The monthly exam results came out.
I stared at my test paper.
Total score: 460.
Ten points higher than last time.
Only ten points?
Those ten points felt like a slap—
a loud, merciless slap across my face.
Two months of effort,
staying up until three a.m. every day,
repeating the same knowledge again and again—
and all I got…
was this pitiful little improvement?
My classmates' stares poked into me like needles.
Someone couldn't resist whispering:
"See? No matter how hard he works, he's still trash."
Homeroom teacher Jianguo Zhang stood at the podium,
glanced at my score, and sneered:
"What's the point of pretending? You just weren't born to study."
The entire class burst into laughter.
I bit down on my lip so hard it almost bled,
but the words stuck in my throat.
I couldn't say anything.
That night,
I sat at my desk in a daze.
The dim yellow lamp lit up the test paper,
and those bright red X marks stabbed at my eyes.
The mockery from earlier replayed in my mind,
again and again.
I tore the test paper into pieces
and took a deep breath.
If the previous method wasn't good enough—
then I would change it.
And change it again.
From that day on,
I broke down all the knowledge and reorganized everything from scratch.
Start with the basics.
No losing points on simple questions.
Couldn't memorize formulas?
Fine—start with the most common ones and master them one by one.
Couldn't grasp physics mechanics?
Fine—tear every concept apart and rebuild it,
until I could visualize the entire process in my mind.
When I hit a difficult problem,
I searched for online video lessons.
If I didn't understand, I replayed them—
again and again—
until everything clicked.
My mistake notebook was nearly falling apart.
Every wrong question, I copied down.
I analyzed why it was wrong,
where the mistake was,
and how to avoid it next time.
Those two months were hell.
I slept only three hours a day.
My eyes were bloodshot,
my head felt swollen,
and I nearly fell asleep while walking more than once.
But I knew—
only persistence leads to hope.
Then the next monthly exam arrived.
After the test, I was so nervous it felt like sitting on a burning stove.
I had no idea what the result would be.
When the paper was finally handed back,
I froze.
Total score: 500.
A full forty-point increase.
The classroom exploded instantly.
Everyone turned to look at me—
some shocked, some envious,
and some muttering under their breath:
"He must've cheated."
Homeroom teacher Jianguo Zhang's face twisted like he had just eaten shit.
He stared at the paper for a long time,
then finally spat out:
"Just luck."
But I didn't care anymore.
I knew—
this wasn't luck.
This was two months of blood, sweat, and grit.
Just when I thought I could ride this momentum and keep moving forward—
something unexpected happened.