Chapter Forty-Five: The Computer Selection Competition (Part Two)

My legend of rebirth, without any suspense, continued—yet Chu Qitong’s pride did not last long. As soon as the painting following hers was revealed, her beautiful expression fell into disappointment. This painting was an imitation of Xu Beihong’s renowned “Galloping Horses,” processed and rendered through computer software. The thousand horses in the painting were so lifelike, it could almost rival the original; only the spirit of the horses was lacking. Still, I knew that for a high school student to achieve such a result was already impressive. Out of curiosity, I glanced toward the contestant who had created this piece—and to my astonishment, I recognized her. Wasn’t she the beauty I had seen on the bus some days ago?

Indeed, it was her! Even though she wore the blue-and-white school uniform, that gentle, elegant face and her neat, chin-length hair were unmistakable. Wait—was she also a high school student? And... hold on! Her uniform was from our school? My goodness, the girl I met on the bus was actually a fellow student?

Perhaps she noticed my astonished gaze, for when she turned to look at me, she paused briefly in surprise before offering a warm, friendly smile—a clear greeting. I nodded back, feeling all the more perplexed; she was clearly a student at our school, yet after nearly a month at Fourth High, I had never seen her. That meant she must not be a first-year—since all first-years shared the same floor and would inevitably cross paths, and only first-years had yet to board in the dormitories. The older students, who had evening self-study sessions, were harder to run into. The only possibility was that she was an upperclassman.

“The judges have scored! Wow, contestant number 14 has received an impressive 95 points! She’s clearly a strong contender for first place—congratulations to number 14!” The host’s announcement pulled me from my musings just as I realized my own turn was near. I stole a glance at Chu Qitong, who was visibly dissatisfied, and couldn’t help but smirk. This little miss seemed unable to tolerate anyone surpassing her. No matter—soon, I would drive her to absolute distraction.

Finally, at the host’s cue, my painting was projected onto the screen. Instantly, the entire hall fell silent; every student’s eyes widened in disbelief. I glanced smugly at Chu Qitong, only to find her on the brink of an outburst—her fair face flushed as if a volcano were about to erupt, her lively eyes glaring at me as though I were a mortal enemy. But who was I to be intimidated? Be it bullets or bombs, I would look heavenward and remain unfazed.

The “Rivers and Mountains of Jiangnan”—that was the theme of my painting. The rippling green lake, arched bridge, willows swaying, all evoked the misty beauty of Jiangnan. Had this not been a computer competition, everyone would have assumed the painting was done by hand. Of course, I had applied many rendering techniques from my previous life’s experience with Photoshop, along with a series of programming embellishments, to achieve such a level that no one could tell it was computer-generated. But what truly drove Chu Qitong to the edge was not the scenery itself, but the figure in a small boat gliding across the lake—a classical beauty, shyly seated, holding a parasol, her delicate features exquisitely rendered in the style of a Jiangnan maiden. And this beauty was none other than contestant number 13, our own Chu Qitong!

Her bashful gaze, subtle blush, graceful posture—she was the very image of a coy, classical lady, meant as a decorative motif in the painting. But now, with the beauty unmistakably modeled after the cherished daughter of Fourth High, how could Chu Qitong not be agitated? Her excitement, of course, was pure fury—on the verge of an eruption.

“I protest!” At last, on the verge of losing control, Chu Qitong leapt from her seat and, eyes blazing, pointed at me. “I protest this contestant’s personal attack!”

A murmur swept through the audience; only now did everyone realize that the classical beauty in the painting was none other than the flushed, indignant young lady before them. The hall buzzed with excitement—not only did they admire the painting, but an air of teasing innuendo filled the room. I couldn’t help but shake my head and sigh, “It seems I truly have a knack for mischief.”

On the judges’ panel, I caught Uncle Chu’s subtle look—a mix of approval and amusement—which I returned with a smug nod. Soon, the host dismissed Chu Qitong’s protest, citing the timelessness of artistic inspiration, and with a round of thunderous applause, I took victory in the second event. Only now, Chu Qitong’s glare was tinged with murderous intent; had I been within reach, she might have chased me with a kitchen knife. Best to keep my distance, I thought, and fixed my gaze on the computer screen, ignoring her menacing look.

The third round began—this time, the challenge was far tougher for high school students: each had to independently create a small software program. For students with only basic computer training, programming was a niche skill, and in 1997, with computers still uncommon, those with such knowledge were as rare as stars before dawn. But a high schooler’s limitations were not mine—who was I? With nearly thirty years’ experience and knowledge spanning Earth and beyond, such a task was child’s play. After nearly two hours, I emerged victorious once again.

Three to zero—a crushing victory over all other contestants. I was now the undisputed winner of the C City division of the National High School Computer Competition. When the principal handed me the medal and certificate, I saw the gleam of pride in his eyes. For a key high school like Fourth High to produce a computer whiz like me was a political triumph for him; both the television crew and other school principals came to offer congratulations. Seeing his beaming, flattering smile, I couldn’t help but secretly scoff—what a classic case of basking in reflected glory!

After the ceremony, my first instinct was to slip away before Chu Qitong could catch me. But I had barely taken a few steps when a gentle, elegant girl in our school uniform blocked my path. Looking closely, I realized it was the beauty from the bus. I greeted her politely, and in our brief exchange, learned her name—Fu Ming, a second-year student at Fourth High, confirming my earlier guess that she was indeed my senior. However, I had been wrong in thinking she boarded at school; she attended evening classes and, like Su Xin, was driven to and from school, which explained why I hadn’t seen her before.

“Xiao Qiang, so now I see you’re my junior?” Fu Ming smiled teasingly, though her pure, porcelain face betrayed nothing but kindness. “Please take care of me in future. Your computer skills are impressive—I admit defeat. Oh, and next time, let me treat you to a meal to thank you for what happened on the bus.”

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