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Chapter 103: The Magazine Editors Arrive
"Poor me, no morning exercises today," Liu Wen sighed. Unlike most students who dreaded the early drills, Liu Wen looked forward to them. Surviving in the Experimental Class was no small feat; every trip to the bathroom had to be meticulously planned.
It wasn’t an exaggeration—students in the Experimental Class were a breed apart, but only within their own ranks. Things were even more intense in the Qingbei Class, where students either possessed extraordinary talent or were relentless overachievers. Their academic progress outpaced other classes by leaps and bounds.
For Liu Wen, morning exercises offered the sole opportunity for fresh air each day. The truth was, he felt utterly devoid of academic aptitude. Every day felt like standing on shaky ground, clinging desperately to keep up. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to burden his parents with his struggles. They were ordinary laborers, working tirelessly to fund his education. Facing their sacrifices, Liu Wen swallowed his complaints.
Many students at No. 8 High School carried similar burdens—the weight of their elders’ expectations—but fortunately, most managed to stay afloat.
Today’s morning exercises had been canceled due to yesterday’s rain, which left puddles on the school grounds.
Perhaps it was the terrain, but Chongqing’s schools often struggled with drainage issues. Even No. 37 Middle School faced similar problems with waterlogged playgrounds.
"Good students... Do such excellent students suffer more?"
Liu Wen glanced at the interview plan sent by Zhang Liwan, a core member of the Time Radio Station. The plan detailed an upcoming interview with Gu Lu, the freshman writer.
Staring at Gu Lu’s profile, Liu Wen couldn’t help but marvel at how someone could juggle academics and writing. It must be exhausting.
As the president of the Time Radio Station, Liu Wen—a senior in the Experimental Class—was technically set to step down next semester. But honestly, he wanted to hand over the reins as soon as possible.
Meanwhile, Gu Lu, the so-called "excellent student" Liu Wen admired, was grappling with his own minor dilemma: Was it possible that some people were simply born without any talent for mathematics and science?
Time marched into early winter. The monthly exams had just concluded, and results were yet to be released. A restless tension hung in the air across the entire school.
Even during breaks, conversations revolved around grades. As the saying went, “Grades, grades, they’re life’s roots.”
The first monthly exam results would determine the flow of students between the Experimental and Parallel Classes. However, Class 10, focused on competitions, remained exempt from such transfers. Still, grades dictated seating arrangements, ensuring everyone felt the pressure. Even Wei Litong, the prankster extraordinaire, and Zeng Jie, whose mouth always moved faster than his brain, were behaving themselves.
Though perhaps Wei Litong’s newfound restraint stemmed less from exam stress and more from his recent parental summons.
In Gu Lu’s opinion, being called out by one’s parents packed quite the emotional punch, its effects lasting at least two weeks!
The only notable news in Class 10 was Lu Yi’s haircut. Her thick bangs were gone, replaced by a slightly tousled side-swept style that revealed her eyes for the first time.
Yet, rather than gaining confidence, Lu Yi appeared even more timid. Like a stray cat, she flinched at the slightest disturbance, darting away at the faintest sign of trouble.
After two days of mounting anxiety, the exam results finally arrived!
"Lu Yi—Literature: 138, Math: 150, English: 148..." Ms. Gao began reading aloud, starting with the highest scores.
Since elementary school, teachers had loved announcing grades publicly. Perhaps it was meant to honor top performers while motivating underachievers.
But Ms. Gao, ever the considerate homeroom teacher, stopped after reaching Dou Ke, ranked twenty-sixth. "I’ll leave the rest for you to collect yourselves."
One by one, unmentioned students approached the podium to retrieve their test papers.
"Your English scores have room for improvement," Ms. Gao remarked to one student. To another: "Always double-check your answers—you lost points on avoidable mistakes." And to yet another: "Your essay strayed off-topic. Stop trying to be overly clever."
When Gu Lu stepped up, Ms. Gao handed him his papers, pausing for a moment before speaking. "Your Literature score is impressive, especially your essay. Keep it up."
"Thank you, Teacher," Gu Lu replied, returning to his seat.
"What’s your total score?" Tian Xiao, his desk mate, whispered while shielding his own paper.
"See for yourself—" Gu Lu slid the Literature paper toward him.
Out of 150 points, Gu Lu had scored 132, with full marks on the essay.
"Wow, a perfect essay!" Tian Xiao exclaimed. "‘Relying Solely on Effort, an Iron Rod Can’t Be Ground Into a Needle.’ Just reading the title makes my head spin—I wouldn’t know where to start."
["An iron rod can become a needle if effort is deep enough"—a tale allegedly about Li Bai. However, this story doesn’t appear in Li Bai’s own writings or those of his relative Li Yangbing.
Wild histories aren’t always true, but they’re certainly vivid. In reality, grinding an iron rod into a needle has little to do with sheer perseverance.]
"Wait, the iron rod story is fake?" Tian Xiao gasped. "We’ve been taught since elementary school that with determination, anything is possible!"
"Seventy to eighty percent of it is fabricated," Gu Lu explained. "Li Yangbing never mentioned it."
"Who’s Li Yangbing? Li Bai’s son?" Tian Xiao’s tone implied skepticism.
"Li Yangbing was Li Bai’s cousin and a devoted admirer. His work, Preface to the Grass Hut Collection, is the most important historical source on Li Bai’s life and poetry. On his deathbed, Li Bai entrusted all his works to Li Yangbing."
Tian Xiao nodded, unfazed. After all, wasn’t it normal for writers to know obscure facts?
"Didn’t Li Bai die trying to scoop the moon’s reflection?" Wei Jiao chimed in from behind.
"Well, actually..."
"I don’t care. Everyone knows Li Bai died drunk while fishing for the moon," Wei Jiao interrupted.
"You’re right," Gu Lu conceded. He understood that the romanticized version of the poet’s death suited public imagination better.
Wei Jiao beamed—until Ms. Gao scolded her for whispering during class. With all the test papers distributed, her chatter stood out starkly.
---
Next period was Math, taught by Mr. Lu, whose stern voice filled the room. Many students still hadn’t fully grasped the material from the unit he’d just covered.
"These questions were free points! Why are there still mistakes?" Mr. Lu barked.
"Take out your papers. I’ll explain them one last time."
The entire class focused intently...
KNOCK KNOCK. The sound echoed through the quiet classroom.
Classroom doors were closed during lessons, only partially open during breaks—even with the air conditioning running.
Mr. Lu frowned. Who dared interrupt his class? Striding briskly to the door, he swung it open.
"Mr. Hu? What brings you here?" Mr. Lu’s tone softened instantly.
Sure enough, it was Mr. Hu, the director of admissions, sporting his signature squinty-eyed grin.
The admissions office wielded significant power, let alone its director. Mr. Lu knew better than to antagonize him.
"Sorry to disturb your class, Mr. Lu," Mr. Hu said politely.
"We’re reviewing test papers, but no harm done," Mr. Lu replied curtly.
Mr. Hu ignored the sarcasm. Everyone knew Mr. Lu's blunt demeanor earned him enemies throughout the school.
"I’m looking for Gu Lu," Mr. Hu announced. Turning to Gu Lu, he added, "Come with me. An editor-in-chief from a magazine has come specifically to see you."
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