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Su Yundai’s tears came to a halt.
“The new program… doesn’t it start next year, or the year after?”
Shang Beize replied, “Freshman courses are mostly the same. The announcement will be out soon—they’ll begin a second round of selection within the school. Any student in C University’s science and engineering programs can apply. You’ll definitely get in. Do you even realize the problem I gave you? It was a problem that no one in our entire Tsinghua math department could solve back then.”
Su Yundai blinked.
She… was that good?
A problem that even the Tsinghua math department couldn’t solve?
That couldn’t be real…
He was just trying to comfort her, wasn’t he?
Shang Beize continued, “As long as you pass the test, Zejing will guarantee you a summer internship. Employment too.”
Su Yundai froze, tears still hanging on her lashes, but no longer streaming down.
She… could apply again?
She still had a chance?
Shang Beize’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly. “As for whether you should study life sciences—why don’t I take you to our lab now? Maybe your confusion has no meaning at all. The future of humanity lies in AI + life sciences. We want to conquer cancer within ten years. We want to cure all diseases. We want humans to live to two hundred years.”
Su Yundai’s eyelashes trembled.
She had only been placed into life sciences by accident.
She didn’t have great ambitions. Her goals were small: earn money quickly and live independently in the capital.
But there was no denying—Shang Beize’s grand vision made her blood surge with excitement.
He pulled her along without giving her room to refuse.
So domineering, so forceful.
Yet this kind of dominance wasn’t irritating.
Because it was something she lacked.
It was like going in for a casual check-up, only to discover a malignant tumor—caught early, thankfully—then immediately being wheeled into surgery, the doctor’s scalpel cutting with precision and removing it completely.
It was exactly what she desperately needed.
Sitting in his car, she was still dazed.
So suddenly, she was actually about to visit Zejing, a top enterprise.
The efficiency was unbelievable.
In the back seat of the Rolls-Royce, she no longer cried, but her heart burned with embarrassment, her ears hot and her face flushed.
She was supposed to visit his home today, to help with the kid.
Instead, she cried in front of him, forcing him to take her out…
He even thoughtfully handed her a tissue, which made her even more awkward.
He said, “The first intake is thirty students. This class will focus on cultivating talent at the intersection of AI and life sciences. That’s my purpose in establishing it.”
His deep eyes shifted to hers. His voice was steady, his face humble, yet his words were wildly arrogant: “Whether or not you successfully transfer majors, you’re already on the best track. I will make sure this direction rises.”
Her heart thudded violently twice.
Suddenly, she felt lit up inside.
“Are you very hung up on the fact that your brother went to Tsinghua while you’re at C University? That having a Tsinghua brother puts huge pressure on you?” he asked.
“No, it has nothing to do with my brother. He’s very good.”
In most families with two children, parents or relatives would compare them.
But Wei Lin never meant to pressure her. The Wei family never meant to either. No one ever compared her to Wei Lin.
They only encouraged her with smiles.
The pressure came entirely from herself.
Shang Beize’s face darkened.
Good? What “good”?
Regardless of everything, he still dares think of marrying you?
He’s not worthy. He’s not worthy. He’s not worthy!
He said coldly, “Tsinghua and how much achievement you get in the end—it’s not that closely related.”
Su Yundai: “……”
Su Yundai: “????”
Big brother, you hold a golden degree, you’ve made trillions, and you tell me it’s not important?
Do you even believe yourself?
Of course it mattered!
At sixteen, he’d been in Tsinghua’s math department, where he met Jiang Huan, then in computer science, who later founded Huantian Tech. He invested ten million in him.
That was the start of his cheat-code life.
By timeline, Zhouxin’s founder Gu Yuzhou had also been a Tsinghua alum. Tangsheng’s founder Lin Yitang was his MIT classmate. He had seen up close how brilliant they were.
The contrast stung.
How could the gap between people be so huge?
At eighteen, they’d graduated Tsinghua math. At twenty-three, they already held double PhDs from MIT, surrounded by geniuses.
Meanwhile, she couldn’t even pass a major transfer at C University.
“You’re outstanding. This minor setback won’t determine your life. Tsinghua is great, yes, but to grow stronger, the first step is demystifying it. Out in society, you’ll meet countless people with prestigious halos. If you keep staring only at those halos, how will you survive?”
His eyelids lifted slightly. “When you put the halo on others, the result is that your interests are infringed upon, and your worth is underestimated.”
“You need to take the light shining on others—and shine it back onto yourself.”
Her eyes lifted sharply.
Shine the light back onto herself…
She suddenly realized—these past few days, she’d been constantly feeling inferior.
Because she failed the transfer. Because her relationship with Wei Lin had shifted. It had made her overly sensitive.
Yes, this was truly terrible.
Lifting her eyes, she saw the faint gleam in Shang Beize’s dark gaze. Her ears burned, so she hurriedly changed the subject. “You invested in Tangsheng Tech too? Its founder Lin Yitang is my idol.”
Shang Beize: “Then I’ll call her over.”
Su Yundai, all false modesty: “Ah? No need to bother her, right?”
Her heart: I want to see her! I want to see her! I want to see her!
Shang Beize was already lowering his head to type on WeChat. “With your math skills, why didn’t you join competitions?”
“I actually did in my first year of high school,” she said quietly. “By then I’d already finished high school math and calculus. But my state was poor, I didn’t perform well. Ended up with a bronze medal in the National High School Mathematics Olympiad (CMO).”
“Bronze in first year is already excellent. Why didn’t you keep going in your second year?”
Her voice held grievance. “Because my Chinese grades always dragged my average down. The homeroom teacher kept criticizing me. From the start of high school, every ugly essay I wrote would be read aloud for the whole class to laugh at.”
She lowered her head as she spoke, voice soft, fists clenched on her knees trembling slightly.
His gaze shifted from her face to her hands, a shadow of murderous intent flashing in his eyes.
Her lashes quivered. “I became the class’s ‘bad example.’ Every time they needed one, it was me. My teacher said I ignored Chinese. Later, he said no girl from our school had ever made the national math team, so I should forget competitions and focus on raising my Chinese score by thirty points. Then I’d have a chance at Tsinghua.”
Those years had been painful.
It was her first real blow.
She tried—setting alarms to force herself to study Chinese daily—but her efficiency was low. An hour would pass in a daze. Whereas in math, she could study in full focus.
The constant criticism crushed her. Insomnia, irregular menstruation, her body falling apart. During competitions, her stomach hurt so badly her back was soaked with sweat, her hands shook.
The teacher’s words rang in her head: Kids like you, I’ve seen too many. You think being good at math means you can ignore Chinese. In the end, you don’t get into the national team, and your Chinese still sucks. You waste your math ability, and end up in some ordinary college.
“If you drop Chinese now, can you guarantee you’ll make the national team? If you could, I wouldn’t say a word. But can you?”
“Frankly, how many girls nationwide have ever made it into the national team?”
Her goal had been exactly that—to enter the team, to earn guaranteed admission.
But she failed.
The blow devastated her.
Looking back, she thought: maybe she should have kept competing. But at the time, she believed raising her Chinese would help.
Still, she told herself: she wasn’t a genius, just diligent. She wasn’t brilliant at everything, just good at math because she worked hard.
“How long did he criticize you like that?” Shang Beize’s voice turned dark suddenly.
“All through high school,” she answered honestly.
The moment she said it, his brows furrowed sharply, his gaze sinking into shadows.
Alarmed, she quickly added, “He wasn’t wrong. My gap with the top students was Chinese. To be a true top scholar, Chinese is crucial. I really don’t have the talent. I just work hard. With enough practice, I can find shortcuts.”
But she wasn’t a prodigy. She didn’t learn math in just two hours a night. She didn’t slack off in everything else and then ace exams after two months of cramming.
Her math teacher had praised her unique solutions, but classmates only muttered, She just does too many problems. A real genius would win IMO gold. She never even plays during breaks—always studying. She’s not a genius, just obsessed.
They weren’t wrong. She couldn’t deny it. But she didn’t dare stop practicing.
Shang Beize’s expression grew darker. “Your teacher had decades of experience. Every word he spoke had its own intention. At that level, words manipulate. In such cases, you needed someone of equal rank to intervene. If a teacher humiliates and pressures you constantly, you should tell your family. They could judge whether he had ulterior motives.”
The Wei family weren’t clueless. But they hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared, hadn’t intervened.
Letting her be manipulated by a teacher for three years—that was Wei Lin’s negligence.
Shang Beize burned inside.
She asked, “What motive? His KPIs?”
“Think carefully. Did he act oddly? Suggest tutoring? Training?”
She thought, then suddenly brightened. “Oh! In first year, he told me to attend weekend essay tutoring. Said he’d call my family to arrange it.”
“What did you say?”
She told him she was boarding with others, had no money, didn’t want to trouble them. Told him not to call.
Back then, she thought nothing of it.
“I refused.”
“Then that’s likely it. Either he wanted you to hire him, or recommend some training institution for kickbacks.”
Her anger flared. So the teacher was that kind of person!
Shang Beize texted his assistant: Investigate Su Yundai’s high school Chinese teacher. Punish severely. Also, plant a few people near her—classmates, friends. Protect her. Give her emotional support. Report daily.
Then he asked her, “With a CMO bronze as a first-year, your family must have invested heavily in tutoring, right? Why give up before the finish line?”
“I never told my family. I studied alone.”
Private training, top teachers—it all cost a fortune. If Wei Lin knew, he’d definitely hire the best, at thousands per hour.
She hadn’t wanted to waste that money.
So she never told him.
“Self-studied, and still got CMO bronze… and you say you have no talent, only hard work?” His tone grew more despairing.
But she truly believed it.
“Why didn’t you have your parents pressure the teacher? Why didn’t your brother—already in Tsinghua—guide you in competitions? Was he too busy with himself?” His voice was laced with contempt.
He’s not worthy. He’s not worthy. He’s not worthy!
Did you hear?
But Su Yundai would never bother Uncle Wei or Wei Lin with such things. Wei Lin was starting a business; she didn’t want to disturb him.
“My scores weren’t enough. What could he do?” she muttered. “It’s embarrassing. Don’t tell him. It’s just a loser making excuses.”
Shang Beize sneered inwardly. Did she think he’d be foolish enough to tell Wei Lin? To wake him up?
Wei Lin would pay the price for his neglect.
Aloud, he only said gently, “There’s a famous traditional doctor nearby. For stress, insomnia, mood swings—you can take some herbal medicine.”
She knew of that doctor. Back in high school, when insomnia and menstrual issues plagued her, he’d treated her successfully. “No need. I can go on my own next time.”
But Shang Beize dragged her in forcefully.
He even stayed during the appointment, ignoring her privacy.
She glared at him, wanting to tell him to leave. But the faint anger in his eyes silenced her instantly.
She caved.
The old doctor remembered her. “You’re in university now, still stressed?”
“Switching majors,” she said softly.
“Pulse.” He frowned. “Still insomnia? Qi and blood deficient, severe blockages, irregular menstruation?”
With a man standing behind her, she wanted to disappear.
She blinked frantically at the doctor, begging him to dismiss Shang Beize.
But the doctor ignored her. “Describe it. Is your period normal?”
The heat of his gaze on her back was suffocating, burning her bones to ash.
Face flushed, she whispered, “Eight days, and it hasn’t stopped.”
The air thickened like glue.
Behind her, Shang Beize’s voice came low and heavy: “She got caught in the rain yesterday.”
The doctor exclaimed, “You can’t let that happen! Any stomach pain?”
Under the pressure of his gaze, she whispered even lower, “A little.”
After prescribing medicine, the doctor asked, “Home address for delivery?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a famous neighborhood. With family so well-off, relax.”
She only smiled faintly.
The doctor: “I’ll have the herbs boiled and couriered.”
“Okay.”
Back in the car, silence hung thick.
She snuck glances at him. He looked out the window, silent, but the pressure radiating from him was heavy.
Jaw clenched, eyes dark with fury.
Perhaps, he thought, her high school teacher’s manipulations had caused psychological issues that now manifested physically: stomachaches, irregular periods, insomnia.
She had borne it all alone.
He touched the frayed cord around his wrist, squeezing until the jagged plastic charm cut his palm.
The air inside the car ballooned with unspoken pressure, close to bursting.
The Rolls-Royce entered a tunnel. Darkness swallowed the car.
His reflection appeared in the window. He realized she was watching him. He lowered his gaze, controlling his tone.
“I know for a student like you, failing to get into a top-2 feels like the sky collapsing. I know it hurts, not being able to study what you love. But it isn’t as serious as you think. Your foundation is strong. Your talent and effort are both top-tier. It’s only a matter of time before you explode with brilliance.”
The car was quiet, isolating them from the world. Only his deep, powerful voice filled the air, forcing its way into her ears.
Light surged at the tunnel’s end, washing away his reflection. He turned, and she saw the glow in his dark eyes.
Her breath hitched.
“At that time,” Shang Beize said, “you’ll find your energy is limitless.”
Her pupils trembled.
Who was this man sitting beside her?
One of the world’s greatest investors.
And what do investors do?
They bet on people. They read people.
And this man was telling her—
Her energy was limitless.