“Whatever you say…”

Su Wei shifted slightly in her seat, settling into a more comfortable position. Sports cars weren’t exactly known for comfort—but Zhou Xi’s ride was top-tier in every way. Who even knew the price tag? As for the poetry? Since this world had none, she might as well let Zhou Xi handle it. Just casual chatter between them—no real consequences.

What Su Wei didn’t know: Zhou Xi had already posted “Toiling Farmers” to the Twitter account she’d set up. In this world, the Grand Zhou Federal Empire reigned supreme. The Grand Zhou Elegant Language was the global lingua franca, and gold was pegged to the Zhou Yuan. Thus, this timeless poem from Su Wei’s past life spread like wildfire after Twitter’s official boost—sparking heated discussion worldwide.

*“This poem took me back to my hometown. Thirteen years since I left… I no longer crave lavish New Year feasts. Honestly, I feel ashamed.”*

*“Farmers are the backbone of this world—and the most overlooked.”*

*“Big Sis Su Wei’s poem is stunning! Her profile says she’s from Zhaoge Royal Academy—no wonder her verses hit so deep.”*

*“Classical poetry’s beauty utterly crushes modern stuff.”*

*“Commenter above, you don’t know jack squat! Classical has its charm, modern has its soul!”*

*“Modern poetry’s trash! Stringing random words together and calling it art? I’m not buying it. Fight me!”*

What started as praise for “Toiling Farmers” spiraled into a full-blown flame war: classical vs. modern poetry. Meanwhile, instigator Zhou Xi and nominal author Su Wei lounged lazily in bed—Su Wei reading, Zhou Xi scrolling through hundreds of thousands of likes and tens of thousands of comments.

A single poem shouldn’t blow up like this… but Zhou Xi had given the order. Promoters knew exactly how to ignite trends. How to thrust someone into the spotlight overnight?

Answer: Spark conflict.

Why did the sweet-vs-savory tofu pudding debate once rack up tens of thousands of replies? Because friction fuels fire. Arguments. Insults. That’s how trends ignite.

Seizing the moment, Zhou Xi uploaded the other two poems Su Wei had mentioned. Another explosion followed. If “Toiling Farmers” thrived on positivity, promotion, and debate, “If Only Life Could Stay as Fresh as the First Glance” and “Longing (Parting Thoughts)” captivated purely through breathtaking elegance. *Poetry’s beauty*—perfected.

Right amid the classical-vs-modern flame war, these two poems dropped—and left modern poetry defenders utterly speechless. Just when the debate felt evenly matched… someone played the ultimate trump card out of nowhere.

Bottom line? The “Su Wei” account blew up. Three million new followers in hours. If she ever quit studying, ad revenue alone could net hundreds of thousands a year—enough for a worry-free life.

But Su Wei had no clue. Right now, she was prepping for class. Heaven knew—her past self had zero coding experience. Starting from scratch. And this school? Packed with geniuses upon geniuses. Slacking wasn’t an option. University wasn’t for play.

Watching Su Wei study so intently… Zhou Xi felt zero motivation. Instead, she sank deeper into the mattress with a contented sigh.

That evening, a text arrived: *All students report to the academic building for a brief class meeting.* Since she and Zhou Xi were in different departments, Su Wei went alone. Stepping into the new classroom, surrounded by bright, energetic faces, she couldn’t help but smile.

*This is my second chance. The starting line’s already golden. Don’t waste it, Su Wei.*

After silently psyching herself up, she settled into a corner seat.

But beauty draws attention. Soon, a few latecomer guys sat directly behind her. Thankfully, they were painfully shy—just sitting there felt bold enough. None dared speak. Still, Su Wei blinked in surprise: over eighty students in the class… barely a dozen girls.

At exactly eight, a middle-aged man entered. He scanned the room and chuckled warmly.

“This year’s batch is promising—girls actually exceeded ten! I hope you dozen young women last the semester. Don’t get expelled or switch majors after a few months.”

Su Wei broke into a cold sweat. *Wait… this class is *that* brutal? Why would anyone get kicked out?!*

“Alright,” the man continued, “I’m Zhao Haicheng—your Intro to Computer Science instructor. I oversee this large class and its two subsections. I’m also with the Grand Zhou Cybersecurity Defense Team. I’ll guide you for two years. Don’t be fooled by ‘Intro’—basic operations take one lecture. Master the rest yourselves in two days. Fall behind? Fail the monthly exam once—I note it. Twice? Expulsion. I dislike expelling students… but if this path isn’t for you, quitting or transferring saves time.”

More teachers followed with similar speeches: sky-high standards, relentless emphasis on the academy’s prestige and coming trials. Pressure coiled tight in Su Wei’s chest.

Back in the dorm, nerves kept her wide awake. She flipped through the entire textbook—and froze. Every concept, every detail… perfectly etched in her mind.

“Huh?! Zhou Xi, test me!”

“Test you?” Zhou Xi took the book, puzzled. “Which page?”

“Any.”

“*Any?*” Zhou Xi blinked. *Didn’t she just read this afternoon?*

“What’s the difference between procedural and object-oriented programming?”

“Procedural is top-down—breaking problems into step-by-step procedures…”

Question after question. Flawless answers. Not a single hesitation. After dozens, Zhou Xi threw her hands up. “Whoa, my Wei-Wei—you’ve got a photographic memory!”

“Hehehe…”

A gift. Learning just got easier.

Zhou Xi’s voice softened: “If you’ve already mastered a lesson in class? Speak up. Never follow the crowd and let your talent gather dust.”