Although Yu Qingyan wouldn’t admit that she’s someone superficial who only values appearances, there’s no denying that being exceptionally good-looking does have its perks. In any setting where Xi Shaoyuan appeared, he didn’t need to say or do anything; his presence alone made him the most dazzling person in the room.
Class 24 wasn’t lacking in attractive people. Even though they were used to Hua Xu and Tan Ming’s good looks, Yu Qingyan couldn’t help but feel her heart race whenever she saw Xi Shaoyuan, like a fan meeting her idol.
For those who appreciate aesthetics, the world is simple: beauty equals justice. Good-looking people can do no wrong, and even if they do, it’s easily forgiven.
Not that Xi Shaoyuan needed to rely on his looks to get by.
Zhou Xiu discreetly covered the two test papers she had just completed.
The assignments given by Hua Xu and Yu Qingyan’s foreign tutor were far more challenging than the typical school exams. The papers were entirely in English and featured a variety of question types beyond the usual reading comprehension, cloze tests, and essays found in the domestic college entrance exams. There were logic puzzles, tables to fill out, matching exercises, and even reading materials pulled from magazine articles.
After wracking her brain to finish just one sheet, Zhou Xiu felt a chill in her heart.
Xi Shaoyuan picked up the test papers from the table and quickly glanced through them.
He commented lightly, “Zhou Xiu, your foundation is too weak.”
“There’s no point in doing these papers right now. I’ll send you some materials.”
He pulled out his phone and, looking at Zhou Xiu, instructed, “Add me on WeChat.”
Zhou Xiu frowned slightly. Xi Shaoyuan had always wished she would disappear entirely, so much so that he hadn’t even wanted to share his WeChat with her before. Why would he now be so eager to send her study materials?
Xi Shaoyuan placed his phone on the table and tapped it as a reminder.
Only then did Zhou Xiu slowly take out her phone and scan his account.
With a chime, Xi Shaoyuan sent her a large number of files—so many that Zhou Xiu’s cheap smartphone, which she had bought for about a thousand yuan, nearly froze.
Xi Shaoyuan asked, “Did you sell all your Apple devices?”
Zhou Xiu nodded.
Xi Shaoyuan’s blunt assessment made Hua Xu and Yu Qingyan feel a sudden pang in their knees.
After being so ruthlessly exposed, Hua Xu said, “I thought giving her harder questions would help. Xiu’er, next time I’ll ask my tutor to prepare some different papers for you.”
Yu Qingyan peeked at Zhou Xiu’s screen. “No need, Xu-jie. Xi Shaoyuan has already sent her a ton of materials.”
It was already surprising enough that Xi Shaoyuan had asked Zhou Xiu to add him on WeChat, even if it was at Xu Qing’s request. It had taken Yu Qingyan considerable effort to become one of Xi Shaoyuan’s contacts, so she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy as she glanced at Zhou Xiu.
After sending the materials, Xi Shaoyuan swiftly put away his phone and left.
Zhou Xiu went to the library’s copy room to print out some of the files Xi Shaoyuan had sent.
She sat down with the still-warm papers and began studying them intently.
Yu Qingyan watched her with mixed feelings. While she envied Zhou Xiu for getting such personal tutoring from Xi Shaoyuan, she also felt a strange sense of sympathy. After all, seeing Zhou Xiu buried under several gigabytes of study materials made her feel relieved she wasn’t in her shoes.
Yu Qingyan definitely didn’t want that kind of “help.”
Zhou Xiu discovered that the materials Xi Shaoyuan had sent were well-organized and divided into stages. Some even started with basic phonetics and simple grammar from middle school.
She found the material surprisingly easy to follow, with no difficulties at all.
After cramming in the middle school English basics, Zhou Xiu packed up her books and left the library.
Before leaving, Zhou Xiu glanced at her phone and noticed that Xi Shaoyuan had transferred some money to her account: +10,000 yuan, with a note saying “for the meals.”
Zhou Xiu suddenly understood the real reason why Xi Shaoyuan had insisted on exchanging WeChat contacts.
Zhou Cheng had invited Xi Shaoyuan over for meals twice, as a gesture of gratitude, but those meals were given out of genuine goodwill.
Zhou Xiu didn’t accept the money. She left a message: “My dad invited you over to thank you, that’s all.”
After sending the message, Zhou Xiu deleted the chat.
When Xi Shaoyuan got home and checked his phone, he noticed that Zhou Xiu hadn’t accepted the transfer. Staring at her message for a long time, he finally turned off his screen.
…
During the Lunar New Year, Zhou Cheng didn’t return to his hometown, which greatly angered the elderly Zhou Granny in the village.
She called Zhou Cheng and scolded him for an entire day. Zhou Cheng, meek and submissive, responded with constant “yes, yes, yes,” not daring to argue back.
“Have you forgotten how I raised you, how I carried you on my back to the doctor in the dead of winter, how your elder brothers had to forgo their education because we spent everything on your medical bills?” Zhou Granny recounted all the hardships of the past.
Every word she spoke deepened Zhou Cheng’s guilt.
“So, how much did you earn this month?” Zhou Granny asked.
Zhou Cheng hesitated, about to report the true amount when Liu Mei pinched him, taking the phone to answer, “Two thousand yuan.”
In reality, the net profit from their noodle stand easily exceeded ten thousand yuan each month. They worked from before dawn until seven or eight at night.
Zhou Granny didn’t suspect anything. To her, two thousand yuan was already a high income. She said, “You should let me manage your money. Life in the city is expensive, and if I don’t manage it for you, you’ll end up with nothing after a year of hard work.”
“I’ll give you five hundred yuan a month for living expenses.”
In a big city like this, how could a family survive on five hundred yuan a month?
Even the usually docile Zhou Cheng and Liu Mei fell silent.
“Five hundred isn’t enough,” Liu Mei said.
Liu Mei haggled and bargained for a long time before Zhou Granny reluctantly agreed to eight hundred yuan. But she still complained, “Daughter-in-law, I know you don’t have the conscience you used to. You don’t have a son, so who’s going to carry your ashes when you’re gone?”
“A’Kai and A’Feng are your true roots. If you don’t support them, what, are you going to waste your money on that worthless girl—”
Zhou Xiu set down the cloth she was using to wipe the table, turned the volume on her phone to zero, and finally enjoyed some peace and quiet as she continued her chores.
Zhou Cheng, unable to hear, kept responding with a stream of “yes, yes, yes,” showing that he was still listening to the call.
After the call finally ended, Zhou Cheng sheepishly took out twelve hundred yuan and said, “Xiu’er’s mom is the clever one.”
Liu Mei sighed deeply. “Even twelve hundred is too much.”
Xiu’er’s tuition was still far from being covered. With rent, the cost of the stall, groceries, and other expenses, how could they possibly save enough money for tuition?
But they would still have to send the money. If they didn’t, Zhou Granny would be furious and come to the city to confront them.
Although Zhou Xiu felt it was a waste to throw money away like this, she couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows in mild surprise that her usually timid parents were finally showing some backbone.
Zhou Cheng looked at his daughter in silence, then patted her head. “Don’t worry, Xiu’er.”
“Dad will pay for your tuition.”
Zhou Xiu had never relied on her parents to pay for her tuition. She said, “I have scholarships.”
“Even so, we need to save up for you.”
…
As the new school term approached, Zhou Xiu continued helping her parents at the noodle stand. Over time, Zhou Cheng and Liu Mei gradually stopped making mistakes when handling the money.
The young white-collar worker from the nearby office building hadn’t changed his taste, still frequenting Zhou Cheng’s stall every few days.
Zhou Cheng’s golden thread noodles were affordable, delicious, and made with quality ingredients. He had a lot of repeat customers, and the locals loved coming to his stall.
The young white-collar worker asked Zhou Cheng, “Boss, is your daughter always like this?” He pointed to Zhou Xiu, who was doing homework. Whenever there were no customers, she would sit on a small stool in the corner and work on her assignments, looking rather pitiful.
Nowadays, kids are typically pampered by their parents, treated like little emperors. Most wouldn’t even lift a finger to help, let alone spend their holidays working every day like this.
Zhou Cheng, full of pride, said, “Yes, she does very well in school, always in the top three of her class.”
“She’s always worried about my leg.”
The young man wanted to take more photos of Zhou Xiu, offering to share the video’s earnings with Zhou Cheng. Zhou Cheng, not understanding the concept of image rights, cheerfully agreed. “Go ahead.”
But this time, the young man wasn’t so lucky. As soon as he opened his camera, Zhou Xiu caught him and asked him to hand over his phone.
He pulled up the previously recorded video and showed it to her. Zhou Xiu saw the photos of Tan Ming from the first time he came to help and said, “My classmate probably doesn’t like being photographed.”
He showed her the comments, saying, “No, no, no, it’s not him they’re interested in. They like you.”
The comments were full of regret: “Why were the old videos deleted?”
“Whoa, she’s a boss.”
“Please, can the top student start a study stream? I’d definitely watch.”
“It’s so captivating watching her do homework in between tasks. Addictive…”
But Zhou Xiu still didn’t want to be filmed and politely declined.
When she got home, the system suddenly spoke up: [Young one, please start a study livestream.]
It had found another way to reasonably distribute rewards.
Since Zhou Xiu had nothing else to do, she agreed to go along with the system’s idea. She registered an account, turned on her camera, and positioned it so that the screen was completely filled with the test papers, showing only her hand holding a pen as she steadily worked through the sheets.
After a while, a notification popped up: [Ding—10,000 reward credited.]
At the same time, Zhou Xiu’s livestream received a 20,000 yuan donation from a user named “YH.” When she checked her account, she found that the system had indeed taken out the promised ten thousand yuan.
The system explained calmly: [In the future, you can withdraw the money openly.]
Zhou Xiu’s parents wouldn’t have to work so hard anymore.
Zhou Xiu acknowledged with a hum and continued to diligently work through the biology and math Olympiad problems she hadn’t finished during the break, steadily solving one after another.
As Zhou Xiu’s study stream went on, a few random viewers began to trickle in. After watching for a while, many of them left, driven away by the difficulty of the problems.
By the evening, more and more people had stumbled into the stream.
[Whoa, I’ve been lurking for three hours. I started watching before lunch, and now I’ve finished dinner, and the streamer is still going.]
[I just want to ask, is the streamer’s brain overheating? Are you okay?]
[This is last year’s biology Olympiad question, ahhhh! Are you also participating in the competition this year, bro?]
[Am I the only one noticing how accurate her answers are?!]
The camera showed a test paper, with one hand holding a pen and slowly writing down answers. Occasionally, there would be pauses, and then the pen would quickly move again, jotting down the solutions. Even when faced with difficult questions, the pen would eventually move, resolving each problem. The hand never wavered.
This level of concentration was rare—one in a hundred. After finishing one sheet, Zhou Xiu would immediately start on another, working continuously for hours, only taking short breaks now and then.
Zhou Xiu didn’t pay attention to the stream after turning it on at noon. After glancing at the clock, she turned off the stream, went to take a shower, and prepared to go to bed.
The system quietly delivered its report:
[Ding—Biology Olympiad paper correct rate above 80%, reward 200 RMB.]
…
[Ding—Biology Olympiad paper correct rate above 80%, reward 200 RMB.]
This time, Zhou Xiu had completed the paper without any reference materials or assistance from others.
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