June 7th. Overcast skies, with a gentle breeze rustling through.
The weather gods were smiling, just as the forecast had predicted—no scorching sun in sight today.
Mo Xiangwen raised his hand to eye level, then clenched it into a tight fist.
Perfect. His condition felt better than ever.
Ever since he’d fallen ill a while back, he’d been careful to adjust his study intensity, giving his body time to recover.
The breeze whispered through the tree-lined avenue, brushing lightly against his skin and bringing a rare moment of cool relief amid the summer heat.
The bus everyone had been eagerly awaiting didn’t disappoint. It pulled up right on schedule, even a bit early.
The Gaokao shuttle, plastered with bright red banners, let out a heavy sigh of brakes as it ground to a halt in the middle of the road.
On either side of the street, homeroom teachers stood with their classes, waiting. Nearby, the school leaders chatted animatedly about something, their faces alight with excitement.
Whether students or teachers, exhaustion hung thick on every face, heavy as fog.
But eyes never lied. A spark called hope danced in them all, sharpening their gazes like drawn blades. Everyone stood tall, vibrant and full of vigor.
“Ahem—classmates, the big day is finally here.”
Under a barrage of bored stares, the grade dean stepped to the center, megaphone in hand.
“Your teachers have drilled the exam rules into you a hundred times already, so I won’t repeat them.
“You’ve toiled for ten years behind closed doors, swallowing hardships and tears without complaint—all for this moment, to top the lists and shine.
“We believe your efforts will pay off.
“We believe none of you will fall short!
“The world is wide open—you could all be dark horses!
“Final check: IDs, admission tickets, and stationery!
“Load up, everyone. Charge!!!
Spontaneous applause erupted. Maybe it was because the dean had mercifully skipped his usual half-hour ramble for once. Or maybe his words truly fired them up.
Either way, it didn’t matter now. The Gaokao filled every eye; nothing else existed.
Mo Xiangwen boarded with the crowd and claimed a window seat.
Moments later, the bus shuddered faintly, engine rumbling to life as it eased out of the school gates.
Peering ahead from his window, he spotted police cars—driven by officers in distinctive caps—flanking them front and rear, escorting the convoy.
Traffic cops lined the roadsides too, directing flow to carve a clear path ahead.
Whenever a student caught one’s eye, the officer would flash a warm grin, nod vigorously, and mouth “Gaokao fighting!”—drawing cheers from the bus.
Now and then, enthusiastic uncles and aunties unrelated to the school would wave from across the street, bellowing, “Students, Gaokao fighting!”
“If your dreams never tumbled off a cliff, at the eleventh hour…”
Someone in a corner of the bus started humming the high school anthem that had carried them through senior year. The tune spread, filling the vehicle.
At first, it was shy and awkward, but the mood caught on—even the homeroom teacher joined in, belting it out.
“How would you know the stubborn soul
“Has invisible wings…”
…
“The place you most want to reach,
“How can you turn back halfway?
“Your original dream will absolutely come true.”
The bus pulled smoothly to a stop before the exam center, song still echoing.
Before disembarking, the teacher issued one last reminder to double-check supplies. A couple who’d forgotten pencils quickly borrowed spares from helpful classmates.
With everything verified, the teacher gazed at the kids he’d guided for a year, emotions swirling.
“Classmates, through a hundred battles in the yellow sands, golden armor gleams.
“We won’t return until Loulan falls!!!” The students roared it out with every ounce of strength.
“Go on. Your teacher will be waiting for your triumphant return.”
Mo Xiangwen crossed the sports field alone to his assigned exam hall.
Sitting once more in the familiar room, his heart surged with emotion.
When the starting bell rang like a battle horn, his pulse spiked.
No worries. I can do this.
He blinked, and all doubt and nerves shattered, vanishing from his eyes.
Skimming the paper, he grasped the layout at once. Confidence welled up from his chest.
Gripping his pen, he dove in. His turbulent heart steadied; his strokes were firm, steady, divinely inspired.
No sweat. These classical Chinese passages? He knew them cold. The essay? Just rewrite what he already knew.
No sweat. He’d tackled these problems before. The study group’s predictions hadn’t hit exactly, but the types were close enough—he could find the threads.
Come on! Bring it! Face me!!!
Outside the exam hall, Xiang Ming sat on another bus, passing the long wait chatting with a colleague.
“Leading regular class kids must be tough, huh?”
Xiang Ming chuckled. “Honestly? Brutal. Wouldn’t do it twice.”
“Any from your regular class gunning for a second-tier uni?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“That Mo Xiangwen who always drops by the office?”
“Nah, him…” Xiang Ming narrowed his eyes with a grin. “I think he’s got luck on his side. Maybe even first-tier? You never know.”
“No way. Regular classes don’t produce first-tiers. Even our two key classes combined barely have a handful.”
The colleague sounded shocked at his optimism, probing skeptically.
“He’s busted his ass lately—even teachers not handling his subjects can see it. But is that enough time to patch the basics?”
“Haha, yeah, it’s a stretch.” Xiang Ming nodded, a touch wistful. “But he’s really given it his all, right?”
“Effort’s great, but basics are basics.” The colleague smiled. “Just ran out of time, that’s all.”
“I’ll believe in him. Just this once.” Xiang Ming said earnestly. “Like I always say—what if? Don’t we owe every kid the hope they’ll make it?”
“Fine, fine. Wanna bet?”
“Bet what?”
“I’ve got a sister. You’ve met her.”
“The one in the red dress who visited school?”
“Yeah. Not the prettiest, but her personality? Gold. I vouch for it.”
“Feels like it—she gives you face around us.”
“What do you say? You’re pushing forty, single as they come. Ages match.”
Xiang Ming paused, then nodded. “Sounds good. Worth a shot.”
“If Mo Xiangwen hits second-tier, I’ll hook you up.” The colleague clapped his shoulder.
“First-tier?”
“You dream big!”
“Name it. I’ll up the stakes.”
“Nah, no need. My folks are sick of her being single anyway.”
The colleague pondered, grinning. “If Mo Xiangwen nails first-tier… if it works out, no dowry from our side. Deal?”
Xiang Ming sighed dramatically, patted the colleague’s shoulder with mock gravity, and beamed. “Looks like you might be calling me brother-in-law soon.”
