Almost the moment she agreed to take the exam, Ye Qianying’s consciousness was pulled into the "examination hall."
She recognized it as an exam hall because it was identical to a real-life classroom—the clock hanging at the front, the blackboard dusted with chalk residue, the duty roster and latest grade sheet pinned to the wall.
As for the invigilator standing on the podium, though his face was unremarkable, the stern way he adjusted his glasses felt eerily familiar, like every strict teacher students had ever encountered.
Everything felt so real, as if she were in an actual classroom—except for Ye Qianying herself.
In disbelief, she looked down at her straight, slender legs, hardly able to believe they were standing firmly on the ground.
Her first instinct was to raise a hand and touch her face. Her fingertips met smooth, flawless skin, and a wave of incredulity washed over her.
"System, is this…?"
"When modeling the host in the simulation space, existing injuries are excluded."
Before Ye Qianying could say more, the teacher in a pullover shirt stepped down from the podium.
Hands clasped behind his back, his deep nasolabial folds making him appear even sterner, he said, "The exam is about to start. Stop wandering around and return to your seat. Leave your bag and phone on the podium."
As if in a dream, Ye Qianying walked to the only desk in the room and sat down, each step feeling like she was treading on cotton.
Her legs…
The elderly teacher turned, retrieved a sealed envelope from the podium, and opened it in front of her, placing the exam paper neatly on her desk.
"You have an hour and a half. Manage your time wisely."
Ye Qianying picked up her pen, circling key words in the first multiple-choice question, her excitement still simmering.
"System, I want to know—"
"No whispering during the exam." The teacher’s lips pressed into a thin line, his nasolabial folds deepening as he glared at her. "If I hear you muttering again, you’ll be disqualified."
Ye Qianying: "!!!" It’s so realistic!
If not for her sudden recovery and the discrepancy in time, she might have believed she’d been transported to a real exam hall.
The interruption snapped her out of her daze, allowing her to focus fully on the test.
The difficulty of the simulated exam was similar to the one Teacher Liu had given her earlier. Aside from guessing on the last fill-in-the-blank question, she answered the rest smoothly.
For the final two extended problems, she solved one using knowledge she’d just learned that day. The other stumped her at the second part, so she wrote down every step of her reasoning, hoping for partial credit.
When time was up, she handed in her paper. The elderly teacher took it, uncapped a pen, and began grading it on the spot.
"Your score is 112."
Ye Qianying relaxed slightly—it was a close call, barely meeting the 110 benchmark. Given the unanswered second part of the last question and the uncertain fill-in-the-blank, she’d expected this.
"However, the registered score is 0."
Ye Qianying: "Zero?!"
She stared at the teacher in confusion, baffled by his decision.
Meanwhile, the teacher peered at her sternly over his thick glasses.
"In my forty years of teaching, I’ve never seen a student make this mistake." His tone was grave. "Ye Qianying, forgetting to write 'Solution' on a proof is understandable. But how could you finish the entire exam and not write your name?!"
Ye Qianying: "!!!"
She’d forgotten to write her name!
It had been so long since she’d taken a formal exam. During her one-on-one sessions with Teacher Liu, she’d simply handed in her work—she’d completely forgotten this step.
Thank goodness she’d taken this simulated test. Failing the mission over such a trivial oversight would have been devastating.
"So, this time, I won’t record your score. Let this be a lesson."
His expression softened then, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes.
"Go on, pull up a chair. Let me go over your mistakes. You’ve improved significantly. I noticed you used an extracurricular method for one problem—that’s a competition-level approach."
Ye Qianying brought a chair and sat beside him.
The teacher’s hands were aged, his skin loose with age spots, yet he effortlessly sketched a geometric diagram, unraveling the core logic of the problem with elegant simplicity.
She listened, enthralled.
Teacher Liu, the renowned tutor her family had hired, was already exceptional. But compared to this elderly teacher, even he fell short. Truly, there was always someone better.
When the review ended, Ye Qianying was reluctant to leave.
In this classroom, she was healthy and whole again—but that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to stay.
After witnessing the teacher’s wisdom and guidance, she could no longer dismiss him as a mere NPC.
"Could you explain another approach to this problem?" she asked quietly.
"Still not satisfied?" The corners of his stern mouth lifted slightly. "Fine, but only if you can solve a similar problem afterward. Here, let me give you a few more."
...
Their impromptu tutoring session finally ended when the teacher stifled a yawn.
Even knowing this was likely just a simulation, Ye Qianying couldn’t bring herself to impose further.
"Let’s stop here for today, Teacher."
"Ah, age wears me out." He sighed, removing his glasses to wipe them. "One last problem, then we’re done. It’s good you’ve finally taken studying seriously. Keep it up. Look—your classmates graduated long ago. You’re the only one still retaking exams."
Ye Qianying: "..."
So that’s why there was only one desk—not special treatment for the "host," but because she was the sole repeater?
This setting was… painfully realistic.
With the final problem explained, Ye Qianying had no choice but to leave, her heart still clinging to the moment.
Ye Qianying didn’t know if the same teacher would proctor her next exam, but she deeply respected the man’s knowledge and dedication. Before leaving, she thanked the elderly teacher sincerely and, while bowing her head, caught a glimpse of his proctor badge.
Zhong Yuanhua—that was the old teacher’s name.
Ye Qianying committed it to memory.
As the classroom shadows blurred into obscurity, the last thing she saw was the old teacher slightly hunched over, diligently wiping away the sprawling chalkboard notes with a damp cloth, his aged hands dusted with chalk residue.
She should have cleaned the board before leaving.
Next time—if there was a next time with this teacher—she wouldn’t forget to erase the board properly.
Ye Qianying opened her eyes, snapping out of the vivid yet surreal simulation space, and realized the dawn light was already creeping through the window.
Had she really been in class that long?
She blinked, then stifled a yawn behind her hand.
“System,” she called out to the learning program, “how often can I take a simulated exam?”
The system answered honestly, “There are no restrictions on exam frequency, Host.”
“I see.” A faint smile touched Ye Qianying’s eyes. “Will I meet Teacher Zhong again in the next simulation?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
Her fingers absently tangled in her hair—a habit when she was thinking. “Next time, I’d like to bring something for Teacher Zhong. Would that be allowed?”
The system froze. It took a full thirty seconds to respond, clearly unprepared for such an unconventional request.
“…Yes. Host may exchange points for gifts.” It hesitated before adding, “But you’ll soon realize points are quite valuable. Are you sure, Host?”
“Yes.” Ye Qianying’s reply was brief as she maneuvered herself into bed using the bedside apparatus. “Wake me at six-thirty.”
Six-thirty was her fixed time for daily English study.
At dawn, the system’s alarm roused her promptly.
Following the routine she’d established over the past week, Ye Qianying completed her English drills and poetry recitation. By the time her caregiver wheeled her to the breakfast table, it was exactly seven o’clock.
Ye’s father was abroad attending an important summit, and Ye Hehan was a notorious late riser—no chance of seeing him before seven. So, only Ye’s mother, her eldest brother, second brother, and Ye Qianying sat at the table.
After breakfast, Ye Tiao leaned close, resting a hand on her wheelchair, his voice gentle.
“Little sister, isn’t Teacher Liu off today?”
Ye Qianying’s tutor had been arranged by his secretary, so he knew her schedule well. The question was just to confirm she had no other plans.
“Yes.”
“Then how about visiting my company today?” Ye Tiao smiled warmly, a stark contrast to the icy demeanor that made his subordinates tremble. “The weather’s perfect for an outing. Didn’t you love that café’s ice cream? I’ll have the secretary order a big serving for you—with vanilla coffee, alright?”
Lin Mumian chimed in, “Yes, Yingying, go out with your brother. Didn’t you invite friends over just the other day? You’ve been studying nonstop at home—you must be exhausted, right?”
Ye Qianying looked at Ye Tiao and her mother, barely containing the surge of emotion in her eyes.
They had always supported her silently, watching over her, doing everything they could to keep her happy.
A decade later, it was the same. A decade ago, it had been no different. This was her family.
“Alright.”
