Don't underestimate the poor and elderly; I was thrilled to refuse the class beauty's adva

Zhang Rongshan had just hung up the phone with Professor Hu from Peking University and hadn't even had time to put his phone back on the coffee table when the doorbell rang.

He opened the door, and there were two people standing there, one wearing a navy blue polo shirt and the other wearing a dark gray shirt.

They each wore their school badges on their chests, one from Tsinghua University and the other from Peking University.

The two wore identical professional smiles, nodded to each other, and in the instant their eyes met, it was as if two knives had silently clashed in the air.

Before Zhang Rongshan could even say "Please come in," he caught a glimpse of several more people coming up into the hallway.

Students from Zhejiang University, Fudan University, and Shanghai Jiao Tong University arrived one after another, each clutching a stack of brochures and their foreheads glistening with sweat from their journey.

They all obviously got their addresses from the provincial admissions office and came straight here.

In the living room, the brochures from various schools were stacked on the coffee table like study materials on a desk before the college entrance examination.

Professor Zhou from Tsinghua University spoke first, laying out the conditions one by one:

Combined Bachelor's, Master's, and Doctoral programs, any major you choose, full scholarships, Beijing residency eligibility, a special award of 200,000 RMB for outstanding freshmen from the President, independent dormitory, and a monthly living allowance of 5,000 RMB.

He glanced at Professor Hu from Peking University every time he announced a number, as if to say, "Can you keep up?"

Professor Hu from Peking University calmly chimed in, saying that Peking University could offer the same terms.

Then he changed the subject: "We'll add an extra 150,000 yuan to the new student research start-up fund. There are no restrictions on its use. You can use it to buy equipment, books, or start a business. Spend it however you like."

After saying that, he leaned back in his chair, meaning it was his turn.

A teacher from Fudan University seized the opportunity to mention, "Our Shanghai residency policy has also been relaxed this year, and we also offer two overseas academic exchange opportunities per year, with airfare and accommodation all included."

The professor from Zhejiang University followed up by saying, "Our entrepreneurship subsidies in Hangzhou are among the best in the country. If you register a company while you are in school, you will receive 100,000 yuan in start-up capital directly, and the school will also help you find investors."

Just as the teacher from Jiaotong University was about to speak, he heard that Tsinghua University and Peking University had already announced the figures for their cash rewards.

He glanced down at the brochure in his hand, then looked up at the two families across the street, both looking determined to win. He silently placed the brochure at the bottom of the coffee table, picked up his teacup, took a sip of water, and decided to maintain his composure.

Zhang Rongshan and Liu Guilan sat on the sofa, barely daring to breathe.

Zhang Rongshan rubbed his hands back and forth on his knees, then rubbed his right hand after rubbing his left hand, and then his left hand after rubbing his right hand.

He had lived half his life, and for the first time, he was sitting in his own living room, listening to a group of professors from top universities—people he only ever saw on TV—competing to win over his son by offering six-figure scholarships, a Beijing residency permit, and a combined bachelor's, master's, and doctoral program.

He felt like he was dreaming, but he didn't dare pinch his thigh, afraid of losing face in front of so many important people.

Liu Guilan was slightly better than him; at least outwardly she served tea to all the teachers, though her hand trembled a little while pouring and she almost spilled water on the Jiaotong University teacher's pants.

Zhang Yifan sat in the middle, listening to the requirements of each university one by one, his expression remaining unchanged throughout.

He nodded and said the same thing to all the teachers: "Thank you, teachers. I will consider it carefully and give you an answer as soon as possible."

His tone was polite yet firm, as if he were simply signing for a package.

The university teachers exchanged glances, knowing that none of them could win the province's top spot today, so they could only leave their brochures and politely take their leave.

In the corridor, Professor Zhou from Tsinghua University leaned close to Professor Hu from Peking University, lowering his voice to probe, "Professor Hu, how much is your freshman scholarship actually? Are you hiding something?"

Professor Hu from Peking University adjusted his glasses and calmly steered the conversation back on track: "Tell me first, how much scholarship money can Tsinghua University actually offer? I heard that Tsinghua University has cut its budget quite a bit this year, so it's not going to be paid in installments, is it?"

The two were still testing each other when a Zhejiang University professor's voice came from behind: "Hey, I just want to ask, who was holding Zhang Yifan's phone the whole time? We from Zhejiang University tried calling several times, but the line was always busy. We couldn't even get through to his dad—"

The Fudan University teacher quickly chimed in, "We can't get through either! We've been trying since 9 PM, and it's always busy. Who the hell is moving so fast?"

Professor Zhou from Tsinghua University and Professor Hu from Peking University both felt a tightness in their anus at the same time.

The two looked at each other and in that instant, they reached a tacit understanding that required no words.

Teacher Zhou lowered her head and adjusted the school badge on her chest, while Teacher Hu took out her phone and pretended to check messages. The two of them quickened their pace and moved towards the stairwell, their backs stiff and their hearts filled with guilt.

"Hey... Teacher Zhou? Teacher Hu? Why are you two running? Are you blocking the line?"

The voice of a Zhejiang University professor caught up from behind.

The two had disappeared around the corner of the stairs, their footsteps hurried and disordered, as if they were fleeing the scene of a crime.

After the door closed, Zhang Rongshan leaned against the door panel, looked up at the ceiling, and let out a long breath.

He said he never imagined he would one day hear Qingda University and Kyoto University vying for his student right in front of him at home; he had only ever seen such scenes in the news before.

Liu Guilan picked up the stack of brochures on the coffee table and flipped through them one by one. Each one was printed with the names of universities she had only seen on TV, and every word on them seemed unreal.

She turned to the last page of the Tsinghua University book and saw a line of handwritten words on it.

"Zhang Yifan, we are very sincere and look forward to your call anytime."

She read the line of text several times, then looked up and asked Zhang Yifan which one he planned to apply for.

Zhang Yifan said he knew what he was doing.

He picked up his phone, turned around, and went back to his bedroom.

"Hey... so many teachers just left, aren't you going to talk to me and your dad about this?"

Liu Guilan called out to his retreating figure.

"Let him go, he knows what he's doing." Zhang Rongshan stood up, walked to the coffee table and flipped through the stack of brochures. "We don't know anything about these things. Tsinghua University and Peking University are just schools we see on TV. Let him make his own decision."

Liu Guilan glared at him, as if to say, "You're such a carefree father."

But she didn't say anything more. She just opened and closed the Tsinghua University brochure, and then enthusiastically started looking at the next brochure.

Shen Zhiyi's message had been sent to the screen for quite a while.

"I lost. What are your demands?"

He didn't reply to that message; he simply dialed the number.

Shen Zhiyi answered very quickly, as if she had been waiting all along.

She held the phone in her hand, turning it over and over for a long time, and as soon as the screen lit up, she pressed the answer button.

She described the scene of being besieged by the admissions office today, mentioning that one admissions officer, in an attempt to get close to her father, spent more than ten minutes chatting with him about fishing.

But her dad didn't fish at all; he just kept mumbling and humming in response.

Zhang Yifan smiled and recounted the battle situation on his side.

After he finished speaking, he was silent for a moment, and then he said:

"I haven't decided on the terms yet."

Shen Zhiyi was stunned.

"I'll owe you for now, and I'll let you know when I've thought it through."

Shen Zhiyi was silent for a moment, then said okay.

She then asked about her major, and Zhang Yifan said he would consider her choices.

After hanging up the phone, she turned over, buried her face in the pillow, and couldn't suppress the smile on her lips.

He kept thinking about what kind of conditions he would propose.

She sat up and lay back down, clutching her pillow, deciding to put the issue aside for now and ask him in person.