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

Read the full text for free, Chapter 52: Chen Mo: Mediocre people, step down! (Link: [link missing])

"I don't blame you for questioning Chen Mo, because you've never seen a perfect score, never seen 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng,' and never seen an eighteen-year-old write such an article."

"But after you've finished questioning him, can you stop and think about this—what if it's true? What if there really is someone in this world who can do what you can't? Is it really that hard to acknowledge someone's excellence?"

His voice finally went completely hoarse.

He was silent for about three seconds, then took a deep breath, folded the papers on the table again, put them back in the wooden box, and closed the lid.

"I will not delete this video. I take full responsibility for every word I say. Time will tell whether Chen Mo is a genius or not."

"But before that, I hope that those who question him can at least show a little respect—not respect for him, but respect for knowledge, respect for literature, and respect for all the beautiful things in this world."

The video ends.

The image freezes on the moment Principal Wang closes the wooden box. His fingers press against the lid, their knuckles distinct and slightly red.

Within an hour of its release, the video had been viewed over 100 million times.

In the comments section, the tide has completely turned.

"I was moved to tears. It's so touching that an old principal would stand up and say these words for his students. It's truly remarkable."

"Principal Wang is right. Is it really that difficult to acknowledge someone's excellence?"

"I used to question Chen Mo. Now that I've read this article, I'm shut up. Whether it was prepared in advance or written spontaneously, it's there, and it's beautiful."

"Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng... I read it three times, and each time I got goosebumps. This is not something a human could write."

"Did you notice Principal Wang's expression? When he said, 'Mediocre people can never understand the world of geniuses,' his eyes were red. He really felt sorry for Chen Mo."

"For a principal to go to this extent for the students, that's enough."

"Where are those people who say Chen Mo has a team? Come out and show yourselves! If a team can write 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng,' I'll eat my keyboard live on stream."

"Where's Liu Zhiyuan? Professor Liu, why don't you say something? Aren't you the best at questioning? Show me a single question about this 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng'?"

Liu Zhiyuan's comment section was flooded with criticism.

The most upvoted comment under his last video was...

"Professor Liu, didn't you say that Chen Mo's 'Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River' was written by a team? What about this 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng'? Was it also written by a team? That team is amazing; I suggest they directly recommend it for the Nobel Prize in Literature."

The second one is: "Teacher Liu, you should take a break. The more you jump around, the more ridiculous you seem."

The third one only has four words: "Clown, step down."

But Liu Zhiyuan did not rest.

He deleted his two most recent videos and then posted a new one.

He didn't appear in the video this time; there was only a black background image with large white letters written on it.

"I won't comment on the authenticity of 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng.' But I still maintain my opinion: Chen Mo's persona is fabricated. A perfect score on the college entrance exam, 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng,' and 'Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River'—this combination is too perfect, too unrealistic."

After this video was posted, it only received one-tenth of the likes of his previous videos.

In the comments section.

The most upvoted comment was: "Teacher Liu, you're tired, you should step down."

Su Wanci saw Principal Wang's video at home.

She had just finished showering, her hair was still wet, and she was sitting cross-legged on the bed wearing a hair drying cap.

The light from the phone screen shone on her face, her eyes reddened, her nose tingled, and tears fell onto the phone screen in a steady stream.

She wiped it with the back of her hand, then wiped it again, but it wouldn't get clean because the tears kept flowing.

She picked up her phone and sent a message to Chen Mo.

Have you watched Principal Wang's video?

The reply came quickly: "I've seen it."

I cried.

"Me too."

Su Wanci was stunned for a moment. She couldn't imagine Chen Mo crying.

He's the kind of person who wouldn't even flinch if the sky were to fall. He could be scolded for half a month without even lifting an eyelid. Would he cry?

"Did you really cry?"

"Yeah. I spilled coffee, it got all over my pants, oh dear."

Su Wanci stared at the message for five seconds, then smiled.

Chen Mo did indeed watch Principal Wang's video.

He saw it on his way home, standing under a bus stop, with orange streetlights overhead and a cigarette butt lying at his feet, though he didn't know who had thrown it there.

He watched the video from beginning to end, and when he saw Principal Wang say, "Mediocre people can never understand the world of geniuses," his lips twitched slightly.

He thought for a moment and sent a message to Principal Wang: "Principal, I've seen the video. Thank you for speaking up for me."

My phone vibrated less than ten seconds after I sent the message.

Principal Wang's reply came very quickly, as if he had been waiting for this message all along.

"I'm just glad you don't blame me for acting on my own. I sent the video without consulting you because I was afraid you'd think I was being nosy."

Chen Mo looked at the line of text and suddenly found it a little funny.

A school principal posted a video for a student, but then worried that the student would blame him.

When did the rules of this world become like this?

He typed a message: "How could that be? You're doing this for my own good, I can tell right from wrong."

Principal Wang replied even faster.

"That's good, that's good. By the way, Chen Mo, there's something I want to discuss with you."

Do you have time in three days?

"Could you come to the school? I'd like to ask you to encourage the junior students and share your study methods. It doesn't have to be formal, just a casual chat, is that alright?"

Chen Mo stared at the screen for a few seconds.

He recalled that when he was in high school in his previous life, the school invited so-called "academic superstars" to give a presentation.

Those people stood on the stage, saying, "I study coding problems until 2 a.m. every day."

"I went through my mistake notebook twenty times."

"I never play games or watch TV."

He was dozing off in the audience, thinking to himself that he couldn't do what they were talking about, and didn't want to.

He doesn't want to become that kind of person.

But after thinking about it, he still typed two words:

"Alright."

Principal Wang sent a fireworks emoji, and then sent another message.

"Great! Then come to the school at 10 a.m. three days from now, and come directly to my office. By the way, with your learning method, you don't need to prepare any PPTs or anything. Just say whatever you want. Even if you go up and say 'anyone can do it,' they'll love to hear it."

Chen Mo smiled when he saw the last sentence.

He put his phone in his pocket and glanced at the bus stop sign—his bus was arriving in three minutes.

The streetlight cast his shadow on the ground, a short, round shape, like a crouching person.

He suddenly remembered something. He took out his phone and sent another message to Principal Wang: "Principal, can I bring someone with me?"

Principal Wang's reply came as fast as lightning: "Su Wanci?"

Chen Mo did not answer.

He sent a meme—a GIF of a cat rolling its eyes.

Principal Wang replied with a laughing emoji, then sent another message: "Bring. Bring anyone you want. You'd even welcome a penguin."

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