chapter 6

I kept telling myself: Song Zhaozhao, you must stay clear-headed.

The report card would only come out a week later.

After saying goodbye to Zhang Jie and my roommates, I took the bus back to the village.

The old seven-seater Jinbei van was crammed with fourteen people, creaking along the muddy road.

Middle-aged men smoked in the car, while women held crying babies in their arms.

One woman lifted her shirt to breastfeed her child.

In 2003, big cities were already bustling with traffic, but this remote little county was still caked in mud, stagnant like a dead pond.

I felt a bit carsick, and when I got to the village entrance, I got off as if escaping, only to run into Aunt Zhang.

Aunt Zhang smiled and asked, “Zhaozhao, why do you look so pale?”

“Looks like you didn’t do well on the exam. I asked around-very few students from the parallel class at No. 1 High School ever get into a good university.”

Many of the village women said the same thing.

They said my parents must be out of their minds, not investing in their son, but sending their daughter to high school instead.

Wasn’t this just making a wedding dress for someone else’s family?

By the pond at our doorstep, my mother was washing clothes.

As soon as she saw me, she stood up, supporting her back: “Quick, my back hurts. Help me wash these clothes.”

I had planned to use the winter break to study hard and catch up.

But there was always endless work at home.

Washing clothes, cooking, feeding chickens and pigs, digging and sowing seeds.

Only after nightfall did I finally have time, but then my mother would complain that reading with the light on wasted electricity.

But Song Mu rode his bicycle around the village every day, never having to do any chores.

Whenever I complained, my mother would defend him: “He’s a boy, how could he do all these trivial things?”

Song Mu would roll his eyes at me: “These are women’s chores!”

That day, I was slicing radishes in the kitchen when Song Mu slipped in. For every slice I cut, he ate one.

He even complained about why dinner wasn’t ready yet.

I was furious. I grabbed his hand and pressed it hard against the cutting board, threatening, “Song Mu, I’m not the same hardworking, self-sacrificing sister I used to be. If you keep this up, do you believe I’ll chop your hand off too?”

In that moment, I unleashed the demon inside me, baring my sinister, sharp fangs.

Yes.

I resented him.

I hated his endless demands, hated that he was hopeless, hated that he stole all of our parents’ love.

After that day, Song Mu became much more obedient and even started helping me out.

See, love and tolerance can’t buy respect.

Only when you toughen your fists will others pay attention and fear you.

On the day the report cards came out, I had to return to school.

My mother was dismissive: “Why waste money on bus fare? Do you think you’ll get some amazing result?”

Aunt Zhang laughed while pounding clothes: “Zhaozhao must be going to bring back a first place for the whole school, right?”

Zhang Shuai ran out of the house: “Wangjia Village is putting on a show today. Let’s go watch the opera. What’s so great about a report card?”

After graduating from Vocational School in my previous life, it was only when I started working on the assembly line that I realized the importance of knowledge.

I took the adult self-study exams, finished my associate degree, and then my bachelor’s.

Zhang Shuai just kept playing on his phone and gaming, always trying to discourage me: “That kind of diploma isn’t recognized outside. I don’t know why you’re wasting your time.”

“Is studying as fun as gaming?”

I smiled at him: “Zhang Shuai, go enjoy the opera. I never want to be on the same path as you again.”

I missed the earliest bus and only arrived at school at nine thirty.

At the school gate, I saw several Self-funded Students from my class getting out of a private car.

Mu Jun whistled at me as I hurried past, calling out, “Song Zhaozhao, no matter how fast you run, you won’t get extra points on the final exam.”

The others burst out laughing.

There were three red honor rolls for the first year.

The overall score list, the key class list, and the parallel class list.

I squeezed forward desperately toward the parallel class list.

The cold wind howled, dark clouds blocked out the sun.

But my heart was hanging high, burning hot.

Would my name be among the top six?