Chapter 87

*Campus IF Line — “Dating”*
Admission letters were delivered one after another into each student’s hands. A few classmates stayed in-province. Liu Chengcheng ran off to Harbor City to study finance, and the class monitor also got into Harbor City University.
Jiang Mingyi went abroad to study. Almost everyone had fixed their direction for the future—only Qin Sang still hadn’t received her admission notice.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t get in?” Qin Dahai worried aloud.
Qin Sang couldn’t muster any spirit either. When she filled out her preferences, she’d hesitated too—after all, with her scores, getting into Jingbei University was risky.
Wen Shuyu smacked Qin Dahai. He got the hint and, seeing his daughter’s listless face, tried to comfort her. “It’s fine. There’s still time, isn’t there? Maybe the letter will come in a couple days. Don’t worry.”
He said that, but in truth he had no confidence either.
Two more days passed—still nothing. Seeing that almost everyone in the class group chat had received their admission letters, Qin Sang couldn’t sit still.
Even if she didn’t make Jingbei University, she should have slid down to her second choice. She felt she’d performed steadily—maybe even better than usual. Logically, there was no reason she’d still have zero news.
She watched the group chat buzzing. Some classmates who’d been admitted to the same city were inviting each other to go report to campus together.
Qin Sang felt hollow. She tapped in and glanced around—Xie Yuncheng’s account wasn’t online.
Tsinghua seemed to have an off-campus aerospace extension program. Xie Yuncheng had already gone ahead to participate. Before they separated, she’d even gone to the airport to see him off. He’d squeezed her hand and said with a smile, “I’ll wait for you in the capital.”
Qin Sang’s shoulders slumped. There was still no word on her letter. She didn’t even know whether she could really make it to the capital for college.
She thought about it, couldn’t hold back, and sent a message.
Sanyou: 【What if I can’t come to the capital?】
Xie Yuncheng was doing research and looking up materials.
It turned out he wasn’t offline—he was invisible to avoid unnecessary trouble. He replied quickly; his QQ avatar flashed.
【So little confidence?】
Qin Sang sighed.
【I think I got bumped out. Everyone got their admission letters, and I still don’t have mine.】
【What if I didn’t get admitted? Then I can’t come to the capital (crying)】
The chat window showed “typing…” and after a moment, she received his reply.
【It’s okay. I’ll come see you.】
Qin Sang was puzzled—how would he come see her?
Down in the courtyard, it suddenly turned lively, as if many people were talking. She padded to the window in slippers and looked down. The yard, usually quiet, was suddenly full of people.
“Congratulations, congratulations,” the neighborhood office director said with a beaming smile. “Old Qin, your daughter is truly impressive.”
Qin Dahai was so excited he could barely speak a full sentence.
Wen Shuyu called Qin Sang downstairs. At first she was still in a haze, until that bright red admission letter was placed into her hands.
“Sang-sang, congratulations.”
Qin Sang still couldn’t believe it. Dazed, she thought she had to be dreaming.
She got in?
She really got into Jingbei University?!
Her eyes stung. Hot tears surged out at once.
“I’m not dreaming, am I?”
“Of course not. Sang-sang, you’re the only senior this year from Ningjiang who got into Jingbei University.”
…
Later Qin Sang learned the reason it had been delayed so many days: when EMS delivered it, it was sent to the town center. The neighborhood office had gotten wind of it too—they knew that this year, Ningjiang had produced a student admitted to Jingbei.
In a small county like Ningjiang, plenty of students crossed the first-tier cutoff every year, and some got into key universities. But someone who could go all the way to the capital—to Jingbei University—was extremely rare.
The neighborhood office beat gongs and drums as they delivered the letter, making a huge fuss. Hearing that this poor, remote little county had actually produced a “golden phoenix” who flew out, everyone around them felt happy for her.
And that wasn’t all. Qin Sang was also Jingcheng’s liberal-arts top scorer this year. Her humanities scores were outstanding; she’d taken first place. Both Ningjiang’s and Jingcheng’s local TV stations wanted to interview her, this single-subject champion.
The good news spread instantly. In the class group chat, classmates flooded in with congratulations.
The class monitor said, “Isn’t our class insane this year? Both the liberal-arts and science top scorers are in our class. Maybe we’ll become a legend at No. 1 High.”
This year’s liberal-arts top scorer was Qin Sang; the science top scorer was Tong Junjie.
In past years, the experimental class had produced single-subject top scorers too, but having both arts and sciences in the same year was rare.
But even though Qin Sang was the liberal-arts top scorer, the buzz could never beat the science top scorer. Tong Junjie’s raw score was 725—science #1 and the overall gaokao top scorer. Both Tsinghua and Peking had offered him spots, but for some reason he rejected both and went to Harbor City University instead.
Liu Chengcheng said, “It’s not that surprising. Harbor City University offered a one-million scholarship to poach him. Plus he wanted to go into finance, and HKU’s FAME has natural advantages. Weighing it out, HKU was more attractive. But I bet the real reason he didn’t want to go to the capital is that he didn’t want to be God Xie’s schoolmate again—you know what I mean. The academic rep really hates being called ‘eternal second place.’ Even now, people at school still say that if God Xie hadn’t been recommended early, this year’s gaokao top scorer probably wouldn’t have been him.”
Tong Junjie and Xie Yuncheng were in the same class; being compared was unavoidable. And with Tong Junjie always being pressed down by Xie Yuncheng, he probably hated him to the bone.
Liu Chengcheng said, “Anyway—Sang-sang, congratulations on getting into Jingbei like you wanted. Your three years of getting up before dawn and studying your ass off weren’t for nothing.”
No one was surprised Qin Sang became the liberal-arts top scorer. How hard she’d worked later on was obvious to everyone.
She knew she wasn’t smart, so she could only work twice as hard and spend more time reviewing.
Her first mock exam results weren’t great; by the second and third mocks, her scores began to rise steadily.
Her gaokao essay was the only perfect-score essay in the whole nation, and it was now being used as a model and circulated widely.
Qin Sang seemed to become famous overnight. From this small place, she was heading to a wider world. Almost everyone was watching her next move—but unfortunately, she declined every media interview request. Aside from a class group photo that got dug up, the internet could hardly find any personal information about her.
That year, Qin Sang inexplicably became “the prettiest top scorer” in netizens’ mouths. That class photo was reposted like crazy and went viral across the 2014 internet.
Along with her, the boy behind her—Xie Yuncheng—was also dug up, and many No. 1 High students came out to share gossip.
“This one is a real god-tier student. He was #1 on the honor roll every year. Later he got special recommendation, and now he’s at Tsinghua. Oh—and these two have a very close relationship.”
How close? Netizens were curious.
But they got their answer quickly.
That hazy, youthful affection between a boy and a girl transformed into upward momentum. Not only did it not make them slack off or collapse—it made them become better people for each other.
One was recommended into Tsinghua; the other chased upward too, improving at a shocking speed—becoming this year’s liberal-arts top scorer and being admitted to Jingbei University.
【So the thing that ruins grades isn’t “puppy love”—it’s whether the other person is good enough.】
【Waaah, why didn’t I have a god helping me tutor and review back then? I want to get into Jingbei too!】
【Whatever. I’m blind. I can’t see.】
…
No matter what people said, Qin Sang didn’t pay attention—couldn’t afford to.
Before school started, Qin Dahai wanted to buy her a new phone, but she refused. Smiling, she said, “Why replace it? The phone isn’t broken. It still works.”
Qin Dahai insisted, “No. You got into university—Dad wanted to give you a graduation gift. You don’t want anything, and now you won’t even change your phone. If you take that thing to school and your classmates look down on you, what then?”
Qin Sang didn’t care. “Dad, I really don’t care about that. And if someone looks down on me because of this, then they’re not worth me trying to please. I’m going to study, not to show off.”
Qin Dahai’s heart softened. He shoved a bank card into her hands anyway. “Alright. If you won’t change it, then don’t. Take this card. The password is your birthday. This is your lucky money over the years—your mom and I saved it for you. There should be a few tens of thousands. Take it. You’ll be alone out of town—don’t be too frugal. If you run out, tell Dad. And also…”
Qin Dahai tried to hold back, but couldn’t. “That brat—you can’t let him sweet-talk you. Men are all bad. Don’t believe their nonsense, you hear?”
Qin Sang laughed so hard her shoulders shook. “Dad, you’re a man too. Why are you attacking your own kind?”
“That’s different,” Qin Dahai protested. “Dad won’t hurt you. Those slick-tongued brats are different—full of tricks. You can’t fall for it.”
Qin Sang laughed until her cheeks were red. After Qin Dahai left, the room suddenly felt empty. Outside the window, the moonlight was clear. Under her quilt, hugging that brown teddy bear she’d regained, she secretly messaged him.
【The moonlight is really beautiful tonight.】
【I kind of miss you, Little Bear.】
【See you tomorrow (heehee).】
…
Tsinghua started earlier. And this year their aerospace institute had an additional extension program, so Xie Yuncheng arrived on campus ahead of time.
Their institute admitted few students each year. The major wasn’t especially popular either, so resources were relatively tight. This year the graduate dorms were being renovated, and first-year grad students were moved into the undergrad dorms.
This extension program was led by the mentor of Zhou Yihong’s supervising professor. And because Zhou Yihong had been assigned to the undergrad dorms as well, he and Xie Yuncheng got to know each other.
Half a month into the semester, military training had ended. Zhou Yihong had arranged a mixer with girls from the neighboring department. He shouted into the dorm, “Tomorrow’s mixer—are you guys going or not?”
The dorm was a bunch of single guys. With that invitation, everyone said they were in.
Zhou Yihong cleared his throat and looked at Xie Yuncheng, who had just finished washing up. This junior had been the center of attention the moment he walked through the school gates; out of every ten girls who came to flirt, at least nine were there to ask about him.
“Uh, so…” Zhou Yihong said. “I set up a mixer with the girls from next door for tomorrow. You going?”
“No time.”
Xie Yuncheng’s hair tips were still damp. Holding his phone in one hand, he was replying to messages. His usually cool brows and eyes showed a faint, nearly invisible tenderness, giving Zhou Yihong goosebumps. Suspicious, he asked, “You’ve got other plans?”
“Mm.”
Xie Yuncheng put away his phone. He curved his lips slightly; between his brows and eyes there was a playful charm that could topple cities. His voice was lazy as he answered: “Picking up my girlfriend.”