He was a disabled military officer who doted on his research work in the Northwest.

Shen Yao's eyes reddened even more, and her lips trembled slightly, making her look like a heartbroken little rabbit.

Shen Tang withdrew her gaze, turned around, and walked into the Academic Affairs Office.

Zhao Jianhui's furious voice came from behind: "You ungrateful wretch—"

"Jianhui!" Shen Yao grabbed him and whispered, "Stop talking, people will laugh at us..."

She spoke in a voice that was neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for those around her to hear.

The gazes of several bystanders were indeed filled with sympathy—the object of their sympathy was, of course, Shen Yao, who looked aggrieved.

Shen Tang didn't even turn her head.

Inside the Academic Affairs Office, a middle-aged man with graying hair was drinking tea—Director Zhao of the Academic Affairs Office. He saw Shen Tang enter, looked up from the registration form, and sized her up.

Canvas bag, coarse cloth clothes, from the countryside.

His attitude immediately became more perfunctory.

"Shen Tang? A transfer student?" He flipped through the files on the table. "Yes, it's a note from the principal. Okay, you sit there and wait. You'll take the exam with the other transfer students in a bit."

After saying that, he ignored her.

Shen Tang found a chair and sat down.

After waiting for about ten minutes, the principal arrived.

The principal, surnamed Zhou, was in his early fifties, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a Zhongshan suit with worn-out cuffs. He had been working in education in this small northwestern city for over twenty years. With limited resources and students of varying abilities, his daily concern was how to help these children from the military region and factories learn more and secure a future for them.

He held the letter written by Mu Qinghan in his hand and glanced at Shen Tang.

He had read the letter and knew its weight. Commander Mu's influence was one thing, the student's actual level was another. A girl who had spent fifteen years in the countryside, going directly to high school—he genuinely wasn't confident.

"Shen Tang," Principal Zhou adjusted his glasses, carefully choosing his words, "I understand some of your situation. What was your experience attending school in the countryside before?"

Shen Yao, who had entered at some point, chimed in, "Principal, my sister... had a rather difficult childhood, and probably didn't get much formal education in the countryside. I'm not saying anything in particular, but I just feel..." She bit her lip, "...that directly putting her on a high school exam, wouldn't that be unfair to students with weaker foundations?"

These words were even more considerate than what was said at the door earlier.

Shen Tang rolled her eyes at her. "Whether it's fair or not is none of your business! Why are you everywhere? Who asked you? Are you afraid people will think you're mute if you don't speak up?"

"Sis... I didn't mean it, I just felt it wasn't right for you."

Hearing this, Principal Zhou hesitated. He looked at Shen Tang, then at Shen Yao, and pondered for a moment: "Well... if the gap in foundational knowledge is too large, it's not impossible to arrange for someone from junior high school first—"

"Principal." Shen Tang stood up.

Her gaze was calm and resolute. "Since I have a letter of introduction, I only need one chance. Set the exam at normal difficulty; if I don't pass, I'll leave on my own and won't trouble the school."

Principal Zhou looked at the young woman, her back straight, neither humble nor arrogant. There was no stubbornness or boastfulness in her eyes, only a firm and composed demeanor, something he had rarely seen in his more than twenty years of teaching.

Principal Zhou nodded involuntarily: "Alright. The test will be the same as the regular transfer test. One paper each for Chinese and Math, two hours. Prepare yourselves, we'll begin in half an hour."

……

The exam was scheduled in an empty classroom on the second floor.

Shen Tang and Shen Yao were assigned to the same classroom, sitting at desks one behind the other. The proctor was a young female teacher who looked like she had only graduated a couple of years ago; she was sitting on the podium flipping through a teaching reference book.

The test papers were handed out.

Shen Tang first reviewed the Chinese language section—basic questions, reading comprehension, classical Chinese translation, and composition.

You could answer that with your eyes closed.

Next, let's look at math—algebra, geometry, trigonometric functions, and finally, there's an extra question marked with an asterisk.

The bonus questions were indeed quite difficult for high school students, involving the combined application of functions and inequalities. But for an agricultural PhD who had done countless mathematical modeling exercises in his previous life—

Shen Tang silently calculated in her mind: it would take about four minutes.

She had originally intended to hide her talents and avoid attracting attention, hoping to get a decent score enough to get into school. But since she had run into Shen Yao today, she was determined to show her what it meant to look down on someone.

She picked up her pen and began answering the questions.

Shen Yao, sitting in the front row, was also writing furiously. She did have some basic knowledge—Director Zhao had paid someone to tutor her, so she could handle the basic questions, but she started to stumble on the slightly more challenging ones.

An hour later.

Shen Tang put down her pen.

She checked both the Chinese and math papers, made sure there were no careless mistakes, and then raised her hand to hand them in.

The proctor looked up at the clock on the wall—only half the time had passed.

She frowned. "Excuse me, there's still an hour left. Shall we check again?"

The tone clearly implied, "Did you give up because you didn't know how to do it?"

Shen Tang shook her head: "It's finished."

The proctor collected the papers with some skepticism and flipped through them—both papers were filled with neat and legible handwriting. She glanced at the last bonus question in math and paused, stunned—the solution had three fewer steps than the standard answer, but each derivation was flawless, as concise as a textbook example.

She looked up at Shen Tang.

Shen Tang had already left with her bag on her back.

Shen Yao, sitting in the front row, noticed Shen Tang leaving early and a slight smile played on her lips—just as she expected. Poor foundation is poor foundation; only those who can't write anything submit their work early.

She lowered her head and continued to grapple with the last two challenging questions.

The results came out at 2 PM.

Principal Zhou sat in his office with two exam papers spread out in front of him.

He's been watching for ten minutes now.

On the left is Shen Yao's test paper—78 in Chinese and 65 in Math. Average, passing is no problem, but nothing special. The bonus questions are blank.

On the right is Shen Tang's exam paper.

96 points in Chinese.

The four points deducted were due to a wording in the essay that the examiner deemed "too advanced"—it was about reflections on ecological construction in Northwest China. The examiner wrote a small note in red pen next to it: "Profound ideas and detailed arguments, but some terminology exceeds the scope of high school level." The implication was: It's too well written, too good for a high school student.

Math score: 103. Out of 100, with 3 points for the bonus questions. Not only did he get them all right, but the solution to the last bonus question was so concise that Principal Zhou had to read it twice to understand it.

Principal Zhou took off his glasses and rubbed his temples.

He had worked at the children's high school for twenty years and had seen smart and hardworking children, but he had never seen such a talented child.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Ma Decai pushed open the door and entered, a smile plastered on his face. He was the homeroom teacher of Class One, in his early forties, with his hair neatly combed and his shirt collar turned up straight. He looked like the kind of smooth-talking person who could "get along anywhere".

Behind him followed a woman—Sun Xiulan. The homeroom teacher of Class Two, forty-five or forty-six years old, not tall, with a serious face and lines at the corners of her mouth as if etched together year-round. She wore a gray-blue polyester top, faded but clean. She stood by the door after entering, not moving forward.

Ma Decai knew without asking that a transfer student would be assigned to a new class today—he had found out the news himself. Factory Director Zhao had informed the school beforehand, so he naturally knew that Shen Yao was coming.

"Principal, did the results for the two transfer students come out today?" Ma Decai rubbed his hands, glancing at the papers on the table. "That Shen Yao, I've looked into her; her foundation is pretty good, she's well-behaved, and her family is well-off. Put her in our class; I promise I'll take good care of her."

Principal Zhou glanced at him but didn't say anything.

"Director Zhao also mentioned it to me," Ma Decai added, his smile becoming even more solicitous. "The director said that Yao Yao needs proper guidance, and our class has a good learning atmosphere, which is perfect for her."

Sun Xiulan stood by the door, silent, her gaze sweeping indifferently over the papers on the table.

Principal Zhou flipped the two papers over and placed them face down on the table.

"There's another transfer student, Shen Tang," he said.

Ma Decai said "Oh": "Is that the one from the countryside?"

His tone carried an undisguised contempt.