The alarm clock rang right on time at 5:30 in the morning. Three seconds later, a long, fair hand stretched out from under the covers and slapped the stop button.

Silence.

Twenty minutes later, the alarm rang again.

The boy on the bed couldn’t avoid it any longer. With his eyes closed, he got dressed, brushed his teeth, and washed his face.

After splashing his face with water, his cheeks were rosy and dotted with droplets. His warm and handsome features gradually came to life. Song Qitao opened his eyes and looked at the mirror with a deep sense of bitterness.

In the kitchen, Aunt Liu had already prepared soy milk and steamed buns. Song Qitao rushed in, full of energy, “Gimme, gimme.”

While packing it up, Aunt Liu said with concern, “How can your body handle going to school so early every day?”

“Big brother is working too hard.”

Song Qitao’s little sister, Song Yanli, was seven years old this year. She had the kind of energy that would make high school seniors jealous, waking up at 5 a.m. every day with Aunt Liu. She did it voluntarily, unlike Song Qitao.

Song Qitao said sincerely, “Study hard, or you’ll end up like your brother.”

Because he wasn’t good at academics but had a talent for drawing, he took the path of an art student. After the intensive training and joint exams in the first semester of senior year, he got decent scores, but it felt like all the academic knowledge in his brain had been wiped clean.

Song Yanli said, “I want to be like brother!”

Song Qitao replied, “You absolutely can’t!”

Aunt Liu poured two cups of soy milk into disposable milk tea cups, which were slightly larger than regular soy milk cups, allowing for more to be filled.

Song Yanli, with her mischievous grin, said, “Wow, two cups of soy milk. Brother, are you in love?”

Song Qitao said, “No, it’s for another brother.”

Song Yanli said, “I don’t believe you.”

Song Qitao said, “Believe it or not.”

The cups were a bit hot, so Song Qitao grabbed two cup sleeves for insulation.

He had designed the pattern on the sleeves himself. The design was just a background; the main focus was the math formulas scribbled all over them—so he could memorize them while drinking soy milk on the way.

Despite his efforts, he still wasn’t good at math.

Why could some people score full marks in math while he struggled to even pass?

The person who made Song Qitao envious was the top student in the grade, Meng Sicheng.

He was exceptionally good at math, and the harder the questions, the bigger the gap between him and ordinary people.

It was said that Meng Sicheng explained questions with pinpoint accuracy, and talking to him was incredibly beneficial—one conversation was worth ten years of study.

That’s what a few girls around Song Qitao said.

Ten years of study.

Song Qitao was very tempted, but with more than ten classes separating him from Meng Sicheng, they really had no interaction. Besides, Meng Sicheng was quite aloof.

After much thought, Song Qitao decided to bring breakfast for Meng Sicheng to get closer.

He didn’t bring a backpack, just a bag of buns hanging from his pinky, and a cup of soy milk in each hand, discreetly entering the quiet campus.

At the end of February, the spring chill was still biting. The unsealed soy milk emitted a sweet, warm aroma, making the formulas on the cup sleeves seem more approachable.

1/[n(n+1)] = (1/n) – [1/(n+1)]

Knowledge entered his brain.

He closed his eyes and tried to recall it again.

Uh… uh…

Frustrated with his uncooperative brain, Song Qitao didn’t notice a dry branch on the ground. As he stepped on it, he staggered slightly.

The two cups of soy milk swung violently with his body, splashing liquid everywhere. The heat made him flustered, and he quickly placed them on a nearby stone table.

He took out a tissue from his pocket to wipe the cup rims and his hands, then picked them up again, now a third lighter.

He couldn’t give them away like this—Meng Sicheng might think he had already drunk from them.

After some thought, Song Qitao opened the lids and poured one cup into the other.

There, a full cup again!

The high school classrooms were never locked, so he could go study anytime.

At 6:15:22 in the morning, Meng Sicheng witnessed the soy milk incident in front of the teaching building.

Bringing breakfast for classmates was common, but coming this early, wasn’t he afraid of getting a stomachache from the cold?

At 6:17:45, Meng Sicheng found the same soy milk on his desk.

“…”

It was still warm, and the cup sleeve had formulas on it.

Upon closer inspection, the sequence formula was actually printed wrong.

Meng Sicheng reached into his desk and found two soft, warm buns.

“…”

He hadn’t eaten anything that morning. He came to school so early purely because he was woken up by his bickering parents.

His parents had long been doing their own things, never caring for him. But now, in his senior year, they both returned home to put on a show—for his grandfather.

However, they had become a resentful couple, always sarcastic and accusatory, yet pretending to care in front of him.

One came home at 4:30 a.m., the other at 5:30 a.m., slamming doors loudly. The one at 4:30 was woken up by the one at 5:30 and got a few jabs in return.

Unable to sleep, Meng Sicheng decided to come to school.

The soy milk was warm, and so were the buns.

Staring at the incorrect formula on the cup sleeve, for the first time, Meng Sicheng frowned at math.

…

Song Qitao persisted for three days. During these three days of delivering soy milk, he was so tired from waking up early that he was as sleepy as a dog during morning classes, even dozing off in the first math class.

“Song Qitao.” The math teacher passed by the last row and knocked on the desk, “Were you sneaking out last night?”

Startled awake, Song Qitao realized he had fallen asleep, “Sorry, teacher.”

Looking at the blackboard, he realized he was saved—the content had completely changed since he fell asleep.

If he didn’t sneak out to catch a big chicken, he’d be letting down the math class he slept through.

As soon as the bell rang, he lay on the desk to catch up on sleep. His deskmate Jiang Le dashed out to the restroom, returning with news.

“I just passed by Class 1, and a top student suddenly had a stomachache and was rolling on the floor, even vomited everywhere. The ambulance took him away.”

“Seems it was because of eating cold breakfast.”

Song Qitao sat up straight, wide awake, a chill running down his spine, “Who?”

Oh no, he delivered breakfast at 6:15. If Meng Sicheng arrived at 6:50, it would’ve been cold in this weather!

Ahhh, what a fool he was!

Jiang Le said, “I don’t know.”

Song Qitao dashed out. His class wasn’t on the same floor as Class 1. He took three steps at a time down the stairs, sweating by the time he reached Class 1’s back door.

Meng Sicheng was sitting by the window this week.

He was still there, his silhouette as graceful and upright as bamboo.

There was no soy milk cup on the desk, so it was unclear if he drank it.

At that moment, Meng Sicheng was explaining a problem to a classmate. He glanced at the question stem, “This question…”

He picked up the pen and wrote down two lines, “Why not differentiate three times, afraid of too much work?”

Song Qitao: “…” He was the type to avoid too much work.

Knowing that soy milk could get cold, he decided not to continue delivering it. But today… since he was already here, why not ask Meng Sicheng for some study tips?

He bit his lip, feeling as nervous as a bride on her wedding day. Meng Sicheng was a god of learning, with the looks of a school heartthrob and a heart as cold as ice.

Song Qitao was a bit scared, afraid he wouldn’t be able to say a word.

Better try with a question first.

Standing behind Meng Sicheng, he perked up his ears, stood on tiptoe, and peeked at the question. With good eyesight, he saw it!

Not only did he see the ink-printed question stem, but he also saw Meng Sicheng’s eyelashes, blacker than ink.

But in the next two minutes, Song Qitao wondered if he had fainted or fallen into a time rift. Everything Meng Sicheng said went in one ear and out the other, leaving nothing but a blank mind.

He was stunned. He had listened carefully, hadn’t he?

Of course, Meng Sicheng knew someone was standing behind him and could guess why he had rushed over.

Finally, Song Qitao realized that soy milk at 6:15 would get cold.

Patiently, he finished explaining the key steps of the function and said to the person, “Go back and solve it.”

“Thanks, top student.”

And so, Song Qitao went back.

Meng Sicheng tidied up his desk and turned around, but the back door was empty.

“…”

“Song Qitao.”

“Hmm?” Song Qitao stopped in the stairwell. Sunlight slanted in from the corridor, his skin white—not the translucent white of jade, but a warm, rosy white, full of vitality. His dark pupils were like gems in a spring stream.

Turning around, he almost stood face-to-face with Meng Sicheng, who was surprisingly tall when he stood up!

In one glance, he saw the cup sleeve in Meng Sicheng’s hand, his peach blossom eyes widening slightly. He had been recognized!

But he had been so discreet, unless Meng Sicheng checked the surveillance footage.

Why would Meng Sicheng check the footage? Did he also get a stomachache from drinking cold soy milk?

“Hello.”

Meng Sicheng took a step closer, the school uniform on him like a spring collection on a runway, “Is this yours?”

Song Qitao: “Yeah.”

Meng Sicheng: “You copied the sequence formula wrong.”

“Sorry—huh? Did I memorize it wrong again?” Song Qitao was startled, quickly clarifying, “I didn’t mean to mislead you!”

Meng Sicheng: “Why did you bring me soy milk?”

Song Qitao answered honestly, “I wanted to ask you about math problems.”

Unexpectedly, Meng Sicheng fell silent.

Thank goodness he had given up. How could he have naively thought that soy milk would win over Meng Sicheng?

Meng Sicheng’s expression remained unchanged, “Why didn’t you ask?”

Song Qitao: “I don’t want to trouble you. I can’t understand when you explain.”

Meng Sicheng frowned, “…Can’t understand?”

Trying to describe his earlier listening experience, Song Qitao said, “It’s like there’s a generation gap.”

Why wasn’t it an IQ gap? Meng Sicheng nodded, “Wanna try listening to another question?”

The class bell was about to ring. Song Qitao said, “Your teacher is in the classroom.”

Meng Sicheng said, “Stay right here.”

Standing at the stairwell corner, unsure whether to go up or down, Song Qitao watched as Meng Sicheng ran back to the classroom, then came out with a paper and pen.

The bell rang, the speaker installed on the outer wall of the stairwell blasting at full volume, urging students back to class.

Meng Sicheng circled a moderately difficult sequence problem, his voice cool, “Read the question.”

Though his voice wasn’t loud, it was more effective than the bell. The bell urged him back, but Meng Sicheng told him to stay, and he dared not disobey.

Under the forceful influence of Meng Sicheng’s aura, Song Qitao read the question for twenty seconds, then whispered, “Done.”

Meng Sicheng began explaining, “This question uses three formulas…”

For the first time, Meng Sicheng started explaining a problem by listing formulas.

Desperately trying to activate all his brain cells, as soon as Meng Sicheng began speaking, they went on strike, as if allergic to his voice.

How could this be? This was the dream lecture from a top scorer!

Squinting slightly, Song Qitao blocked out his vision to enhance his hearing.

For the first time, Meng Sicheng saw someone closing their eyes, “Listening to a play?”

Startled awake, Song Qitao shook his head, “No, not sleeping.”

A minute later, Meng Sicheng looked at Song Qitao’s slightly chubby cheeks, “Got it?”

Raising his eyes, Song Qitao’s clear, black-and-white pupils reflected Meng Sicheng’s handsome brows and eyes, but nothing else—no knowledge at all.

Meng Sicheng: “Is there a question on my face?”

Song Qitao mumbled, “No, I-I think I’m allergic to your voice.”

Meng Sicheng: “…” Allergic to his voice?

“Song Qitao, asking for help from the top student?” The chemistry teacher from Class 12 hurried upstairs, paused upon seeing his student, “Not done with one question?”

Pressing his lips, Song Qitao wasn’t done—the second part of the sequence problem hadn’t been explained.

Without hesitation, Meng Sicheng put away the paper and walked away, “It’s done, you can take him.”

“It’s done.” Like a parrot, Song Qitao repeated, following the chemistry teacher.

“Teacher, I improved in the chemistry monthly exam.”

With his good looks and soft demeanor, all the subject teachers knew him.

The chemistry teacher smiled, “Improving in one subject doesn’t mean your total score improved. You still need to work hard on math. Were you asking Meng Sicheng for help?”

Frustrated, Song Qitao said, “I couldn’t understand.”

The chemistry teacher comforted him, “You can ask the top student in our class. Your thought processes are more similar.”

Song Qitao: “Oh, right!”

Quickly changing course, he decided to ask their class monitor instead. Whether or not the explanation was correct, at least he could understand it.

Slowly but surely, Song Qitao absorbed math, but getting into a bachelor’s program was tough.

Math class was when he felt the sleepiest. Propping his head with one hand, his gaze unfocused on the blackboard, his elbow slipped, and his eyes drifted to the wall.

On the wall hung a “Countdown to the College Entrance Exam,” and he stared at it, dazed, momentarily seeing “Welcome to Junior College.”

No way…

Rubbing his face, his brain sluggishly received the math teacher’s signal, “Turn to page 99, everyone.”

As he flipped through “Comprehensive Math Review,” a sticky note slipped out from between the pages.

He bent down to pick it up.

[I’m working part-time to support myself, consistently in the top 50 of the grade, offering paid homework correction services, organizing mistakes, saving you time. Five yuan per paper. Contact Penguin: 434***88. Keep this confidential.]