Chapter 27

The classmates were going too far just watching the drama—what was the meaning of dragging her into this mess? Jiang Zhiyu glared fiercely at Liu Chacha, who had stirred things up first.

She was unwilling—what was there to compare with this “eternal number two”?

Jiang Zhiyu used her usual tactic with Shen Xingyi, lowering her head, appearing pitiful and aggrieved.

Seeing this, Shen Yuexi couldn’t bear it. “Brother, I don’t think Zhiyu was trying to provoke you. There’s no need to compete when the skill gap is this big.”

“Skill gap?” Shen Xingyi repeated the phrase, raising his sharp, ascetic-looking eyebrows. “How do you know there’s a skill gap between us?”

She had the same name—Jiang Zhiyu. He wanted to know: are all people named Jiang Zhiyu academic geniuses?

He once used a notoriously difficult question from the Eagle Enrollment Exam—the kind that had stumped even himself and the entire school years ago. Jiang Zhiyu had casually solved it, shocking everyone.

Though the format had changed since then, the essence hadn’t. In all of northern Beijing, few could solve it.

Even after graduating for so long, it still weighed on him. And now, this new Jiang Zhiyu had reignited a spark of hope—could it be that the “Sister Fish” of his era wasn’t gone after all?

Jiang Zhiyu didn’t want to compete. She curled up on her desk, shaking her head frantically—no way she was getting involved.

“Come on, Jiang! Don’t be shy! Let us witness your brilliance!”

“Yeah, we just want to see how a Huaqing University teacher approaches solving problems.”

The class began a fresh wave of coaxing, everyone united in pushing the two of them to compete.

Shen Xingyi tapped the blackboard, picked up the chalk, clearly wanting to settle who the true Jiang Zhiyu was. “Let’s go, Jiang.”

The “eternal number two” was up to something again. Jiang Zhiyu was helpless—he insisted on competing, even though she’d already conceded. Was this really the same person after all these years?

With everyone egging them on, she finally stood up. Could it be he just couldn’t beat her past self and wanted to crush this new namesake for a sense of superiority?

If that’s the case, then fine—she’d make sure to crush Shen Xingyi and make him eat his words.

“Sure, let’s go. Just don’t regret it, Teacher Shen.”

Taking the chalk, Jiang Zhiyu smiled nonchalantly. “Say it—how do we compete?”

Zhang Chacha raised his hand, adjusting his glasses to look more scholarly. “Pick three final problems from a problem bank. Whoever finishes and gets them right first wins.”

Shen Xingyi stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I think Zhang’s suggestion is excellent. What do you think, Jiang?”

Shen Yuexi could only sit and worry. She knew her brother well—he’d never initiated a challenge like this before.

And he seemed to treat anyone named Jiang Zhiyu differently—especially that Jiang Zhiyu from back then.

After all, pride matters, especially when a high schooler is pitted against a top university teacher.

“I think it’s fine. Just don’t cry if you lose, Teacher Shen,” Jiang Zhiyu teased, remembering how he once failed to beat her and ended up hiding on the basketball court crying. When the teacher went to fetch him, he pretended to be strong.

“Then let’s begin.”

The classmates searched online for notoriously hard questions and projected them on the screen. These were top-performing students—they knew what truly difficult problems looked like.

The two competitors had to answer on the blackboard, each taking half—no scrap paper allowed.

Shen Xingyi glanced at the questions and memorized them instantly. Resting his chin on his hand, he thought for a bit before starting to write, occasionally jotting down some rough steps on the board.

Jiang Zhiyu, meanwhile, stared at the blackboard, completely still, like she was meditating.

“What’s with her?”

“Maybe she gave up, knowing she can’t beat Teacher Shen.”

“Yeah, Shen Xingyi was once the national second-place scholar, after all.”

Even Shen Yuexi wasn’t optimistic—her brother was really going too far today.

Ten minutes later, Shen Xingyi had already reached the third question, while Jiang Zhiyu finally started writing. Stroke by stroke, she didn’t need any rough work. It was as if she’d just mentally solved all three questions beforehand.

Both of them finished at almost the same moment.

Their solving methods differed, but the answers were identical. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, it was clear—there was no copying involved.

Everyone had to admit it was a draw. They’d both finished simultaneously, with matching answers.

The crowd was amazed—Jiang Zhiyu’s skills were extraordinary, able to go toe-to-toe with a national top scholar and university mentor.

If she could match the second-ranked student nationwide, where would she rank now?

Even Shen Yuexi felt ashamed—she’d underestimated Jiang Zhiyu. Her brother didn’t challenge people without reason after all.

She even started wondering: why are all people named Jiang Zhiyu so brilliant?

Shen Xingyi stared at Jiang Zhiyu’s solution for a long time. Her logic was far clearer than his. He had forced the formula into place, jumping through mental hoops, while she had elegantly broken it down with functional equations.

His own method had gaps in logic; hers was seamless and natural.

The students couldn’t see the depth—they only understood the surface.

But if a real evaluator saw their solutions, Jiang Zhiyu’s would be the model answer, while his would lose at least two points.

He had lost. Maybe he’d never beat someone named Jiang Zhiyu in his life.

Jiang Zhiyu had spotted the flaw at a glance but said nothing—calling it out would’ve been a major blow to Shen Xingyi’s pride.

Besides, the former “eternal number two” had already made great strides—finishing three hard problems quickly and mostly correct.

People always mocked him for never taking first, but didn’t know he earned second with 100% effort.

As for Jiang Zhiyu… she wasn’t the hardworking type. She was born gifted. Life had opened a single window for her and closed all others. She was once the nation’s number one—but she had died.

“I lost.”

In the silence, Shen Xingyi’s voice rang out.