Monday.
The academic atmosphere grew increasingly tense.
After all, the monthly exam—held once every four weeks—was scheduled for this Friday.
The Class Monitor, Academic Committee member, and League Branch Secretary had spent the weekend applying the problem-solving techniques Rong Yu had taught them. Once they grasped the concepts, it was as if their intellectual pathways had been unlocked—their efficiency in tackling questions soared.
Having reaped tangible benefits, the trio insisted on dragging Rong Yu into tutoring them for the essay section.
"Your phrasing feels archaic," one remarked.
"It's too convoluted—hard to follow," another added.
"Rewrite it..."
Silently, Rong Yu rewrote her essay.
Back in her school days, this had never been her strong suit. Now, seventy years later, with language norms having shifted, her essays were even further out of step.
During class, she focused on writing.
After class, she had to find a secluded spot to practice singing and dancing for the group’s daily check-ins.
In the ten-minute breaks between classes, she could run through the routine three times. Combined with lunch breaks, evening self-study, and after-school hours, she barely managed a hundred repetitions a day.
Everyone posted their practice videos in the group chat.
Rong Yu reviewed each one meticulously.
"Su Tian, your backbend needs more work."
"Li Ying'er, your rhythm is off—lagging by about 0.001 seconds."
"..."
"Yu-jie, are you some kind of demon?"
"I’ve only practiced thirty-something times, and I’m already wiped out."
"Ugh, this is brutal. So exhausting."
Rong Yu replied, "No pain, no gain."
Su Tian shot back, "People who endure hardship just end up enduring more hardship their whole lives."
Rong Yu chuckled.
What kind of twisted motivational saying was that?
The group chat buzzed with lively chatter—except for the group leader, He Qiqi, who remained silent. She neither participated in check-ins nor joined any conversations.
Closing her phone, Rong Yu returned to studying.
The Class Monitor approached hesitantly. "Rong Yu, I noticed some of your pronunciations are off."
Rong Yu nodded. "Go ahead."
"Words like 'steed' (zuòqí), 'bestow' (jǐyǔ)..." he said. "And in classical poetry—like 'the slanting path up Cold Mountain' (yuǎn shàng hán shān shí jìng xié) or 'the hometown accent remains, though hair turns gray' (xiāng yīn wú gǎi bìn máo shuāi)... The pronunciations for these characters have been updated in recent years. The teachers even emphasized them."
Rong Yu looked it up online. Sure enough, he was right.
As a relic from seventy years ago, she was falling further behind the times.
"Could you summarize all the pronunciation changes for me?" she asked.
The Class Monitor flashed a bright grin. "No problem."
Thanks to Rong Yu’s guidance, his science scores had jumped by over thirty points. Helping her in return gave him a sense of accomplishment.
Even Ji Zhouye and his band of underachievers had thrown themselves into the study frenzy.
Having slacked off for two years, they struggled, but Pei Yaru stepped in, organizing one-on-one peer tutoring.
Top students with spare capacity were paired with those lagging behind.
Normally, high school seniors hoarded every minute for themselves—who had time to tutor others?
But—
While helping Rong Yu with essays, their own writing improved.
Compiling lists of commonly mispronounced characters doubled as review, solidifying their foundations.
Math and physics demanded relentless practice to stay competitive.
The Class Monitor volunteered to mentor Chen Nian, the class’s lowest scorer.
The Academic Committee member took on Ji Zhouye.
Not to be outdone, the League Branch Secretary joined in.
Pei Yaru beamed with pride.
Who said Class 20 was full of hopeless cases? Who claimed her students lacked drive? Who insisted underachievers would always stay that way?
Friday arrived—exam day.
To save time, the monthly tests were condensed into a single day.
For Rong Yu, Chinese was her weakest subject.
First, pinyin—it hadn’t even existed in her era.
Second, essays. Despite a week of cramming, she was still far from proficient.
Midway through her essay, she sighed. Why did something as torturous as essay-writing even exist?
A murmur at the door interrupted her thoughts.
She glanced up to see Pei Yaru speaking with the proctor outside her exam hall.
Soon, the proctor approached her desk, tapped it lightly, then collected her paper and escorted her out.
In the hallway, she was surprised to find the Principal waiting too.
"Rong Yu," he said, "Professor Lin Rang from Haicheng University is here to pick you up. He says it’s urgent."
His expression was a mix of awe and confusion.
Earlier, Lin Rang had referred to Rong Yu as his "junior sister." Since Lin Rang’s mentor was the renowned academician Yun Xiaoyuan, that meant Rong Yu was Yun’s student?
Yun Xiaoyuan—the world-famous mathematician who’d taken only one disciple in her lifetime, rejecting countless aspirants—had chosen a high schooler?
Unbelievable.
Knowing this was confidential, the Principal didn’t pry. His demeanor, however, grew subtly deferential as he led Rong Yu to the gates.
Lin Rang waited in a wheelchair.
"Principal, I apologize for disrupting your exams," he said warmly.
The Principal shook his hand. "It’s an honor for Rong Yu."
Being Yun Xiaoyuan’s protégé and Lin Rang’s junior sister—this could secure Rong Yu a university recommendation, changing her future.
Then again, if Yun had recognized her talent, maybe recommendations were beneath her...
Rong Yu guessed this was about the asteroid.
The unidentified celestial body was nearing Earth. With time running out, action was needed. Computer models alone couldn’t guarantee precision—manual calculations were essential.
She helped Lin Rang into the car, folded his wheelchair, and they sped off.
After they left, the Principal turned to Pei Yaru. "As long as she avoids political scandals, she’s guaranteed admission to Tsinghua or Peking University. Keep a close eye on her—don’t let rival schools poach her."
Rong Yu must graduate from Haicheng No. 1 High.
The car raced onward—not toward Haicheng University, but the Fourth Aerospace Institute.
"America acted recklessly," Lin Rang said grimly. "They launched rockets to alter the asteroid’s trajectory, but it backfired. The mass shifted, throwing all calculations off. We need real-time recalibration. Computers are too slow—the Institute has gathered over a dozen prodigies. We need your minds to pinpoint the data."
The Fourth Aerospace Institute, a branch of the Central Aerospace Agency, lay hidden in Haicheng’s suburban woods.
Stepping inside, Rong Yu felt the weight of tension.
Yun Xiaoyuan greeted her at the entrance.
"Rong Yu, I never intended to expose you to top-secret projects so soon," Yun said. "But this is an emergency. We’re shorthanded. Just do your best—if it doesn’t work out, we old-timers will handle it. No pressure."
Nodding, Rong Yu followed her teacher deeper into the facility.
