Teacher Liang finally realized, albeit belatedly.
A shameless student recommended another shameless student for tutoring—no exceptions.
Forget titles like young author or screenwriter; Liang didn’t want to hear them. Taking on Peng Guoji was the greatest challenge of his teaching career, a title once held by Wen Ying, now claimed by Peng Guoji.
A distinguished teacher at a top provincial school had to start from junior high basics to create a tutoring plan for Peng Guoji.
As for Wen Ying, when Liang came to her, she piled on the flattery, praising him endlessly but refusing to take back the academic disaster that was Peng Guoji.
Sharing joy is better than enjoying alone. Liang couldn’t save Peng Guoji single-handedly, so he dragged in colleagues. They’d saved Wen Ying before and had experience with “amnesiac” failures.
But when they assessed Peng Guoji’s level, they wanted to flip tables.
Old Liang was shameless!
This kind of student could ruin their reputation.
One teacher bluntly told Peng Guoji, “Starting tutoring now is too late. You’ve fallen too far behind. This year’s college entrance exam is out, next year’s… well, we’ll see.”
With such poor grades, yet able to transfer to a top school and afford multiple one-on-one tutors, Peng Guoji’s family was clearly well-off.
Such families had fallback options even if he failed the exam.
On second thought, Peng Guoji wasn’t that bad. He could coast as a slacker but chose to struggle, a failure with ambition.
Just as the teacher consoled himself, Peng Guoji exclaimed excitedly, “If this year’s exam is too late, I’ll repeat a year?”
“Yes, at least a year.”
Even that might not be enough.
The teacher had seen students who surged in their final year, studying relentlessly to get into good universities, but they had sharp minds, only previously distracted by play.
Peng Guoji’s case wasn’t just “playful.”
To pass the exam and get into a decent university, he’d have to shed layers of skin.
The teacher wasn’t sure if Peng Guoji had that resilience or could endure the grind. About to offer some motivational spiel, he heard Peng Guoji’s joyful tone, “Repeating a year is such a hassle. Why not let me drop a grade now? I’ve got a class in mind!”
Peng Guoji wanted to join Class 16, Grade 2, to be classmates with Xie Qian. He thought himself clever—dropping a grade would let him avoid Wang Shuang and get closer to Xie Qian.
The teacher thought Peng Guoji was dreaming.
Dragging down the school’s admission rate was bad enough. Liang pulling colleagues into this mess was their misfortune, and they were prepared to reshape a failure. But this failure lacked self-awareness. Wanting to drop a grade was fine, but demanding Class 16, the science experimental class? That was a problem.
Since when did failures choose their class?
With Peng Guoji’s abysmal grades, he wanted Class 16?
The teacher said nothing, showing Peng Guoji a list.
“What’s this?”
“Applications from students wanting to join Class 16.”
Class 16, Grade 2, was the school’s star class.
It had real celebrity Li Mengjiao.
Bestselling author Wen Ying.
And Xie Qian, the academic god who made every girl blush.
Peng Guoji wasn’t the only one wanting in, but he was definitely the worst-performing applicant.
Looking at the dense list of names, Peng Guoji felt exhausted.
It was too competitive.
Without childhood ties, he’d never have squeezed into Xie Qian’s circle.
Besides buckling down to study, he had no better plan.
The fleeting idea of asking his dad to pull strings and force him into Class 16 was quickly dismissed. He knew it wouldn’t bring him closer to Xie Qian—it’d only earn his disdain.
During the weekend trio’s study session at Xie Qian’s, Peng Guoji was absent. Wang Shuang found it odd. “Green Hair gave up already?”
Bickering with him was one thing, but his absence felt off.
Wen Ying mercilessly exposed Wang Shuang’s thoughts. “Without Peng Guoji to compare, your grades don’t stand out, so you’re bummed?”
Li Mengjiao was harsher. “No, he’s bored without someone to spar with.”
Good men don’t fight women. Wang Shuang just huffed.
Their brazen banter was because Xie Qian wasn’t there.
That weekend, after assigning tasks, Xie Qian went to Shanghai again.
Wen Ying worried something was wrong with his logistics company.
But Xie Qian was tight-lipped. No matter how she probed, he wouldn’t spill.
Even with her reborn foresight, Wen Ying couldn’t guess Xie Qian was in Shanghai taking over a film company.
Young Master Xie already owned a logistics company, and now Jiaksin? He was outpacing her, a reborn person, by miles.
Young Master Xie was a true life winner.
Gong Sheng thought so.
When Xie Qian finally secured Jiaksin Film Company, Gong Sheng was eager to dive in.
Until Xie Qian showed him Jiaksin’s financials. Gong Sheng was baffled.
This was the company Xie Qian fought so hard for?
Jiaksin was sizable and established but barely profitable. Gong Sheng couldn’t see it outdoing the logistics company.
“Young Master Xie, why not focus on the logistics company?”
“No confidence?”
Xie Qian’s question made Gong Sheng deny it firmly.
Confidence? Of course, he had it. No man admits he can’t do it. But with a more lucrative business, why chase one that wasn’t?
“Film companies can be profitable. Others fail due to limited ability, and…”
Film and logistics were different fields.
One shaped cultural ideology, reflecting people’s spiritual lives. The other, a connective industry, linked manufacturing and agriculture, integral to daily life. Xie Qian saw potential in both.
Not just “money potential” but “future potential.” An industry’s importance wasn’t just profit but its role in societal progress.
What separates thriving from declining industries?
Those society needs, that it can’t do without, never fade.
These thoughts swirled in Xie Qian’s mind, unspoken. Gong Sheng waited for the rest of the “and” but got nothing. Seeing Xie Qian’s resolve, he asked about the next steps.
Xie Qian set down Jiaksin’s files. “Jiaksin isn’t profitable because its management and team are subpar.”
His gaze landed on Gong Sheng.
If the current management was lacking, replace it with someone capable.
Gong Sheng’s scalp tingled.
In the end, he’d have to carry it all alone.
