Li Mengjiao returned to school, treated like a proper celebrity.
During breaks, students from other classes would flock to catch a glimpse of her. The provincial key school had produced many academic stars bound for top universities, but a celebrity? That was a first.
Fortunately, the school had an open-minded atmosphere. They merely advised the students gawking at Li Mengjiao to “chase stars rationally” and not be selfish, ensuring they didn’t disrupt others. As for Li Mengjiao herself, who had sparked this frenzy, the school didn’t reprimand her—provided, of course, that her family of three guaranteed to her form teacher, Lin Lin, and the school leadership that she wouldn’t skip classes without reason or frequently take leave to pursue her “celebrity career.” If she couldn’t keep up academically, she’d be demoted from the experimental class to a regular one. And if she still lagged behind there, she’d face expulsion.
Riding a wave of popularity, Li Mengjiao, alongside Xie Qian, made Class 16 of Year 1 the most talked-about class in the year.
Unlike the “fans” who came to see Li Mengjiao, the girls sneaking glances at Xie Qian were more discreet. Wen Ying suspected that many of Xie Qian’s admirers were hiding among Li Mengjiao’s female fans, using their fandom as a cover to openly ogle Xie Qian.
Wen Ying’s suspicion wasn’t baseless—even Li Mengjiao herself was doubtful. Did the talent show she’d joined really have *that* much influence? All of a sudden, the school was teeming with girls claiming to be her fans, loitering in groups outside Class 16’s classroom!
“Don’t lose focus. You got this question wrong!”
After returning from Hunan, the teacher rearranged the class seating. Somehow, through all the shuffling, Wen Ying ended up as Xie Qian’s deskmate.
The girls in the class were both envious of Wen Ying and sympathetic toward her.
Being close to Xie Qian was, of course, a dream, but being his deskmate meant constantly maintaining one’s image—a truly exhausting task.
The image the girls wanted to project in front of Xie Qian was something like: no yawning carelessly, no eye gunk, no sneezing, no blowing their noses, no greasy hair, and preferably no acne on their faces. On second thought, just being classmates with Xie Qian was good enough—there was no need to aim for deskmate!
Wen Ying was truly brave!
Only a real warrior would dare to let a face with acne scars linger so close to Xie Qian’s line of sight.
The girls saw Wen Ying as a martyr, and Wen Ying herself found the description quite vivid.
While tutoring at the Jiang household, Wen Ying had learned that Xie Qian excelled in maths, physics, and chemistry. She’d already accepted that he was a super scholar—top marks were no surprise for someone like him!
In her past life, Xie Qian’s grades had been excellent too.
He’d transferred schools before taking the college entrance exam, but had he stayed, he’d surely have clinched the top provincial score for the school.
But now, as his actual classmate, Wen Ying truly felt the weight of a super scholar.
Xie Qian was even smarter than she remembered.
He had no weak subjects. He was stellar in maths, physics, and chemistry, but also in humanities. Whether he chose arts or sciences when the streams split, he’d breeze through effortlessly. Born of the same parents, how did his brain work like that?
It was said that most people’s IQs hovered around the same level, with fluctuations of ten or so points barely noticeable. But with the learning ability Xie Qian displayed, Wen Ying suspected the gap between their IQs might be twenty points or more.
With that extra brainpower, Xie Qian thoroughly outshone her, leaving Wen Ying no room to slack off on any subject.
Planning to study sciences and thinking she could neglect the arts?
No chance!
In Xie Qian’s words, the subjects taught in high school were the “common knowledge” every person needed to master.
Not knowing the difference between longitude and latitude, unable to grasp time zones, forgetting modern history, unfamiliar with political concepts, or failing to appreciate the beauty of poetry and literature… such a person, in Xie Qian’s eyes, would lack refinement in life and could be summed up as “ignorant.”
When Xie Qian said this, Wen Ying found herself unable to argue!
It reminded her of He Zhen.
In her past life, when she and He Zhen had just started dating, he took her to a concert. As a child, Wen Ying had been focused solely on studying; her parents forbade hobbies that might distract her. After university, her goal was to break free from her parents’ control. As a young adult refusing their financial support, she had to cover rent, living expenses, transport, clothing, and further studies for work. Meeting basic needs was a stretch—where would she find the resources for expensive hobbies?
That “resource” wasn’t just money, but also energy.
At the time, Wen Ying was still reserved around He Zhen, unwilling to let him know about her past struggles. During the concert, she sat stiffly upright for two hours.
He Zhen must have noticed her discomfort. He didn’t say anything at the time but later gifted her a few records.
Over dinner, he casually mentioned that everyone should have some pursuits and hobbies in life. Money sitting in a bank account was just a string of numbers. Many people were called “nouveaux riches” precisely because they knew how to earn money but not how to spend it.
“There’s nothing you can’t learn. Nobody’s born knowing these things. You’re not incapable—you’re just a few years behind me. Haven’t you noticed? You’re already living this kind of life now. And I believe that once someone learns to enjoy life, they’ll have more drive to strive,” he said.
If you don’t understand something, learn how to.
People aren’t machines. Beyond earning money, they should know how to spend it and enjoy life within their means.
He Zhen’s words struck a chord with Wen Ying. She listened to the records he gave her several times and spent time researching the composers’ lives, their historical contexts, personal circumstances, religious beliefs, and cultural geography. When she next attended a concert, she was beginning to cross the threshold. She was still far from fully appreciating classical music, but she could genuinely feel the emotions conveyed in the movements.
It was remarkable.
He Zhen and Xie Qian didn’t know each other and had no connection, yet both managed to “teach” Wen Ying.
The difference was that He Zhen taught her to enjoy life, showing her what a wealthy lifestyle looked like so she’d strive to climb into that world, where he was waiting for her.
Xie Qian, on the other hand, never flaunted superiority. He didn’t give motivational speeches but pushed Wen Ying to learn more, always urging her to absorb knowledge. His approach was similar yet distinct from He Zhen’s gift of records… Xie Qian was practically mothering her!
How sinful—she’d actually linked her idol to a nagging mum. Wen Ying couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing.
Xie Qian looked at her impassively. “Laughing won’t help. If you fail the monthly exam, do you think smiling at your mum will get you off the hook?”
Wen Ying immediately stifled her laughter.
Her idol wasn’t a mum—he was an archer, with pinpoint accuracy, every arrow aimed at her knees!
…
While Xie Qian invoked the formidable Chen Ru to keep Wen Ying in line, Ms. Chen Ru was basking in a mix of happiness and bewilderment.
Having transferred to Chengdu, Chen Ru was prepared to start from scratch. Making such a decision in middle age naturally came with immense pressure.
But the smoothness of her work situation caught her by surprise!
