The first day Ji Mianmian moved into the Jiang household.
Father Jiang prepared a table full of delicious dishes to welcome the little guest.
At the dinner table, Jiang Yu’an lazily asked, “Little girl, how many points did you get on the recent high school entrance mock exam?”
Mianmian picked up some food with her chopsticks: “Senior, I did quite well, no need for you to worry.”
“What do I have to worry about?” he laughed. “I’m just curious how much worse the current top student in our school’s junior high division is compared to me back in the day.”
Mianmian put down her chopsticks and looked at him: “Senior, what was your total score back then?”
“Seven hundred thirty-five.”
“Oh.” Mianmian picked up her bowl. “Then you really were quite impressive.”
Jiang Yu’an raised an eyebrow: “No way, you’re giving up already?”
Mianmian didn’t even look up: “Seven hundred thirty-five is pretty good. It could rank second in our grade. I got seven hundred thirty-seven on this mock exam.”
Jiang Yu’an: …
Father Jiang burst out laughing beside them: “Teacher Zhao, your son just got roasted by a ninth-grade girl!”
Teacher Zhao suppressed a smile: “Yu’an, no talking during meals or before sleep, eat properly.”
Jiang Yu’an looked at this little girl expressionlessly shoveling rice into her mouth and thought for the first time that she was a bit interesting.
The third day Ji Mianmian lived in the Jiang household.
She woke up at six in the morning and went out, bumping into Jiang Yu’an at the stairwell entrance.
He was wearing sportswear with headphones on. Seeing her, he raised an eyebrow: “So early?”
Mianmian: “The fitness test is coming up, I’m practicing running.”
He: “What a coincidence, I have a morning running habit too.”
The two ran five kilometers together by the river, one in front of the other, without a word the entire way.
When they returned home, Father Jiang asked: “Did you two run together?”
Jiang Yu’an: “Coincidence.”
Mianmian: “Mm.”
The next day, at six o’clock, he was at the stairwell entrance again.
Mianmian: “…Do you run at this time every day?”
Jiang Yu’an: “I’ve always run at this time.”
Mianmian believed him.
A week later, Teacher Zhao said at the dinner table: “Yu’an, don’t you never run in the mornings? Why have you been running every day recently?”
Jiang Yu’an choked on his porridge.
Mianmian looked up at him.
He coughed for a while before saying: “I suddenly wanted to exercise, is that not allowed?”
Mianmian pretended to lower her head and drink porridge, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
She discovered this peacock looked quite amusing when he was guilty.
…
Mianmian’s study desk in the Jiang household was a corner of the dining room.
Every night, Jiang Yu’an would also read research papers there.
The first day, they each occupied half the table, peacefully coexisting.
The second day, Mianmian’s test papers crossed the boundary.
Jiang Yu’an poked the paper with his finger: “Your test paper is pressing on my thesis.”
Mianmian didn’t look up: “Your thesis is blocking my desk lamp light.”
“I bought this lamp.”
“This table belongs to Teacher Zhao.”
“You—”
Mianmian looked up expressionlessly: “Senior, you’re already a university student. Why are you still fighting with a junior high student over a desk?”
Jiang Yu’an laughed in frustration: “Fine, fine, you win.”
He stood up and left.
Five minutes later, he returned with a folding table, placing it in the living room: “I’ll have my own separate table, okay?”
Mianmian: “As you wish.”
Later, Jin Man asked Mianmian: “Living with that peacock, do you two argue every day?”
Mianmian thought for a moment: “We don’t argue. We just keep fighting over the desk and lamp.”
Jin Man: …Is this the war of academic elites? How simple.
One week before the high school entrance exam.
Mianmian got stuck on a final math problem. She calculated it three times, getting different answers each time.
In the early hours of the morning, she was still sitting in the living room, staring blankly at her test papers.
Jiang Yu’an returned from his internship and saw her slumped over the desk. He walked over and took a look.
“You can’t even solve this problem?”
Mianmian looked up. “Senior, could you please not…”
“You drew the auxiliary line wrong.” He reached out and drew a line on her paper. “Connect from here to here, using Menelaus’ theorem.”
Mianmian froze. She stared at the line for three seconds, then buried her head and continued calculating.
By the time she had worked out the answer and looked up, Jiang Yu’an had already returned to his room.
The next morning, she found an extra glass of milk on the table, with a note pressed underneath:
“To nourish your brain. Good luck on the high school entrance exam. Don’t embarrass our family.”
Mianmian crumpled the note into a ball, but she finished the milk.
From then on, Mianmian would leave her completed test papers on the desk every day. The next morning, there would always be a note beside the papers with comments.
For example: “The solution to question 3 is too clumsy. Look at the back.”
On the back was his simplified solution.
Or: “Calculation error in question 7. Find it yourself.”
She searched for twenty minutes but couldn’t find it.
When he returned in the evening, she blocked the doorway. “Where exactly did I go wrong in question 7?”
He reached out and pointed at her paper. “Here. You wrote the symbol backwards.”
She looked down. It really was.
“You’re already in college. How do you still remember middle school knowledge so clearly? How can you still solve problems from so many years ago?”
He laughed heartily. “Because I’m a genius with a photographic memory!”
She rolled her eyes. Hmph, showing off again. She shouldn’t have asked.
Ji Mianmian scored 740 points on the high school entrance exam, ranking first in the city and advancing to the high school division of her school.
The principal smiled so widely his eyes disappeared. Such a promising candidate for Tsinghua or Peking University would become another golden banner for the school, following Jiang Yu’an! He immediately praised the exemplary teacher, Teacher Zhao, at the school-wide assembly.
With a flourish of his pen, he not only waived Mianmian’s high school tuition but also awarded her a monthly scholarship of 1,000 yuan.
Mianmian kept 200 yuan for herself each month and gave the rest to Teacher Zhao for living expenses.
Ms. Ji Lixiang called from her hometown, saying she needed to continue accompanying her mother for treatment and asked Teacher Zhao to continue taking care of Mianmian until the college entrance exam.
Teacher Zhao gladly agreed. Such a well-behaved little girl was heartwarming and easy to get along with. She never needed urging to do her homework—much less trouble than his own troublesome son.
The year Ji Mianmian started high school, Jiang Yu’an entered his senior year of college.
She studied biology and learned about human anatomy.
She borrowed a copy of Atlas of Human Anatomy from the city’s public library and spent an entire weekend poring over it.
On Sunday evening, Jiang Yu’an returned and saw her holding the book. He leaned over to take a look.
“Oh, little girl, you can understand this? Starting to study the human body?”
Mianmian ignored him.
“Here,” he reached out and pointed to a spot on the diagram. “This is wrong, you know.”
Mianmian looked up. “Don’t give random advice. This is a formally published textbook.”
“The third edition published by our F University is correct,” he nodded. “But the latest fourth edition has been revised. The origin and insertion points of this muscle were previously drawn backwards.”
Mianmian was stunned.
Jiang Yu’an went back to his room, took out a book as thick as a brick, and tossed it in front of her.
It was the classic anatomy textbook Gray’s Anatomy, 41st edition—the original English version.
“Borrow it for a day,” he said. “If you don’t understand something, you can ask me—consultation comes with a fee.”
Mianmian opened the book to find dense English text and specialized terminology.
Turning to the back cover, she saw the price: $229.
She quickly calculated the exchange rate in her head and couldn’t help but gasp—over a thousand yuan!
She never thought this peacock was particularly wealthy, but he really didn’t hesitate to spend money on books!
She flipped to the page Jiang Yu’an mentioned, and indeed, it was different from the library copy.
The original English textbook was truly well-written—detailed, engaging, and clearly intended to teach. It felt like it genuinely wanted to help her learn!
Unconsciously, she became engrossed, reading page after page.
When she finally looked up, Jiang Yu’an had already returned to his room.
That night, with the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary by her side, she pored over the book until five in the morning.
The next day, she returned the book to him in the kitchen, dark circles under her eyes.
“Finished reading?”
“No,” Mianmian said, “but I copied down all the knowledge points related to the college entrance exam. I can review them slowly later.”
Jiang Yu’an paused, took the book, and laughed.
It wasn’t his usual lazy, teasing smile, but a genuine, amused laugh.
“Ji Mianmian, have you studied ‘Sending Off Dongyang’s Student Ma’ in Chinese class yet? You’re practically a modern Song Lian! Borrowing books from collectors, copying them by hand, and returning them on time.”
Mianmian blushed and lowered her head.
Ugh, the line before that in the essay was, “My family was poor, and I had no means to acquire books to read.” Wasn’t that exactly her situation?
Ms. Ji Lixiang hadn’t given her any living expenses for months.
This sharp-tongued peacock always knew how to hit a nerve. How annoying.