14

The news of Uncle Miller being hospitalized was like a pebble thrown into a pool, stirring up ripples in my heart, but it quickly returned to calm. My world remained that monotonous life of three points and one line, and the never-ending pile of mock exam papers.

The class I was in was jokingly called "Purgatory." Everyone here carried the weight of past failures and grievances, and the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt like it could be wrung out like water. People rarely communicated; everyone was like an isolated island, and the only way to communicate was through the bright red ranking chart on the wall.

My deskmate was a boy named Luke.

He was like me, a man of few words. He was tall, always wearing a faded school uniform jacket and black-rimmed glasses, his eyes sharp and focused behind the lenses. I never heard him say a wasted word; except for occasionally asking the teacher questions, he almost never spoke.

There was a unique tacit understanding in our communication.

Once, I was stuck on a difficult analytical geometry problem, having filled half a draft paper with calculations without finding a path, so I temporarily set it aside to do other work. When I returned from the restroom, I found that beside the problem, a few lines of derivation were clearly written in pencil, with an arrow pointing to the key auxiliary line. The handwriting was clean and neat, just like the person.

I looked up at Luke; he was buried in doing physics problems, as if nothing had happened.

I didn't say thank you; I just picked up my pen, followed his train of thought, and realized the solution.

The next day, I saw that a difficult organic chemistry inference problem on his chemistry paper was left blank, so I drew the complete molecular structural formula on a draft paper and quietly placed it at the corner of his desk.

In this way, we used problems as a medium for silent communication and competition. He was like a mirror, letting me see another soul who was just as focused and just as hungry for victory. This pure relationship, based on intellectual rivalry, made me feel very comfortable and motivated. It was worlds apart from the twisted relationship I had with Seth in the past, where one side gave endlessly while the other took for granted.

The second monthly exam arrived on schedule. This was a city-wide joint exam, and its importance went without saying. The atmosphere in the exam room was more solemn than usual. I calmly answered every question, my pen dancing across the paper, my brain operating at high speed, pouring out the knowledge I had accumulated over the past few months.

On the day the results were posted, the entire corridor was crowded. I didn't go to join the excitement, simply staying at my seat and silently organizing my corrections.

A girl in the front row suddenly turned around, looking at me with a mix of surprise and admiration: "Nina, you’re amazing! First in the city!"

My hand paused; I looked up.

Several gazes were cast upon me, some envious, some jealous, but more were a sense of "so that’s how it is." My near-harsh self-discipline and focus had finally vindicated me with an irrefutable score.

Luke also turned his head and looked at me. A trace of approval and a stronger will to fight flickered in his eyes behind his lenses. He nodded at me, then pointed to the ranking list on the wall. His name followed mine, ranked second in the city.

I gave him a faint smile. This was the first time I had truly smiled since coming to this class.

After evening self-study, our homeroom teacher, Mr. Zhou, called me to his office. He held my report card, his face filled with joy he couldn't hide.

"Nina, well done!" He patted my shoulder firmly. "I knew you could do it! This score is thirty points higher than your college entrance exam last year! Keep this momentum up—next year's top scholar might just be you!"

Holding that report card with "712 points" printed on it, my heart was filled with unprecedented stability and satisfaction.

The joy of this moment felt more real and had more weight than any joy I had ever felt in the past eighteen years from a compliment by Seth.

Because I knew that this score was something I had exchanged, step by step, with my own sweat, tears, and resolve. It didn't depend on anyone, didn't seek to please anyone; it belonged only to me.

I took the report card home. When my parents saw that bright red "First Place," they were moved to tears of excitement. Mom added two extra dishes that night, and Dad even broke the rule to bring out a bottle of good wine he had kept for years, pouring himself a small glass.

"My daughter is the best!" Dad drank a glass of wine, his face flushed, proudly announcing, "To hell with childhood sweethearts, to hell with that crappy university! Gold will shine wherever it is! We aren't going to that kind of dump; next year, we are going to the best school in the whole country!"

Looking at my parents' happy faces, the steaming food on the table, and the thousands of lights of the small city outside the window, my heart felt incredibly warm.

I had closed a door with my own hands, but I had also opened a wider, brighter window for myself and for this family.

And outside the window was my own brand new sea of stars.

15

My life as a repeater was like an endless, rushing river, surging steadfastly toward my set goal. The success of the monthly exam served as a shot in the arm, filling me with confidence for the future.

On the other side, the world of Seth and Sonia was like a broken ship that had lost its power in a storm, constantly sinking and in a state of utter disarray.

Most of this news came from Lin Feifei. She seemed to treat me as a hollow tree, sending me long, detailed WeChat messages every so often, live-streaming all the gossip from the university. I rarely replied, but I would occasionally read them during breaks, treating it as a bit of distraction in my dull life.

It was a weekend afternoon, and for once, I had given myself a half-day off, helping my mother clean the house. My phone vibrated in the study; I wiped my hands and walked over, seeing a new message from Lin Feifei.

"Nina! Explosive news! Sonia and Seth have openly torn each other apart in the cafeteria! The scene was absolutely spectacular!"

The message was followed by several "giggling" emojis. I raised an eyebrow, sat at my desk, and clicked into it.

Lin Feifei’s text was filled with a sense of being on the scene: "You have no idea how miserable Sonia’s life has been lately. Whenever her name, the 'Campus Beauty,' is mentioned now, it’s always followed by the phrase, 'Isn't that the girl who cut someone's hair?' It’s basically become a tag for her dark history. A while back, the school was selecting for a very important scholarship; it was supposed to be in the bag for her, but because of the negative impact of this incident, she was slashed during the character review stage! Word is she was so furious she smashed several things in her dorm."

I could imagine Sonia’s exasperated state. She had lived her life in the vanity of being surrounded by stars and could not bear any blemish on her bright, glamorous image. And I, the blemish she had personally created, had now become a nightmare she couldn't shake off.

"Then came the climax," Lin Feifei continued, "This afternoon in the cafeteria, I don't know how, but Sonia ran into Seth, who was returning to school from home. Seth looks absolutely appalling now—dark, thin, like a homeless person. When Sonia saw him, it was like seeing a plague god; she wanted to turn and leave. But Seth rushed up and blocked her, seemingly wanting to borrow money—I guess after the trouble at his house, his parents cut off his financial source."

"Sonia exploded on the spot. In front of half the cafeteria, she pointed at Seth’s nose and cursed, calling him a loser, saying he couldn't even handle the mess in his own home and still had the nerve to find her. She even said if it weren't for him, her scholarship wouldn't have been ruined, and her reputation wouldn't have gone to pot."

"And guess what happened? Seth went completely insane! I guess he had bottled up too much resentment; he just roared back! He shouted in front of everyone: 'Who came up with the shitty idea in the first place? Who said we should make a clean break with the past and use Nina as a tribute? Who thought it would be fun to watch her be humiliated? Sonia, don't try to distance yourself so cleanly! You’re a hundred times more vicious than I am!'"