I was still wearing my simple T-shirt and jeans, carrying the backpack stuffed with new books, standing at the door of the "Senior Four (Class 1)" classroom.

It was during the morning self-study period, and the classroom was silent, save for the scratching of pen tips against paper and the occasional sound of turning pages. Everyone kept their heads down, immersed in their own worlds, like a group of silent warriors preparing for a battle that was a year overdue.

My appearance broke the silence.

My extremely short, boyish hair, along with a face that looked slightly youthful yet overly calm, seemed somewhat out of place in this class full of "old seniors."

Dozens of eyes shot toward me, filled with inquiry, curiosity, and even a trace of indescribable pity and contempt. I could read the speculation behind those eyes—had this girl made some huge mistake to be kicked out of university, or was she just another failure from the entrance exam?

I didn't care about any of that. I calmly scanned the classroom, walked over to an empty seat by the window in the back, set down my bag, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

My movements were neither hurried nor slow; there was no hint of hesitation or unease.

From my bag, I took out a brand-new math workbook, a newly purchased error notebook, and several pens in different colors. I arranged them one by one, opened the workbook, and starting from the first chapter, "Sets and Common Logical Connectives," I picked up my pen and threw myself into the sea of problems.

The surrounding gazes lingered on me for a while, but seeing that I completely ignored them, they lost interest and gradually withdrew their attention, returning to their own studies.

The scratching of pens became the main melody of the classroom once more.

After morning self-study ended, my homeroom teacher—who was also my math teacher in my senior year—Mr. Zhou, called me to the office.

Mr. Zhou was a middle-aged man around fifty, wearing thick glasses. He was serious and rarely joked, but he was a truly good teacher who cared for his students.

"Nina," he looked at me, his eyes somewhat complex. "Have you really thought this through?"

"I have, Mr. Zhou." I nodded, my gaze firm.

He sighed and took a course schedule out of his drawer to hand to me: "You have a good foundation. If it weren't for... sigh, forget it, no need to bring up the past. Repeating this year tests your mentality even more than senior year. You must withstand the pressure, don't think about those messy things, and don't care about what others think of you. Your only goal is next June. If you have any study or psychological issues, you can come to me anytime."

"Thank you, Teacher." I took the schedule and said sincerely.

"Go on, calm your heart down." He waved his hand.

I nodded and turned to walk out of the office. The corridor was bathed in sunlight, and several freshman students were chasing and playing, filled with youthful vitality. I watched them, feeling very calm inside. I had lost that kind of life, but I was also about to welcome a brand-new future.

Returning to my seat, I took out my phone to look up an English word. After powering it on, I saw a few unread messages.

They were from Lin Feifei: "Nina, did you really go back to repeat? You have so much courage! Good luck!"

"By the way, here’s some gossip. Seth has practically become a rat crossing the street at school these days. Someone filmed the video of him apologizing to you and posted it on the forum; although it was deleted quickly, many people saw it. Everyone says he deserves it, and Sonia has broken up with him, going around telling everyone he’s spineless and can't even handle his own messes. I heard he’s had a falling out with his dorm mates, and now he walks alone. It’s pretty miserable."

I looked at the text on the screen, unable to even clearly outline the face of Seth who was "so miserable" in my mind.

His world, his social life, his loves and hates, to me, were already like news from the last century, having lost any ability to cause me emotional fluctuation.

I silently deleted those messages, turned off the internet, and pushed my phone deep into the furthest corner of my bag.

Picking up my pen, I refocused on the complex function problem before me.

Let function f(x) = ...

The noise outside, the past grievances—at this moment, they all drifted away.

In my world, there were only problems, formulas, and absolute control over my future.

This year would be bitter. But I found it sweet.

12

My life as a high school repeater was like a machine precisely set to a program, running regularly and monotonously.

Wake up at 6:00 AM, sleep at 11:30 PM. Except for meals and short breaks, all my time was cut into 45-minute units, filled with endless exam papers and review materials.

I had cut off almost all social interaction; my phone became a tool used only for looking up information and receiving school notices. I gradually lost contact with my former university classmates, including Lin Feifei. It wasn't that they were bad, but I had chosen isolation. I needed an environment of absolute purity to complete this all-or-nothing battle.

My world became very small—so small it was just the classroom, the cafeteria, and the dorm in a three-point line. My goal became very pure—purely just to increase my score in every subject.

This near-masochistic focus made my grades rise at a startling speed, even better than my peak during senior year. Mr. Zhou watched my monthly exam report cards in his office several times and couldn't help but sigh at my psychological resilience and learning ability.

However, the calmness I chose didn't mean that trouble wouldn't find its way to my door.

It was a Friday afternoon, and as the last self-study class ended, classmates rushed toward the cafeteria like birds let out of cages, or prepared to go home for the weekend. Because I had some questions about the solution to a physics problem, I stayed in the classroom to calculate a bit longer.

When I packed my bag and walked out of the teaching building, the sky was already somewhat dim.

Walking to the school gate, I saw a familiar figure from afar.

It was Seth. He was wearing an old, faded T-shirt and wrinkled jeans. He had lost a lot of weight, his hair was messy, and he was unshaven, looking decadent and haggard. He was a different person from the sunny, cheerful, and even slightly arrogant boy in my memory.

He stood on the side of the road opposite the school gate, staring dead-eyed at every student walking out of the school, like a desperate wolf looking for prey.

The moment I saw him, my heartbeat didn't even accelerate.

I just felt a bit annoyed.

Like a fly—you think you’ve swatted it to death, yet it appears before you buzzing again.

Without the slightest hesitation, I immediately turned around and headed toward the school's other side gate.

However, he still spotted me. "Nina!"

He shouted my name hoarsely and, disregarding the traffic on the road, rushed straight toward me. The piercing sound of brakes and the driver's cursing erupted, but he ignored it all, running straight toward me.

His eyes were bloodshot, mixed with a madness and obsession I couldn't understand.

I furrowed my brows and quickened my pace.

I didn't want to have any form of dialogue or contact with him.

"Nina! Don't go! Listen to my explanation!" He chased behind me, panting for breath.

I ignored him and walked quickly to the side gate. The security guard at the gate knew me; seeing that my expression wasn't right and seeing a man pursuing me in an agitated state, he immediately stood out vigilantly.

"Student, what's wrong? Who is this man?"

"I don't know him." I said calmly to the security guard. "He keeps harassing me. Sorry to bother you."

After saying this, I walked quickly out of the side gate without looking back.

Behind me came Seth’s exasperated roar after being stopped by the guard.

"Nina! By what right do you say you don't know me! You heartless woman! I’ve become like this because of you, and you won't even look at me?"

"Our eighteen years of history, you say you’re breaking it off, so you just do? Have you no heart!"

Those hysterical interrogations were thrown far behind me, quickly dissipating in the wind.

I walked to the bus stop, waiting for the bus with an expressionless face.

His pain and his downfall were the results of his own choices. He didn't become like this because of me; he paid the price for his own stupidity and selfishness. Even now, he still didn't understand this truth. He only felt that I had ruined his life.