"Are you there yet?"
"Don't be nervous. You've done so well in your studies, you'll definitely pass."
"Don't worry about the surgery fees. Mom found a new part-time job and will make sure to gather the money. Focus on your interview."
Looking at the message from his mother on the screen, Zhang Yu quietly put his phone away. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and waited in silence.
After a while, a voice called out from the front.
"Candidate number 989, Zhang Yu."
Zhang Yu stood up and walked into the interview room.
Facing the three interviewers, he offered a polite smile he had practiced countless times. "Good afternoon, esteemed interviewers. I am Zhang Yu from Dongyang Junior High School."
The interviewer in the middle glanced at him and asked plainly, "Why do you want to apply to our school?"
Zhang Yu replied confidently, "Your school's long-standing history, profound heritage, and abundant educational resources have consistently nurtured many outstanding talents for society—"
The interviewer frowned and interrupted, "Spare us the clichés."
Zhang Yu hesitated briefly but quickly responded honestly, "I want to get into a top university. Among the schools I can apply to, Songyang High has the highest university admission rate."
The interviewer smiled faintly and glanced at Zhang Yu's file. "Full marks across all subjects, first in your entire school? No wonder you got recommended."
"Your academic performance isn't an issue, but getting into Songyang High requires far more than good grades in your school exams."
He paused for a moment before asking casually, "How many hours of sleep do you get each night?"
"Five hours," Zhang Yu replied.
The interviewer looked surprised. "Five hours?"
"Our students have averaged less than two hours of sleep daily since elementary school. In fact, many of our top graduates hardly sleep at all."
"If you're sleeping five hours a night, that's three hours less study time per day compared to others. Over nine years, that's nearly 10,000 hours…"
Zhang Yu froze. He had always thought of himself as diligent, but this was the first time he realized how far behind he was compared to others in effort.
"I'll work harder to catch up with them," he said quickly.
The interviewer on the left asked, "How much of the high school curriculum have you studied?"
Zhang Yu steadied himself and answered confidently, "I've already self-studied the first-year curriculum."
The interviewer frowned. "Just the first year? Don't you know that in our school, students are expected to have completed the entire high school curriculum before classes even start?"
Zhang Yu was taken aback. What he thought was an advantage turned out to be a glaring disadvantage.
As he struggled to recover, the middle interviewer posed the next question.
"To improve focus and prevent distractions like early romantic relationships, our school requires all incoming students to undergo sterilization surgery before enrollment. Are you aware of this?"
Finally hearing a question he knew, Zhang Yu quickly replied, "My family is already preparing for it. I'll complete the surgery before school starts to ensure my hormone levels are optimized for studying."
The interviewer nodded noncommittally. "Alright, that's it for today's interview. You may leave now."
Zhang Yu walked out of the room, anxious. His interview felt shorter than others.
After he left, the middle interviewer shook his head. "He's already in middle school and hasn't been sterilized. His commitment to the path of cultivation seems lacking."
The female interviewer chuckled. "He seemed clueless, didn't he? No test reports, no external exam scores—nothing. It's clear the quality of recommended students from these ordinary junior highs is declining year after year. Without government support policies, they wouldn't even qualify to meet us."
The middle interviewer nodded. "I used to think impoverished students would work harder, but maybe my expectations were too high."
"Let's keep him as a backup for now," he said, tossing Zhang Yu's resume into a pile of other backup applications.
Zhang Yu left feeling uneasy about his performance but had little time to dwell on it. He immediately prepared for interviews at other schools.
At one school, he was told, "Your family's financial situation seems insufficient to cover tuition here. But we offer subsidized loans for poor students—just pledge a few non-essential organs as collateral…"
At another, they reassured him, "Don't worry, you've come to the right place. We know you're male, and though this is an all-girls school, we've never discriminated against men. As long as you undergo gender reassignment surgery, not only will you be admitted, but you'll be considered a model student with a strong determination to pursue cultivation. You might even qualify for the advanced class to learn the Yin Energy Refinement technique…"
At yet another, the conditions were even harsher. "Unfortunately, you don't quite meet our admission standards. However, we've introduced a special program this year for underprivileged students. If you're willing to forgo your physical body, you can enroll as a spirit cultivator and study under our principal's Soul-Binding Banner…"
Interview after interview, Zhang Yu faced one challenge after another. Some schools set unattainable standards, while others seemed like traps, offering contracts designed to devour him whole.
The overwhelming pressure left him suffocating. For the first time, Zhang Yu realized the massive gulf between himself and the students from urban schools. Even now, he had only glimpsed the tip of the iceberg.
His years of hard work in school felt like a cruel joke. Despite all his efforts, he was no better off than those who had never tried. Neither could get into high school.
When Zhang Yu returned home, he sat silently like a statue.
His phone buzzed repeatedly on the table.
"Son, how was the interview?"
"I have to work late today. There's food in the fridge. Heat it up yourself."
After a moment, another message arrived.
"Don't worry, son. Whether it's sterilization or gender reassignment, Mom will find a way to cover the surgery costs."
But Zhang Yu didn't look at his phone. He stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to think about his future but finding his mind empty.
Just then, his phone vibrated violently again.
Initially, he ignored it, but after a minute of continuous buzzing, he picked it up, only to find a missed call.
A message followed: "Your 5,000 yuan emergency loan is ready. Funds will be transferred in just ten seconds…"
"A payday loan ad?" Zhang Yu sneered, thinking his interview data must have been sold to someone.
But after setting the phone down, he picked it up again and reopened the message.
...
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