Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

This exam was full of tough questions: theoretical mechanics, electrodynamics, mathematical physics methods...

Xiao Yao stayed up for several nights in a row before submitting all the exam papers. When the results came out, his heart clenched—he barely got full marks in Linear Algebra and Mathematical Physics Methods, while the rest of the subjects were all just over 90 points, always a hair's breadth away from a perfect score. Fortunately, after the main system left, an intelligent tutor remained in the space, explaining things in a clear and concise manner with impeccable logic, just like a living professor in a white coat.

"It's over. I can't even hit the ceiling in this kind of diagnostic test. How am I going to join the group with the teachers in the future? How am I going to get real results?" Xiao Yao stared at the test paper that the robot had finished grading, his fingertips tracing the few glaring deduction marks, and muttered to himself.

I had a day off over the weekend, and the exams started on Monday.

The exam was held in the classroom. Once the papers were handed out, everyone took their seats. The teacher walked around once, then strolled out the door with his hands in his pockets, saving the trouble of invigilating.

Xiao Yao glanced around: everyone around him had their heads down, pens scratching across paper, no one looking up, no one whispering, no one glancing at their neighbor.

He felt a warmth in his heart—this group of people might have a stubborn temper, but their earnestness was as pure as freshly washed glass.

At this moment, the system suddenly popped up with a message: "It's not that they don't want to copy, it's that they simply feel—copying you? That's beneath them."

Xiao Yao almost jumped out of his chair, then quickly buried himself in his work, his pen gripping so tightly it turned white. Everyone else was a wolf in sheep's clothing; if he didn't tighten his belt, he might not even be able to show his tail.

I don't dare to hope for a good ranking, but I absolutely cannot be at the bottom—at least, I shouldn't have a score so bad that I'd be ashamed of myself.

I wonder where this score of over 90 ranks in the class?

The course schedule was so packed that the exam took three or four days to finish.

As Xiao Yao packed his schoolbag, he sighed: "Only these old teachers are still willing to put in the effort to conduct joint exams, provide detailed feedback, and find loopholes. In the future, I'm afraid even teachers willing to supervise evening self-study sessions will become increasingly rare."

The day the exam was over, the whole class rushed out like a floodgate opened – with endless hutongs and glazed tiles to explore, who wouldn't want to take advantage of the moment and soak up some more of Beijing's charm?

As soon as Xiao Yao returned to his dormitory, he lay down on his back on the bed and waved off all invitations.

Wang Yutong leaned over and asked, "Everyone's planning to see a movie and have hot pot, are you really not going?"

"No, see you at the library later." He rubbed his temples. "I've been working non-stop these past few days, my brain's about to explode. I need to recharge and maybe read some light reading."

Where is there any free time? My textbooks are piled higher than me, my extracurricular study list is three pages long, and time is slipping away like sand through an hourglass. Besides, the system just resets, and a bunch of questions are stuck in my throat.

Upon hearing this, Ji Fengnan immediately pulled out his portable abacus and tapped it a few times: "Hey, let me do a quick calculation for you—the time you spend buried in books every day is enough to run three laps around Weiming Lake!"

Xiao Yao chuckled, "Take a look at those physics students next door. Their library seats are full by 8 a.m., and they're squatting there doing calculations while eating steamed buns for lunch. I haven't even caught up with them yet." He paused, his voice deepening, "Someone has to take the first step in what we've agreed on."

Upon hearing this, Qian Wentao slung his backpack over his shoulder and said, "Alright, I'm leaving too! I'll accompany Xiao Yao to take a look at the Mechanical Design Handbook. I heard the new edition includes 3D modeling examples."

Ji Fengnan was taken aback, then put away the abacus, grabbed the "Functional Analysis" book beside him and opened it: "Alright, I'll keep it too—I dreamt of the solution to this problem last night, and I'm going to nail it to paper today."

Wang Yutong shrugged: "Alright, alright, if the three of you don't move, it's no fun for me to wander around alone. I might as well take this opportunity to review the textbook and go over those confusing derivations a third time."

At noon, Teacher Gao was making his rounds in the dorms. He pushed open the door to the next dorm and found everyone gone, with only empty bed boards left, their white surfaces gleaming in the sunlight. He shook his head with a smile, feeling relieved: "That's more like what seventeen or eighteen-year-olds should look like."

But as soon as they turned into Xiao Yao's room, all four of them were there—

Xiao Yao was hunched over his desk taking notes, Ji Fengnan was biting a pencil while doing calculations, Qian Wentao was marking and annotating the drawings, and Wang Yutong was holding a set of exercises and marking each question in red.

Teacher Gao peeked out and smiled: "Didn't you go out to relax? Don't keep yourself as tense as a bowstring."

The room was so quiet that the only sounds were the turning of pages, the scratching of pens on paper, and the soft clicking of calculator keys. No one looked up, no one answered, and even their breathing was extremely soft.

Director Gao stood at the door, suddenly froze, and raised his hand to touch the back of his head:

Where am I? Who am I?

He slammed the door shut in a huff, turned around, and walked out.

……

In the professors' office, several physics professors were engrossed in grading papers, while teaching assistants quickly entered scores and checked data.

The professors took this exam very seriously.

They were eager to find out: how much had these young geniuses, who hadn't received systematic high school training, actually mastered in just one month? How solid was their foundation?

With the teaching assistants working together efficiently, the grading process was incredibly fast. More than twenty papers were all graded in half a day.

Several teaching assistants quickly gathered together, compiled the scores for each subject, cross-checked them, ranked the total scores, and then handed a copy of the final score sheet to each of them on the professor's desk.

When the results were announced, the professors looked at each other, unable to suppress their laughter but also feeling a little helpless.

Most of the students scored high marks, but the nine specially admitted students were stuck on the edge of being "bad".

Logically speaking, it is already remarkable to achieve such results after learning from scratch for a month; however, the problem lies in the obvious "weaknesses": some people get full marks in linear algebra but only barely pass 85 in mechanics; some people get close to full marks in electromagnetism but barely pass the passing grade in thermodynamics.

If this were a regular class, the professors would have given their approval long ago—after all, no one is born a genius.

But this is the "future class" selected from across the country, a seed team prepared to shoulder the backbone of the next generation of scientific research.

These twenty or so children will most likely stand at the forefront of major national projects in the future, so the standards naturally cannot be lowered.

Professor Wen adjusted his glasses, glanced at the report card, and suddenly laughed: "It's true that the foundation is weak, but it's just the beginning! We can adjust our direction and make up for our weaknesses in time."

He paused, then said with certainty, "The fact that they learn so quickly and steadily precisely demonstrates their sharp minds, high comprehension, and strong stamina. Look—most of them got full marks in advanced mathematics and linear algebra, and all the other subjects were above 95. Their knowledge structure is solid, and their pace is balanced. Especially Qian Wentao and Wang Yutong, who both scored above 95 in their two core courses, very steadily."

The other professors, upon hearing this, all shook their heads with smiles. Professor Wang, who taught linear algebra, joked, "Old Chen's words have finally put our minds at ease. However, the more outstanding they are, the less we can afford to let our guard down—since they've reached this level in just one month, we need to provide them with even higher and more challenging steps next month and next semester!"

"Indeed! These young people are the ones who truly support tomorrow." Professor Wen took off his glasses and gently wiped the lenses with the corner of his clothes. "Our task is to protect and keep the flame burning brightly, so that they can walk steadily and go far in the decades to come—the country cannot afford to wait, nor can it do without them."

Professor Wang raised an eyebrow and smiled: "Oh, is Lao Wen thinking of appreciating talent? Who has he set his sights on this time? If it's Wang Yutong, I'll stop her first—she got full marks in both advanced mathematics and linear algebra, she's clearly a natural at mathematics, and this old bone in the mathematics department has to reach out first."

"But she applied for physics!" Professor Wen deftly put his glasses back on, his tone half-serious, half-joking. "The rule of admitting top students to the physics department has been established for a long time. Old Wang, don't try to steal her from me!"

Professor Wang laughed heartily: "No fighting, no fighting. The students choose for themselves. We just provide the platform, we don't force any pairings."

Everyone looked at each other and smiled, and the atmosphere relaxed.

On Monday, the exam papers were distributed to the students one after another.

Xiao Yao had anticipated this, and as soon as the results were in hand, they matched almost perfectly with the scores he had repeatedly simulated in the space.

What truly struck him was the answers from other people's papers—

Looking at individual subjects, he had several students who tied with or even surpassed him; and those with higher total scores were clearly Wang Yutong and Qian Wentao.

"So even geniuses have strengths and weaknesses?" Xiao Yao was stunned, somewhat incredulous.

He had secretly assumed he would be at the bottom, but when he looked up, he found that third place was already right there on his forehead.

"Don't get cocky." The system's voice suddenly popped out, "They don't have the time you spend drilling into the space every day to tackle problems, nor do they have the convenience of listening to the AI's chapter-by-chapter explanations in advance—the starting line is not even. What you win is not intelligence, but time, investment, and the hard work you've put in. They started late, and they still have a long way to go."

Xiao Yao felt a chill run down his spine and immediately realized that he had almost been blinded by the score and forgotten that there were always higher mountains to climb.

Once the results were announced, the atmosphere in the class subtly shifted – everyone had a sense of the situation: the overall level was actually very close, with only minor differences; however, the nine specially admitted students clearly excelled in one subject and were unwilling to admit defeat to each other.

During breaks, you laugh at him for confusing mechanics formulas, and he mocks you for getting confused by matrix operations; even back in the dorm at night, you're still exchanging barbs, you throw out a wave equation, and I respond with an eigenvalue decomposition, making it as lively as a debate.

On Tuesday during class, Professor Gao suddenly brought up the topic of class officer elections.

Why did it take so long? Because we were afraid that if we didn't recommend candidates before the results were released, these proud and arrogant teenagers would flip the table on the spot—now that the scores are set in stone, some are convinced, some are resigned to their fate, and it's all perfectly reasonable.

Xiao Yao was the first to raise his hand in support of Wang Yutong: "He's the perfect class monitor. He's reliable, down-to-earth, quick-witted, and excellent in every way."

Wang Yutong immediately waved her hand: "No, no, no, I really can't."

"Why?" Qian Wentao asked, tilting his head.

"I'm too busy, I don't even have enough time to read, how can I dare to be distracted and manage things?" His voice was not loud, but it was very honest. "Besides... if I really let me manage this bunch of clowns, I'm afraid I'd break down on the first day."

Ji Fengnan clicked the abacus beads, making a clattering sound: "But in the current situation, besides you, who else can hold the line? Come on, let me calculate your chances of being elected—"