Chapter 25: Psychological Tactics

It had been over half a month since her return from the municipal office.

At the height of summer, the entire department had settled into a lazy routine. Most people stuck to their daily triangle—home, office, cafeteria—and spent weekends hiding indoors with the air conditioner running, lacking the courage to venture out under the blazing sun.

Gu Yao was the exception.

To handle the system reform project well, she had pulled out all the stops.

In just two weeks, she used her evenings and weekends to independently and covertly visit all twelve companies bidding for the project. Without revealing her identity, she dug into their operations, ensuring she could evaluate them fairly during the final selection.

Compared to company size, she placed more value on team efficiency and cohesion.

Now, she had a rough shortlist in mind.

If all went well, the final candidate would likely…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing phone.

The caller ID displayed: Secretary Xu.

She quickly straightened up and took the call.

She assumed it was work-related, but surprisingly, it was personal.

After a brief introduction, the caller asked, “How were your physics grades back in school?”

Gu Yao blinked, confused, but answered honestly, “Average, I guess. I took part in the city physics competition in senior year. Didn’t win first place.”

She left something out.

Back then, she had missed the top spot by just two points.

She’d been thrown off by her sudden period mid-exam, and her focus had scattered, costing her the trophy.

But in Xu Mo’s opinion, being the top science student in Qionghai City and later a Peking University graduate was more than enough.

He then explained his reason for calling: “Secretary Zhou’s younger relative is staying in Qionghai for the summer. They’re in urgent need of a physics tutor. If you’re interested, we can discuss compensation.”

Tutoring the child of a top official?

Gu Yao hesitated.

There were tons of professional tutoring centers out there—any one of them would be more qualified than her.

More importantly, if she didn’t teach well, wouldn’t she be ruining a kid’s future?

She mulled it over, ready to politely decline—when Xu Mo chuckled and added, “Don’t be so quick to say no. I’ll send you the daily rate and schedule. You can decide after reading it.”

That caught her interest.

High-ranking families typically valued education. The pay would likely be generous.

Besides, if it weren’t for Secretary Zhou stepping in, the homeowners affected by the Tang County ghost town development might still be stuck fighting for their rights.

Fine. She’d treat it as repaying a debt on behalf of the common folk in her hometown.

It was short-term anyway—at most, two months.

Having made up her mind, she opened WeChat to reply, just as a message with the compensation details came through.

She read it once. Then twice. Then again.

Was she seeing things?

How much?!

She seriously suspected Secretary Xu had made a typo and added an extra zero.

Letting out a long breath, she felt—for the first time—crushed under the weight of being “too expensive.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, she tried to haggle.

Gu Yao:
Is there no room to negotiate the pay?

On the other end, Xu Mo raised an eyebrow.

Wait—was she saying it was too low?

He chuckled.
Xu Mo:
You’re welcome to suggest your ideal rate. I’ll discuss it with Secretary Zhou.

Fair enough—after all, the one paying held the power.

After a quick calculation, Gu Yao confidently typed in her offer.

Xu Mo stared at the number.

Stunned for a second.

Then burst out laughing.

This girl—was she naïve or just too honest?

Either way, she’d helped solve a pressing problem for the big boss. That money was going to be spent one way or another—might as well give it to someone trustworthy from their own ranks.

Little Gu was a solid choice.

Secretary Zhou likely wouldn’t object.

The matter settled, Gu Yao woke up early Saturday, the responsibility still weighing on her mind.

After a quick wash, she mapped out her route to the address Secretary Xu had given her.

No. 28, Jiabai Avenue — Yufeng Clubhouse.

The name rang a bell. It sounded oddly familiar.

Then—like a light flicking on in her head—she remembered.

The last time her cousin had accompanied her to West District to house-hunt, they passed a luxury residence on the way back. She’d sighed wistfully then, wondering when she’d ever get to enjoy that kind of lifestyle.

Her cousin had once encouraged her—“Try to make it to department head before you hit sixty.”

She had laughed it off.

Yet somehow, through a bizarre twist of fate, here she was—living out that wish in the most unexpected of ways. It was almost unbelievable.

She arrived at Yufeng Clubhouse right at 9:30.

A middle-aged housekeeper greeted her at the door. Out of courtesy, Gu Yao called her “Auntie Liu.”

Auntie Liu smiled warmly. “You’re here early, Miss Gu. Ah-Duan just finished breakfast and is upstairs changing. Please have a seat, I’ll go hurry him along.”

Miss Gu? More like what kind of teacher am I…

Gu Yao felt awkward.

“You can just call me Xiao Gu,” she said honestly. “I’m not a professional tutor. Let’s treat today as a trial. If Secretary Zhou is satisfied, I can continue with the sessions.”

Secretary Zhou will decide?

At the mention of that, Auntie Liu hesitated slightly.

The gentleman was swamped with work—he might not even make it back to Yufeng today.

Just then, footsteps echoed from the staircase. A youthful voice rang out, clear and playful:
“Trial classes are outdated. Let’s not promote workplace discrimination.”

Zhou Xingduan came downstairs, still in the same white loungewear from this morning.

With long strides, he headed toward the living room, casually waving a game controller in one hand as he asked, “Wanna play a round, Teacher?”

But Gu Yao’s attention wasn’t on the game.

It was on the physics test paper in his other hand.

Clearly, he knew what this was about.

No need for further explanation.

Zhou Xingduan didn’t insist. He obediently handed her the paper, then lazily sprawled on the couch and entered “immersive mode.”

The sound effects from the video game buzzed around her, but they didn’t disturb Gu Yao as she focused on grading the exam.

Zhou Xingduan, the eldest grandson of the Zhou family, attended the affiliated high school of Peking University. He was about to enter his final year of junior high—fourteen years old this year.

That awkward, rebellious stage. She’d been there.

Nothing strange about it.

Fifteen minutes later, “Miss Gu” was no longer as calm as before.

The paper scored 99% correct—only one basic multiple-choice question left blank. She blinked. A student like this needs a tutor?

She highly doubted Secretary Zhou would hire a tutor just for show.

So what was the real issue?

As she pondered, the first round of the game ended.

A glance at the time—it was now 10:00.

Little Zhou, the self-proclaimed non-discriminator of workplace traditions, still showed no interest in starting the actual lesson.

He was clearly playing a mental game with her.

Ah, the influence of a seasoned political figure on his offspring.

The elder was inscrutable—that was understandable.

But this kid…

A thought struck her. Gu Yao casually picked up the test paper and used her pen to tweak the missing multiple-choice question.

Round two of the game neared its end.

This time, Gu Yao didn’t sit idly by.

She made her move.

“If you answer this correctly, I’ll be your free practice partner,” she offered.

She slid the newly edited question across to the boy.

Zhou Xingduan didn’t react much at first. But when he read it, his expression subtly shifted.

With just a single added parameter, the question’s difficulty shot up to competition level.

This Miss Gu had some skills.

But still—not enough to stump him.

He twirled the pen nonchalantly, did some rough calculations in the margin, and within five minutes, gave his answer.

Gu Yao didn’t even glance at it. She just shook her head.

“Wrong.”

Then she calmly recited the revised question aloud, emphasizing the added magnetic field parameter.

Zhou Xingduan furrowed his brow, twirling his pen for the fifth time before realization dawned on him.

There was a trap hidden in the question.

And he’d fallen right into it.

The young master admitted defeat.

Tilting his head back against the sofa, he drawled,
“The next two hours are yours, Teacher Gu.”

Gu Yao smiled coolly, then pointed upstairs. “Go change out of that loungewear.”

“Sorry, I have OCD. I’m allergic to white.”

Zhou Xingduan: ……

Heh.

Petty revenge, noted.