Lin Zhixia immediately objected, “Academic performance is just one aspect. Everyone has their strengths. Jiang Yubai has many unique qualities that make him worth my attention.”

Lin Zhixia was defending Jiang Yubai in every way possible.

She knew her brother was unhappy.

Lin Zequiu sat expressionless in his chair, his face revealing nothing.

Before Jiang Yubai appeared on screen, Lin Zequiu had gone to the kitchen and brought back a plate of freshly made egg pancakes. He held the plate in his left hand and chopsticks in his right, slowly picking up a pancake as its mild fragrance wafted through the bedroom.

Lin Zhixia turned her face toward him, watching intently.

He thought to himself: My sister is such a glutton, though outwardly he said gently, “Give me your bowl.”

Lin Zhixia obediently handed her rice bowl to him. He selected a perfectly golden-brown pancake that was fried to perfection and personally placed it in Lin Zhixia’s bowl. He said softly, “There, eat up.”

“Thank you, brother,” Lin Zhixia responded happily.

The siblings ate their breakfast while keeping their eyes fixed on the computer screen.

Lin Zequiu had no interest in watching the competition. However, he couldn’t let his sister face Jiang Yubai alone. He had just heard Lin Zhixia compliment Jiang Yubai, saying “he looks so good in a suit,” which made him even more concerned that during the upcoming competition, Lin Zhixia would be completely captivated by Jiang Yubai’s charm.

In January this year, a girl in Lin Zequiu’s class had confessed her feelings to him. She claimed she was captivated by his talent.

Lin Zequiu didn’t believe her explanation. He believed his appearance was far more attractive than his inner qualities.

Jiang Yubai, on the other hand, was exceptionally handsome, having a devastating effect on girls. If Lin Zequiu left his sister unattended, he could almost predict what would happen next—he absolutely would not allow Lin Zhixia to become closer to a boy.

Lin Zhixia would be going to university in Beijing this September, and coincidentally, Jiang Yubai was also attending high school in Beijing. They were only fourteen years old, so young, just entering adolescence—exactly the critical period when parents needed to keep strict vigilance.

After careful consideration, Lin Zequiu quickly developed a countermeasure—he decided to find fault with Jiang Yubai at every opportunity to eliminate Lin Zhixia’s good impression of him.

He stretched out his legs and casually asked, “Is this the final? Why are there six teams?”

Lin Zhixia explained that the finals had six teams in total, and each pair of teams would compete once. Winners would receive one point, while losers would lose one point. The judges would determine the final rankings based on each team’s total score.

After Lin Zhixia finished explaining the rules in detail, they finally saw Jiang Yubai take the stage.

Jiang Yubai wore a black suit with a diagonal striped tie, clearly a young man of elegant bearing. There were four people on their team, with Jiang Yubai standing closest to the microphone.

Lin Zhixia noticed this detail and was delighted: “Jiang Yubai is their team’s Spokesperson.”

Lin Zequiu reflexively repeated, “Spokesperson?”

Lin Zhixia translated for him: “Spokesperson in Chinese means the team representative. According to the North American Economics Competition rules, each team has one spokesperson who summarizes the entire team’s thinking and answers questions on behalf of teammates.”

At that moment, the host clearly articulated the question in English.

Lin Zequiu only understood the phrase “law of one price.” English listening comprehension wasn’t his strong suit, and he couldn’t grasp what the host was saying.

His breathing faltered, and his back stiffened.

For Lin Zequiu, this livestreamed competition felt like a difficult English exam.

Under Lin Zequiu’s gaze, Jiang Yubai jumped in to answer the question.

Jiang Yubai delivered his answer at lightning speed, and Lin Zhixia immediately commented: “That’s right, this question appears to be about the Law of one price, but requires consideration of Purchasing power parity.”

Lin Zequiu frowned and looked at Lin Zhixia.

Lin Zhixia explained further: “Law of one price refers to the principle that identical goods should have the same value. The Law of One Price ignores production countries and transaction costs. Purchasing power parity can be directly translated as ‘buying power parity,’ which represents the equivalence coefficient between currencies. It considers different price levels of goods in various countries and can be used to compare each country’s gross domestic product… Purchasing power parity requires collecting market prices for many types of goods. By the way, Jiang Yubai discussed Purchasing power parity theory with me before. The common explanation for this theory is that ‘exchange rates equal or depend on domestic price levels relative to foreign price levels.'”

Did Jiang Yubai and Lin Zhixia frequently discuss these things in private?

Even though Lin Zhixia kindly translated and provided detailed explanations, Lin Zequiu still didn’t understand.

Lin Zequiu’s right eyelid began to twitch. He remembered the old saying, “Left eye twitching means wealth coming, right eye twitching means disaster.” He slowly stood up, gradually backed away, and turned toward the bedroom door.

“Brother, aren’t you watching anymore?” Lin Zhixia asked him.

Lin Zequiu didn’t want to stay in the room a second longer. He began to doubt his English abilities.

Lin Zequiu was ready to give up. He had never studied economics, and his English level wasn’t sufficient to watch a North American competition without subtitles. He was about to lie that he had something to do when he heard Lin Zhixia say, “Jiang Yubai is so amazing! Jiang Yubai is the best!”

Lin Zhixia put down her bowl and applauded with both hands.

Her brother suddenly sat back down beside her.

She asked, “Brother, why did you come back?”

Her brother unexpectedly said, “I want to see Jiang Yubai.”

Lin Zhixia asked curiously, “Have you discovered his strengths?”

Her brother said expressionlessly, “He lost.”

In the time-critical final, Jiang Yubai got two questions wrong in succession. After deliberation, the judges unanimously gave an “incorrect” ruling, a word that meant “wrong.” Jiang Yubai lost his commanding lead, with his total score only slightly higher than his competitors.

Lin Zhixia nervously moved closer to the computer.

Her brother laughed coldly, “Jiang Yubai answered so quickly, I thought he was certain to win… As the saying goes, ‘One bad soldier affects the whole army, one bad general affects the entire regiment.'”

“No,” Lin Zhixia countered, “the competition questions are difficult, and no one can guarantee a hundred percent accuracy.”

Her brother slightly raised his chin: “That guy must be panicking now.”

Lin Zhixia wasn’t sure.

She couldn’t read Jiang Yubai’s mental state from his face, because his expression and demeanor remained calm and composed.

Jiang Yubai did feel a bit of pressure. He and his three teammates had overthought the previous question, leading them to make a simple mistake that could be described as “losing the battle through carelessness.”

He remained outwardly calm, continuing to answer questions without panic. His teammates maintained the same posture, standing straight and watching the host read the questions.

As the competition progressed, the difficulty of the questions increased, and the opponents began making mistakes. The total score of Jiang Yubai’s team gradually improved.

Seizing the opportunity, Jiang Yubai rapidly claimed four questions in succession. After brief communications with his teammates, he provided correct answers to each question. His fluent English also left a deep impression on Lin Zequiu.

“How does he study English normally?” Lin Zequiu asked.

Lin Zhixia answered truthfully: “Jiang Yubai has always had many tutors… not just individual tutors, but an educational team. He has a team in Beijing too. His English teaching team includes three Americans and one British person.”

This was the education style of the wealthy.

Lin Zhixia’s description far exceeded Lin Zequiu’s imagination. He unconsciously clenched his fist and didn’t release it for quite some time. Previously, he had been constantly picking at Jiang Yubai’s flaws, but now he suddenly fell silent, which made Lin Zhixia feel somewhat uncomfortable.

What was wrong with her brother?

Lin Zhixia guessed that the class gap between ordinary people and the wealthy might be making her brother uncomfortable.

What she never expected was her brother saying: “I see now. This guy has only gotten this far because of his parents and a group of teachers. Listen to me, there’s nothing special about him. Don’t think too highly of him.”

Lin Zhixia ignored her brother.

She focused all her attention on the competition.

After a series of grueling rounds, Jiang Yubai’s team secured second place. The championship went to a formidable team from a renowned American high school—a team also composed of Asian students who, by their own account, had studied economics for years and whose greatest hobby in life was discussing economics-related issues with teammates.

In comparison, Jiang Yubai’s teammates appeared quite modest.

They smiled shyly, standing behind Jiang Yubai. Jiang Yubai took the microphone to deliver his acceptance speech.

On the award podium under the spotlight, flowers and applause flooded the stage. Jiang Yubai briefly thanked his parents, teachers, and the event organizers… Finally, he emphasized that he had a best friend. To this “best friend,” he said: “Thank you for always encouraging me.”

Lin Zhixia faced the computer screen as Jiang Yubai happened to look directly at the camera.

For a moment, Lin Zhixia felt as if Jiang Yubai was making eye contact with her. Her palms pressed together, unable to make a sound as she clapped, her mind filled with his words: Thank you for always encouraging me.

Lin Zhixia murmured to herself: “That’s what I should be saying to him.”