Chapter 3: This is a Perfectly Winning Game

“Only our class is causing chaos in the hallway—I heard the noise from the stairs. Only sixty days left until the college entrance exam, and look at any other senior class—any of them making this much noise? Don’t even know your own surname anymore.”

Liu Ying walked around the classroom, finished reciting her incantation, then continued: “I understand you’re under pressure, but remember—pressure is also motivation. Years from now, when you dream of this day, you’ll realize it was the time you worked hardest for yourself.”

Ignoring the teacher’s platitudes, Xu Qingzhou took out his comprehensive science exam paper and slowly scanned it.

As shown, a sufficiently long horizontal conveyor belt moves steadily leftward at a speed of v = 3 m/s. On it rests a small wooden box A with mass m = 2 kg; the coefficient of kinetic friction between A and the belt is μ = 0.3. Initially, A remains stationary relative to the belt.

Δt = 3 s, two smooth objects each with mass m = 1 kg—Xu Qingzhou glanced and calculated the answer in his mind.

Solving this requires the conservation of energy, Newton’s second law, v1 = 3 m/s, s = 7.5 m, t0 = 0.5 s. After reading through the entire problem, he saw only two words—simple.

I got this simple question wrong?

But the two women across from him were staring at him? The one on the left—a girl, beautiful, seventeen or eighteen, with the typical high schooler’s ponytail. Her ordinary uniform somehow radiated an ultimate youthful beauty. Merely standing there, everything around her seemed to fade.

Read!

Xu Qingzhou kept shaking his head. What he most wanted right now was to go home and see his parents.

Hearing these remarks, Xu Qingzhou wasn’t surprised the guy had turned into a lapdog.

Too hasty—this body’s never smoked.

The other one—Ding Jiahui.

“Get lost.”

“I want to go home.”

Xu Qingzhou strolled slowly, passing two streets, then stopped before a newsstand, pulling out twenty yuan from his pocket.

The first puff nearly choked him.

The classroom was quiet. Xu Qingzhou sat blankly through two classes, his emotions tangled—sometimes regretting he hadn’t even enjoyed his glory, sometimes feeling fate had been kind, giving him a fresh start.

Xu Qingzhou suddenly felt a moment of clarity.

This cigarette habit must be quit!

Xu Qingzhou slipped a first-year Chinese textbook into his bag and walked out of the classroom amid Guo Zi’s rambling.

“Fine, I’ll go myself. Tomorrow, remember to call me Silver Dad.”

It felt like a max-level expert returning to the beginner village.

The idea of reincarnation was too surreal. Looking at the familiar yet slightly alien streets, and thinking he’d soon meet his young parents, that indescribable emotion surged again.

At 9:35 p.m., the dismissal bell rang. At Nancheng High, boarders must stay for the final evening self-study; day students may go home.

That motion—clearly an old smoker.

“Besides, Zhang Yuxin only said she didn’t want to date in high school—there’s still college.”

I lit it already. Might as well finish it.

“Huh～cough cough~”

Xu Qingzhou paused, looked down at his uniform, then understood and smiled casually: “Brought it for my dad.”

They parted at the fork in the road.

The dictation’s only six points—don’t need it, but better if I get it.

At this time, the roads and surrounding neighborhoods hadn’t been renovated; everywhere were old black walls, yet the sidewalks were clean, with none of the shared bikes that would later clutter them.

He only recovered by the third class. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t good at biology, but solving these exam problems with existing knowledge was like using an anti-aircraft gun to shoot mosquitoes.

Xu Qingzhou rummaged through his memory, finally matching the name.

Song Yao? He vaguely remembered—she’d done well back then, admitted to Jingda with the second-highest science score in the school.

Xu Qingzhou exhaled a plume of smoke, his gaze passing through the drifting wisps, observing students walking by—groups of two or three, laughing and chatting.

Song Yao gave Xu Qingzhou a cold, disdainful glance, then pulled Ding Jiahui away.

If word of smoking reached his parents, he might get a double beating.

Forget everything else—this lifetime, he must cherish his body.

Two streets from Wutong Community, he stopped before a trash bin, deciding to finish the cigarette before walking on, to avoid running into someone he knew.

“Boss, one pack of Hongtashan, and a lighter.” The old man stared at Xu Qingzhou, unmoving.

He planned to smoke one cigarette first, to calm down.

No frequent urination, no back pain, no blurred vision—youthful bodies are great.

Xu Qingzhou stared at the Hongtashan between his fingers, frowning slightly.

In his past life, every physics problem involved complex, massive calculations—quantum mechanics governed particles in the microscopic world, and chemical reactions were macroscopic results of countless particle behaviors.

“I always thought he was honest, but who knew Xu Qingzhou was like this?” Ding Jiahui fired off like a machine gun: “Heard he got rejected. Boys are so childish—give up, think smoking makes them cool?”

Students passing by saw Xu Qingzhou smoking in uniform and instinctively avoided him—in middle schoolers’ minds, only delinquents smoked.

Perhaps because Xu Qingzhou looked honest, not like he was faking, the old man nodded and handed him the cigarettes and lighter.

“Zhouzi, it’s just a rejection, right? What’s most important in chasing girls? Persistence! Rejection doesn’t mean they don’t like you—maybe it’s just not the right time.”

!.

Chattering all the way out the school gate, the guy finally remembered his real goal and grinned: “Zhouzi, internet cafe? We’ll team up—tonight we’re going Silver!”

Like this line: “When the accumulation of water is not deep, _______________.”

Youth is wonderful—boundless hope lies ahead.

In the old man’s stunned gaze, Xu Qingzhou took the cigarettes and lighter, skillfully tore open the pack, and elegantly pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips.

The only slightly challenging subject was Chinese—he usually scored around 90.

Xu Qingzhou tested his Chinese level: reading comprehension wasn’t hard—thirty-odd years of experience helped—but dictation? He was terrible.

“Balance work and rest—tell your mom you’re studying at school,” Guo Ziye tempted. He noticed his best friend had been distracted all night—the best cure for heartbreak was dominating the Rift.

No matter how you looked at it, for Xu Qingzhou, this was a completely winning game.

All three evening classes were Chinese—assigned to do exercises.

“Guys like this deserve to be single!”

Song Yao said nothing—or rather, showed no interest. Over three years of high school, she and Xu Qingzhou had no interaction; even when they met on campus, he always kept his head down. By that standard, they weren’t even acquaintances.

Honest guy? Hearing Ding Jiahui’s words, Xu Qingzhou chuckled silently. Compared to “asshole,” “honest guy” sounded more like an insult.

He took a few puffs. Maybe because he only wanted to satisfy the craving, by the time the cigarette burned down a third, he found it tasteless, crushed the butt, tossed it into the bin, and walked toward Wutong Community.

(End of chapter)