In front of these wealthy students who lived privileged lives, Rong Zhihao had never felt inferior, because he had the grades to show for it.
Only when he used his scores to strike them down, to make these students feel small, did Rong Zhihao feel a sense of balance.
Gradually, he had come to take first place in any exam for granted, enjoying the thrill of satisfying his vanity through his achievements.
But suddenly, from one day onwards, a mountain called Rong Xingyu appeared right in front of him.
Whenever Rong Xingyu participated in an exam, the first place always went to Rong Xingyu.
Rong Zhihao watched coldly as Rong Xingyu took the first place that should have been his, received the attention that should have been his, and enjoyed the praise of a whole group of people.
At night, he would toss and turn, unable to understand how he could lose to this second generation rich kid who had previously wasted his time doing nothing.
