Yang Shuwen sighed softly, “Lin Zhixia’s acting is too brilliant, no sign of nervousness…”

Yang Shuwen carefully recalled Lin Zhixia’s strengths, secretly lamenting how rash he had been before, always trying to compare with her, attempting to determine who was better. But how could she lose? She was not only intelligent but also lucky.

Yang Shuwen, immersed in his worries, looked like someone who had just lost a competition. Standing under a banyan tree in the courtyard with one hand behind his back, he took a few steps, then recalled several undergraduate students he had met a few days ago—each one more formidable than the next. In his confusion, he couldn’t understand what Professor Gu Likai had seen in him to take him as a disciple.

Was it his innocence and simplicity?

Or his “great wisdom disguised as foolishness”?

If he summoned enough courage to tell his teacher that he had no “great wisdom,” only “foolishness,” would he be expelled from the Physics Department?

At this thought, Yang Shuwen suddenly stopped, his figure halting as he gazed into the distance.

From behind him came a voice: “Senior Yang.”

He turned his head and saw Jiang Yubai.

Jiang Yubai seemed to have come prepared. He went straight to the point: “I understand you.”

Yang Shuwen looked at him suspiciously.

Jiang Yubai, like someone with experience, spoke in a world-weary and seasoned manner: “I once put in effort without getting returns, being crushed by people with talent. I lost my confidence, couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, couldn’t bring myself to go to school…”

“What are you doing?” Yang Shuwen interrupted him.

Jiang Yubai stood tall in front of Yang Shuwen, asking politely: “May I talk with you for a while?”

Yang Shuwen remembered Lin Zhixia mentioning that Jiang Yubai was her best friend. Jiang Yubai and Lin Zhixia teamed up in the Werewolf game; they trusted each other and were in perfect sync—all evidence that Jiang Yubai could get along well with Lin Zhixia, even though he was just an ordinary second-year high school student.

By the water’s edge was a smooth-surfaced rock. Yang Shuwen lifted the hem of his coat and sat properly on the stone, showing no sign of his worries or insecurity. He said, “Fine, let’s talk. Have a seat.”

Jiang Yubai scanned the area and noticed bird droppings on the rock.

Jiang Yubai often projected an image of “fearlessness,” but disliked dirty things. He slowly stepped back before saying, “The rock isn’t clean.”

Yang Shuwen glanced briefly, showing no concern: “Just a few bird droppings? They’re dried up, they won’t get on your clothes. Sit down. What did you want to say?”

Jiang Yubai remained standing. He said concisely, “In this world, some achieve success early, others bloom late.”

“Ah, you’re quite good,” Yang Shuwen noticed Jiang Yubai’s intentions. He placed both hands on his knees, rubbed them twice, and couldn’t help confessing: “Lin Zhixia is your friend, right? She’s put a lot of pressure on me. The School of Physics and the School of Mathematics are full of geniuses, yet she’s only fourteen.”

Perhaps because Jiang Yubai seemed reliable, and had no connection to Yang Shuwen’s daily life, Yang Shuwen boldly spoke his mind: “I stay in the lab, working day and night, but my research shows no progress, no results.”

Jiang Yubai changed his approach to encourage him: “Lin Zhixia has mentioned you to me. She says you’re very focused when working and have solid theoretical knowledge.”

Yang Shuwen waved his hand dismissively: “I collaborated with Tan Qianche on a paper, and he finished my part of the work ahead of time, yet I still couldn’t produce anything. My experimental data looks terrible. Lin Zhixia’s experimental data? So good it seems fake… I’m not saying she falsified it, just making a comparison. She has talent and luck; I wouldn’t dare to fake data like that even if I tried.”

At this point, Yang Shuwen raised his head and looked Jiang Yubai in the eye: “You’re her good friend. Have you ever envied her?”

Jiang Yubai answered honestly: “Not envy, more like admiration.”

“Admiration?” Yang Shuwen questioned his choice of words.

Jiang Yubai stood firm: “Later, I gained perspective. I don’t have talent, but I have time and my own life. I made a mistake before, measuring success and failure by the depth and breadth of knowledge I possessed…”

“Hey, did you take that line from a book?” Yang Shuwen suddenly asked.

“Those are my own words,” Jiang Yubai’s tone became more casual, “If you want to read a book, I recommend psychologist Adler’s ‘Inferiority and Transcendence.’ I read it twice back then.”

By “back then,” Jiang Yubai meant five years ago, when he was only nine years old.

Yang Shuwen didn’t realize this. He straightened his back and asked: “What does the book say?”

A cool breeze suddenly blew from the shore, and Lin Zhixia’s voice sounded behind him: “That book is quite famous. Adler is the founder of ‘Individual Psychology.’ He believed that neither inherited traits nor life experiences determine your fate; only your thoughts can constrain you, senior.”

Yang Shuwen didn’t turn around. He stood up, smiling: “Good, thank you both.”

With that, he turned and walked away quickly.

Lin Zhixia watched his retreating figure and called out Jiang Yubai’s name: “Jiang Yubai, have you also read ‘Inferiority and Transcendence’? Do you ever feel inferior?”

Lin Zhixia’s question struck straight to Jiang Yubai’s heart. He turned to face the reservoir and changed his answer: “I don’t remember clearly.”

Lin Zhixia lightly patted his shoulder. The gesture was bold and grand, as if she were competing with him in showing jianghu brotherhood. She also said: “I haven’t written my ‘Human Observation Diary’ for a long time.”

Jiang Yubai asked her: “You don’t have suitable observation subjects around you?”

Lin Zhixia shook her head. She spoke softly, almost to herself: “When I was young, I knew I was different from others. Now, I seem to gradually understand the thinking patterns of some people. I’m growing up.”

When Lin Zhixia spoke like this, she had quite the demeanor of a sage. But then she suddenly jumped in place and circled Jiang Yubai: “But I still want to continue observing you, mainly from biological, philosophical, and psychological perspectives—why do you blush? Why do you sometimes avoid looking at me? Hahahahaha, so interesting.”

Jiang Yubai put his hands in his pockets, suddenly wanting to follow Yang Shuwen’s footsteps.

Lin Zhixia stood on a rock, trying to look Jiang Yubai in the eyes at his level.

Jiang Yubai stepped onto another rock and asked her: “How tall are you now?”

“One hundred and sixty-three centimeters,” Lin Zhixia answered.

Jiang Yubai truthfully said: “I’m one hundred and eighty-one.”

Lin Zhixia, unwilling to concede, stood on her tiptoes. Her shoes slipped on the rock, and she fell forward, fortunately caught by Jiang Yubai. Their distance became closer, and Jiang Yubai looked down at her, saying: “The ‘Human Observation Diary,’ write as much as you want. I’ve been your observation subject since I was nine; I also want to know what progress I’ve made over these years… Will you continue your doctorate in Beijing? If we separate in a few years, I’ll call you regularly to provide material for your ‘Human Observation Diary.'”

Lin Zhixia held onto his arm. The long branches of a willow swayed nearby, its eyebrow-shaped leaves dancing in the autumn wind. As the leaves brushed past him, her fingertips tightened around his sleeve, and she nodded haphazardly.

*

After the autumn outing, most of Lin Zhixia’s classmates focused on their studies.

The School of Mathematics’ final exams were notoriously terrifying, having crushed countless struggling students over the years. By December of the first semester of freshman year, invisible competitive pressure enveloped a group of students. Many began spending early mornings and late nights at the library; some even created schedules precise to the minute, running from six in the morning until midnight.

But Lin Zhixia remained unchanged.

By ten at night, she was already in bed, asleep.

Her roommate Feng Yuan was similar. As Lin Zhixia’s upper bunkmate, Feng Yuan maintained a highly consistent schedule with her. Feng Yuan was practically the roommate Lin Zhixia had always dreamed of.

However, across from their beds, Yuan Wei and Deng Shasha were suffering terribly.

Deng Shasha had failed two subjects in the midterm exams. Initially, she wasn’t anxious at all because she hadn’t studied hard when school first started. She was the only person in the dorm who had never participated in competitions during high school and had entered the School of Mathematics solely based on her exam scores.

She steadied her mindset and studied frantically for half a semester.

A few days before the final exams, Yuan Wei and Deng Shasha returned together from the library and continued studying late into the night in their dorm. If all four roommates could study together through the night, it might have made a nice story, but unfortunately… Lin Zhixia and Feng Yuan were the type who didn’t need to review at all.

After ten at night, when the dorm lights went out, Lin Zhixia lay in her bed hugging a stuffed toy, sleeping soundly.

Meanwhile, Deng Shasha anxiously ate her late-night snack while checking her class notes, determined to conduct a thorough review of what she’d missed.

The result of this comprehensive check had both good and bad aspects—the good was that she found many gaps; the bad was that she didn’t know how to fill them.

Deng Shasha pondered for an entire night.

Early the next morning, she tightly hugged Lin Zhixia’s legs: “Goddess Xia! Save me! Do you have notebooks?”

This was the first time Lin Zhixia had heard the nickname “Goddess Xia.” She knocked on the upper bunk where Feng Yuan slept: “Yuan Yuan, do you have notes?”

For the sake of her final exam scores, Deng Shasha had already abandoned her pride. She didn’t let go of Lin Zhixia and called out to Feng Yuan in a sweet, coquettish voice: “Goddess Yuan, it’s six-thirty already, time to get up.”

Goddess Yuan didn’t get up. She leaned against the wall, coldly muttering: “You were so noisy eating at night, I couldn’t sleep well. I’ll get up at eight.”

With the exam only two days away, Feng Yuan remained so casual.

After brief consideration, Lin Zhixia proactively suggested: “Let me tutor you! When I’m at home, I often tutor my brother. His class ranking in ninth grade dropped to around seventh or eighth, but with our joint efforts, he ranked in the top fifty citywide in the high school entrance exam.”

Deng Shasha and Yuan Wei eagerly agreed. The three of them sat in a circle and began quietly discussing the course content.

Lin Zhixia used a “catalog-style review” method to help them consolidate each knowledge point. Lin Zhixia’s mind seemed to contain an ocean of problems and extremely clear, concise approaches. Her patience was exceptional; no matter how many times Deng Shasha asked, she was willing to unravel the problems meticulously, breaking down each sentence to make it digestible for Deng Shasha.

Deng Shasha was so moved she almost cried: “I regret not studying with you earlier, Goddess Xia. If I can just pass the finals, I’ll treat you to meals in the cafeteria for half a month.”

Yuan Wei sighed beside them: “You were in the top ten of your grade in high school, and now in college, you’re just aiming for a passing grade…”

“I’m doing well just to survive!” Deng Shasha shouted at her.