Chapter Twenty-Four: The First is Zhou Ziyang.

On the day the results were announced, Zhou Ziyang did not go to school.

After all, Li Dongfeng and the others were coming in the afternoon. Zhou Ziyang still had to negotiate terms with the factory, so he certainly needed to spruce himself up a bit. He had to buy a suit that looked decent and stop by a barbershop for a quick trim. Being young wasn't a problem, but he couldn't afford to look like a naive high school student who had never seen the world. To appear more mature, Zhou Ziyang even specifically bought a pair of black-rimmed glasses.

Fortunately, Zhou Ziyang had always been in good shape. At eighteen, he already had broad shoulders and a narrow waist; once he put on the suit, the cut immediately sat perfectly on his frame. Adding the glasses, that look of sophistication was instantly achieved. His mother had painstakingly saved twenty thousand yuan for his university education, and in the blink of an eye, Zhou Ziyang had already spent two thousand of it.

Meanwhile, back at school, the place was already in an uproar because of Zhou Ziyang. Just as everyone was wondering who this student who suddenly topped the school rankings could possibly be, some curious souls ran over to Senior Year Class One to take a look. They discovered, to their surprise, that Zhou Ziyang’s seat was completely empty—he was nowhere to be seen.

The first period of the morning was Chinese. Their homeroom teacher, Old Chen, walked into the classroom with a spring in his step, ready to praise Zhou Ziyang, only to look up and realize.

"Where’s Ziyang?" the teacher asked.

"He hasn't shown up at all!"

"You didn't know?"

The students stared at each other in shock. They had assumed that because Zhou Ziyang had done so well, the teacher had called him away for praise. To find out the teacher didn't even know was baffling.

Old Chen found it a bit strange, but he didn't think much of it. In the past, if Zhou Ziyang had repeatedly skipped class, he would have been furious. But now, with Zhou Ziyang having secured the top spot in the school, he had earned the teacher plenty of face in the staff office. It was just a minor case of failing to report his absence. He could just make a phone call after class to ask about it; he wouldn't let it disrupt the lesson.

"Alright, let's ignore him for now," Old Chen said nonchalantly.

The students were dumbfounded. *Wait, big brother! You’re the homeroom teacher! Your student is missing, and you aren't worried?*

The homeroom teacher didn't have the heart to teach anything else during this lesson; the test papers had already been reviewed on the day of the exam. This session was mainly focused on the essay portion. When it came to the essay, the teacher was very satisfied. He announced that their classmate Ziyang was the only student in the entire city to receive a perfect score on the essay.

"I will now read Ziyang's essay to everyone."

To be honest, the teacher really wished Zhou Ziyang were there to hear it. He wondered what kind of mood Zhou Ziyang had been in when he wrote it. Was it because he knew he had written something like this that he deliberately skipped class?

The essay topic was an appreciation of Zhu Ziqing’s *The Sight of Father’s Back*, which everyone had studied. It was primarily about fatherly love. Yet, even so, many students had strayed off-topic. The funniest example was one student who had written an argumentative essay on the topic titled *Excessive Pampering*.

The class burst into laughter at the teacher's mention of this, though the teacher kept a straight face and told them to stop. "Such a simple essay, and some of you scored thirty or forty points out of sixty. Don't you feel ashamed?"

"Alright, now let's look at Ziyang's essay—*My Father*."

The teacher held Zhou Ziyang’s paper, looking at the neat, orderly black ink characters. Just by looking at the handwriting, he couldn't help but sigh at how beautiful it was. If nothing else, this handwriting alone guaranteed that the essay score wouldn't be low. Thinking of this, he couldn't help but urge his students to practice their calligraphy more. "Look at how beautiful Zhou Ziyang's handwriting is!"

"Alright, teacher, stop lecturing! Just read it!"

The students were also very curious. What kind of essay could possibly earn a perfect score? They had been in high school for three years and had never even heard of a perfect essay score.

Xia Wei was also filled with curiosity. Zhou Ziyang’s parents had divorced when he was very young. Uncle Zhou and Zhou Ziyang barely even saw each other these days. So how did Zhou Ziyang write an essay titled *My Father*? How could he even write that? Did he have the same idea she did? But that idea wouldn't work!

Xia Wei was in a foul mood. Before getting her paper back, she had been confused as to why her estimated Chinese score was so far off. After seeing the paper, she understood. Out of sixty points for the essay, she only got forty-five. She didn't understand where she went wrong. She thought she had written it very well. She started by expressing a lack of understanding for her father, then realized later that her father’s shoulders carried the weight of responsibility for millions of people. It was a classic "dragon head and phoenix tail" structure. Even if her handwriting wasn't as good as Zhou Ziyang's, it was still neat, the sentences were smooth, and the narrative was complete. So why did the grader only give her forty-five? Normally, at her level, she should have at least fifty points even if she wrote it casually. She didn't understand, and she really wanted to know what Zhou Ziyang had written.

The homeroom teacher was a graduate of a teachers' college, with standard Mandarin and a resonant voice. He held Zhou Ziyang’s paper and read clearly, "My father passed away when I was very young."

"Huh?"

"Wait, what???"

"Didn't his parents just divorce? How is he passed away?!"

As soon as the first sentence was read, the class froze. *Not cool, man. If you write like that, we really can't compete with you!*

"Alright, quiet down." The teacher gestured for silence, explaining that writing an essay is about the space between truth and fiction. "You all constantly write about it raining, and your mom or dad bringing an umbrella to school. Do you think that’s realistic?" the teacher asked rhetorically.

The students couldn't help but snicker.

The teacher continued, "Don't laugh. There are several of you in this class who wrote about the sky being gray, your father bringing an umbrella to school, and when you got home, his shoulder was half-soaked."

At this, several students blushed in embarrassment. The teacher sighed, saying their parents were tired enough as it was—bringing umbrellas from elementary school all the way to high school without ever feeling tired of it.

"Heh."

After finishing his lecture, the teacher continued reading Zhou Ziyang’s essay. The eight-hundred-word piece was indeed excellent. It didn't describe any specific experiences with his father, but rather used simple words to narrate feelings. For instance, the part about it raining that day, and while everyone else had a father picking them up, he didn't.

Hearing this, the students snickered again. The teacher was helpless—why did it always have to be raining? Regardless, he moved past the content to the core of the essay. The grass on the grave, turning green then yellow, then yellow then green. With simple words, he outlined a longing for his father.

"I have always told you about the three elements of an essay: a dragon head, a phoenix tail, and a pig's belly. Zhou Ziyang’s essay is excellent."

"The opening hits the point immediately, and a short sentence is enough to hook the reader."

"The later line, 'turning green then yellow, then yellow then green,' captures the passage of time."

The teacher truly admired Zhou Ziyang's essay, saying it would likely be included in the collection of top college entrance exam essays. The students nodded in agreement; it really was a well-written piece.

Then someone couldn't help but ask, "Teacher, is Zhou Ziyang’s father really gone?"

"Pfft!" Everyone covered their mouths, trying not to laugh.

Old Chen, however, put on a stern face. "I said it's between truth and fiction. Your graders don't know if what you write is true or false; they are looking for your command of language!"

In the end, the teacher never clarified whether Zhou Ziyang’s father was still alive. Because of this, a small portion of the students remained skeptical. Mostly, they just couldn't write an essay like that themselves. If they *did* write something like that, they might get a high score, but they’d probably get a sound beating when they got home.

After finishing with Zhou Ziyang’s essay, Old Chen wanted to read a few more classic examples, but after asking around, he found no other high scores. As the class's veteran top student, Old Chen naturally asked, "Xia Wei, what did you get on your essay?"

Xia Wei hurriedly covered her paper, mumbling, "I... I didn't do well."

In fact, Old Chen had already flipped through Xia Wei's paper earlier, but he had just forgotten for a moment. Now he remembered the content of her essay.

"Oh." Old Chen didn't say anything. Xia Wei's essay wasn't technically wrong, but it felt too fake and the intention was too forced. Essays like that rarely received high scores.

"I'll pass Ziyang’s paper down; you can all read it among yourselves."

For the entire day, the teachers in the class were basically talking about Zhou Ziyang. They talked about him in Chinese class, math class, and especially English class. After all, Zhou Ziyang had scored a perfect mark in English this time.

After the Chinese class ended, the teacher called Zhou Ziyang. Zhou Ziyang replied that he had some matters to handle outside today. The teacher asked if his mother knew. Zhou Ziyang gave a dry laugh and said it was a private matter.

"I ask that you please be lenient, Teacher Chen."

The teacher was helpless. He said, "You did very well this time, but don't slack off because of it."

Zhou Ziyang promised to return as soon as he was finished, and with that, he hung up.

All day, the students talked about Zhou Ziyang. As Xia Wei looked at the papers being passed around, she wasn't in a good mood. She hadn't done poorly—she was in the top twenty of the school, and her total score was only two points shy of the admission cutoff for Nanjing University last year. Still, she felt depressed.

That evening, her mother, Xu Qing, came to pick her up in her small Mercedes as usual. As soon as Xia Wei got in, Xu Qing asked impatiently, "How was it? Are the results out, baby? How did you do?"

Xia Wei mumbled, "I... I didn't do well."

"How much did you get?" Xu Qing sounded disappointed.

"Three... three hundred seventy something..."

"Three hundred seventy something!? Isn't that quite good?" Xu Qing’s face brightened. She said three hundred seventy was already an incredible score. Wasn't the admission cutoff for Nanjing University last year only three hundred eighty-five? "If you work just a little harder, Nanjing University will be within your reach!" Xu Qing said playfully.

However, Xia Wei wasn't as happy as her mother. Listening to Xu Qing continue to chatter happily about telling Uncle Zhou the news later, and saying, "You’ve always wanted that new Apple phone, maybe we can have your Uncle Zhou reward you," Xia Wei interrupted.

"Mom, do you know who got the top score in our school?"

"Who? Don't compare yourself to them. Your Uncle Zhou and I think that you staying around three hundred seventy is already amazing!" Xu Qing didn't want to put too much pressure on her daughter, especially with the final exam approaching.

"The top student is Zhou Ziyang," Xia Wei said abruptly before her mother could finish.

"?" Xu Qing froze. Her gentle, smiling expression stiffened instantly at the mention of that name.