“Let’s stop here for now. I’ll put up a few problems to test everyone, just like always. Those who know the answers, raise your hands on your own.”
After Professor Li finished speaking, he felt a bit thirsty. He picked up the cup on the edge of the lectern and took a sip, his eyes casually scanning the class with his peripheral vision.
One figure, completely absorbed as if lost in his own world, caught his attention. What stood out was the math textbook in his hands. For any other student in the class, this would have been unremarkable, but not for him—he was always dead last on every math exam.
Professor Li screwed the cap back on his cup and set it down. He leaned back leisurely with his hands behind him and strolled over.
Yang Haoran was oblivious. Professor Li, now standing right behind him, adjusted his reading glasses and peered down at the math textbook alongside him.
Professor Li’s unusual behavior drew the attention of the entire class. All eyes turned their way.
Seeing that it was Yang Haoran, Zhao Jun felt a secret thrill. Let’s see you act all high and mighty now, he thought. You’re probably about to embarrass yourself in front of everyone. A look of eager anticipation crossed his face as he watched events unfold.
He hoped Professor Li would give Yang Haoran a thorough scolding—it would soothe his inner resentment. That was his silent wish.
Yang Mengyao noticed that Professor Li was focused on her brother, and anxiety flashed across her face. She frantically signaled to Yang Haoran with her eyes, but he was too immersed in the sea of knowledge to notice.
Xiao Shaowan, Zhou Shiwen, Wei Ming, and several other classmates who had a decent impression of Yang Haoran all tried to signal him too, hinting that the teacher was right behind him. This was especially true for the students sitting right next to him—both guys and girls—their eyes darting wildly, some nearly bulging out. These included students who had been unhappy with Zhao Jun’s behavior last time but had stayed out of it, not speaking up in Yang Haoran’s defense.
In the end, though, Yang Haoran had beaten Zhao Jun soundly, which had felt satisfying to them. Their opinion of him had improved as a result.
Of course, for every student who wanted to warn him, there were plenty who wanted to see him make a fool of himself. Truth be told, most of the class was hoping for a good show.
Wei Ming, sitting behind Yang Haoran, watched anxiously. If the teacher hadn’t been right there beside him, he would have kicked Rat to snap him out of it.
The entire classroom fell into a hushed silence, broken only by the rustle of Yang Haoran turning pages.
This eerie atmosphere stretched on for a full minute before Professor Li’s voice shattered it.
“Yang Haoran, can you actually understand this?” Professor Li asked, a note of surprise in his tone. He had observed him for over a minute, and Yang Haoran’s focused expression didn’t seem feigned—he really appeared to be studying seriously. But the blistering page-turning speed made him doubt it a little.
More importantly, the content Yang Haoran was reading was beyond the current syllabus. Professor Li hadn’t covered it yet; it was material for future lessons.
The voice so close by finally caught Yang Haoran’s attention.
He turned his head and saw an elderly face right up in his space, startling him.
“Uh… Teacher.”
Realizing it was Professor Li, Yang Haoran let out a breath of relief. For a moment, it had felt downright creepy.
“I’m asking you, Yang Haoran—do you really understand all this?”
Professor Li pointed at the textbook in his hands. The knowledge points displayed there had already reached planar vectors.
That was material he wouldn’t cover for at least another two weeks.
Yang Haoran hesitated for a moment before replying uncertainly, “I… I should be able to understand it, I think.”
Professor Li could tell from his tone that he wasn’t lying. With years of teaching experience, he could spot a fib at a glance.
But Yang Haoran’s terrifying reading speed made him question his own judgment, eroding his confidence in his long-honed instincts. So he said, “Alright then. Since you claim you understand it, have you seen those problems I wrote on the board? Go solve them, and I’ll believe you. If you can’t, then you’re lying and wasting class time—go write a self-criticism.”
Professor Li spoke with full vigor, and a hint of expectation flickered across his weathered face as he gazed at Yang Haoran. Could it be that he’d misjudged this academic slacker all along? Was he actually a hidden math genius?
Self-studying a high school math textbook and understanding it wasn’t anything special—plenty of students could do that. What impressed him was Yang Haoran’s frightening reading speed earlier. That indicated a mind that operated far faster than normal, something truly remarkable. It was raw talent.
At those words, Yang Haoran glanced up at the problems on the blackboard.
1: Given that sin(a + β) = 1, prove that tan(2a + β) + tan β = 0.
2: If f(cos x) = cos 17x, find f(sin x).
3: Given π/6 < …
He took just one look, and the problems seemed to etch themselves into his mind, ideas colliding like sparks. In merely two or three seconds, the solutions crystallized in his thoughts.
“Sure.”
Yang Haoran nodded. Unknowingly, his tone carried a newfound confidence utterly unlike his old slacker self.
Yang Haoran’s self-assured demeanor sparked an uproar in the class. Some students couldn’t hold back their laughter, bursting out right then and there. If not for the teacher’s presence, they might have openly mocked him.
Some of those problems stumped even them—for instance, top student Yang Mengyao stared at the board, deep in thought, unable to crack the solutions so quickly.
Yang Haoran, meanwhile, had glanced at them for just two or three seconds and acted like he had it all figured out. Naturally, that drew their laughter.
Even Wei Ming behind him was baffled, scratching his head in confusion. Rat, if you don’t know, just say so—Professor Li’s talk of self-criticisms was always empty threats. He’d slept through his classes before without consequence.
At that moment, even Wei Ming started to doubt. Sure, Rat looked confident, and he hoped it was real, but deep down, he felt that unless a miracle happened, this level of bravado would end in embarrassment.
Zhao Jun laughed the loudest and most brazenly, his grin impossible to suppress, his lips quivering with delight.
Yang Mengyao ignored everything else. Her eyes locked on the board as her mind raced for solutions. She knew most of the problems, but one was tricky with multiple variables, and she was still puzzling it out.
She planned to volunteer to solve them if her brother slipped up—it would spare or at least minimize his embarrassment.
Students like Yang Mengyao, Zhou Shiwen, Xiao Shaowan, and other top performers were all hurriedly thinking through the board problems.
Meanwhile, under Professor Li’s gaze, Yang Haoran walked up to the lectern.
Most of the class watched eagerly, grinning in anticipation of the show.
Professor Li felt a twinge of tension too. His eyes, clouded by years and world-weary, gleamed with expectation. Reason told him it was impossible, yet he inexplicably trusted his instincts from decades of experience.
It had been a long time since he’d misjudged a young person like this.
