It was afternoon physics class.
The physics teacher, Pei Yaru, who was also their homeroom teacher, had arranged a small quiz.
When the test papers were handed out, Rong Yu skimmed through them—basic physics questions so simple she could tell the answers at a glance.
She scribbled down the solutions swiftly, set the paper aside, and went back to reading her journal.
Pei Yaru paced around the classroom.
Though this was the worst-performing class in the school, there were still a few promising students who, with proper guidance, might even make it to top-tier universities.
She stopped behind some of the higher-achieving students, glanced at their papers, and sighed.
The last three problems were advanced, requiring critical thinking. They were challenging, but with a solid grasp of the formulas and some manipulation, the answers weren’t impossible to derive—just tedious.
Yet, not a single student had solved them.
She took a few more steps and paused beside Rong Yu.
Her brows immediately furrowed.
During a physics test, this student was reading extracurricular material?
Pei Yaru didn’t say anything.
With so many slackers in the class—like Ji Zhouye napping nearby or Chen Nian sneakily playing on his phone—it was impossible to police them all. Over time, she’d learned to turn a blind eye.
As long as the students who wanted to improve were doing well, that was enough.
Just as she was about to walk away, she noticed Rong Yu’s test paper—the last few problems had answers written down, but no steps.
And they were all correct.
"Rong Yu," Pei Yaru said quietly, "where are your workings for these problems?"
Rong Yu looked up. "I didn’t write them."
"Then how did you get the answers?" Pei Yaru frowned. "Guessing?"
It had to be guessing.
But how did she guess them all correctly?
"Using this formula," Rong Yu wrote it down on a scrap of paper. "Mental math gives the answer. No need to write the steps."
Pei Yaru’s eyes widened.
This formula wasn’t part of high school physics—it wasn’t even covered in undergraduate physics programs.
More importantly, it required substituting at least five numbers for multiplication and division. There was no way someone could mentally calculate the result…
"Come with me to the office."
Rong Yu closed her book and followed.
Pei Yaru pulled out a blank sheet and quickly drafted a similar problem.
Rong Yu took it and, without hesitation, wrote down the answer—accurate to eight decimal places.
Pei Yaru was stunned.
Still unconvinced, she gave Rong Yu an even more complex physics problem, far beyond high school level.
Yet again, Rong Yu answered almost instantly.
"You…" Pei Yaru adjusted her glasses. "Rong Yu, are you really an arts student?"
Hai Cheng High School had students choose their academic tracks in the second semester of freshman year. That meant Rong Yu had only studied physics for half a year at most.
Could she really have reached this level in just six months?
"I liked science in middle school," Rong Yu lied, lowering her gaze. "I self-studied all the high school science subjects in the first semester. I chose arts because… I didn’t understand the system, so I ended up here."
"What a waste of talent." Pei Yaru softened her tone. "Do a set of physics competition problems here. Let me see your real level—and write out the steps properly this time."
Rong Yu had no choice but to meticulously write down every formula and calculation.
Pei Yaru stepped out to take a phone call.
As soon as she left, Song Huai walked into the office to deliver assignments.
He glanced up and saw Rong Yu there.
Unbelievable. Had she really chased him all the way to the teachers’ office?
Plenty of girls pursued him, but she was the boldest.
He shook his head, dropped off the assignments, and left.
Rong Yu didn’t even notice him.
She finished the physics competition problems quickly. With the teacher still gone, she idly started sketching mathematical geometric diagrams—parabolas that were oddly satisfying to draw. She even stumbled upon a unique convergence property in one of them…
"You’re done already?"
Pei Yaru returned from her call, scanned the test paper, and swallowed hard.
These were national physics competition questions. Last year, Song Huai—representing their school’s elite class—had missed one small question and still won the national gold medal.
Rong Yu, however, had answered every single one correctly.
"I’ll find you an international advanced physics competition set next time," Pei Yaru said. "You can go back to class now."
Rong Yu sighed inwardly.
These tests were too easy. Just writing the answers was a waste of time, let alone detailing every step.
But as an ordinary high school student, she couldn’t exactly defy her teacher’s orders.
She stood and left the office.
As she walked out, a scrap of paper fluttered off the desk and landed at the feet of another teacher—Wu Su, the math instructor for Class 20.
He was working on a research paper when he glanced down and saw the sheet covered in parabolas and scribbled equations.
At first, he thought it was his own, but the handwriting was wild and messy—definitely not his. Just as he was about to hand it back, he froze.
The equations on the paper were part of the very theorem he was currently struggling to prove.
And someone had solved it—right down to the final step.
His pulse raced.
After a long hesitation, Wu Su looked up. "Ms. Pei, do you still need this scrap paper?"
Since he’d called it scrap, Pei Yaru naturally said no.
When Rong Yu returned to the classroom, the chatter died instantly.
She didn’t need to guess—being called to the teacher’s office was never good news in students’ eyes.
Unbothered, she went back to her book.
After the last class, she packed up and headed for Hibiscus Manor.
Ji Zhouye caught up to her. "Heard you skipped evening self-study the past two days. Where’d you go? Take me with you."
Rong Yu kept walking. "I’m busy."
"With what?" Ji Zhouye persisted. "Where to? I’ve got a car—I’ll give you a ride."
"Stop following me. It’s annoying."
She shot him a cold glare, slid into a taxi, and told the driver to go.
Chen Nian rubbed his chin. "Zhouye, I don’t think Rong Yu’s secretly into you."
"Ever been in a relationship? You wouldn’t know," Ji Zhouye scoffed. "Can’t you see? She’s shy—doesn’t know how to react to my attention. Give her a couple days to get used to it."
Chen Nian thought for a moment. "Or maybe she just doesn’t get your hints. Why not just confess? I can’t wait to see her cry."
Ji Zhouye paused, then smirked. "Find out what I need for a grand confession."
The taxi soon arrived at Hibiscus Manor.
The butler led Rong Yu inside, where she saw Ji Zhiyuan sitting on the sofa, cradling a little girl around four or five years old. Beside them sat a woman in her twenties, dressed in a fitted skirt—poised and elegant.
