Chapter 52
After a weekend of rest and medication, Chi Lin’s fever had subsided, though a lingering cough remained.
She wore a mask to school. Lin Xiaozhi, seeing her, asked, “What happened to you over the weekend? You look awful.”
Chi Lin sighed. The weekend had been eventful, to say the least.
“It’s a long story,” she said.
The results of the latest monthly exams, the last ranking before the finals, were being released today.
Chi Lin opened her tablet and checked her email.
Chinese: 94. Math: 88. English: 91. Humanities: 186. Total: 459.
Though not entirely satisfied, she had ranked 35th in her class, a significant improvement.
Her overall ranking had also improved by over a hundred places, and she was close to passing all her subjects.
“Not bad. You’re catching up,” Lin Xiaozhi said, having checked her own scores: 704, still first in their class and top 5 in the grade.
Chi Lin envied Lin Xiaozhi, who rarely paid attention in class, playing games or working on math problems during Chinese and English lessons, yet still managed to excel.
Chi Lin, lamenting her “dismal” performance, hadn’t realized she had achieved in a few months what took most students years to accomplish.
Lin Xiaozhi, glancing at Wei Zhuoning, whose face was grim as she stared at her tablet, knew she hadn’t done well.
Wei Zhuoning was last in their class again, her ranking dropping to the bottom 5% in the grade.
She had done poorly on the previous monthly exam, disappointing her mother, who hadn’t scolded her, but had retreated to her room, her silence more painful than any words.
Later, she had asked Wei Zhuoning, “Have you thought about what you’ll do if you don’t get into college?”
Wei Zhuoning, her head lowered, mumbled, “Probably… writing.”
“Without a college education, your opportunities will be limited. Maybe you should… focus on your studies for this last year. Otherwise…”
Wei Zhuoning, still a student, might not fully grasp the fierce competition in the job market, but her mother, working in a factory, knew.
Last month, the factory had laid off several skilled workers, some with decades of experience.
A new generation of AI-powered machines had been installed, efficient and tireless workers requiring only occasional charging.
Why employ fallible humans when you could have tireless machines?
Wei Zhuoning’s mother had been spared, thanks to her foresight in obtaining an AI management certification from N-T Corporation.
But who knew when the next wave of automation would arrive?
The next AI upgrade could mean her mother’s unemployment.
Her mother hadn’t shared these worries with her, not wanting to burden her.
She just wanted Wei Zhuoning to study hard and get into a good university.
She knew the future wouldn’t be kind to those without a good education.
Wei Zhuoning wanted to do well, to make her mother proud, to ease her worries.
But she had fallen behind, struggling to catch up, her writing also a constant distraction.
Her editor had offered her a coveted promotional spot on the website, promising a significant increase in readership and revenue.
“Just update regularly, at least fifteen thousand words a day, for two weeks, and you’ll get the spot.”
Fifteen thousand words…
Wei Zhuoning’s highest daily word count had been six thousand, and she had only managed to maintain it for five days before collapsing from exhaustion.
This was more than double that amount.
But the potential rewards were tempting.
She wanted to earn enough money to buy her mother a new coat, to replace her faded, worn-out one.
She would do it.
Without a backlog of chapters, she had been writing fifteen thousand words a day, even during the exam period.
Her exam results were predictable.
She was devastated, but she couldn’t stop writing. Another fifteen thousand words awaited her.
Lin Xiaozhi messaged her:
“Last place again?”
Wei Zhuoning didn’t reply, but her dejected expression spoke volumes.
Lin Xiaozhi, seeing her misery, sent another message:
“I can tutor you. The final exams are coming up. You don’t want to fail, do you?”
Wei Zhuoning hesitated. She was wary of being alone with Lin Xiaozhi.
The last time they had been alone, Lin Xiaozhi had stolen her first kiss.
“I’ll come if Chi Lin comes too,” she replied.
Lin Xiaozhi: “…”
Wei Zhuoning messaged Chi Lin: “Lin Xiaozhi wants to tutor us.”
Lin Xiaozhi, seeing Chi Lin read the message and look at her questioningly, was about to explain when Ms. Hu entered the classroom.
Ms. Hu’s displeasure was palpable.
“Do you know how poorly you performed on the monthly exams?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Last place in the entire grade, of course. But what’s even more impressive is that your average score is 15.8 points lower than the other regular classes. 15.8 points! Are you all… intellectually challenged? You have the same teachers, the same textbooks. What’s your excuse?”
The class, heads lowered, braced themselves for her tirade.
Ms. Hu, believing in the power of auditory stimulation, slammed her metal ruler against the podium, the loud bang echoing through the classroom, making their ears ring.
“Instead of studying, you’re wasting your time on… frivolous pursuits. Getting excited over a… gamer. If you put that much effort into your studies, you wouldn’t be in last place! You’re an embarrassment!”
Chi Lin knew she was referring to Lou Mi’s visit and the subsequent online frenzy.
And the subtle dig at Lou Mi’s profession.
“You might not care now, but you’ll regret it when you enter the real world. It’s not my future on the line. It’s not me who will end up at a third-rate university.” She spotted a boy playing a game on his phone.
She snatched the phone.
“Hey…” the boy protested, but Ms. Hu glared at him, silencing him.
She held up the phone, the game still running.
“See this? This is why you’ll never amount to anything. You’ll graduate from some no-name university, unemployed, and end up… playing video games for a living. How pathetic. And your parents, wasting their money on your education…”
Gao Xiang, disgusted by her words, said, “That’s not fair, Ms. Hu. Lots of people make a good living playing video games.”
Another student added, “Yeah, like Lou Mi. She earns millions. How many people our age can say that?”
Ms. Hu scoffed. “You seriously think playing video games is a real job? Do some research. Those holographic games are destroying your brains. They might be enjoying their fifteen minutes of fame now, but they’ll all die young.”
Chi Lin looked up, her gaze fixed on Ms. Hu.
“Don’t believe me? Do you even read the news? Esports athletes are prone to… occupational hazards. Early-onset Alzheimer’s, for example. A disease that usually affects older people. And they die young. They might be earning millions now, but what good is it if they don’t live long enough to enjoy it? And you’re all envious of their… short-lived success? Such a waste…”
Ms. Hu continued her rant, then noticed Chi Lin standing up, staring at her.
The entire class turned to look at Chi Lin, their hearts pounding with anticipation.
Here we go!
She’s going to defend Lou-jie!
“What are you doing?” Ms. Hu snapped. “Sit down!”
“The school rules don’t say I can’t stand up,” Chi Lin replied calmly.
“You stand up when you have a question for the teacher!”
“I do have a question for you, Ms. Hu,” Chi Lin said, her voice sharp. “Or rather, several questions, regarding your… ignorance and narrow-mindedness. Over four billion people worldwide play holographic games, that’s 44% of the population. The domestic market alone is worth over 60 billion yuan. Esports programs and universities are flourishing. Young people are eager to enter this field. The competition is fierce.”
Chi Lin wasn’t making things up.
Though not a gamer herself, she had handled countless reports from the Ministry of Works and the Ministry of Revenue during her time in Dayuan. She was familiar with data analysis.
And with her excellent memory and Lou Mi’s career in esports, she naturally paid attention to relevant news and statistics.
She had practically memorized a recent report on the esports industry.
Her precise figures and confident delivery left Ms. Hu speechless.
Chi Lin continued, “Professional esports has been around for over a decade. These athletes aren’t just ‘playing games.’ They’re representing our country, just like any other national team. Even someone from centuries ago would understand that after a few months in this era. Calling their careers a ‘waste’ is laughable. If you want to insult someone, at least do some research first.”
Ms. Hu, struggling to comprehend her eloquent argument, focused on a single word.
“Did you just call me a chicken?!”
Chi Lin: “…”
Talking to her is like playing the lute to a cow.
The class, however, was impressed by Chi Lin’s articulate and scathing rebuke.
She was usually quiet, but her insults, though devoid of profanity, were devastating.
Then, someone spoke up, challenging Chi Lin.
“So you think Ms. Hu is unqualified to be your teacher?”
It was Lu Ke, the A Bao fan who had fought with Gao Xiang.
“A teacher is supposed to impart knowledge and wisdom,” Chi Lin replied. “If they themselves are ignorant, how can they teach others?”
“Trying to impress us with your… ancient sayings? I challenge you to a bet.”
“What kind of bet?”
“Not overall grades. That would be unfair. Just English. On the final exam. I’ll give you a twenty-point advantage. If you score higher than me, or even the same as me, you win.”
Gao Xiang: “That’s bullshit! You’re the English class representative! You got a 140 on the last exam! Even with a twenty-point advantage, she still has to score over 120!”
Lu Ke chuckled. “If you’re scared, just say so.”
Chi Lin: “And if I win?”
Before Lu Ke could answer, a strange, distorted voice said, “He and Ms. Hu will record a video apologizing to Lou Mi and post it on the school forum.”
“Who said that?!” Ms. Hu exclaimed.
No one could identify the voice. It was Wei Zhuoning, using a voice changer app.
“Fine by me,” Lu Ke said. “And if you lose?”
“I’ll… apologize,” Chi Lin said.
Lu Ke scoffed. “That’s too easy. If you lose, you’ll drop out of school.”
The class gasped.
“That’s harsh!”
“That’s not fair…”
Chong Zhiwen sneered. “If you’re scared, beg for mercy now.”
Lin Xiaozhi looked at Chi Lin, whose expression remained unchanged. She was surprised when Chi Lin, despite the high stakes, agreed.
“Fine. I accept.”
“Chi Lin! Are you crazy?!” Gao Xiang exclaimed.
Chi Lin, knowing exactly what she was doing, turned to Ms. Hu.
“Do you agree to this bet, Ms. Hu?”
She needed Ms. Hu’s explicit agreement.
Ms. Hu, confident in Lu Ke’s abilities, thought it would be an easy victory.
But Chi Lin’s recent improvement in English was concerning.
And if Chi Lin won, she would have to record an apology video and post it on the forum? How humiliating.
Seeing her hesitation, Chi Lin said, “If you’re scared, back down now.”
She had used Chong Zhiwen’s own words against him. Ms. Hu couldn’t refuse now.
“As a teacher, I shouldn’t be participating in student bets,” she said, “but Chi Lin, you’re too arrogant. I have to teach you a lesson. Fine! I agree!”
Chi Lin, ignoring her words, was satisfied with her agreement.
She turned to Lu Ke. “I don’t need a twenty-point advantage. We’ll compete fairly. Highest score wins.”
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