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

The phone hangs up.

Zhao Tianyu sat at his desk, his phone still pressed against his ear.

But all I heard from the receiver was a busy tone.

He slowly put his phone down and placed it on the table.

The screen was still lit, displaying the score inquiry page, with the three numbers 580 lying there quietly.

He stared at those three numbers.

Suddenly I realized they weren't numbers.

They were three knives: one plunged into his pride, one into his confidence, and one into his illusion that "Zhao Tianyu is better than everyone else in everything."

Chen Mo's 750 points were an even bigger knife, uprooting all of this.

Zhao Tianyu leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. The study was well-lit; sunlight streamed in through the window, casting his shadow on the floor as a dark blob, like a dried ink stain.

He recalled the things he had said to mock Chen Mo in the class group chat.

"You dare to say it in 700 words?"

"No wonder he's a terrible student."

"If scammers don't scam you, who will they scam?"

He recalled patting Chen Mo on the shoulder in the mall and saying, "After all, you estimated 700 points," while the boys behind him laughed uproariously.

He recalled the image of himself running away—after the call from Tsinghua University, and after the president's personal confirmation, he ran faster than anyone else.

He thought he had won.

He thought Chen Mo was a fraud.

I thought those phone calls were fake.

He thought that once the scores were released, everyone would see Chen Mo's true colors.

But now, the scores are out.

580 and 750.

He lost.

It wasn't just a small loss; it was a complete and utter defeat, a crushing defeat, so much so that even his father couldn't be bothered to scold him anymore.

He hung up the phone immediately and even stopped giving me my allowance.

The world belongs to Chen Mo.

When his phone vibrated, Zhao Tianyu was sitting on the sofa in the living room, lost in thought.

The screen lit up briefly, then went dark again.

He didn't move.

A few seconds later, it shook again.

He glanced down at it.

It was a message sent privately from a classmate with whom I have a good relationship.

"Tianyu, what did you get on the test?"

Zhao Tianyu stared at the line of text for a few seconds.

Then I turned the phone over.

The screen was placed face down on the sofa cushion.

He didn't reply.

It's not that I don't want to reply, it's that I don't know how.

Should I say, "I got 580"?

The person he usually looked down on in class, the person who always bowed and scraped in front of him.

He couldn't bear to think about it if he knew he only scored 580.

His phone vibrated a few more times, but he pretended not to notice.

About two minutes later, he couldn't resist and turned his phone over to open the class group chat.

Hundreds of messages have already been sent in the group.

He scrolled up and saw that most people were reporting their scores and discussing their college applications, with a few crying faces and exclamation marks interspersed among them.

Then he saw a message that made his fingers freeze.

"By the way, where's Chen Mo? Didn't he estimate a score of 700? He's not saying anything now; he's definitely faking it."

Zhao Tianyu's lips twitched slightly.

He continued scrolling down.

"The person who estimated a score of 700 is probably at home right now figuring out how to cover it up, hahaha."

"Don't say that. What if they really did score 700?"

"You believe that? You got 487 on the last monthly exam and 700 on the college entrance exam? Do you think the college entrance exam is like buying a lottery ticket?"

"Exactly, exactly. From 487 to 700, that's a difference of 213 points. I'd believe it if he gained 50 points, but over 200? Nobody would believe that."

"Hey, I have something to tell you guys—I saw Chen Mo go to school this morning."

As soon as this message was posted, it was immediately followed by a string of question marks.

"Going to school? Today? When we check the results?"

"Yes, I saw it with my own eyes. At the school gate, Su Wanci was with her."

"What were you doing at school? Did the principal call you in for a lecture?"

"He must have guessed wrong and got called in for a talking-to. He guessed 700 points, and the system matched him with an urban novel category; click to view details. Think about how the school leaders feel—isn't this just tarnishing the school's reputation?"

"Hahaha, that's hilarious! He estimated his score and ended up in the principal's office."

"Don't say that. Maybe they went there to receive praise?"

"Praise? Praise him for his boasting?"

The mocking voices surged up like a tide.

One wave after another.

Zhao Tianyu looked at those messages and felt a strange sensation in his heart.

It wasn't happiness, nor was it a sense of relief; it was a more complex feeling.

He knew that what these people were saying was wrong.

He knew Chen Mo wasn't there to accept criticism.

He knew those phone calls were real.

But he didn't want to say.

He didn't want to tell them how many points Chen Mo scored.

I don't want to tell them how ridiculous their mockery is.

I don't want to tell them.

The person they were mocking was number one in the country.

He didn't want to talk about it because he was afraid.

She was afraid that if she spoke out, everyone would know how amazing Chen Mo was.

Everyone will try to curry favor with him.

And Zhao Tianyu would become the joke of someone who "had a grudge against Chen Mo".

So he chose to remain silent.

He continued to watch the messages, watching those people revel in their ignorance.

"By the way, doesn't Tianyu have connections? Can he help check Chen Mo's score?"

This message made Zhao Tianyu grip his phone tightly.

"Right, right! Tianyu, doesn't your dad have connections in the Education Bureau? Why don't you check?"

"@Zhao Tianyu, Tianyu, please say something."

He typed a few words, then deleted them, typed and deleted them again, then typed them again.

In the end, he didn't post anything.

He put his phone down and pretended he wasn't there.

After waiting for a while and seeing that he did not respond, the people in the group started discussing it again.

"Tianyu is probably busy and hasn't checked his phone."

"Forget it, don't bother checking. The school will release the rankings in a few days anyway, then we'll know."

"That's true. We'll see how Chen Mo covers it up then."

As Zhao Tianyu read these messages, he felt as if something had stabbed him in the heart.

It wasn't guilt, nor sympathy, but something he didn't want to admit, something that was suffocating him.

Just then.

A message popped up.

It is Suwan porcelain.

"Chen Mo got a perfect score."

When those four words were sent, the group was silent for a full five seconds.

Then, like a hornet's nest being stirred up, news poured out like crazy.

"???"

"What? A perfect score?"

"750 points?"

"impossible!"

"Su Wanci, you must be joking!"

"How is it possible to get a perfect score? No one has ever gotten a perfect score in the history of the college entrance examination!"

"Sister Wanci, are you serious?"

"Were you deceived by Chen Mo?"

Su Wanci offered no explanation.

She just posted a photo.

The photo was taken in a conference room—sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the faces of a group of people.

Principal Wang stood at the front, his face full of wrinkles from smiling, his eyes almost squinting into slits. Behind him were Principal Liu from No. 2 Middle School, Principal Chen from No. 3 Middle School, the section chief from the district education bureau, and several other people whose names Zhao Tianyu couldn't recall.

All eyes were on the same person.

—Chen Mo.

Chen Mo stood in the middle of the crowd, wearing a white T-shirt and dark blue jeans, his expression calm, like a tree being blown by the wind.

Standing next to him was a girl in a light green dress, Su Wanci herself, looking at the camera with a slight smile on her lips.

In the corner of the photo, you can clearly see several A4 sheets of paper covered with writing on the conference table, the ink still wet.

This photo was like a bomb, shaking the entire class group chat to its core.

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