Qin Jiao offered her advice, and Wen Ying nodded solemnly:
“I get it, once my entrance exam results are out, I’ll talk to my uncle.”
Wen Ying suddenly realized a serious issue. She didn’t just need tutoring—she had to take it damn seriously. She was confident she could hit 546 this time, enough to qualify for the provincial key school’s independent recruitment exam, maybe even surpass her mock exam score of 560… But then, as a lawyer who’d graduated college nearly a decade ago, she’d get crushed by the other candidates in that exam!
The scene would be mortifying.
The other kids qualifying for the provincial key school’s recruitment exam would have the chops to match that 546 score. Wen Ying? She only had her English skills left; the rest of her subjects were long forgotten.
What a brutal reality.
Before her rebirth, the last exam Wen Ying took was the bar exam. After that, no one judged her worth by test scores anymore.
Now, in this life, she had the chance to qualify for the provincial key school’s exam but couldn’t get in. She’d still need Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong to pay and pull strings. As a reborn person, Wen Ying wanted to crawl into a hole!
Yeah, a wide one, or she wouldn’t fit.
She also wanted to save Xie Qian.
If she couldn’t get into the provincial key school, how would she get close to him?
In her past life, Xie Qian kept his distance even from classmates. Different classes? She doubted he’d even notice her.
With Qin Jiao, a top student, right there, Wen Ying seized the chance to ask about the recruitment exam. Qin Jiao hadn’t taken it herself—she’d gone straight to the high school division—but she said, “I hear the questions cover not just junior high stuff but some high school material too. With over two months of summer break, you’d better start prepping early.”
Even top students weren’t born scoring high.
Many built solid study habits from a young age. Ordinary students procrastinated on holiday homework until the last few days before school, while top students finished it early and gave themselves extra tasks.
Year after year, the gap widened. Some kids coasted on small tricks for over a decade, only panicking in senior year, hoping to catch up to a top student’s lifetime of effort in one year—pure fantasy.
Qin Jiao’s habits were solid. Seeing Wen Ying genuinely wanted to join her school, she offered to lend her high school textbooks and notes.
Wen Ying nearly dragged Qin Jiao into a sworn sisterhood on the spot!
Sure, Chen Li was borrowing high school books for her too, but regular high school stuff couldn’t compare to Qin Jiao’s.
Qin Jiao主动 offered help—only an idiot would refuse. Wen Ying instantly upgraded “Sister Qin Jiao” to “Jiao-jie” and declared publicly, “Jiao-jie, you’re my real sister now. This kindness is huge, and I’ve got no way to repay it. Just say the word, and I’ll stick knives in my ribs for you!”
Qin Jiao burst out laughing, and so did everyone else, especially Boss Wang, who’d invited Wen Ying to his company. He pointed at Deng Shangwei, shaking with laughter, “Xiao Deng, your niece is a riot. Has she watched too many gangster flicks, talking about sticking knives for Qin Jiao?”
Deng Shangwei was puzzled too.
He adored Wen Ying—years of family bond made him see her through rose-colored glasses.
Setting aside his bias and looking rationally, Wen Ying was shy, not a talker, and dulled by Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong’s strictness. Bringing her to a dinner with big shots like this, Deng Shangwei would’ve been relieved if she just didn’t freeze or embarrass herself. He never imagined her first time at such an event would win everyone over.
Qin Jiao—smart, pretty, rich—would naturally be picky about friends.
Yet on their first meeting, she offered Wen Ying books and notes.
The change in Wen Ying blew Deng Shangwei’s mind. What happened to this kid? Was something pushing her?
He figured he should find a chance to talk to her.
That chance never came. Wen Ying stuck to Qin Jiao like glue, and Boss Qin indulged them, letting them ride together. The driver even dropped Wen Ying off at her neighborhood.
When Deng Shangwei caught up in his beat-up Santana, Wen Ying was reluctantly parting with Qin Jiao.
“Jiao-jie, I’ll come to your place for the books this weekend, yeah?”
“Jiao-jie, what do you like to eat? I’ll treat you Sunday!”
“You’re treating me? Sure, sure, see you, Jiao-jie! Bye, Uncle Qin!”
Wen Ying’s every word and move screamed fangirl groveling at Qin Jiao’s feet. Deng Shangwei’s eye twitched watching it.
After Boss Qin’s car left, Deng Shangwei parked, ready for a heart-to-heart. Wen Ying yawned, “Socializing’s exhausting, Uncle. You better bump up my bonus when payday comes—I’ve sacrificed so much for you! Nope, can’t stay, I’m beat, gotta sleep.”
You sacrificed for me?
Wen Ying ate well, had fun, and made a new friend—who sacrificed for who here?
If she hadn’t skipped upstairs humming, Deng Shangwei might’ve bought it.
Fine, no point asking. These changes looked good so far. Other kids shone early—why couldn’t his bloom late?
Deng Shangwei chuckled and followed her up.
Wen Ying washed up, locked herself in her room, and ignored the high school books Chen Li borrowed. Instead, she grabbed the junior high textbooks Chen Li had driven back to her house to fetch today.
Tutoring started tomorrow. To avoid driving her tutor nuts, Wen Ying planned to stay up reviewing math, physics, and chemistry basics.
She opened her first-year math book. It didn’t seem hard.
Closed it—huh, why’d she forget what she just saw? It was simple enough to stick after one glance!
Unconvinced, she read it again.
After half an hour of this, she confirmed: book open, she got it; book closed, she blanked on even basic problems.
Especially geometry—she stared forever, clueless where to draw helper lines.
Was adult thinking this rigid?
Wen Ying felt like crying.
She grabbed her third-year second-semester math book. A page fell out as she flipped it.
Picking it up, she saw it was an application form.
A clipped entry form from *Sprout* magazine for the New Concept Essay Contest.
Holding that thin sheet, Wen Ying froze.
At 16, Wen Ying loved novels and scribbling stories. Chen Ru banned books at home, so she sneaked them at school.
At 16, her dream wasn’t to be a lawyer—she didn’t even know what one did. She wanted to be a trendy “teen writer.” Others could do it—why not her?
That dream dragged on. Later, she said she’d study literature. Wen Dongrong asked what job she’d get with it, leaving her speechless.
She’d blamed her parents for killing her dream. Now, had she ever really fought for it?
If she hadn’t poured her all into it, regret-free, the reason she dropped that “dream” wasn’t them—it was her.
