A perfect score on the college entrance exam? The Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng has astonis

The school gate is right in front of us.

Upon seeing Chen Mo, the security guard immediately pressed the switch on the electric gate.

His face was full of smiles.

"Chen Mo is here? Principal Wang said you can just go in."

Su Wanci glanced at Chen Mo furtively as she looked at the doorman's obsequious expression.

He didn't show any particular expression on his face, he just nodded.

I said "thank you" and went inside.

The two people crossed the playground and headed towards the administration building.

Along the way, they encountered several teachers, and each of them would stop when they saw Chen Mo.

There was something complicated in his eyes.

It was as if he wanted to say something, but then felt he shouldn't, so he just nodded and stepped aside.

Su Wanci noticed.

In the eyes of those teachers.

There was something in Chen Mo that she had never seen before.

——Respect.

It wasn't the kind of encouragement and expectation a teacher gives to a student.

Rather, it is a respectful gaze, even one that looks up to you with a touch of reverence.

She gripped the hem of her skirt, quickened her pace, and caught up with Chen Mo's rhythm.

Voices could already be heard in the corridor on the third floor of the administration building.

It wasn't just one person's voice.

It was the sound of many people—a cacophony of conversations, laughter, and the clinking of teacups against the table.

It was as lively as a tea break at some important meeting.

Chen Mo pushed open the door at the end of the corridor and walked into the small conference room next to the principal's office.

The sounds in the conference room seemed to have been paused.

All eyes turned at the same time and fell on Chen Mo.

There was curiosity, scrutiny, sizing, and assessment in those eyes.

It was like a group of cultural relics experts finally waiting for the moment when that legendary porcelain piece was taken out of the safe.

Someone leaned forward.

Some people took off their glasses, while others left their teacups hanging in mid-air, forgetting to put them down.

The meeting room, which could hold a dozen or so people, was as quiet as a painting.

"Chen Mo is here!"

Principal Wang's voice rang out from the crowd, filled with excitement.

He strode over, his smile as bright as the sunshine outside the window.

"Come, come, let me introduce you."

result…

He had just finished speaking.

The admissions officers had already stood up from their seats, like a group of athletes ready to go at the sound of the starting gun.

"Hello Chen Mo, I'm from the Tsinghua University Admissions Office—"

"Chen Mo, Peking University—"

Fudan University—

Zhejiang University—

Nanjing University—

The sound surged in from all directions, flooding the entire conference room like a tidal wave.

Everyone is talking.

Everyone wanted to get their school and name into Chen Mo's ears as soon as possible.

Chen Mo stood there, his expression calm.

Su Wanci stood half a step behind him, watching the scene unfold before her.

She saw those usually aloof and unapproachable admissions officers from prestigious universities now scrambling forward like they were buying limited-edition items.

She saw the expressions on their faces.

—Enthusiastic, eager, cautious, and even with a hint of ingratiation.

She suddenly remembered a word.

They're trying to poach people.

I remember seeing news reports about the "battle for talent among universities."

She thought it was an exaggerated rhetoric.

But now that she's standing there, witnessing it all unfold, she realizes—this isn't just rhetoric.

This is a war.

On the periphery of the crowd, a person stood by the window, not pushing forward.

That was Chen Mo's homeroom teacher, Lao Fang.

He was in his early forties, taught Chinese, had thinning hair, and wore thick glasses.

He taught Chen Mo for two years.

In his memory, this student was taciturn and had mediocre grades.

He consistently ranked in the lower half of the class in every exam.

My Chinese is particularly poor; I often can't finish my essays.

When he was grading the papers, he felt sorry for him—it wasn't that he had no ideas, but that he couldn't express them.

But now.

This is a student he has been teaching for two years without any significant improvement.

They were being scrambled for by the admissions offices of Tsinghua and Peking Universities.

Old Fang leaned against the windowsill, his arms crossed over his chest.

Looking at that familiar yet unfamiliar figure in the center of the crowd.

"If you're so capable, wouldn't it have been better to show it sooner?"

He thought to himself silently.

"His grades are usually average, but he gets such high scores in the college entrance exam... This isn't how you play dumb to fool others."

The corners of his mouth unconsciously curled up slightly—a bitter smile, but also one of pride.

Regardless, these are his students.

Principal Wang finally managed to get the situation under control and have everyone sit down one by one.

The chairs in the conference room were rearranged.

They formed a semicircle, with the chair Chen Mo was sitting in at the center.

Su Wanci sat in the corner, trying her best not to attract anyone's attention.

She was just there to keep him company; she shouldn't be in this scene.

But her gaze remained fixed on him, never wavering for a moment.

"Chen Mo,"

Professor Li from Tsinghua University was the first to speak, speaking quickly and fluently, as if he were giving a meticulously prepared speech.

"You should be able to sense how much Tsinghua University values ​​you just from my presence here today. Let me tell you a few specific things—"

"Teacher Li,"

Professor Zhang from Peking University interrupted him with a smile.

"Let Chen Mo catch his breath. We know the conditions at Tsinghua University, but what about Peking University—"

"Alright, alright."

A female teacher from Fudan University waved her hand.

"We're all here for the same purpose, so let's not argue about who comes first. Chen Mo, let me be straightforward: our school is willing to offer a full scholarship plus an overseas exchange program. During your undergraduate studies, you can go to Cambridge for a year of exchange, and the school will cover all expenses."

"We also have full scholarships available."

The teacher from Zhejiang University immediately responded.

"Moreover, our school has national key laboratories in your area of ​​interest, and you can enter the laboratory and work on projects with academicians during your undergraduate studies."

"We offer integrated undergraduate, master's, and doctoral programs, a ten-year continuous education."

"We have one-on-one academic mentorship, with doctoral supervisors directly mentoring undergraduate students."

"us--"

The sounds intertwined once again.

Everyone is throwing out their heaviest stakes.

It was like an auction without gunpowder, and the items up for auction were Chen Mo's choices.

Chen Mo sat there, listening to these conditions, his expression remaining largely unchanged.

It's not that he wasn't tempted.

These conditions are indeed very favorable.

But he knew very well what the essence of these conditions was.

It's not because he's particularly outstanding.

It was because of the "Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng," a work that did not belong to this world.

These chips aren't for him, they're for that number.

But that's not his main concern right now.

All eyes were on Chen Mo, waiting for his response.

The meeting room fell silent.

Chen Mo remained silent for a while.

Then he did something that no one expected—

He turned his head and looked at Su Wanci, who was sitting in the corner.

Which university do you want to go to?

he asks.

The voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet conference room, every word was crystal clear.

...

...