"Yi Yao... 150 points."

The homeroom teacher, eyes still glued to the machine, repeated my score in a daze—as if worried we hadn’t heard clearly.

Silence.

Dead silence.

For ten seconds after her words faded, the classroom was so quiet you could hear birds fluttering past the window.

Warm sunlight slipped through the curtain gaps, spilling onto the aisle between study groups.

Liang Tong, the group leader who’d been sipping water, didn’t even notice his bottle slip from his hand.

*Clang!*

The crashing bottle spilled drink everywhere, jolting the class awake like a thunderclap.

"What did she say?!"

"One hundred fifty?!"

"Whoa, did I hear right? Isn’t that a perfect score?"

"Crab Teacher repeated it twice—you heard right. It’s one-fifty."

"Is the world crazy, or am I?"

"I don’t know, but Tan Lijiang’s about to snap."

The chaos snapped someone opposite me awake. Pale-faced, Tan Lijiang rushed to the card reader. Staring at the clear "150" on the screen, he stubbornly pulled out my answer sheet and reinserted it.

*Beep.*

150 points.

"No matter how many times you try, it’ll be the same."

I leaned against the podium in Yi Yao’s favorite Black Dragon Society pose, hands in pockets. "Tan Lijiang, you lost."

"Impossible! This can’t be!"

Frantically, he placed my sheet beside his own, trembling as he compared answers: "Question one: A. Two: C. Three: D... B-C-A-D-D..."

I waited silently in the same pose while he checked all 150 questions.

"Can I have my answer sheet back now?"

"No! This isn’t real—you cheated!"

Fueled by rage, Tan Lijiang swung a fist at me. But buried in textbooks and rarely exercising, he was no match. I easily caught his arm, twisted it behind his back.

"Fighting in school costs conduct points, Tan Lijiang."

I kept my tone and posture steady before the furious, bespectacled boy. "It’s just an apology. Hitting a girl after losing? Is that manly?"

Tan Lijiang’s 140 points proved I could reshape this world.

Even if it was just emotional ripples—his score had dropped from my parallel world. Fact.

Butterfly Effect: A butterfly flaps its wings in South America, and through countless chains, it might stir a typhoon in Asia.

Let this storm rage harder.

Yi Yao, you gave me a second life. I’ll give you the whole world.

"Tan Lijiang!"

The English teacher finally snapped to attention, yanking him away from me. "You’ve disappointed me deeply!"

"Teacher! She cheated!" Tan Lijiang pointed at me, voice raw.

"I watched her finish the test in thirty minutes. How could she cheat? Do you suspect I leaked the answers?"

"Thirty minutes?!"

"Guessing 150 questions takes at least five minutes, plus filling the sheet... damn!"

"Hidden talent!"

"Crap—I gave her dirty looks before. Is it too late to kiss up?"

"It’s just one test. Think she’ll get lucky every time?"

You’re all worked up.

Ignoring Tan Lijiang, silenced by the teacher, and the buzzing classmates, I took my answer sheet and walked calmly back to my seat.

Nothing stays fixed.

Not favors. Not hearts.

Liang Tong was one of middle school’s most annoying kids—always snitching to the homeroom teacher. Over time, everyone shunned him.

But I knew: in high school, that three-time "model student" became his class’s biggest troublemaker. Skipping class, fighting. Though scolded daily, he slowly gathered his own "close buddies."

People are like that. When one path dead-ends, they lunge down an even wilder road.

"Desk-mate, awesome!"

"Yi Yao, respect—I only admire you in this class!"

Back at my desk, not just my desk-mate but two usually quiet front-row classmates turned, thumbs up.

I smiled politely back.

I knew most cheered because I’d humbled Tan Lijiang.

The bell rang just then.

"Hand in answer sheets now. Yi Yao, wait for me in the office."

As expected, the English teacher summoned me.

"Haha, another heart-to-heart with the teacher? But this time, good news!" Azure Excellence grinned, having scored 100 by copying my sheet.

"Hope so."

I gave him an awkward smile, placed my sheet, and left. At the English office, I bumped into the homeroom teacher returning from break.

"Failing again?"

The middle-aged woman eyed me like trash. Her beady eyes swept over me. She snorted coldly and brushed past into the office.

I barely remembered her. In my past life, she’d transfer out in a month—contributing nothing. The new homeroom teacher was the real force...

"Yi Yao, wake up already!"

She sat at her desk, sipped water, and looked up at me standing beside her. "With grades this bad, what’ll you do after graduation? Your family’s not rich, I know. You’re pretty, but don’t take the crooked path for an easy life..."

I understood.

Pretty girls with bad grades could "marry rich" for happiness. Many called that crooked.

I faintly recalled office chats: some educated beauties, eligible for wealthy heirs, got drawn to handsome, Ivy League grads grinding at top firms. Years later, they regretted it bitterly.

Sorry, but I’m not ordinary.

I’ll earn every happiness myself.

Your pity-prayers aren’t needed.

"Yi Yao, sit down."

After three minutes, the English teacher arrived, beaming. "Thirsty? Let me get you water."

Without waiting for my reply, she pulled a chair for me and fetched a cup from the dispenser.

"Xiao Wu, what’s this?" The homeroom teacher gaped. "What trouble did she cause?"

"Good news! Wonderful news!"

She pulled out a test paper, studying my face carefully. "Yi Yao, look—what’re the first five answers?"

I skimmed it. Reading English like a native, I replied instantly: "A-C-C-B-A."

"Oh my..."

My speed thrilled the plump English teacher. "Yi Yao, your past exams—"

"Guessed."

My answer made her laugh and scold at once.

"Why do that?"

"Because I felt like it."

No explanation worked. Play dumb—no one digs deep when it benefits them.

"Okay... promise me you won’t guess on exams anymore?"

Her gaze had completely changed.

Sunlight streamed through the window, glinting off a glass by the dispenser.

The AC unit droned wearily.

"Okay."

I finished the water calmly.

"Xiao Wu, what are you two talking about?" The homeroom teacher was lost. "Did she fail again?"

"No, Liu-jie—guess Yi Yao’s score on this English test?"

Patting my shoulder, the English teacher beamed. "150! A perfect one-fifty!"

The homeroom teacher still didn’t get it. "What? Were there 300 questions?"

"150 questions. Full marks. She’s the top scorer!"

"Top scorer?!"

The homeroom teacher nearly choked on her water. "Did you give her the answers?"

"No! Yi Yao, she—"

As the teachers began debating, I stood up.

"Sorry, I need to get back to class."

"Wait."

The homeroom teacher called after me.

"Yi Yao—"

I cut her off, guessing her words. "Don’t worry. My other subjects will match English soon."

Their sudden shift unsettled me. Yi Yao’s painful memories flooded back. I just wanted to leave.

Like someone who schemed to kick you out yesterday, now grinning with lollipops to lure you home.

I was used to such changes.

At companies, they only see your sales.

One moment you’re scorned; the next, after landing a big deal that brings raises, you’re the office favorite.

I hadn’t expected school to be the same world.

"Beyond endless dreams, through a ruthless world"—maybe that’s Yi Yao’s hope for me.

Strangers. Already strangers.