Chapter 065: The Report Card

Life had taught Zhang Tan one thing: people are relentlessly in pursuit of quality.

After buying a new laptop, Zhang Tan’s royalties, which had once exceeded ten thousand, shrank once again. But that didn’t matter, because the four chapters—forty thousand words—of “The Four Great Detectives Gather in the Capital” he’d sent off last time had brought in new royalties. After taxes, he received 7,104 yuan. His mother, Tan Mingxia, had called and asked for five thousand, but even after that, Zhang Tan’s personal savings still exceeded five thousand yuan.

When a man has money, he gets restless. The tiny room he’d once called home—barely bigger than a restroom—became intolerable, so he gave up the lease and moved into a pair of single-story houses a little farther from campus. The rent was a hundred per month, much higher than his old place, but Zhang Tan could afford it.

The new place was separate from the landlord’s home, which was in Shuangdun Town, so Zhang Tan was less worried about disturbing anyone when he practiced guitar. The house was about five hundred meters from the school, three hundred from the countryside restaurant. Not far, but still worth a walk of a minute or two, so he went to Shuangdun Town and spent over six hundred on a mountain bike. With his own bike, getting around was much easier, and when he felt like it, he could skip class and go out for a ride.

The area was full of green hills and clear waters, with plenty of places to explore. After spending over three thousand yuan, Zhang Tan had completely refurbished his two rooms, adding all the necessary furniture and appliances: a kettle, washing machine, radiator, mattress—and even a printer. With so many things, he began to worry about theft.

He remembered, from his previous life living on campus, hearing that the area was plagued by theft, especially with construction sites on both sides, the Yuan Yi Golf Club building villas, and a tunnel under construction at the crossroads. The construction sites attracted a mixed crowd, and it wasn’t unusual to see strangers, disguised as workers, wandering nearby.

Better safe than sorry. Zhang Tan contacted the landlord and had security bars installed on the windows and a reinforced door on the two rooms. He paid for everything, and the landlord was more than happy to oblige.

And so, another thousand yuan disappeared from his pocket. His once-bulging wallet deflated once more, and with his money gone, he returned to his steady, leisurely routine.

But life, from time to time, throws in a ripple.

Midterm exams arrived.

And then, midterm exams passed.

The grades were posted.

As expected, Zhang Tan had to start looking from the bottom of the list to find his name. But contrary to his own expectations, he wasn’t dead last; he was ranked thirty-sixth out of fifty-four—a little below average, but not at the bottom.

“What a surprise,” he murmured, standing before the results, stroking his chin with a hint of pride.

No surprise, his math, physics, and chemistry scores were abysmal—first place, counting from the bottom. Yet he wasn’t last overall, thanks to his marks in geography, Chinese, and English.

He scored eighty-six out of a hundred in geography—top of the class. Eighty-two in Chinese, ranking among the top three, with an essay that earned a flawless score. Seventy-five in English, putting him in the top ten. In his previous life, his English had been poor, but perhaps because he’d watched so many American TV shows, he’d picked it up surprisingly well now.

History and politics were middling; he’d once been a liberal arts student, and after years of practice, he knew how to study efficiently and memorize key points. Even in biology—a subject he’d always loved—he was middle of the pack. He’d adored science programs like “Man and Nature” and “Animal World” since childhood, and that fondness naturally extended to biology.

Three subjects at the top, three in the middle, three at the bottom—his overall performance balanced out just below average.

“Zhang Tan, your results this time are better than I expected,” said Yu Na in the office, inviting him for a chat and some tea. Yu Na no longer treated Zhang Tan like an ordinary student—he earned far more than she did. As a young teacher fresh out of college, she sometimes felt a little lacking in authority. And with Zhang Tan’s easygoing ways, the two of them had become something between teacher and friend.

Zhang Tan poured himself a cup of water and replied calmly, “Honestly, it’s better than I expected too. I thought I’d be holding down the bottom of the class rankings.”

“Guarding the grade sheet”—that was how underachievers joked about their place at the bottom, anchoring the list so it wouldn’t blow away.

Zhang Tan liked to joke, but Yu Na was not the kind of teacher who bantered with students. She was young but took her authority seriously, always speaking with a stern expression. “Zhang Tan, your results aren’t bad, but I noticed you’re struggling in math, physics, and chemistry—all three at the bottom of the class.”

“Heh.” Even Zhang Tan, thick-skinned as he was, felt a little embarrassed. Those three subjects gave him a headache.

“Focusing on one set of subjects isn’t good,” Yu Na continued. “Yours isn’t the worst, but your sciences are weak. Your geography is the best in class, your history and politics are decent, and your Chinese and English are very good. If you can bring up your math, you might just make it into a good university.”

Yu Na’s analysis was spot-on, and Zhang Tan understood—but striving for more wasn’t so simple.

He could recite platitudes with the best of them: “If you don’t work hard when you’re young, you’ll regret it when you’re old,” or “With enough effort, even iron can be ground into a needle,” or “Nothing in the world is difficult if you set your mind to it.” But the finest twist in life is embodied in the word “but.” But—hard work is painful.

There is no shortcut to the college entrance exam; it’s all about relentless practice and drilling through mountains of exercises.

Whenever Zhang Tan thought of burying himself in endless practice, a deep dread welled up from his soul, and he loathed the idea to his very core. After graduating from junior college, or rather, after high school, he’d barely touched a pen. He’d only just escaped that sea of suffering—why would he plunge back in?

He could put on a stern face and lecture his nephew: “Your mother does this for your own good. If you don’t study now, you’ll be doomed in the future!” But inside, he felt nothing but sympathy for the boy, especially whenever he visited his sister’s house and saw his nephew locked away doing homework.

Life is hard.

Given a second chance, what was he after? What did he want?

Certainly not to wade through the same sea of suffering again.

He just wanted to live freely.

To follow his heart without crossing the line.

In his heart, Zhang Tan knew his answer clearly, but outwardly he kept up appearances: “I understand, Miss Yu. As for math, I’ll ask our top student for help and do my best to improve.”