When they heard Xue Jiao say her friend had arrived, Cheng Shuo and Li Sitong instinctively looked up.

Cheng Shuo glanced around but didn’t see anyone who appeared to be Xue Jiao’s friend.

However—

“Lin Zhihua!”

Cheng Shuo’s eyes brightened as he quickly walked over. “Hello, Boss Lin, I’m Cheng Shuo from Pengcheng.”

His unusual enthusiasm had two reasons. One was that he greatly admired Lin Zhihua.

The other was a normal but embarrassing reason—networking.

He knew that big bosses like Lin wouldn’t care about small companies like his, especially Lin Zhihua who was famously cold.

But Cheng Shuo thought it through: I’ll just make my presence known, I’m not expecting anything.

You might not like me, but you certainly won’t dislike me for it.

Since the company had moved to Beijing, they might have a chance to work on Lin’s projects in the future. Getting familiar now would only be beneficial.

Though Mingze and Xue Jiao said they wouldn’t need his financial support anymore, what father doesn’t want his children to live well?

For this goal, he still needed to work hard.

Even if it meant trying to please his idol.

In the past, Cheng Shuo would never have rushed over to greet someone at the airport like this.

Lin Zhihua was momentarily stunned, then seeing Xue Jiao’s embarrassed expression, he suddenly smiled.

“Hello, Uncle Cheng, I’m Lin Zhihua.”

Uncle Cheng?

For a moment, Cheng Shuo thought he had misheard.

Actually, given Lin Zhihua’s age, calling him uncle wasn’t inappropriate, but the key issue was Lin Zhihua’s status—how could someone like him call a small business owner “uncle”?

They weren’t related at all.

Cheng Shuo was still bewildered, even wondering if he was sleepwalking.

But Lin Zhihua’s next words hit him like lightning from a clear sky:

“I’m also Xue Jiao’s friend.”

Cheng Shuo: “…”

He instinctively turned around to look at Xue Jiao who stood behind him, blinking innocently.

Then he looked back at the man before him—usually distant and cold—now smiling gently and regarding him earnestly.

Cheng Shuo felt something was off.

For a moment, he thought this scene resembled a son-in-law meeting his father-in-law.

Instantly, he withdrew his hand, his face turning cold.

“Boss Lin, so you’re the mentor who’s been helping Jiaojiao all this time, her respected teacher?”

The words “respected teacher” were emphasized noticeably.

Lin Zhihua raised an eyebrow slightly. This Cheng Shuo emphasizes the generational difference.

His smile widened. “I wouldn’t dare claim that. Jiaojiao saved me once. We share a deep connection and are very good friends.”

Cheng Shuo smiled without warmth. “Well, we must express our gratitude properly. The Cheng family will remember your great kindness to Jiaojiao.”

“Jiaojiao and I help each other. It’s nothing, Uncle Cheng, no need to be so formal,” Lin Zhihua smiled back.

Cheng Shuo: “…”

With you constantly calling me “Uncle Cheng,” what else can I say?

“Time to board the plane. Uncle Cheng, let’s go.”

“Uncle Cheng” replied, “Let’s go.”

The group boarded the plane together. Coincidentally, Cheng Shuo and Li Sitong were seated in front, with Xue Jiao and Lin Zhihua behind them.

Cheng Shuo kept turning to look back every so often.

Li Sitong tugged at him, her face also showing shock. “Jiaojiao’s friend is Lin Zhihua?”

She lowered her voice in disbelief.

Cheng Shuo was equally surprised, but he had a man’s intuition.

“This man has impure intentions.”

Li Sitong frowned in confusion. “What intentions?”

Cheng Shuo glanced back at Xue Jiao, who was laughing at something Lin Zhihua said, then at the puzzled Li Sitong beside him.

“No particular intentions.”

Now he understood where Jiaojiao inherited her low emotional intelligence from—genetics.

In the back row, Xue Jiao was indeed laughing.

Because Lin Zhihua had just said, “When I called your father ‘Uncle Cheng,’ his expression—did he want me to call him ‘brother’ instead?”

Xue Jiao found this unexpectedly funny and covered her mouth as she laughed. “It’s your fault for rarely smiling and being so powerful. My dad just assumed you were his peer.”

Lin Zhihua straightened his collar and leaned toward Xue Jiao’s ear. “Then your father must have poor eyesight if he thinks I look old.”

Xue Jiao turned to glare at him.

Lin Zhihua did indeed look exceptionally handsome.

“Don’t criticize my dad,” she said, her eyes playful as she smiled at Lin Zhihua. “Uncle, don’t criticize my dad.”

Lin Zhihua: “…”

“Fine, you win.”

Xue Jiao covered her mouth, laughing even more heartily.

Lin Zhihua watched her, his face full of affection.

Seeing her happy because of him felt wonderful.

In the front row, Cheng Shuo turned to look and felt his teeth ache for some reason.

He nudged Li Sitong and said very seriously, “You should talk to Xue Jiao tonight about keeping a distance from men, especially older ones.”

“Lin Zhihua doesn’t seem to be thirty yet.” Li Sitong quietly corrected herself after glancing back.

After a moment, she added, “Lin Zhihua is handsome.”

Women of any age could still appreciate a handsome man.

Seeing Li Sitong’s admiring expression, Cheng Shuo’s face darkened further.

After a moment, he took out his phone and looked at his reflection.

He felt that aside from being older than Lin Zhihua, he wasn’t less handsome, was he?

The four of them arrived in Beijing in this strange atmosphere.

Almost as soon as they disembarked, Cheng Shuo said with a smile, “Boss Lin is a busy man, we won’t keep you.”

Lin Zhihua glanced at Xue Jiao and smiled. “Then I’ll see you next time.”

“Sure.” Though next time, I’d rather not see you.

Li Sitong, however, was quite pleased with Lin Zhihua and waved. “Boss Lin, please come visit us sometime.”

Knowing that Cheng Shuo’s business was far inferior to Lin Zhihua’s, as the hostess, she naturally wanted to help Cheng Shuo make connections.

She hadn’t realized that Cheng Shuo now had no desire to associate with Lin Zhihua at all.

“Certainly,” Lin Zhihua replied.

Cheng Shuo: “…”

After that, Lin Zhihua finally left.

Cheng Shuo began to stare at Xue Jiao, glaring. “Time to come clean.”

Xue Jiao smiled apologetically, then told them everything in detail. By the time they got into the car, she had finished her explanation.

Cheng Shuo was silent for a moment but ultimately had to nod in acknowledgment.

“Fine, at least you’re being honest.”

Just then, Xue Jiao’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

A familiar voice came from the other end. “Student Gu Xue Jiao, this is Teacher Yin.”

Xue Jiao was slightly surprised. Teacher Yin Fang was calling her?

“Teacher Yin, is there something you need?”

Yin Fang laughed on the other end, though somewhat helplessly. “Two things. First, the prize money for your outstanding achievement.”

Xue Jiao’s eyes immediately lit up, and she asked happily, “There’s prize money, Teacher Yin?”

“Of course. There’s money from the provincial government, the city, educational organizations, and our school. The total amount will exceed 100,000 yuan. When can you come back to school to collect it?”

“Well…” Xue Jiao hesitated.

Yin Fang on the other end heard her hesitation and asked with concern, “Is something wrong? Is there any difficulty?”

“We’ve moved to Beijing now.”

“I see…” Yin Fang’s voice also showed hesitation. “I’ll talk to the school administration and see if they can transfer it to you.”

“Thank you, Teacher Yin. I appreciate it,” Xue Jiao replied gratefully.

She could have gone back to collect it herself, but she didn’t want to return.

All those past events, all those feelings that ended without closure—better to let them fade away with her departure.

She and Yi Tianyu were never a good match, so why go back and add to the sorrow?

Xue Jiao shook her head, bringing her wandering thoughts back. “Teacher Yin, what’s the second thing?”

Yin Fang looked at the persistent young woman in front of her and said resignedly, “A reporter is determined to interview you. She’s cornered me.”

“I don’t want to be interviewed,” Xue Jiao scratched her head, still refusing.

The reporter couldn’t hold back and called out, “Student Gu Xue Jiao, just an oral interview is fine, no need to show your face. Please!”

Xue Jiao heard the urgency in her voice and felt somewhat helpless. “Why are you so determined to interview me?”

Yin Fang simply handed the phone to the reporter, who said frankly and eagerly, “You’re very popular right now. Our editor said whoever interviews you will get a bonus. I’m just an intern reporter—if I get this interview, I could be hired permanently.”

This was probably the first reporter to be so straightforward.

Lately, quite a few people wanted to interview her. Her refusal to be interviewed seemed to have made her news value even higher.

Hearing this, Xue Jiao reluctantly agreed, “Alright then, I’ll accept your interview.”

The reporter sounded young, with the driving characteristic of youth.

Xue Jiao arranged a time with her, and the reporter said she would come to Beijing.

Xue Jiao thought a phone interview would be sufficient, but the reporter said it would be at the company’s expense, and she wanted to visit Beijing anyway.

So Xue Jiao agreed.

After hanging up, Yin Fang looked resigned. “Reporter Ye, is that satisfactory?”

“Yes, thank you so much,” Reporter Ye kept bowing in gratitude.

Yin Fang could only look exasperated. This young woman had stopped her near the school, insisting she help arrange an interview with Gu Xue Jiao.

Yin Fang left, and so did Reporter Ye.

Under a nearby tree, a man sat foolishly on a bench.

He wore expensive brand-name clothes, but they were old styles and wrinkled. His hair was a mess.

The fatigue and age in his features made this middle-aged man look much older.

He was Gu Jingxu.

The biological father of Gu Xue Jiao they had spoken of.

Gu Jingxu looked up at the banner in the distance—it was No. 7 Middle School’s proudest achievement this year.

Gu Xue Jiao had scored 731 points, breaking records and becoming the pride of the entire school and city.

Reporters competed to interview her, and the prize money exceeded 100,000 yuan.

Once, 100,000 meant nothing to him, but now it was a significant sum.

The daughter he had abandoned was now a source of glory.

And the daughter he had chosen was abroad, unable to return.

He had chosen wrong.

Between his two daughters—one somewhat slow, the other calculating—he had chosen the calculating one. How had he been wrong?

Would Xue Jiao ever acknowledge him again?

Gu Jingxu stood up and stumbled toward a residential complex.

It was a rundown neighborhood. If Xue Jiao were here, she would be shocked—when Gu Jingxu went bankrupt, hadn’t he kept a good apartment in a school district? How had it changed to this old, small, dilapidated place?

He had been drinking—his face had an unnatural redness, and he walked with a slight sway.

The old building had no elevator, but fortunately, they lived on the third floor, so he climbed up quickly.

He opened the door, his eyes bloodshot.

Inside, a woman who had also aged many years sat on the sofa watching TV.

Gu Jingxu felt a surge of anger. He took two steps forward and forcefully kicked the television.

“Bang!” A loud crash sounded.

“Ah! Gu Jingxu, what are you doing?” Wu Wanjun exploded. The family hardly had any appliances, and now Gu Jingxu had broken the TV.

Gu Jingxu, eyes red-rimmed, shouted, “How did I end up marrying such a poisonous woman? If you and Gu Shiyun hadn’t harmed Jiaojiao, how could I have fallen into this state? Do you know how glorious Jiaojiao is now? I should never, never have divorced Siting!”

Wu Wanjun hated hearing anything good about Li Sitong. She had been the mistress who had managed to enter the household and drive Li Sitong away. Now Li Sitong was living better than her, and Li Sitong’s daughter was more accomplished than her own. How could she possibly accept this?

So Wu Wanjun raged back, “If you hadn’t taken all the money for your investments and business ventures if you hadn’t sold the house, how could we end up living like this? Do you regret divorcing Li Sitong? Look how well she’s living now, probably happy to have escaped this hellhole. You are the hellhole!”

“Slap!” Gu Jingxu couldn’t control himself and struck Wu Wanjun across the face.

Wu Wanjun froze, then covered her face and cried, “You hit me! You hit me!”

She lunged at him, kicking and hitting, showing none of the respect she once had.

This couple, once in “true love,” had now descended to exchanging blows.

In early July, Xue Jiao received Reporter Ye’s interview at her new home.

The new home was located between Cheng Shuo’s new company and Tsinghua University, convenient for Cheng Shuo to come home, and also convenient for her and Cheng Mingze.

Real estate in Beijing was incredibly expensive. They were living in a relatively large apartment.

Pengcheng’s relocation meant they needed money now. After obtaining Xue Jiao and Cheng Mingze’s consent, Cheng Shuo bought an apartment instead of a villa to save capital.

In the future, once Cheng Shuo stabilized and had more capital, they would purchase a new house.

When Reporter Ye arrived, Li Sitong brought her up while returning from grocery shopping. The housekeeper hadn’t come, so lately, they had all been eating Li Sitong’s cooking.

Her culinary skills had improved slightly—at least the three of them could eat her food without changing expression.

“Auntie, let me help you with that,” Reporter Ye reached out to take the fruit and vegetables from Li Sitong.

Li Sitong smiled and shook her head quickly. “No need, no need. You’re a guest. How could I let you carry things?”

Reporter Ye scratched her head, somewhat embarrassed. She looked at Li Sitong and smiled. “Auntie, you have such a refined air.”

And you’re beautiful too.

Reporter Ye didn’t say this aloud, feeling it would be too forward, even though she was also a woman.

Li Sitong smiled, her eyes crinkling. “You sweet-talker.”

“I’m just telling the truth,” Reporter Ye said eagerly. She genuinely thought Li Sitong was beautiful and must have been stunning in her youth.

However, when they went upstairs and she saw Xue Jiao, her eyes widened completely.

This was an enhanced version of Li Sitong’s beauty.

Xue Jiao asked with confusion, “What’s wrong, Reporter Ye?”

Reporter Ye blushed and blurted out, “You’re so beautiful, why don’t you accept interviews?”

Xue Jiao smiled but didn’t respond.

Li Sitong brought them lots of fruit. Xue Jiao looked at the reporter. “Reporter Ye, you can ask whatever you want now.”

“Oh, oh, oh, right,” Reporter Ye took out a notebook and recording device.

The questions were all standard ones from the editor-in-chief.

They were just about how Xue Jiao studied, how she felt about her studies, her thoughts on achieving such a high score, and similar topics.

Xue Jiao answered some questions and left others unanswered.

Finally, Reporter Ye asked Xue Jiao, “Student Gu Xue Jiao, it’s clear that you work very hard, and I feel your effort is different from others.”

Reporter Ye didn’t know how to describe this feeling, but from hearing Xue Jiao talk, her attitude toward studying seemed different from others.

Xue Jiao was momentarily stunned. Different?

How was it different?

She pondered, and Reporter Ye didn’t interrupt her.

After a moment, Xue Jiao looked up. “Maybe it’s because I’m a bit stubborn.”

The pen in Reporter Ye’s hand stopped. Stubborn? What kind of answer was that?

Xue Jiao didn’t explain further.

Reporter Ye couldn’t know that she had lived a previous life, and those things she had set her mind to—whether it was the college entrance exam or Tsinghua University—she had rarely changed her mind once decided.

Wasn’t that stubbornness?

When the interview ended, Xue Jiao had taken a liking to this young woman in her early twenties and invited her, “Sister Ye, why don’t you stay for lunch?”

“No, no, I have a train this afternoon. I need to wait at the station. If I board late, I won’t get a good spot,” Reporter Ye said while packing her things.

Xue Jiao was confused. “Spot?”

Weren’t train seats assigned?

Though she hadn’t taken a train in this life, she had taken it twice when working in her previous life.

“I bought a standing ticket,” Reporter Ye said with a casual smile.

Xue Jiao was surprised. Wasn’t it on the company’s expense? Why buy a standing ticket?

And if it was a regular train from Beijing back home, it would take over twenty hours.

Reporter Ye continued packing. As she stood up with her bag, the second compartment’s zipper was left open, and a stack of photos slid out.

Both were startled.

Xue Jiao crouched down to pick them up.

They were all photos of Beijing—the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, and other places, including the Great Wall. Each photo featured Reporter Ye’s big smile.

Xue Jiao handed them back with a smile. “So you came for sightseeing.”

Reporter Ye took the photos and suddenly said, “Actually, I didn’t take these for myself. I took them for others.”

“Oh?” Xue Jiao was slightly puzzled.

Reporter Ye looked at the photos, her gaze distant. “Earlier this year, before I graduated, our graduation project was to conduct interviews. A friend and I agreed to interview teachers who were volunteering in rural areas. After a lot of searching, we went to a very remote place. We took countless vehicles to get there, and finally rode motorcycles for two hours to arrive.”

Xue Jiao watched her, listening quietly.

“That place was so poor, Student Gu Xue Jiao. You come from a good family, so you probably can’t imagine how poor some places are. When I went, it was cold in the highlands. The children’s hands were covered in chilblains, their faces dark and weathered. That place doesn’t grow vegetables, so they rarely eat any throughout the year. That’s real poverty.” Reporter Ye blinked.

After a moment, she continued, “There was only one teacher there, covering all subjects, plus a principal who also cooked and cleaned. The children had almost no concept of the outside world. They knew what Beijing looked like, but they felt it was like another world. They had neither the courage nor the means to venture out.”

“Recently, the principal called me and said the children wanted to ask me questions. I thought they would ask something profound, but they just wanted to know if I had been to Beijing. Haha, I told them I’d been many times, and that I would send them photos. When they see that I can stand in these places, maybe they won’t think it’s another world anymore. Maybe some of them will want to come out and see for themselves.” Reporter Ye finished packing the photos and prepared to leave.

She found it strange that she had shared all this with this young girl.

What would this privileged girl understand about such things?

She must be going crazy from keeping it bottled up.

Xue Jiao laughed softly, her eyes tinged with sorrow. “Are you implying I don’t understand?”

Reporter Ye was taken aback.

Xue Jiao smiled and shook her head.

How could she not understand?

The squid sold by the old folks was meant to earn money for her education. They couldn’t afford to eat it themselves.

Ironically, they sold grilled squid but couldn’t afford to eat it.

Only when it was about to spoil would they allow themselves to eat it?

Even then, the elderly wouldn’t eat it—they would give it all to her.

“Reporter Ye, please help me select five students from the most difficult families. I’d like to sponsor them.”

“What?” Reporter Ye was stunned, then frantically shook her head. “You’re still a student yourself. I didn’t tell you this to ask for donations.”

She made to leave quickly, to prevent Xue Jiao from making impulsive decisions.

She thought this girl was being rash.

But Xue Jiao had made this decision calmly, not impulsively. Back then, if it hadn’t been for kind people helping her during middle and high school, she didn’t know where she would be now.

She stood still, watching Reporter Ye head for the door, and said:

“For the place you mentioned, there are no tuition fees before high school, and public high schools provide subsidies each semester for the poor. According to basic living standards, plus government subsidies, a primary school student only needs an additional 10 yuan per day. With 220 school days in a year, that’s 66,000 yuan for six years. For middle school, beyond subsidies, each student needs 15 yuan daily. They’re further from home, with 300 school days yearly. Five students for three years totals 67,500 yuan. High school requires 20 yuan more per day, with 320 school days yearly. For three years, that’s 96,000 yuan. Apart from government tuition subsidies, I can add 1,000 yuan per semester for tuition and transportation, totaling 30,000 yuan over three years. So, I only need 259,500 yuan to help them successfully graduate from high school.”

Xue Jiao spoke without pausing. It was a simple mathematical calculation, but she did it rapidly, with clear logic, entirely in her head, with almost no hesitation.

She smiled. “As for university, I believe by then they’ll have the ability and means to support themselves. Two hundred fifty-nine thousand and some, not too much or too little—just right with the 100,000 yuan reward from my parents for the college entrance exam, plus the 160,000 yuan from the school, province, and city. When I say I’ll sponsor five students, I mean I can afford five at my current stage. For those in slightly better situations, I’ll contact you later.”

“…”

“Reporter Ye, what do you think of my sponsorship plan?”

Reporter Ye was dumbfounded. After a moment, she blurted out something unrelated:

“Your math is amazing.”

Xue Jiao laughed lightly, her eyes playful, her expression bright. “Reporter Ye, let me answer a question from the interview that I didn’t respond to earlier. For the next four years, I’ll likely be studying at Tsinghua University, in the Department of Mathematics.”

She blinked. “I’ll be studying mathematics in the future.”

Reporter Ye stared at her, somewhat dazed.

When she first saw this girl, she thought she was extremely beautiful, but nothing more.

Now, she found her even more beautiful than when she had arrived.

Some people’s beauty is skin-deep; for others, it’s in their backbone.

Reporter Ye stepped forward with her bag and hugged Xue Jiao, her voice choked. “Thank you.”

It might seem like a student doesn’t need much money, but the total wasn’t small. At least for her as an intern reporter barely making ends meet in a bustling city, it was beyond her means.

Reporter Ye and Xue Jiao exchanged WeChat contacts and phone numbers. There would be some procedures for the sponsorship.

Without guarantees, Xue Jiao couldn’t simply hand over so much money directly to Reporter Ye.

This wasn’t about distrust; it was about protection.

Trust between people is one thing; rationality is another.

A couple of days after Reporter Ye returned, Xue Jiao’s interview was published online.

At Xue Jiao’s request, Reporter Ye didn’t mention the donation, including only the interview content from earlier.

Xue Jiao’s level of public interest was quite high, which surprised even her.

Previous top-scoring students often had video interviews and various reports.

But this year, she had broken records yet declined interviews.

Combined with the previous discussions about her appearance and whether she was a campus beauty, questions about her looks continued to generate interest.

The more mysterious, the more curious people became.

Her chosen major—Mathematics at Tsinghua—was also mentioned. Normally, this wouldn’t attract much attention, but with the lingering influence of the college entrance exam and the timing of university applications, quite a few people paid attention to the interview.

Even many students at Tsinghua knew about it.

“Hey, I heard this year’s top-scoring student with 731 points is coming to our school’s Mathematics Department.”

“Really? She didn’t go to Peking University?”

“No, there’s an interview record online. She’s coming to our school.”

“What does she look like? Rumor says she’s a campus beauty.”

“Don’t know about that. It was a text interview, not a video.”

“I remember she also won first prize in last year’s math competition. Seems like she wants to do mathematical research. Why didn’t she go to Peking University?”

“No idea, but the school is very interested in recruiting her.”

“Sigh, our school gets many top students. Many excel in the college entrance exam, but once they get here…”

“That’s true.”

Xue Jiao didn’t know that rumors about her were already circulating at her future school, but she was aware of the many online discussions about her, which made her uncomfortable.

In all her years across two lifetimes, this was the first time she had experienced such attention.

She mentioned this when chatting with Lin Zhihua:

“It’s quite troubling. Sometimes I glance at what they’re saying. Most people are sweet, but there are always some who say inexplicably hurtful things.”

Xue Jiao typed this while lying on her bed.

Lin Zhihua tapped his fingers on the table and made a call.

“Jiaojiao.”

Xue Jiao raised her head slightly. “Hmm?”

The voice on the phone was soft, tinged with amusement. “It’s completely normal to see negative comments online. Many people are like that—they seem normal in daily life but become completely different online. They vent their resentment and dissatisfaction through hurtful words. You shouldn’t pay any attention to these people.”

Xue Jiao nodded. “I know. It just feels bad occasionally when I see it, but I get over it quickly. I didn’t expect so many people would pay attention to this interview. If I had known…”

If I had known, I wouldn’t have agreed to the interview.

“That’s not necessarily true,” Lin Zhihua tapped his fingers a few times. “The current situation is quite good. There’s attention, but the scope isn’t too wide. Unless people specifically follow it, others won’t necessarily know. Plus, there’s a big advantage to this.”

“What advantage?” Xue Jiao was puzzled.

She frowned, unable to think of any benefit.

Lin Zhihua laughed. “Perhaps your professors will notice you in advance.”

“Oh!” Xue Jiao’s eyes widened.

The more time she spent with Lin Zhihua, the more she realized just how incredibly smart he was.

A few days after their conversation, Cheng Mingze returned home and told Xue Jiao something.

“Jiaojiao, Professor Tan learned that we’ve moved here and asked about you today.”

Xue Jiao’s eyes lit up, and she jumped to her feet. “Really?”

“Yes, and Professor Tan asked if you’re free during the period before school starts. If you are, he’d like you to help him with some work.” Cheng Mingze’s voice carried a smile as he walked over and patted her head.

“I’m free, I’m free!” Xue Jiao’s eyes shone.

Being able to help a professor early meant essentially joining the professor’s team ahead of time, which would be tremendously helpful for her mathematics studies.

Cheng Mingze was also pleased. He had previously worked hard to join Professor Tang’s projects earlier, which had put him ahead of his classmates.

“Then discuss it with your professor yourself. Come to the school tomorrow, and I’ll bring you in to meet Professor Tan. He said he’ll be back at school at eleven to see you.”

“Great, great!” Xue Jiao nodded happily.

“Helping a professor?” Cheng Shuo pushed up his glasses.

Cheng Mingze nodded. “Professor Tan is very busy, with many projects. He seems to be doing data calculations for a power system recently. Students are about to start summer vacation, so it’s perfect timing for Xue Jiao to go help.”

Cheng Shuo nodded in agreement but immediately thought of something else.

“Jiaojiao, your eighteenth birthday is in August, and we’ll also hold your college acceptance celebration. You must keep those days free.”

Xue Jiao nodded.

The college acceptance celebration was an opportunity. Cheng Shuo planned to invite some business partners, and Li Sitong wanted to get to know other women of the same social class. Interpersonal relationships need to be cultivated.

No one would miss giving a gift at the acceptance celebration; they just needed an opportunity to connect.

Cheng Shuo had explained this to her before, and Xue Jiao had agreed.

Originally, Cheng Shuo had intended to hold Xue Jiao’s coming-of-age ceremony separately, but Xue Jiao didn’t agree. Having multiple events was too troublesome; better to have everything on the same day.

Back in her room, Xue Jiao couldn’t contain her excitement, rolling back and forth on her bed.

Not every undergraduate student had the opportunity to be a professor’s assistant—that was usually a privilege reserved for graduate students.

Moreover, Professor Tan was such an accomplished figure that even getting accepted as his graduate student was highly competitive.

This professor was known for his integrity and dedication to academics. Xue Jiao had always admired him.

She told Lin Zhihua about this, and her excitement was palpable even through the screen.

“Congratulations, Jiaojiao.”

Lin Zhihua shook his head with a light laugh. This girl.

Then, he made a call to Chen Yan.

“Start reducing Jiaojiao’s media exposure tomorrow. Use some attention-grabbing news to divert focus and let Jiaojiao-related news fade away.”

“Understood.”

The next day, Xue Jiao woke up early, memorized some English vocabulary, and listened to a few English reports before going downstairs.

After breakfast, estimating the time, she packed a bag with paper and pens and eagerly went to Tsinghua University.

At the entrance, she called Cheng Mingze, who came out quickly.

“Jiaojiao, why are you here so early? Didn’t I tell you Professor Tan is going to the research institute today and won’t be back until eleven?” Cheng Mingze said, without complaint but full of resignation.

“It’s fine. I’ll come early and wait a bit. I don’t have anything else to do anyway,” Xue Jiao grinned, looking very happy.

Cheng Mingze still looked resigned as he reached out and ruffled her hair. “You…”

“Keep rubbing and I’ll go bald,” Xue Jiao bristled.

Cheng Mingze couldn’t help himself and reached out again.

After fooling around for a while, he led her to the Mathematics Department building. “I’ll wait with you. Let’s sit over there.”

Xue Jiao waved dismissively. “Are you worried I’ll get lost? Go take care of your work. You’re already so busy you barely have time to eat, and yet you want to wait with me?”

“But you’re alone—”

“I won’t get lost, really,” Xue Jiao pushed him. “Go on, go on.”

Cheng Mingze was indeed very busy, as Xue Jiao knew, so she didn’t want to take up his time.

“Then sit on that chair and wait. Professor Tan’s office is in room 306. The door is locked, and there are no seats outside.” Cheng Mingze instructed her, still concerned.

“Alright, now go do your work,” Xue Jiao waved, urging him on.

Cheng Mingze resignedly waved back and left.

Xue Jiao sat waiting on the chair. After about half an hour, at 10:30, she stood up and decided to go upstairs to continue waiting. What if Professor Tan came in through another entrance?

With this thought, she headed toward room 306.

When she reached the third floor, she found it very quiet, though there were quite a few people inside. Passing by room 302, she saw two people sitting inside, constantly writing something in their notebooks.

This life might very well be her future.

Xue Jiao’s lips twitched slightly as she continued toward room 306.

When she reached room 305, the door opened, and a female student came out.

“Who are you?” The student frowned, looking very serious.

Xue Jiao glanced at her chest—a third-year Mathematics student.

“Hello, I’m—”

“Are you from our school?” The student’s frown deepened.

“No, I—”

“You’re not from our school, yet you’re wandering around here? Do you know where this is? We’re working on classified projects here. What are you, a non-student, doing at our school? If you want to come, apply yourself. If you want to take photos, do it at the entrance. This isn’t a place for random people to wander around. Now, get out!”

The female student appeared furious, having mistaken Xue Jiao for a sightseeing visitor.