May, even the mild breeze began to carry a hint of heat, sweeping across every corner of the campus, rustling through the ancient trees in front of the teaching building, their leaves whispering with the wind. The voices of teachers, some loud, some hoarse, drifted from the classrooms, but the bright and lively sounds of reading no longer filled the air. Within these walls, the exhausted seniors of the third year faced the approaching gaokao, a month away, mentally drained, agitation stirring. On top of this, the exceptionally high temperatures this year, a rare occurrence in a century, left only weak sighs and laments, and perhaps, at most, chaotic and frantic cries.
The sunshine in May was unusually intense, unrelenting as it poured over the vast campus, dazzling light filtered through the clusters of trees, finally casting shadows on the youthful, yet confused and sorrowful face of a boy standing below.
Long Kun stood in the corridor outside the classroom, gazing at the sky at a 45-degree angle, his face etched with confusion. But this confusion was not over the imminent gaokao—he had nothing to be confused about regarding that. Unlike those students who had good grades but lacked the means to attend university, or those who had the money but not the marks, Long Kun was neither wealthy nor academically exceptional. So, the decision ahead of him was clear and easy.
With a faint sigh, Long Kun lowered his head, his eyes landing on the exam paper in his hands, on which a bold "150" was written in bright red ink, shining and eye-catching. This, he realized, was the source of his confusion: a perfect score on his English exam. Long Kun couldn't even remember the last time he scored full marks, perhaps back in elementary school, or maybe it had never happened at all. This perfect score before him was so foreign and uncomfortable.
Long Kun, a seventeen-year-old student in Class 3 of Senior Year at Huxi No. 1 High School in Huxi City, Sujiang Province, was an ordinary student in every sense of the word: intelligence, emotional quotient, appearance, grades, character, and even personality. The only thing extraordinary about him was his background. His parents passed away in a car accident before his mind had fully developed enough to remember their faces. Since then, he had lived with his elderly grandfather, and their lives were supported by insurance and compensation from the accident. They managed to get by. But by the time he reached his first year of high school, the last family member he had, his grandfather, passed away, leaving Long Kun a true orphan.
Long Kun's grades were not particularly bad, but that only lasted until he had to start working multiple part-time jobs to support himself. He was an ordinary person. Once a part of his energy went into these jobs, his grades slipped. It was inevitable—once survival became the primary focus of life, everything else seemed trivial.
This morning, Mrs. Wang, the English teacher, brought in a stack of papers from their recent exam. Her eyes kept glancing strangely at Long Kun, and the curiosity in her gaze made Long Kun's heart race.
The mystery was soon revealed. Long Kun, still bewildered, walked back to his seat, holding the paper with the bold "150." The class erupted in whispers. It was truly odd. The student ranked last in the class, who had barely passed English before, had somehow scored full marks on an exam that was said to be as difficult as the CET-4 and CET-6.
Long Kun could feel the weight of everyone's gaze, including that of his crush, Tang Keyu, the class president and the pride of Senior 3. His heart raced even faster as he was sure that, for the first time, Tang Keyu, who was usually indifferent to others, was now looking at him. Although there was confusion in her eyes, Long Kun's hand holding the paper trembled slightly.
To be the center of attention like this was a strange feeling for Long Kun, but not entirely unpleasant. However, this sensation didn't last long. After he returned to his seat, Mrs. Wang's stern voice broke the silence: "Long Kun, what's going on?"
The harshness in her tone made Long Kun's hand tremble again. He lowered his head, staring at the glaring "150" on the paper, the number seeming to burn his eyes. He suddenly realized—he had scored full marks. In an exam that was supposed to be as difficult as the CET-4 and CET-6, he had somehow come out on top, while the top student, Tang Keyu, had only scored 141. But how? Long Kun was just as confused as anyone else, unable to explain it.
Two days ago, he had completed the exam in a daze. He had been running a class for someone else the day before, working until almost no sleep, and by the time of the exam, his consciousness had been fading. He had randomly selected answers. Could it be that his accumulated good luck exploded in those two hours? Long Kun couldn't help but feel a bit smug. Luck, too, was a skill; after all, lottery winners became millionaires too.
Mrs. Wang, however, was not appeased by Long Kun's silence. She had already made up her mind that something was amiss, and her voice grew firmer. "Don't tell me it's just luck."
Long Kun opened his mouth to speak but then held back. "It's just luck" would have sounded too arrogant, and it was hardly a realistic answer.
Though still uncertain about the exact cause of his perfect score, the label of cheating was already cast upon him. He was asked to leave the classroom and submit a written self-reflection the following day. Long Kun felt wronged—he wasn't one to cheat. But now, he was caught in a dilemma, unable to clear up the misunderstanding.
The bell for the end of class finally rang. Mrs. Wang, leaving the classroom, gave Long Kun a disapproving glance as he stood lost in thought outside, muttering to herself in frustration: "Only a month until the gaokao, and yet still cheating…"
Long Kun was still confused. More than anyone else, he wanted to understand how he had earned that perfect score. Weary from the past few days' work, he trudged back to the classroom. The pressure was building up—he was nearing his limit, often feeling exhausted and disheartened.
In the third year of high school, life is typically void of much excitement. But today, Long Kun had become the center of attention. The once invisible student, with poor grades and a life that barely raised any expectations, had suddenly grabbed everyone's focus.
When he looked around, he saw dozens of eyes on him, some filled with contempt, others with sympathy, and still others with confusion.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. In class, he had long since become accustomed to being an invisible person, and now, in front of everyone, he couldn't summon the courage to speak.
His gaze drifted to the girl sitting in the middle of the third row. She was the only one who hadn't looked at him. Her long black hair was tied high, revealing the graceful curve of her neck, and her attention was entirely absorbed in her notebook. She seemed entirely uninterested in the topic that had consumed everyone else's attention.
Long Kun felt aggrieved. He truly had been wronged—he felt even more unjustly accused than the legendary Dou E in Chinese history. The various stares around him were unnerving, and the indifference of his crush only made him more anxious. A strange, powerful surge of negative emotions flooded through him, sweeping away all his reason and awareness.
Suddenly, without thinking, his steps faltered. He heard his own voice, slightly trembling but loud enough to echo in the classroom: "I didn't cheat."
The classroom fell silent. All eyes, including Tang Keyu's, were once again on him, filled with surprise.
Long Kun's gaze immediately sought Tang Keyu's, looking for some clue in her expression. Her eyes only showed astonishment, not contempt. He breathed a sigh of relief, but a wave of panic followed. Like everyone else, he was shocked by his own actions—was this a moment of madness, or had his emotions simply gotten the better of him? This was not something the rational Long Kun would do.
Seconds later, the murmurs grew louder and clearer. Long Kun could hear snickers and mockery, followed by one particularly obnoxious voice: "Ha, Long Kun, are you joking? If you didn't cheat, then how did you get a perfect score? Don't tell me it was just your luck." The tone was sarcastic, and though it wasn't funny, a group of sycophants erupted in laughter.
The speaker was Chen Yong, a classmate sitting not far from Long Kun. He was well-spoken, had decent grades, and was adept at currying favor with the teachers. In the eyes of teachers, he was the model student; in the eyes of his classmates, he was a troublemaker. His reputation, however, was poor.
Normally, Long Kun would avoid responding to Chen Yong, but today, he was not in his usual state of mind. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the emotions bubbling inside him, but the effort was futile. He lifted his head and, in a steady voice, said, "I didn't cheat."
The class was stunned—Long Kun, the quiet and sorrowful boy, was speaking back. Though his words held no aggression, Chen Yong still felt irritated. With a sneer, he said, "Ha, what a joke. Our class's top student, Tang Keyu, only scored 141, so who do you think you are to score full marks?"