Chapter 17: The Monthly Exam Begins  

As the bell signaling the end of evening self-study rang, the classroom erupted in scattered chatter.  

Chalk dust floated in the air as Teacher Zhang tapped the podium with a blackboard eraser.  

“Those whose names I just called, move your desks to the hallway. The rest, arrange your desks as instructed, keeping a one-meter distance between them.”  

Lin Yumo was bent over, organizing the books in her desk drawer, a strand of loose hair falling onto her workbook. Just as she finished tidying up and prepared to move her desk outside, she suddenly felt the weight on the desk lighten.  

“Let me.”  

The boy’s voice was like rice paper soaked in warm water—soft yet carrying an undeniable firmness.  

When Lin Yumo looked up, she saw Wang Changyu’s profile as he bent to lift the desk.  

The sleeves of his school uniform stopped just above his wrists, revealing a faint brown mole on his wristbone. The silver-rimmed glasses caught the hallway lights, scattering tiny glimmers.  

The metal legs of the desk scraped against the floor with a harsh sound, yet he walked with remarkable steadiness, as if he were carrying not a heavy wooden desk but a fragile handful of moonlight.  

“Class rep, I can do it myself!” Lin Yumo called out, clutching her backpack as she hurried after him.  

“Careful.” Wang Changyu suddenly turned, using his shoulder to block the protruding fire hydrant at the hallway corner.  

The movement left a streak of dust on the blue-and-white fabric of his uniform collar.  

“Girls shouldn’t carry heavy things,” he said, continuing forward with the desk.  

The hallway was crowded with students moving desks, the uniforms of Class Seven and Class Eight weaving together like a flowing river.  

Yet Wang Changyu stood out distinctly in the crowd—his pace remained steady, his back straight as a poplar tree unswayed by the wind.  

The indoor light slanted through the windows, casting a golden edge on the silver frames of his glasses, making his eyes—always hidden behind the lenses—appear especially gentle.  

Wang Changyu set the desk down gently by the hallway wall, the metal legs tapping lightly against the floor.  

“Thank you, class rep,” Lin Yumo said, steadying the desk legs. Her fingertips accidentally brushed against the faint calluses on the back of his hand.  

Wang Changyu abruptly took half a step back, unconsciously adjusting his glasses. “No problem. Helping classmates is what I should do. See you tomorrow.”  

Lin Yumo thought the class rep was truly chivalrous. Smiling, she waved. “Alright, see you tomorrow.”  

……  

The next day, the monthly exam officially began, starting with Chinese.  

The soft rustle of exam papers landing on desks roused the morning light. As she unscrewed her thermos, the delicate fragrance of jasmine bloomed at her nose.  

This was her first exam since returning—pretending she wasn’t nervous would be a lie.  

Lin Yumo sat upright at her exam seat, the freshly distributed Chinese test paper spread before her.  

She flipped through the pages lightly, skimming the content, and felt reassured—the difficulty level was about the same as their usual practice tests.  

A faint smile touched her lips. With confidence now, she wasted no more time and picked up her pen to begin answering.  

Chinese had always been easy for Lin Yumo, both before and during this period.  

So as she wrote, her thoughts flowed like a babbling brook.  

Soon, she reached the essay section.  

Lin Yumo carefully read the prompt, her gaze moving slowly over the question as she considered her approach.  

She began rapidly recalling the excellent essays she had read before, thinking about how to skillfully incorporate their strengths into her own writing.

The bell for the second exam rang.

As the test paper landed on her desk, Lin Yumo quickly skimmed through it, and her heart sank—in one word, it was hard; in two words, very hard; in three words, extremely hard.

Lin Yumo took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

She had always prided herself on her strong mathematical thinking, but today’s paper made her feel unprecedented pressure.

Once the exam began, Lin Yumo threw herself into answering the questions.

The multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blank sections at the front, though challenging, were manageable thanks to her solid foundation and flexible thinking.

However, when she reached the problem-solving section, the difficulty suddenly skyrocketed.

Lin Yumo furrowed her brows, sometimes biting the end of her pen in deep thought, other times scribbling frantically on her scratch paper, recalculating repeatedly.

She constantly adjusted her approach, trying to tackle the problems from different angles.

Because the paper was so difficult, she had to spend extra time on calculations.

As time ticked away minute by minute, Lin Yumo arrived at the final question, which was the hardest of all.

After carefully reading the problem, she realized the third sub-question required discussing three possible outcomes. She focused intently on the calculations, proceeding with caution at every step.

The first two sub-questions went smoothly, and Lin Yumo quickly arrived at the answers.

But when she reached the third outcome, the calculations became much more complex.

Her fingers flew across the scratch paper as her brain worked at full speed, yet the final result remained just out of reach.

“Ding-ding-ding—” The bell signaling the end of the exam rang mercilessly, interrupting Lin Yumo’s train of thought.

She looked at the unfinished third result, only a formula written on the paper, and felt a pang of regret.

She had been so close to solving it.

Lin Yumo couldn’t help but grumble inwardly—the teachers were clearly determined to intimidate the students, making each question harder than the last.

When the physics paper was handed out, Lin Yumo quickly scanned through it, and her brows instantly knitted together.

The complex circuit diagrams and obscure mechanical principles were daunting.

She took another deep breath, steadying herself, and began answering earnestly.

But as she worked through it, several questions left her stumped.

She bit the end of her pen, her frown deepening, her eyes betraying a hint of anxiety and helplessness.

By the time the exam ended, Lin Yumo couldn’t shake the unease—there were a few uncertain answers, and she sighed.

Next came the chemistry exam.

Lin Yumo had initially thought chemistry would be easier, but upon receiving the paper, she realized she’d been too optimistic.

Though there were a few minor questions she wasn’t sure about, she took some comfort in knowing that even if she got them wrong, they wouldn’t cost her many points.

As the exam schedule progressed to the final subjects—biology, geography, history, and politics—Lin Yumo’s tense nerves relaxed slightly. Her memory was relatively strong in these areas.

However, when the papers were handed out, she was surprised. The questions were quite niche, and she guessed her classmates might struggle.

The last subject was English. Lin Yumo took a deep breath.

The vocabulary was a bit beyond the standard.

The British accent from the headphones crackled with static, and when she heard the low-frequency word “neuroplasticity”—a term from the second semester of her freshman year textbook—she knew exactly how difficult this English exam was going to be.

The reading comprehension section was filled with long and complex sentences, and the concept of “quantum entanglement” in the fourth science passage left many students scratching their heads.  

The essay topic, “Artificial Intelligence and Humanity,” acted like a mirror, exposing the true extent of the candidates’ vocabulary.  

She avoided some common words and instead used “merits” and “drawbacks” to express her views.