Chapter 1: Spring Mud Further Protects the Flowers

"How many times in life can one struggle? If not now, when?"

On the podium, a middle-aged man with a semi-bald head was spraying saliva everywhere as he gave a college entrance exam pep talk: "Students, in the near future, would you rather smile while sweating, or be sad while shedding tears?"

"The third year of high school is about to pass! Since preschool, your more than ten years of bitter study are about to face the final battle! Will you bloom into brilliant flowers, or fall into the dust and become a pile of mud? Will you choose to be a winner in life, or a loser of fate?"

Inside the classroom, on the large blackboard were written a few big characters: College Entrance Exam Countdown, 49 days!

And the head teacher Yang Lingang stood with his back to these characters full of urgency, his hands resting on the podium, his expression solemn, his mouth talking incessantly. Reflected by the early summer sunlight, his oily forehead seemed to be lined with a halo, making the eyes of the students below feel a wave of discomfort.

"Class monitor, share your own thoughts." Yang Lingang gave a light cough, opened his thermos to take a sip of tea, and then called on a student below to take over his speech.

A girl with a fresh ponytail stood up from her seat, her beautiful face instantly attracting the admiring gazes of 90% of the boys in the class. She pondered for a few seconds, and her voice, as clear as her temperament, rang out in the increasingly quiet classroom.

"Students, we are at the most important stage of our lives. Ahead is a road with many forks. In less than two months, we who have been classmates for three years will go our separate ways... It doesn't matter that we are taking different paths, but I hope everyone can think about whether the place this road ultimately leads to is the shore you yourselves want to reach?"

This girl was named Han Mei; she was not only the class beauty of the second class of the third year, but also the recognized goddess of the entire high school, and she was also shrouded in the glory of being a top student, making many admirers feel inferior.

Yang Lingang nodded with satisfaction, clapped his hands lightly twice, and nodded: "Well said." As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward another boy in the corner. He hesitated for a moment, but still said: "Zhang Wei, you say something too."

This thin, tall boy was once a model of a poor student, but that was in the past. For some unknown reason, his grades had improved rapidly after entering the third year of high school, and he could now be considered in the upper-middle tier of the class rankings.

Privately, it was rumored that Zhang Wei was dating Han Mei, but no one believed it... The reason lay not only in the fact that his grades were far inferior to Han Mei's, but also in the fact that Zhang Wei's "character was too poor." He was the type of person few people liked, yet not exactly hated, the kind that made people want to keep their distance.

Zhang Wei stood up at the sound, lowered his head to think for a moment, and said resolutely: "Teacher Yang is very right! But the ancients said it well: if one family laughs, another must cry. If someone is smiling while sweating, then someone must be sad while shedding tears. This is determined by the rules and is unavoidable. I hope everyone will not make any futile struggles!"

Hearing this, Yang Lingang nearly spat out a mouthful of tea: what the hell did he mean by futile struggles? In his heart, he secretly regretted letting this kid speak.

Only to hear Zhang Wei continue in that cadence-filled voice: "Some people bloom into flowers, and some must inevitably fall into the dust, but everyone need not be afraid. The ancients said it well: 'Turning into spring mud to further—protect—the flowers!'"

The forty-plus students in the class, whether they were top performers or at the very bottom, all felt a bit unwell upon hearing this...

Who the hell is making a futile struggle...

Damn your "the ancients said it well"! Damn your "spring mud to further protect the flowers"! You love to turn into mud, you go do it...

Zhang Wei was not yet finished, and said in a tone like he was reciting poetry: "So what if you're a winner in life? You don't understand the brilliance of a loser..."

"Cough, cough... Alright, sit down." Yang Lingang coughed up a tea leaf from his throat and hurriedly waved his hand to stop Zhang Wei from continuing. But seeing the students below whispering to each other, he immediately understood that the inspirational-style mobilization he had painstakingly crafted today was a total waste. He couldn't help but stomp his feet and sigh: What a disaster!

The bell for the end of school rang, and Yang Lingang dragged the class for another ten minutes before announcing the end of the lesson. All the students packed their textbooks and rushed out as if relieved of a burden, impatiently pouring into the flow of people heading toward the school gate, but two students slowed their pace and walked unhurriedly.

Zhang Wei had originally been unable to endure the hunger in his stomach and wished he could go home early to eat, but after seeing Han Mei give him a look, he walked at the back of the crowd with a tacit understanding.

The two did indeed have a bit of an ambiguous relationship, only no one had brought it out into the open.

By the time the students near the school gate had mostly dispersed, Zhang Wei walked into a milk tea shop not far away. He scanned the area and saw a familiar silhouette sitting in a dim corner.

"I say, couldn't we have picked a different place? This milk tea shop is too stingy; they can't even spare an extra light." Zhang Wei put down his schoolbag and picked up a bottle of milk tea prepared on the table, drinking it with a gulping sound.

Han Mei had her hair draped down; if you didn't look closely, you really wouldn't recognize her. Hearing this, she rolled her eyes at him: "This is called atmosphere, classmate Zhang Wei."

"Girls are just precocious," Zhang Wei muttered.

Although Han Mei was already used to the way he couldn't speak a word of sense, her face still felt hot. Fortunately, the light was too dim to tell. She didn't say anything for the moment, silently holding the warm cup in her hands, not knowing what she was thinking.

"Zhang Wei..." There was a rare hint of hesitation in the girl's tone.

"Hmm?"

"... I have something to tell you, you are not allowed to tell anyone else."

"Go ahead."

Han Mei struggled for a moment before saying it: "This year's school recommendation quota, I have one."

"That's not surprising," Zhang Wei blinked and said strangely.

Rong University Fu Yi High School had a large number of recommendation quotas for direct admission to universities every year. As for how these quotas were operated and how they were ultimately distributed, this was something many people knew in their hearts.

This was also the reason why many parents would risk their lives to squeeze their children in.

Zhang Wei was equally clear that with the foundation of Han Mei's family, getting a recommendation quota was not a difficult thing.

But the girl opposite him lowered her head and said nothing, her long bangs covering both cheeks, like an elf in the darkness.

Seeing her like this, Zhang Wei's heart stirred, and he blurted out: "Could it be Tsinghua or Peking University?"

Han Mei nodded.

Zhang Wei couldn't help but sigh: "That's heartbreaking, old Han. I find my imagination is still a bit low... Just how rich is your family?"

After several mock exams, Han Mei could cross that line eight or nine times out of ten, but if you didn't perform well in the actual exam, even if you had the foundation to get into Harvard, it would be useless. But getting a school recommendation quota was different; as long as you didn't sabotage yourself, everything was set.

"That's not what I wanted to say..."

"I know, I know." Zhang Wei finished the last sip of milk tea and smacked his lips, still wanting more: "You want my blessing and send-off, right?"

Han Mei kept a cold face and didn't speak, her bright eyes staring at him quietly in the darkness.

Zhang Wei smiled bitterly in his heart. How could he not know what Han Mei meant?

China's top institution of higher learning—with his previous grades, he had been qualified to look forward to it, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get into this famous high school. But a change two years ago destroyed all of that—following the passing of his last close relative, he truly became an orphan, and his grades plummeted along with it.

By the time he woke up from his stupor and started to catch up, it was a bit too late—now, with his grades, it was possible to use this remaining time to fight for a 985 university, but Tsinghua or Peking University were out of the question.

His meager financial resources were also not enough to support him in repeating a year. The summons from Tsinghua Garden and Weiming Lake could only become a dream of the past.