Yang Haoran strode up to the lectern without the slightest hesitation. He picked up the chalk and began writing with swift, confident strokes.
Problem 1: Given that sin(a + β) = 1, prove that tan(2a + β) + tan β = 0.
Solution: Since sin(a + β) = 1, then a + β = 2kπ + π/2. Thus, tan(2a + β) + tan β = tan(a + 2kπ + π/2) + tan(2kπ + π/2 – a) = tan(a + π/2) + tan(π/2 – a) = tan(a – π/2) + tan(π/2 – a) = 0.
Problem 2: If f(cos x) = cos 17x, find f(sin x).
Solution: f(cos x) = cos 17x…
Problem 3: Given π/6…
Solution: …
Yang Haoran’s solutions were clean and precise, as if the answers had long been etched in his mind. His dense web of logical steps filled more than half the blackboard.
The classroom below fell utterly silent…
“Good! Good! Good! Excellent work!” Clap, clap…
In the pin-drop silence of the room, Professor Li gazed at the blackboard crammed with solutions. The old man’s weathered face, etched with deep wrinkles, broke into a smile. He called out three cheers in a row and took the initiative to applaud the former academic slacker in everyone’s eyes.
Down below, the students stared at the filled blackboard in a state of petrification. Almost no one could believe their eyes. Some kept rubbing their eyes furiously, widening them and staring fixedly at the board, dumbstruck.
Were they dreaming?
The same doubt flickered through every classmate’s mind.
Those who understood could see that Yang Haoran’s answers were correct—even his approaches were innovative, skipping tedious steps.
Yang Mengyao, Xiao Shaowan, Wei Ming, and Zhou Shiwen—those who knew him well—now looked at the young man on the lectern with shock in their eyes.
Wei Ming was one of those rubbing his eyes until they turned red, still refusing to believe it. Zhao Jun had gone completely slack-jawed, muttering to himself, “Impossible… impossible…” as if he’d fallen into some kind of trance.
Zhao Jun could solve most of the problems himself, so he knew better than anyone that the solutions were spot-on. There was even one he hadn’t cracked yet—and Yang Haoran had already done it. The slacker he’d always dismissed had turned everything upside down…
“Applaud! What are you all standing around for?”
Professor Li clapped his own hands, smiling as he urged the still-dazed class.
Clap, clap, clap… clap, clap…
Thunderous applause erupted, echoing endlessly through the classroom like a sea of clouds enveloping the young man on the lectern.
At the same moment, the bell rang for the end of class, as if shaken by the spectacle itself.
Yang Haoran returned to his seat. He felt like he was dreaming. Before, he’d been the one clapping from the audience. Now, thanks to that one bottle of potion from his mom, he stood amid the stars. This unprecedented experience filled his heart with indescribable excitement—and even more, longing and gratitude for his mother. He wanted desperately to see her, to tell her he’d become one of those “other people’s kids,” if only for this one moment.
The childish impulse to run home after teacher praise and bask in parental approval shouldn’t have crossed his mind at his age. But as a lifelong academic slacker, he’d never felt anything like it.
Who would choose to be a slacker if they had a choice?
Professor Li returned to the lectern and scanned the class, his gaze lingering a few extra seconds on Yang Haoran. Then he spoke slowly: “This is the most satisfying lesson I’ve taught you all since I started. It’s no great feat for a swift bird to fly, but when a slow learner takes flight and soars so impressively—even I am shocked.
“Classmates, you’ve all seen Yang Haoran’s past grades for yourselves. To achieve this now is truly remarkable. I hope some of you in the class will learn from Yang Haoran. And I hope Yang Haoran keeps up the momentum, maintaining that eager, studious attitude. Let’s have another round of applause…”
Another wave of thunderous applause rose and fell, drawing to a close with Professor Li’s final dismissal.
Once Professor Li left, Yang Haoran was immediately surrounded by male and female classmates chattering away in his ears. “Badass, Rat! You’ve got your bro seeing you in a new light. From now on, you’re my big bro—total respect… Hey, mind sharing how you did it, Rat? Teach your bro here; I wanna get praised by the teacher too.”
That was Wei Ming, with a shameless grin plastered on his face.
“Haoran, were you faking bad grades on purpose all along, like in the movies? Are you some hidden academic prodigy who controls his scores?”
That came from a somewhat starry-eyed girl. “Haoran, impressive. I’m in awe.”
That was from a thick-browed, big-eyed guy.
Yang Haoran couldn’t take it anymore. Even with his thick skin, his face was heating up. He grabbed Wei Ming and bolted from the classroom, the girls’ excited chatter trailing behind them.
Zhao Jun slumped against his seat, utterly lost. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. As one of the top students in the class, he knew full well that you couldn’t fake solutions like those on the board unless you truly understood.
Math wasn’t like other subjects—it was black-and-white: you either got it or you didn’t.
After escaping the crowd, Yang Haoran walked through the campus with Wei Ming. Even the sunlight seemed brighter.
“Ran, how’s it feel to be a genius?” “Cut it out. I just nailed a few problems. That’s no genius.”
“No one else might know, Rat, but I do. Spill: were you secretly grinding on the sly? No wonder you haven’t been online lately—you ditched your bro to level up alone. Not cool, Rat.”
“Get lost.”
“Heh heh, just kidding. But seriously, Rat, how’d you pull it off? I’m dying to know.”
“What if I said I dreamed of a fairy who saw we were fated as husband and wife, and she unlocked my meridians for me? You buying it?”
“I buy it. I’d back you no matter what, Rat. So, where’s this fairy? Got any hot sisters or friends…?”
“Shut up… Get lost.”
