Fu Jie pulled him aside for talks.
Sheng Xia took his Chinese test paper to review.
His reading comprehension answers were a mess, and he lost points on ancient poetry recitation—mistakes that were embarrassingly basic.
His essay seemed to have regressed to square one.
Lately, he had spent a lot of effort regaining his problem-solving rhythm, and Chinese had been neglected.
Chinese seemed like a subject with extremely low returns—once you reached a certain level, it was hard to improve further.
But right now, Chinese was Zhang Shu’s lifeline.
Sheng Xia drafted a "Chinese Score Improvement Plan" and called Zhang Shu outside.
This time, they sat properly in the hallway seats to discuss studies, but the classroom was still full of curious onlookers.
Because this time, it was Sheng Xia who had actively called Zhang Shu out!
Sheng Xia felt a little uneasy.
Zhang Shu glanced at her nervous expression, grabbed her stiffly placed hand from her lap, and gave it a gentle squeeze under the table.
Sheng Xia looked up sharply and saw him smiling faintly, his gaze sticky and sweet.
"Can’t bear to look, can’t bear to look…"
Qi Xiulei passed by, clicking his tongue twice before entering the classroom.
Sheng Xia yanked her hand back and slapped the "Score Improvement Plan" against his chest, snapping, "Hurry up and read it!"
Zhang Shu remained smiling, pressing the notebook down obligingly. "Alright, I’ll read it."
He skimmed through it quickly, but his peripheral vision caught her uneasy, darting glances.
After a while, he couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle her hair. "Oh great writer, do you know there’s a phrase called 'protesting too much'?"
Her expression was so solemn and righteous—did she really think others would believe they were just studying?
Sheng Xia said sternly, "Do you know there’s a phrase called 'the fire is singeing the eyebrows'?"
Zhang Shu suppressed a laugh and nodded. "I know, I know. The fire’s singeing the eyebrows, it’s burning, so hot—quick, blow on it…"
Sheng Xia: …
Might as well let him burn to death.
"You—don’t force a smile. At least not in front of me," Sheng Xia added.
Zhang Shu froze.
Forcing a smile?
A little, perhaps. No one could truly remain indifferent to the eyes of others.
No one could stay perfectly calm when "falling from great heights."
It was just a matter of degree.
Zhang Shu lowered his voice too. "I can handle it. Don’t worry about me, or else I’ll end up worrying about you worrying."
Sheng Xia gazed at him."Rags-to-riches stories and fallen stars—these are the scripts people love to watch. The former inspires admiration, the latter sighs. At their core, both serve as mirrors for self-comparison, a search for balance."
Zhang Shu spoke in a low voice, setting down her notebook before catching her hand beneath the table again, toying with it in his palm.
Sheng Xia instinctively tried to pull away, but meeting his solemn expression, she obediently stilled.
Zhang Shu continued, "Watching rags-to-riches stories is like brewing a bowl of chicken soup for the soul, hoping we might achieve the same. Watching stars fall is lamenting life's unpredictability, giving ourselves the psychological hint that 'fortune always rotates.'"
"That's how gossip spreads. People talk about you, but what they truly care about is themselves. They don’t actually want to understand you."
He met her gaze. "So don’t let these words trouble you. Live your own life."
Live your own life.
Sheng Xia studied the youthful face before her, finding it hard to believe he was her age.
Zhang Shu was truly a remarkable person.
At times, so childish she wanted to smack him; at others, startlingly profound.
Sheng Xia asked, "Then... don’t you ever feel sad?"
Zhang Shu raised a brow slightly. If he said yes, she probably wouldn’t sleep tonight. If he said no, she likely wouldn’t believe him—and still wouldn’t sleep.
She always worried too much.
Zhang Shu replied, "Then let me read the love letter, and I won’t be sad anymore. Deal?"
Heaven knew—she’d given him a letter but forbade him from reading it until after the college entrance exams.
Zhang Shu had never been so exasperated. If he couldn’t read it until after the exams, why not give it to him then?
When it came to torturing him, Sheng Xia had countless methods.
"No," Sheng Xia refused.
Zhang Shu: "Why?"
Sheng Xia: "Just no."
Zhang Shu: "You’re trying to kill me?"
Sheng Xia: "Then give it back."
Zhang Shu: "Fine, I won’t read it."
Sheng Xia checked the time—11 p.m.
"I’m going home."
Wang Lianhua always came to pick her up punctually.
Zhang Shu walked her to the corridor before returning to the classroom, burying himself in his work again.
Class Six had grown accustomed to it—staying late in the classroom meant no need for midnight snacks. There was always enough "dog food" to go around.
Zhang Shu went home at midnight. Zhang Sujin, busy preparing for her wedding, was often out, so no one monitored him when he studied until 3 a.m.
He pulled out the "Chinese Score Improvement Plan" and began reading carefully.
The elegant handwriting made his thoughts increasingly restless.
Such beautiful penmanship... for a love letter.
Who could possibly deserve this treatment?
Him. Zhang Shu.
What had she said that day? "If you peek, I’ll be angry."
Angry or not, he’d coax her back.
Zhang Shu took out the envelope he’d examined countless times but never opened, sliding out the letter inside.
The seemingly simple pink stationery revealed subtle patterns and gold dust under the light, exquisitely crafted.
Disney princess stationery truly stood apart.
He unfolded the first page—only one line:
[Meeting you was, how should I put it, like a dazzling star illuminating a desolate little universe.]
He had never seen words—or handwriting—so beautiful.
The second page.
Line by line, like diary entries.
...
July 28, Sunny
[Scorching sun, white clothes, dense camphor trees, laughter lingering like faint fragrance.]¹
If I hadn’t panicked then, would the beginning of our story have been more beautiful?
August 1, Sunny
[A breathtaking beauty haunts the mind—better never to have met such splendor.]²
Rosy clouds stretched for miles, the city bathed in splendor.If I hadn't panicked back then, would the story have unfolded more beautifully?
August 15, Sunny
[I envy his Herculean strength and overwhelming spirit.]
The windows were spotless, the morning sun dazzling.
Yet my eyes saw no scenery.
August 20, Sunny
[Year after year, the seats filled with distinguished guests,
May I never be forgotten through all the years.]
Happy birthday. I want to be part of every year to come.
September 4, Sunny
[Summer outing, on the field—which young man stands most gallant?]
Basketball, youth, and sunshine.
Even PE class could be this delightful.
The scenery in my eyes, I wouldn't trade for life.
October 6, Sunny
[Having met thousands upon thousands,
None compare to you.]
Like the river, who am I surging for?
November 8, Sunny
[The mountains have trees, and trees have branches,
My heart admires you, but do you know?]
So this is what liking someone tastes like—my first time knowing.
November 15, Sunny
[Drunk, I forget the sky mirrors in water,
My bed full of clear dreams pressing down the Milky Way.]
You looked at me, just looked,
And I thought: romance never dies.
December 25, Sunny
[Shy, I retreat, leaning by the door, turning back,
Pretending to sniff the green plums.]
If this is a misunderstanding, it's one too beautiful to resist.
January 1, Sunny
[Dawn watching skies, dusk watching clouds,
Walking, I think of you; sitting, I think of you.]
Maybe shorter holidays aren't so bad?
February 1, Sunny
[May I be the star, you the moon,
Glowing brilliantly together night after night.]
Happy birthday to me—so very, very happy.
February 27, Sunny
[Letting down the crystal curtain,
Gazing through at the autumn moon.]
The sunlight in that bookstore was always perfect.
I'm waiting for the wind, and for you.
March 11, Sunny
[Between heaven and earth, life is but a fleeting traveler.]
Power outage. Pitch black.
Even paths walked together can feel desolate and lonely at times.
...
[When will longing meet longing? This hour, this night—hard to bear.]
...
...
Zhang Shu didn't fully understand, but that didn't stop his heart from melting completely.
Page three.
...
Shu, timely rain.
Yet every memorable day since meeting him has been sunny.
Isn't that magical?
Lately, I often watch the sunset 44 times a day.
I'm waiting for my rose.
Lucky me—he came with the wind, sleeves full of sunlight.
He's my rose, and my little prince.
Lucky him—to possess an entire summer.
If he's willing.
...
Zhang Shu stared blankly at the letter, beginning to understand why she hadn't wanted him to read it.
Now at 1 a.m., all he wanted was to drag her off to get married.
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