Chapter 5 – Tingting (Part 3)

Two days later would be the monthly exams. As long as the results came out, no one would be able to use “poor grades” as an excuse to expel Tingting.

Those two days passed quickly. For the exams, students were reshuffled into different test rooms according to their previous rankings. For example, the top thirty of the year would sit together in one hall, and so on.

And so, Tan You found herself in the classroom for the bottom thirty of the grade. Sitting at Han Tingting’s desk, she stared around the room for a long time.

[This won’t be me forever,] she thought firmly. [Next time, I’ll fight my way into the very first exam hall.]

She wasn’t being blindly optimistic. Back in her own life, her second-year grades had been solid. Maybe not the top ten of the year, but top five in her class was achievable. And since this was just an ordinary township school—not much different from her own middle school—she truly believed she could do it.

As for the future beyond that? She hadn’t thought so far. At heart, she was still just a small-town girl, with limited horizons. But that was fine. Growth would come with time.

The first subject was Chinese—her strength. She was confident. After scanning through the entire paper, her confidence grew.

By the time she finished her essay, only one period had passed. But she noticed many of her classmates had already put down their pens. Shocked, she leaned over—only to realize their papers were mostly blank.

Ah. So they weren’t finished—they had simply given up.

This was the bottom exam hall, after all. The teachers invigilating didn’t pay much attention. Even if these students tried to copy, it wasn’t like they could turn into top scorers overnight.

Tan You, however, finished as quickly as usual. She’d always worked fast—in her past life she often had an hour left to spare after Chinese or English tests. She never understood why others took so long.

This monthly exam only tested Chinese, math, English, and physics. Other subjects like history, geography, and biology only appeared in midterms or finals, and didn’t count toward totals.

After Chinese, students rushed off for bathroom breaks before math. The exams rolled one after another, barely time to breathe.

Tan You didn’t budge. She buried her head in the math textbook, cramming desperately. Math was her weakest link. Even if it was last-minute, she wanted to make use of every second.

The others snickered inwardly. [At the very bottom and still pretending to be hardworking?]

But Tan You didn’t notice, nor care. She knew her limits—despite the hours of practice, math still felt shaky.

Her fears were confirmed the moment the math paper landed on her desk. She had the good habit of scanning the whole test before starting, to get a sense of things.

But this time, as her eyes swept over the questions, her mind went blank. [I’m doomed.]

There were too many she couldn’t do. For a natural science struggler, it was impossible to even gauge difficulty—she only knew she was drowning.

She stumbled through the multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blanks. For the big problems, she scrawled every formula she could remember, even mixing in ones from grade three. Her head was buzzing, but she forced herself to write.

She had never taken a test so seriously. Even during her real high school entrance exam, she hadn’t felt this pressure.

Back then, she hadn’t realized the weight of those marks. But now, she knew—the future of Han Tingting depended on this. Whether she stayed in school, whether she escaped the fate of dropping out—it all hinged on these scores.

The monthly exam stretched over the whole day. By the time it ended, it was already six in the evening. It was Saturday, which meant no night study session—students had a day of rest before returning on Sunday.

Back at her lodging, Tan You found the dorm empty. Her roommates had all gone home. Only she remained, gathering up her exercise books—she had stayed late in class to pack her things.

Over the past two days, she had furiously filled Tingting’s neglected workbooks. After conquering Chinese and English, she had wrestled stubbornly with math and physics.

She had grit, if nothing else. Even if she wasn’t gifted in science, she believed in persistence. She didn’t need to be number one. As long as she could reach the passing line in math, she would be satisfied.

Heading home for just a day, she packed light—only a math textbook and one exercise book. If she could complete ten pages, she would call it a success.

Tingting’s home was on the edge of a small village, a forty-minute bike ride from school along winding country paths.

Tan You’s chest was tight with emotion. In her own life, her poor eyesight had always made this journey terrifying—racing the sunset, afraid of tripping or crashing. Her parents had warned her countless times.

But here, with Tingting’s perfect vision, she rode swiftly. In less than half an hour, she was home.

At the door, an old man was cooking. Seeing her return, he quietly shuffled to the stove and sat down.

Without a word, Tan You put down her schoolbag and went straight to the kitchen. Soon, delicious aromas filled the air.

Grandfather Han sniffed. “What, they teach cooking at your school now?”

Her hands faltered. Panic flashed in her eyes. “I… I learned from the auntie who cooks where I board.”

It was true, in a way. She had little interest in most hobbies—but she loved novels, and she loved watching people cook. The landlady at her dorm had been skilled in the kitchen, and Tan You had watched closely, memorizing every step.

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