The next day, the doctor removed the gauze from Ye Qianying's face.
He had braced himself, expecting the girl to burst into tears upon seeing her reflection in the mirror.
To his surprise, the situation unfolded entirely differently. Ye Qianying glanced at the mirror, set it aside casually, and remarked with nonchalance, "Looks like it's healing well. Let's go home."
The doctor couldn't help but study her for a moment longer.
As a physician, he had treated nearly a thousand trauma patients and was no stranger to life's sorrows and joys.
Yet, when his gaze lingered on Ye Qianying's striking phoenix eyes—eyes that seemed to radiate an almost ethereal intensity—he felt an inexplicable pang of regret. Why did fate have to ruin such a face? Had she grown up untouched by hardship, she would have been the epitome of grace and beauty.
Unaware of the doctor's astonishment and pity, Ye Qianying accepted the breathable veil handed to her by the nurse and draped it over her face without hesitation.
Others might marvel at her composure.
But for Ye Qianying, she had long grown accustomed to her reflection. She knew no amount of treatment could fully restore what had been lost.
No matter. She had the system now.
Since a solution existed, all that remained was to strive toward fulfilling the conditions required. There was no need for pointless grief along the way.
...
Ye Qianying finished a timed practice test and handed it to her tutor for grading. Propping her chin in her hand, she stared absently at the red checkmarks blooming across the paper.
Just as the system assumed she was lost in thought, her voice cut through the silence.
"Unless I’m mistaken, System, you seem to have a bias toward certain subjects?"
The Learning System paused, caught off guard. "Apologies, Host. Could you clarify?"
"You call yourself a 'Learning System,' but you clearly favor STEM over humanities, don’t you?"
The system didn’t respond immediately—whether in silent admission or surprise at her perceptiveness, it was hard to say.
Ye Qianying nodded knowingly. "The difficulty disparity between language, math, and English was obvious from the first assessment. And these past few days, I’ve noticed how much emphasis you place on my physics and chemistry progress—by the way, I studied humanities in my past life."
Then, the question that weighed heaviest: "If I choose humanities again when the tracking split happens next semester, will you still assign tasks to restore my health?"
"The system will," the Learning System replied, its tone inexplicably deflated. "However, in that scenario, your point ledger would be locked. Once your health is fully restored, the system would enter dormancy and await a new host. No further tasks would be issued to you."
Behind her veil, Ye Qianying’s expression remained unreadable, though a note of surprise colored her voice.
"Language and math are both disciplines, each representing a field worthy of exploration. There shouldn’t be a hierarchy between them. Do systems really have academic prejudices? That seems… excessive."
"Words move hearts; mathematics transforms reality. Judged by human morality and philosophy, the two are equals," the system stated calmly. "But you must understand, in the universal laws governing existence, mathematics alone is the foundation of all things. In the temple of science, it is the crowned sovereign."
"Host, would you walk the path of unraveling nature’s laws, pushing the boundaries of life, and uncovering truths?"
This wasn’t a decision to make on impulse, so Ye Qianying didn’t answer immediately.
"Let me think about it," she said instead.
Another detail snagged her attention: "You mentioned 'locking the point ledger' earlier?"
The points earned from tasks weren’t the same as her health restoration progress bar.
She’d always wondered what they were for.
The Learning System didn’t obfuscate. "Once you accumulate 100,000 points, the system’s form will unlock. At that time, I will reveal the answer to you personally."
Their entire exchange happened mentally—to an outside observer, Ye Qianying had simply zoned out briefly.
Just then, Teacher Liu finished grading and slid the paper back, its sea of red checkmarks marred by a single X. "Let’s go over this one," she said.
Ye Qianying refocused, eyeing the lone mistake.
"Your approach was correct, but this is a classic trap question. Did you skip straight to using this as the slope? Look at the precondition here… Yes, this part can’t be overlooked…"
After walking through the problem, Teacher Liu sounded pleased. "Your grasp of the concepts is solid, and your reasoning is exceptionally clear."
Ye Qianying dismissed the praise with a smile, treating it as polite filler. She was an adult, after all—if she couldn’t solve middle-school math problems without fumbling, she might as well have stayed in the ocean.
Noting her lack of reaction, Teacher Liu silently added another observation: And she carries herself with remarkable poise.
Truthfully, with her hectic personal life this year, Teacher Liu hadn’t wanted to take on another student.
But… No teacher-student fate? Too bad your wallet’s too great.
The Ye family’s financial prowess was indeed extraordinary.
Their first meeting had included a brief, telling exchange:
Teacher Liu: "Let’s try a trial lesson first. Which areas do you feel weakest in?"
Ye Qianying: "All of them. Please start from seventh-grade material."
Teacher Liu: "…"
She’d initially dreaded dealing with what she assumed was a delinquent who’d skated through middle school.
Instead, Ye Qianying turned out to be not just diligent but also razor-sharp—quick to grasp concepts and able to connect dots without guidance.
Her memory was equally formidable; once she’d made a mistake, Teacher Liu never saw her repeat it.
Sharp mind, steel-trap recall—already exceptional. Yet the girl also worked relentlessly.
After their first session, Teacher Liu returned the next day to find Ye Qianying had self-taught the next unit’s content overnight.
Even prodigies aren’t this prodigious, she’d thought, baffled. Yesterday was geometry; today’s algebra!
Upon probing—ah. The girl had pulled an all-nighter previewing the material.
One night, and she’d mastered most of it, leaving only the highlighted tough spots for instruction.
A born learner, Teacher Liu mused privately. It’s the family’s wealth that delayed her this long, isn’t it?
In Teacher Liu's view, mathematics is a subject with definitive answers—you either grasp it or you don't. While effort plays a role, innate talent is equally crucial.
Some people just never seem to "get it." Students who struggle with math at ten years old will likely still struggle in their twenties or thirties. Age isn’t the issue; it’s about whether they possess mathematical thinking or not.
But Ye Qianying? She’s clearly one of those bright, naturally gifted students with a sharp mathematical mind.
...The puzzling thing is, she never seems to recognize this herself.
What’s even more striking is how she treats every achievement as if it were merely expected.
This trait hasn’t gone unnoticed by the learning system either.
After the tutoring session, the system nudged Ye Qianying in her thoughts.
"Host, why was your math performance so poor in your past life?"
Given that the learning system leans toward STEM fields, it naturally screens for innate talent in its hosts. Based on her current abilities, she clearly has potential—so why had she chosen humanities before?
Ye Qianying tilted her head back, reminiscing.
"You remember how my Third Brother once said that after bending down to pick up an eraser in middle school, he never understood math again?"
The system was baffled. "Did... you also pick up an eraser?"
"No, that’s too cliché. I was usually busy gaming online." Thinking back to her younger, more reckless self, she felt a wave of nostalgia.
"I even categorized games by class schedule. Math class was for competitive games, Chinese class was for casual management games, and English class was strictly match-three puzzles.
For non-core subjects, I had a whole system: role-playing games on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; sandbox games on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Odd-numbered dates were for multiplayer battles, even-numbered ones for guild activities... I think I had six major categories and eighteen subcategories. Honestly, it was quite elaborate."
The learning system: "..."
It dawned on the system that her past self might have already demonstrated her mathematical talent—just in the most unconventional way possible.
"...Didn’t your teachers discipline you for not studying?"
"Probably couldn’t do much about it," Ye Qianying mused, frowning slightly. "I always wore headphones and never disrupted class. Plus—technically, I wasn’t even their student."
"Wait, what?" The system was genuinely shocked now.
Ye Qianying casually dropped another bombshell about her rebellious youth: "I usually just sat in on my Third Brother’s classes. Made it easier to skip school together."
The system: "..."
Skipping classes, not paying attention, and effectively bypassing two grade levels? No wonder the host had zero recollection of middle school math. With that kind of chaos, it’d be a miracle if she remembered anything.
Clutching at straws, the system asked, "Didn’t the school intervene?"
Ye Qianying sighed regretfully. "They might’ve wanted to. But, well... the school was kind of ours."
The Ye family held a 10% stake on the school board. Most students didn’t know—Ye Qianying never flaunted it—but the faculty and administrators were well aware.
The system: "..."
Sensing the system’s speechlessness, Ye Qianying chuckled softly.
She tapped her lifeless legs, her tone detached, almost indifferent.
"Sometimes I wonder if this is karma for wasting my youth... Though, granted, I was irresponsible back then, this still feels excessively harsh."
The system murmured, "It’s not karma—just an accident. Please don’t think that way, Host."
Laziness, playfulness, indulgence, admiring beautiful people, chasing instant gratification—these are all human nature.
Only a rare few overcome these inherent flaws to become the exceptional figures society admires.
Like... its current host.
The system watched as Ye Qianying flipped her test paper over, meticulously rewriting every mistake she’d made today, then filing it into a dedicated blue folder.
In just five days, that folder already held dozens of such papers.
Ye Qianying picked up her phone to check her to-do list and track her study progress—only to find over a dozen unread messages waiting.
"Ying-jie, are you okay? Please reply."
"Ying-jie, check the school forum NOW. Those scumbags are spreading rumors about you—I can’t take this!"
"Ying-jie, we want to visit you tomorrow. Is that alright?"
"How dare they slander you like this?!"
It suddenly struck Ye Qianying that, unlike her reclusive future self, she still had a tight-knit group of friends at this point in her life.
Later, she’d cut ties with almost everyone, isolating herself completely.
Yet even then, some of these schoolmates stubbornly reached out every holiday, sending messages to her long-silent accounts and email.
The memory brought a pang of guilt and melancholy.
But it also reminded her of another detail.
—Every single one of these friends was, academically speaking, a lost cause.
