chapter 1
"Second student of honour, with eighty-seven points, is Daiyu," announces Chen lǎoshī, and everything in me freezes.
No, no, NO!
I can’t be second- i have to be the best
My legs are rooted to the spot as I force myself to stand up and hear the short round of applause that, in under a few seconds, abruptly stops like a power cut.
A sharp pain rushes through me as I dig my nails into my arm, watching the skin turn pale.
The growing pain makes my eyes water, and I look down at the table, trembling.
If I am second best, that means that there is someone better than me, someone who will beat me.
Everything is slowly breaking, the classroom walls spiltering, air so thin I have to gasp–this must be the feeling of dying.
The scholarship, my future is slowly seeping out of my hands like sand before i even got to grasp it
"Student of honour, with ninety-nine points, is Zhiyuan," announces the teacher, clapping his hands together.
Everyone's eyes shift to the table next to mine.
I glare over at him who has taken the title I should have gotten.
Zhiyuan, someone I haven't paid much attention to, stands up. a polite smile playing across his lips as he thanks the teacher.
His eyes, focused straight ahead, suddenly turn to mine. Forgetting to breathe, I gasp.
The expression on his face couldn't more clearly show absolute disgust–eyes turn cold, locking onto mine.
his polite smile morphs into something sharp and mocking as he's reveling in my loss.
All this happens in the span of a few secondsbefore he turns to the teacher's praises again, his cold, hate filled eyes gone.
Shocked, I press harder into my soft skin, letting the pain blur out my thoughts.
The teacher continues with an 'inspiring' speech about how everyone should look up to the student of honour, that they are the pride of the summer school and someone you should respect and treat as a mentor as the study course unfolds.
Zhiyuan’s desk mate—a guy I never paid attention to—bows his head to Zhiyuan, like he suddenly has become a god– it makes me want to vomit.I have gotten used to private schools, where expressing admiration and loss is a sign of weakness.
Crying, stressing, and being impolite are all hints of unsuccessfulness, clearly telling that you are never gonna be the perfect son or daughter that will fulfill your wealthy family's needs– their expectations for you.
Here, admiration and disappointment are clearly drawn on everybody's faces, played out like cartoon characters in front of my eyes.
The students cannot afford pettiness.
We can't afford pettiness, I correct, reminding myself why I voluntarily decided to spend my summer here, even though my parents call at least three times a day and practically beg me to come home and stop wasting my time at a summer school, where only people who are weak and stupid are sent.
It would take under a minute to reach for my phone, dial their number in and declare that they are right. . They would take it, eager to hear the words:
I give up.
But I can't give them that victory, no matter what happens.
A month ago, I would have listened to them and been disgusted by the thought of a summer school, where everyone is begging for a last chance—for a future worth showing and telling the world about; a scholarship for Tsinghua University, but only one among us will win.
I thought that those who go here were lazy, dumb, and immature, but now that I'm in it myself and I'm not the best, I begin to wonder who is truly stupid.
I glance back at Zhiyuan, His eyes are narrowed in focus as he scribbles onto lined paper, gaze flickering between the paper and the blackboard. His black hair falls in thick clumps over his forehead as he turns his gaze back to the desk.
His handwriting is neat enough to be mistaken for a computer font.
Each letter is the exact same size and fills the lines of the paper perfectly, every stroke done flawlessly.
I would never have thought the school clothes looked particularly flattering, but somehow, he pulls it off: a white fabric shirt with blue stripes running from the neck down to the end of the short sleeves, his jacket in a matching pattern hanging lazily on the back of the chair. The pants are dark blue and only reach his ankles.
As he stretches his legs under the table, I catch a glimpse of his worn white shoes, clearly showing our economic difference.
I would never be allowed to step a foot outside my home in worn shoes, even just with a small stain.
My gaze moves down to my own shoes: spotless white sneakers with light blue stripes, bought just a week ago to match the school uniform.
With a little nudge from my desk mate, Yi Nuo, I’m pulled out of my trance. all colour has drained from her face, she signals to the teacher and whispers
"Chen lǎoshī has shouted at you several times—" her voice is abruptly cut off by the teacher's stern voice.
"Daiyu, if you want to keep the title 'Second Student of Honour,' you have to show it! To laze off and look at Zhiyuan instead of focusing on your schoolwork is unacceptable and not something that will get you anywhere!" a vein is pooping on his forehead, redness creeping up his neck. At the mention of Zhiyuan, my eyes flicker embarrassed away—
Small giggles are heard all around, and I frantically try to explain myself. “Chen lǎoshī, I wasn't looking at him!”
The teacher sighs and ignores my explanation. He glances over at Zhiyuan, who hasn't taken his eyes off his notes yet, and gives a small nod.
Finally, after far too long, he mumbles something indistinct and turns to the board again. I breathe out in relief, pressing a hand to my racing heart, i notice my arm, where my nails had found their way back and dug in. A thin streak of blood slowly runs down my arm.
Never before have I been scolded by a teacher. They have always been careful around me, knowing my parents' donations are what kept my old school running.
As the bell rings, the class goes alive.chatter fills the classroom, piles of books and pencils get thrown into bags as everyone rushes out.
“The second student of honor is daiyu” I quote Chen Laoshi, stacking my notebooks “and the student of honor is of course the most irritating, cold, bothersome, boring…” listing every negative adjective i know, i press the last book down in the overcramped bag.
“Hey, if you want to be better than me, maybe you should actually focus,” a low voice suddenly says, creeping up from behind shocked, i straightened up.
“I understand that I'm a pleasure to look at, but it's not me you should hope to learn from”. By every word he says, disrespect grows bigger in my veins, threatening to explode as I turn around to him.
I cross my arms. “don't think so highly of yourself”
Thick strands of hair fall messy over Zhiyuan’s eyes as he leans back on the table.
"I'd rather look out into nothingness for the rest of my life than just glimpse you out of the corner of my eye," I quietly but bitterly respond, turning away
A laugh so low that it could have been my own breath escapes his lips, as he says, "lets see about that”
My gaze moves to him.
As our eyes meet, He raises one brow slightly.
“See,” he says, amusement flickering over his eyes.
with a snort I sling my bag around my shoulder, and head for the door. Just before stepping out, i cant help but glance back.
his arrogant eyes lock into mine.
I hate him.