Xie Qian worked on the test with complete focus.
Though he found the questions simple, thanks to his upbringing, he took it seriously out of respect for others’ efforts.
When he finished and glanced at Wen Ying, she was scribbling and calculating too, looking equally diligent.
Xie Qian guessed the start but not the end.
On the same paper, he scored 150, while Wen Ying got 79.
The tutor couldn’t fathom it—how big-hearted was Lin Lin to pair Xie Qian and Wen Ying for lessons? Their levels were worlds apart. Who should adjust for whom?
If Xie Qian slowed down for Wen Ying, the lessons would be too basic, wasting his time.
He’d be better off playing basketball or video games!
If Wen Ying tried to keep up with Xie Qian… sorry, she couldn’t. With her current foundation, Xie Qian’s pace would be like deciphering alien script to her.
Suppressing the urge to storm downstairs and confront Lin Lin, the math teacher said, “Do another one.”
He gave Wen Ying a second shot. Xie Qian still got a perfect 150; Wen Ying improved slightly to a neat 80.
That was it—the math teacher couldn’t hold back. He turned to leave, but Wen Ying grabbed his sleeve.
“Teacher Liang, trust me. My math scores weren’t as good as Xie Qian’s, but I used to get over 130 every exam.”
She stressed her past-life grades.
Teacher Liang thought she was bluffing.
“Really, Teacher Liang, I’m not lying. When my entrance exam results come out, you’ll see.”
He didn’t buy it. “I know you didn’t go to junior high in Rongcheng city. Small-town education lags behind here, but if you consistently scored over 130, you’d get at least 110 on these. Explain.”
One 79, one 80—Teacher Liang needed a reason.
He hated liars.
Now he suspected Wen Ying cheated on school exams, fooling her parents.
But he wasn’t the type to write someone off—he waited for her excuse.
Wen Ying secretly pinched her thigh, eyes watering. “After the entrance exam, I was in the hospital for a week with a fever. I’m out now, but my memory’s fuzzy. I only recall bits of what I learned. Teacher Liang, I don’t want my parents to worry—I need your help!”
Teaching at a top school for years, Liang had seen all sorts. But Wen Ying was the first to pull the “amnesia” card in front of him!
He figured she’d watched too many Korean dramas.
Car accidents, terminal illnesses, amnesia—those melodramatic plots hooked middle schoolers, even at his elite school. He’d caught kids copying song lyrics in class, their confiscated notebooks plastered with Korean idols and F4 stickers… His temper flared.
“Don’t want your parents to worry? That won’t do. If it’s really amnesia, you need a hospital check-up.”
Liang wasn’t easily fooled. Wen Ying was about to escalate when Xie Qian spoke up, “Teacher Liang, let’s start from the basics. I’d like to review junior high fundamentals.”
Liang froze. So did Wen Ying.
She was sure she could sway Liang—start with an absurd excuse to rile him up, then… well, whatever came next didn’t matter. Why was Xie Qian helping her?
She blinked.
Liang’s pent-up frustration deflated with Xie Qian’s words.
He cared about Xie Qian’s progress, but if Xie Qian didn’t mind reviewing basics with a fibbing slacker like Wen Ying, what could he do?
Ignoring whether Xie Qian was wasting time or Wen Ying could keep up, Liang spent the next hour on first-year math.
Basic enough, right?
Surprisingly, Xie Qian listened intently, and Wen Ying looked eager to learn.
Liang was utterly baffled.
After the two-hour session, he hurried downstairs to tell Lin Lin the gap between the students made joint tutoring pointless. But before he could, Chen Li ambushed him with warm chatter.
She’d waited downstairs the whole time and brought a crate of seafood—a luxury in landlocked Rongcheng in 2004. Liang felt awkward, caught off guard.
Sigh, parents—always for their kids’ sake. He couldn’t bring himself to complain. Silently vowing to whip Wen Ying into shape this summer, he decided even if she was a rotten log, he’d carve some patterns into it!
Wen Ying had no idea she’d just earned a strict tutor.
She dawdled packing her books, waiting for Liang to leave, leaving just her and Xie Qian in the study.
“Xie Qian, thank you.”
He didn’t reply.
Wen Ying couldn’t help smiling.
So Xie Qian was cold outside, warm inside.
Though she’d outgrown her fangirl days, realizing the boy she’d crushed on as a teen was this kind made her happy.
Lin Lin invited Wen Ying and Chen Li for lunch since afternoon lessons were coming, but Chen Li declined—food was ready at home—and took Wen Ying back.
On the way, Chen Li asked how it went. Wen Ying nodded eagerly, “Teacher Lin’s tutor is great—responsible, explains well. Xie Qian’s nice too, really helpful!”
Back at the villa, Lin Lin and Xie Qian ate alone again.
As the nanny served dishes, Lin Lin asked Xie Qian the same question.
He paused, nodding reluctantly, “It’s fine. We’ll see.”
As long as Wen Ying stopped teasing the tutor with “amnesia,” he didn’t care if she struggled.
But Wen Ying misunderstood—Xie Qian didn’t help her out of kindness. He just found her antics too noisy.
He liked things simple, resolved quickly.
With that in mind, during the afternoon physics and chemistry sessions, he preempted Wen Ying’s excuses, calming both tutors.
All three were forced to accept her as the class slacker.
To Xie Qian, she was undeniably one—failing all three subjects’ tests.
Math’s 80 was her closest brush with passing; physics and chemistry were disasters.
She knew her past-life knowledge was tucked in her memory’s corners, waiting to be rediscovered, and believed she could outdo her old self. But starting as a slacker in Xie Qian’s eyes left her miffed.
How could she convince him she wasn’t hopeless?
At 9 p.m., buried in homework, her pager buzzed.
A message from Detective Luo.
