Chapter 18: You Are Perfect Scores, He Surpasses Them All

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Fang Xinghe had no idea how many photos had been taken of him; all he knew was that once the ceremony ended and everyone dispersed to mingle, the two reporters kept hovering around him whenever they had a moment. The deliberate boost to his attractiveness rating to 99 points finally paid off, and it showed vividly. The scheming boy knew that his plan was unfolding exactly as he had hoped, smoothly and perfectly.

In high spirits, he took the initiative to greet Big Brother Han.
“Hello, congratulations on winning first prize as well.”
Han Han replied awkwardly, “Uh, thanks for the reminder, but I don’t really care.”
To prove his point, he casually ran his hand through his long hair with a cool air.
Look at that, so full of teenage angst.
But this was the youth Fang Xinghe could never go back to...
Although he cursed more crudely and appeared rougher, youth is youth, and the feeling is entirely different.

Fang Xinghe continued to tease Han: “Your hairstyle is pretty cool, but you still need to look up to me.”
Han’s first instinct was to retort, but as soon as he raised his eyes, he immediately closed his mouth again.
Damn, this guy’s impossible to roast, what should I do?!
“Uh… doesn’t your school care?”
“They don’t care about me. I’m giving them face by not causing trouble.”

Fang Xinghe smiled, looking at Big Brother Han as if he were seeing a familiar stranger, or perhaps witnessing a symbol of an era he didn’t fully understand.
“Wow... you’re really something.”
Obviously, Big Brother Han was a bit envious, and his expression of shock and admiration was typical late 20th-century slang.
Fang Xinghe wondered if next time they met, Han would have cut off his long hair.
After such a stark contrast, the immature Han might very well start doubting his own aesthetic judgment.
“You could do it too, how about dyeing it blonde?”
The mischievous instigation was ill-intentioned, and terrifyingly, Big Brother Han seemed to be seriously considering it…

Fang Xinghe was about to tease him some more when Chen Danya waved over, signaling for him to come over.
“Bye bye, talk later.”
The evident special treatment left the young prodigy unable to hide the delight shining in his eyes.
“Ah, okay, bye!”

Fang Xinghe strolled through the chaotic venue, holding the framed certificate in one hand.
Other kids barely dared to move.
When they shifted, their movements were stiff and hesitant.
But Fang Xinghe walked as if on a runway, natural and free, calm and self-assured.

Reaching the atrium, a bespectacled, refined middle-aged man suddenly stopped him.
“I’m the admissions officer from Peking University. My surname is Wu. Xiao Fang, time is tight, so I’ll be direct: would you be willing to come study at Peking University?”

Fang Xinghe was stunned by the question.
Many professors, writers, and even examinees nearby were equally taken aback.

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“Not even fourteen yet... this is crazy!”
“I’m only in the second year of middle school,” Fang Xinghe replied calmly after gathering his thoughts.
“I know,” Mr. Wu said, holding onto him firmly. “But we can reach an agreement. You participate in the New Concept Writing Contest again this year. When you enter high school, I’ll specially admit you. As long as you agree to come to Peking University, everything else is negotiable.”

Chen Sihe from Fudan immediately reacted with anger. “You can’t just snatch kids like this! You’re going after a second-year middle schooler?”
“Why not?” Mr. Wu said confidently and proudly. “I have the authority for special admissions. Do you?”
Chen Sihe didn’t, and his face flushed with anger.
“This is nonsense! Xiao Fang is supposed to be studying steadily to build his knowledge. You're spoiling him!”

While scolding with a righteous face, he turned to Fang Xinghe with warmth and enthusiasm.
“Xiao Fang, focus on high school first. There’s no rush. Fudan can make exceptions for you too...”
Goodness, you’re already competing?
A bit impatient, aren’t you...

Nearby examinees whispered among themselves, some envious, some jealous, and many openly resentful.
Everyone won first prize—why did Fang Xinghe get all the special attention?
Many younger kids couldn’t understand, but the judges who gathered thought it only natural.

This year’s New Concept Writing Contest only awarded prizes without ranking, but during the semifinals, there was a scoring system.
Groups of three graders reviewed each piece three times, taking the median score, then the chairperson re-reviewed to finalize the score as the basis for awards.
It was this process that led to Yu Hua’s controversial 2-point essay grievance.
Such disputes happened more than three or five times.
Only two contestants won unanimous first prizes with full votes.
But a full vote didn’t mean a perfect score. “Peering into the Cup” didn’t get full marks, nor did “Knowing but Not Following” — it actually exceeded the maximum score.

“Xiao Fang, do you know how many points your essay got?”
Mr. Wu still held onto Fang Xinghe, smiling warmly with a persistent, determined insistence.
Chen Sihe’s face darkened, about to interrupt, but Mr. Wu was so fast with his words that he completely outed him.
“The full score is 100, but Professor Cao from our Chinese Department at Peking University thought ‘Knowing but Not Following’ was beyond perfect and gave it 110 points. But Professor Chen is old-fashioned, insisting on the saying ‘pride goes before a fall,’ so he only gave you 99 points. Professors Wang and Tie, who are usually so strict, both gave you 100. But he just loves to show off. What kind of behavior is that? You’re clearly outstanding, yet he insists on holding you back. How domineering is that?!”

“You!”
Chen Sihe’s hair practically stood on end as he shouted, “You shameless scoundrel! Despicable villain!”
The other top admissions officers nearby burst into laughter and joined in teasing.
“Haha, gotcha!”
“Cao Wenxuan was setting you up with his scoring.”
“No wonder your Fudan Chinese Department is struggling. Look how dumb you are~~~”
“Xiao Fang, whatever you do, don’t go to Fudan. Old Chen is stubborn and picky; you’ll have a hard time under him.”

These guys knew they couldn’t beat Peking University and Fudan, so they weren’t trying to poach Fang Xinghe. Instead, they focused on making trouble for Chen Sihe, enjoying the spectacle without fear of consequences.

Nearby examinees exchanged glances, then looked at Fang Xinghe, who was surrounded like a star at the center. They swallowed nervously.
Exceeding the max score?!

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Are you even human?

Those who won first prize quickly slunk away to a distance, unwilling to see Fang Xinghe’s nightmare-like face or hear the praises from the top professors.
Second prize winners were confused and exhausted, constantly pondering: how many points did second prize essays get? How far behind was I from Fang Xinghe?
Third prize winners, on the other hand, eagerly gathered closer, eyes shining, happily listening to the gossip.
When the gap is this huge, there’s no point in overthinking—better to enjoy the show.

Meanwhile, Big Brother Han Han stood silently beside Li Qigang, his eyes filled with complexity.
“Don’t overthink it,” Li Qigang gently encouraged. “Keep your current style and level. By senior year, you’ll be able to choose between Tsinghua, Peking University, Fudan, or Jiao Tong with ease.”

“Why do I have to wait until senior year?”
Han Han’s arrogant and prickly question left Li Qigang speechless.
“Uh...” Li Qigang stammered, “Xiao Fang is younger and doesn’t have much family support, so maybe he needs it more...”
An excuse.

Han Han knew it well.
He wasn’t someone who swallowed his pride and said it plainly:
“You all think I’m not as good as him, don’t you?”

Li Qigang tried to clarify, “How can you tell who’s better or worse right now?”
But of course, everyone could see.
Right now, Fang Xinghe was stronger, everyone agreed.
Those two preliminary essays, “Damn Youth” and “Sex,” just recalling them made brows furrow; they were far beyond a typical middle school level.

Both were rebellious, but Fang Xinghe’s words stabbed at the vital arteries, while Han Han’s writing only scratched the surface, making the difference obvious.

“What exactly did he write?”
Faced with Han Han’s unwilling expression, Li Qigang shook his head, sighed, and led him out.

Han was stunned: “Hey? Where to?”
“To see what he actually wrote.”

Li Qigang smiled gently, putting an arm around the thin youth’s shoulders, finally speaking the truth.
“See the gap clearly, then work hard. Let shame spur you on. Don’t waste your talent, which is second only to his.”

Han Han clenched his jaw, blood rushing to his face, burning with anger and frustration, his breaths growing heavy.
But he didn’t storm off in a huff.
Instead, he was stirred by the strongest defiance, striding alongside Li Qigang like a bull charging into the small editorial room, sneering as he sat down at the desk.

Come on!
Show me the gap! Let me see it clearly!

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Last day—don’t waste your votes o(*￣︶￣*)o