Jiang Fuyue paused, then pulled out her phone and tapped on the headlines.
The tag #UnknownVirusInAfrica# was pinned at the top.
【…According to sources, the Chinese government has dispatched a team of experts to Africa… Follow-up assistance will include technical support and vaccine development…】
Tan Jiaxu: “No one knows yet if the virus is contagious. Let’s hope it’s not another Nova virus all over again.”
Chen Cheng: “Don’t worry. With Professor Xie there, even the Nova virus was conquered. What’s this mystery virus in comparison?”
“True…”
As they chatted, Yuan Bentao and Li Zhao walked into the classroom one after another.
The hum of conversation came to an abrupt halt, and the room instantly fell silent.
Yuan Bentao stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat: “I’m sure you’re all eager to know the results, so I’ll keep it brief. Take a look for yourselves.”
Just as he finished speaking, Li Zhao turned on the projector, and the list of scores and rankings flashed unexpectedly onto the screen.
The top scorer was both unexpected and expected.
Jiang Fuyue, unsurprisingly, sat firmly at number one.
And it wasn’t just a win—it was a perfect score.
It was as if ever since the first mock test, she had never let go of that top spot.
Perfect scores, as though they cost her nothing, kept coming one after another.
“This test was insanely hard, and she still got a perfect score? I’m done.”
“They call her the exam machine for a reason.”
“She’s never scored anything but full marks, has she?”
“Not ‘seems like’—it’s for sure.”
“I have a classmate who went to the physics summer camp. Said he got steamrolled by the Demon Queen daily. But now, his ability to withstand pressure has skyrocketed.”
“This year’s competitions—physics, informatics, and math—were brutal.”
“But what’s truly terrifying isn’t just her perfect score. It’s that her teammates from the same school also got in.”
That’s right—Ling Xuan came second, only three points behind. Chen Cheng and Tan Jiaxu placed fifth and sixth, respectively.
All four made it into the national team.
Guo Zidong came in third, Wei Kongjue fourth.
These six made up this year’s official IMO national team.
“W-We’re in?” Tan Jiaxu froze, then lit up with joy. “We’re in! We made it!”
Chen Cheng nodded vigorously, too overwhelmed to speak. His eyes glistened—finally…
All their hard work had borne fruit.
“Online folks say Sister Yue is a lucky charm. Whoever teams with her is guaranteed to win.”
“Ugh! If only I were born in Linhuai. I could’ve been her schoolmate.”
“Can I be your support character? Carry me, Sister Yue!”
“Does the Goddess Yue need a leg pendant? I volunteer. Free of charge.”
“Is Linhuai built on sacred ground or something? Everyone from there is ridiculously talented!”
…
Once the chatter calmed, Yuan Bentao finally addressed the class.
“Competitions are harsh. That’s what gives them their edge. To those who made the team—congratulations. You now bear a greater responsibility. To those who didn’t—don’t despair. You may have missed out on this academic arena, but I hope you all go farther in life’s greater competition.”
“Stay true to your heart, and you’ll reach your destination!”
Applause thundered through the room.
Many students lowered their heads and discreetly wiped their eyes.
They were disheartened—after all, everyone had put in the work.
But the result… was not always fair.
That’s life.
And in life, one must learn to face it head-on.
They may have lost this round, but they’d gained the capital to win the next.
…
After the national team list was confirmed, the six were called to the office.
Li Zhao: “Professor Yuan and I will lead the team. Gather at the school gate at 8 AM the day after tomorrow. We’re heading to Zurich. Any questions?”
Everyone: “No.”
“Alright, then go prepare. Jiang Fuyue, stay behind.”
Once the others left, Jiang Fuyue met Li Zhao’s studying gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Professor Li, you needed something?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
He opened a drawer and pulled out a thick stack of A4 papers.
Jiang Fuyue’s eyes skimmed the top page. It was an Olympiad math problem, covered in dense formulas and working.
Hmm… looked familiar.
Li Zhao slid the stack toward her. “Recognize this?”
She didn’t look again. “Yes.”
He frowned at her calm expression. “Then what is it?”
“Practice questions.”
“What kind?”
“Olympiad-level drills.”
Li Zhao: “We’ve never distributed these.”
“And?” Jiang Fuyue’s tone was mild. “If you didn’t assign them, are students forbidden from working on them?”
His brows knit tighter. “You’ve been reported. For cheating, leaking test content, and running an unauthorized tutoring service. They’re demanding you be disqualified from the team and permanently banned from future competitions.”
Another report—just like during the CMO winter camp. Only this time, the accuser wasn’t bold enough to confront her publicly. They hid in the shadows, using the teachers as tools.
Heh…
“May I ask—who reported me?”
Li Zhao shook his head. “Regulations prohibit disclosure of the reporter’s identity.”
She didn’t press. “I see. Well then, allow me to respond—I deny both accusations.”
“First, on ‘leaking questions’: leaked from whom? To whom?”
Li Zhao hesitated. “Some of the questions are similar to those on our mock tests.”
“Similar,” she echoed. “Not the same. If they’re only similar, where’s the leak?”
Checkmate.
Li Zhao: “…”
She picked up the A4 stack—each page a problem she’d given Chen Cheng and Tan Jiaxu for extra practice. Left behind in an unused classroom, and somehow now the so-called evidence.
“Even if I could leak questions, why would I bother with mock tests instead of the final selection exam that determines the national team? Makes no sense.”
“Oh, and if I really knew the questions ahead of time, wouldn’t that implicate one of the professors for feeding me the answers?”
Li Zhao’s face darkened. She’d set a trap—implying if she were guilty, so were they.
“You—nonsense!”
“Is it?” Jiang Fuyue tilted her head. “I think I’ve based my logic on science, followed evidence, and reasoned through every point carefully. How is that nonsense?”
Li Zhao: “…” I call BS, but I have no rebuttal.
“Second, as for running a tutoring service—I never took money. I never recruited students. So how’s that a business?”
“You tutored Chen Cheng and Tan Jiaxu privately, didn’t you?”
“We’re classmates. Helping each other. Any problem with that?”
“…”
“Or is it against training camp rules for students to discuss problems and support one another?”
“…” You’ve covered all the angles—what am I even supposed to say?
Jiang Fuyue leaned forward. “That concludes my statement. Satisfied?”
Li Zhao mumbled, “We’ll investigate thoroughly, with fairness and objectivity. You may go.”
She didn’t move.
“…Anything else?”
“Yes. I’d like to file a counter-report.”
“Wha—?” He was stunned.
“Is that not allowed?” she smiled faintly.
“O-of course it is! Who are you reporting? Reason? Evidence?”
“I’m reporting the person who falsely accused me—for slander and defamation.” She pushed the A4 stack back toward him.
“This is my evidence.”
“?”
“I hope you investigate them as thoroughly as you’re investigating me. In the meantime, I think I should withdraw from all IMO-related activities—including Zurich. After all, my eligibility is still under question.”
“That’s also out of respect for you as the investigator. A suspected cheat attending official events would only invite gossip. And if I get reported again…”
Li Zhao: “…” She’s playing 4D chess while I’m stuck on checkers.
“Don’t!” he panicked. “We’re still in the investigation phase! Nothing’s been concluded! You can’t just back out like this—this is the IMO we’re talking about!”
She sighed. “I know, but reputation matters. I can’t keep pushing myself into a place where everyone thinks I stink.”
“Who thinks that?!”
“You do.”
Li Zhao was appalled: “When did I ever say that?!”
“The moment you started interrogating me,” she replied calmly.
Her sharpness left him speechless.
“I…” He wanted to defend himself but found no words.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
She smiled lightly, not a hint of anger in her expression.
“It’s 11:00 AM. We have 45 hours until our flight to Zurich. If this can’t be cleared up by then, I may have to involve the police…”
After all, she was just an innocent student, trying to help her classmates, only to be smeared and accused.
With that, she turned to leave.
At the door, she paused and looked back with a gentle smile:
“Time’s ticking, Professor. Better get moving.”
Li Zhao: “…” I am so mad right now.
The moment she left, Professors Yuan Bentao, Xiang Pengyi, and He Longchang—who had shamelessly been eavesdropping—rushed over.
“Old Li, she really played you.”
“That girl is something else.”
“You say one thing, she’s got three more waiting—flawless logic, too.”
“Slicker than a greased eel…”
Already fuming, Li Zhao snapped, “Enough! The bigger problem is she just refused to go to Zurich. Do you realize what this means?!”
“Cough. Yeah, I get it now. But worrying won’t help. You should do what I’m doing—accept fate. When the boat reaches the bridge, it’ll go straight. If the sky falls, the tall guy’ll hold it up…”
“SHUT. UP.”
“…Okay.”
Xiang Pengyi: “By the way, she really did carry her teammates in. Four out of six team members are from her school. That’s impressive.”
Yuan Bentao concluded, “We don’t have time to waste. Better settle this before the Zurich trip.”
He Longchang: “Poor kid who made the report… They’re in for it now.”
…
At the cafeteria, Jiang Fuyue arrived to find her three teammates already seated with her meal ready.
“Sister Yue, over here!” Tan Jiaxu waved.
As she walked over, she felt a pair of eyes burning into her back—hesitant, surprised, uneasy.
She didn’t turn around.
Chen Cheng: “Professor Li called you in. What did he want?”
Jiang Fuyue briefly summarized the situation, her expression calm.
“What the h*ll?! They want to kick you out over a couple of practice sheets? Ridiculous!”
Ling Xuan slammed his chopsticks down. “I’m going to talk to the professors—”
She stopped him. “Sit. Eat.”
He froze, then obediently sat down.
Chen Cheng: “So what do we do now?”
“Wait,” Jiang Fuyue said simply.
They weren’t dumb. They knew whose side the scale tipped toward.
They relaxed.
After the meal, just as they were about to leave, Jiang Fuyue suddenly stood. “Give me two minutes.”
She walked across the room and stopped at a table.
The girl across looked up with a sweet smile. “Want to sit together?”
“No need, Wu Pingting.” Jiang Fuyue smiled faintly.
The girl’s smile faltered. What was this about?
They’d barely spoken five words before this.
“Do you need something?”
“I do.”
“?”
“Was it fun reporting me? Isn’t a baseless accusation thrilling?”
The girl blinked innocently. “What are you talking about? You were reported?”
“Yes. By you.”
Jiang Fuyue was smiling. Genuinely.
“Me?” the girl stammered. “You must be mistaken. Why would I report you?”
“Because if you, as seventh place, want to make the team, someone in the top six has to drop out.”
“You’re overthinking. I’d never do that.”
She wouldn’t admit it—couldn’t, even if she knew.
Jiang Fuyue didn’t press. “Whether it’s you or not doesn’t matter. You won’t succeed either way.”
The girl’s pupils flickered.
“I really don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Jiang Fuyue turned and walked away.
Wu Pingting watched her retreating figure, confusion giving way to a cold, brooding glint—and a flash of anxiety.
What did she mean by “You won’t succeed anyway”?
Hah! Arrogant much?
“Pingting! There you are—I’ve been looking everywhere.”
A classmate ran over.
Wu Pingting smiled sweetly. “What’s up?”
“Not me—Professor Li wants to see you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Professor Li?”
“Yup.”
“Did he say what it’s about?”
“No idea. I just delivered the message. He didn’t look upset or anything—probably good news?”
Could it be that Jiang Fuyue was already disqualified, and she was next in line?
“I’ll head over now. Thanks!”
“No problem.”
She forced herself to stay calm, but her joy leaked through her smile.
That nonsense Jiang Fuyue said just now? Clearly because she was angry and humiliated.
Acting unbothered—but caring a lot inside.
…Still, how did she figure it was me?
Was it just because she placed seventh?
Suppressing her doubts, Wu Pingting strode toward the office.
Fifteen minutes later, she ran out red-eyed.
At the end of the hall, Jiang Fuyue leaned casually against a pillar, clearly waiting.
Wu Pingting’s steps faltered. She bit back her tears, her cheeks burning red.
Jiang Fuyue: “So it was you.”
Wu Pingting sneered. No longer the sweet little lamb—her expression twisted with hate.
“Yes, it was me. So what?! You should have been reported! You tutored Chen Cheng and Tan Jiaxu, hogged the top spot, and now you’re dragging your cronies into the national team. Four out of six spots? That’s disgusting!”
“You think you’re better than everyone else because you’re smart and fast? You’re no different than those who abuse their power for personal gain! You’re just a hypocrite!”
Jiang Fuyue’s expression didn’t change.
“Are you done? Good. Now it’s my turn.”
—
