The leader among this group of boys had the trendiest thick bangs, his skin was a bit dark, but he looked energetic. He sighed and said, “We’ve been split up too far this time. You’re in Class 7, I’m in Class 1, one at each end. How are we supposed to play games together in class from now on?”

Although Samuel Clark had quite a reputation and most people kept their distance, at this age, boys didn’t need any special reason to hang out—just a couple of rounds of games and that was it. Samuel Clark actually got along pretty well; back in first year, there was always a crowd around the back of the classroom after every class.

Sometimes, gaming skills were way more useful than academic performance.

The story of how Samuel Clark and David Bolton first played games together started with the first time he had to do a self-criticism in front of the whole school. After reading his statement, Samuel Clark ended with, “I was wrong, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.”

As soon as he finished, the whole school was in an uproar.

After stepping down from the flag-raising platform, David Bolton sincerely said to him, “Damn, you’re pretty badass.”

David Bolton added, “Did you just go to the teacher’s office? I heard you pissed off Old Meng from your class pretty badly.”

Samuel Clark neither confirmed nor denied it.

After expressing his amazement, David Bolton kept trying to peer into their classroom from the window, this time not just sticking his head in, but squeezing his whole upper body inside, looking all around Class 7, Grade 2.

Samuel Clark finally caught on. He leaned back—his legs were long, so even with his knees bent, he still stretched out quite a distance. “What are you really here for?”

David Bolton revealed his true purpose: “We came to see the study god.”

Samuel Clark, who had slept through the placement test and didn’t care at all who his classmates were: “?”

“No, ‘see’ isn’t the right word. It should be ‘pay respects.’ Yeah, I came to pay respects to the study god,” David Bolton said. “—The one who got the highest score in the high school entrance exam, won first prize in the city league in first year, and had their name posted on the honor wall at the school gate. You didn’t know? Your class split is really creative this year—one you, one study god.”

At this, Samuel Clark suddenly laughed.

He waved David Bolton over. “Come here, get closer.”

David Bolton leaned in without a second thought.

Samuel Clark promptly rolled up the test paper he’d just brought back from the office and smacked him on the head. “Are you looking for a beating? If you want to see the study god, just see the study god—why drag me into it? If I make you come in standing and leave lying down, that’d be pretty creative too. Want to try?”

“My bad, bro, I shouldn’t have compared you,” David Bolton bent over to dodge, muttering as he did, “But bro, I’ve been looking for ages and still can’t find them. Is everyone in your class here yet?”

Actually, not everyone had arrived.

Samuel Clark tossed the test paper onto the desk, his gaze sweeping over the narrow aisle beside him, finally landing on the empty seat at hand.

In the teachers’ office.

The bell for class rang, but William Foster was still lost in thought about his earlier conversation with the new problem student in his class, unable to snap out of it.

A teacher carrying a lesson plan walked by, saw him still poring over Samuel Clark’s grades, and stopped to say, “Mr. Meng, don’t overthink it. That kid’s always been like this. Back in first year, no matter how many teachers tried, it was useless. If it really doesn’t work, just let it go. Not every student wants to study hard.”

But William Foster was different from other teachers; his temper flared up instantly. “I just don’t believe it. I can’t handle him? In over twenty years of teaching, the word ‘give up’ doesn’t exist in my dictionary.”

“……”

“Mr. Meng, I support you in spirit,” the teacher glanced at the time and said, “Well, I have to get to class now.”

Some other teachers were interested in the topic, grading papers as they asked, “Old Meng, got any ideas?”

William Foster had been pondering for a while, and after flipping through a few books on “How to Properly Guide Students,” he actually came up with an idea: “He might have a resistance to teachers. I’m thinking of trying a one-on-one approach—find a good student to mentor him.”

As he spoke, William Foster picked up another stack of test papers from his desk.

Samuel Clark wasn’t the only one whose test papers had been held back. Next to Samuel Clark’s stack was another pile, but for a completely different reason—Samuel Clark’s were held back for being too poor, while this pile was kept because the answers were so good. The teacher had made several copies to distribute as examples in various classes.

Except for a six-point deduction in Chinese, the rest of the subjects were nearly perfect scores.

On the top of the stack, the first line read: Linjiang No. 6 High School, 2019 Grade 2 Placement Exam, Math Paper, Full Score: 150, Score: 150.

Candidate Name: Brian Cooper.

Chapter Two

Brian Cooper.

Samuel Clark had heard this name at least six times in one day.

Every subject teacher would come in and say, “Guess who’s first in the grade this time? Never mind, no need to guess, it’s no surprise. But still, Brian Cooper beat the second place by more than twenty points this time.”

Then they’d hand out over thirty copies of the high-scoring test paper: “Look at this problem-solving approach, then look at yours.”

At first, Samuel Clark didn’t even know which “邵” or which “湛” it was. When the test paper was passed down the row, he reached out to take it, planning to toss it aside, but then he happened to see the handwriting on the copied paper.