A few days later, one evening, Su Yunluo was returning from a restaurant when she spotted Teacher Sun and Teacher Song standing outside the office from a distance.
When Teacher Sun noticed her passing by, he gave her a brief sideways glance.
Su Yunluo understood immediately. That look was no longer the same approval of her “courage” as before. Instead, it had turned into something closer to scrutiny—like she was just another example proving the idea that “girls are not as good as boys.”
And even if she didn’t accept it, what could she do about it now?
During evening self-study, Teacher Song stood at the podium in Class Six.
“Students, overall, your performance in this monthly exam was still quite good. Although compared to Class Five…”
“But winning or losing isn’t the point! The important thing is that through this exam, everyone can understand their current level and find the direction they should work toward next. However…”
He looked at Su Yunluo with a hint of sympathy. “That competition…”
“Teacher, I understand.”
Su Yunluo stood up calmly.
She would go now.
She couldn’t possibly let the boys in her class bear the consequences of her loss. If you made a bet, you accepted the outcome—she still had that kind of resolve.
This time, Su Yunluo didn’t let Yuan Weining, who looked ready to follow her to the ends of the earth, come along. There was no need to drag someone else to the execution ground.
But Yuan Weining was still worried. They lived in the same neighborhood, and her parents were always busy with business and rarely at home. She had basically grown up running around freely. There were many boys her age in the neighborhood, but very few girls. Since Su Yunluo returned to live with her parents, Yuan Weining finally had a close friend again. They had grown up together from fifth grade until now. She knew Su Yunluo had learned some painting and calligraphy, but those didn’t seem suitable for a performance. And yes, she could also play the bamboo flute—but everything had happened too suddenly, and she hadn’t brought it.
So Yuan Weining followed her all the way to the door of Class Five and stood nearby, ready to rush in and help at any moment.
Su Yunluo took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
When the students inside saw her, they froze for a moment. Then their expressions instantly turned into excitement, like a “victory trophy delivered straight to their doorstep.” Whistles and teasing voices exploded in the room.
Looking around again, Su Yunluo suddenly remembered the bold words she had written in her challenge letter:
“I only wish that when you are defeated, after showing your talent, you will come to your senses and realize there is always someone better, and stop being so arrogant.”
Now it felt like that boomerang had come back and hit her right in the face.
“Class genius Su, welcome, welcome! What are you planning to perform for us?”
“Just saying first—we don’t accept poetry recitation!”
“Singing or dancing is fine, but it has to be something decent!”
“Don’t just hum a few lines to fool us!”
Amid the noise, Xie Chen slightly frowned. He tapped his pen twice on the desk.
“Forgot already? Let her choose.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it immediately changed the atmosphere. The room gradually quieted down.
Su Yunluo looked at her opponent.
He was still sitting there calmly, composed and unreadable.
She tried to catch even the slightest crack in his expression—maybe a suppressed smile, or a flash of pride—but there was nothing.
Those phoenix-shaped eyes were calm, without excitement, not even surprise. It was as if he had just finished solving a proof problem, now watching with mild interest, waiting to see how she would complete this “performance step” that he had already accounted for in his mental solution.
Su Yunluo looked away and quietly sighed in her heart.
She really had been too impulsive. When Teacher Song mentioned it earlier, she rushed over without thinking, not even properly deciding what to perform.
But honestly, there wasn’t much to think about anyway. She only had two options.
One was the bamboo flute. The only piece she was good at was “Autumn Window, Wind and Rain Night,” an insert song from the 1987 version of Dream of the Red Chamber. She had learned it shortly after returning to Liang City.
“Autumn flowers bleak, autumn leaves yellow, dim autumn lamp, long autumn night…”
But even if she had brought the flute today, she wouldn’t play something so sorrowful just to deepen her own mood.
So that left only one choice.
She lowered her gaze for a moment, feeling a little sorry for herself again, then looked up at the class.
“Too bad, none of you guessed right. I’m here to introduce you to the richness and depth of traditional Chinese opera culture.”
As soon as she said this, the excitement in the room turned into confusion again.
She lifted the corner of her lips slightly and added slowly, “I’ll be singing a section of Yue opera.”
“Yue opera?”
“What’s that?”
“Sounds like some kind of traditional performance art.”
“So old-fashioned?” Li Zhe nudged Xie Chen. “Do girls these days still know that stuff?”
“Maybe,” Xie Chen said.
His gaze stayed quietly on her straight figure.
Yue opera—soft, flowing, delicate melodies. If someone else said they could sing it, he might have doubted it. But somehow, when it was Su Yunluo, he just felt she definitely could.
Even if every movement and expression on her face seemed to say: “You common folk better listen properly and don’t disturb my heroic sacrifice.”
Su Yunluo ignored them and turned around.
Not because she was shy—she simply felt the audience would ruin her performance.
She cleared her throat, and a clear, almost ethereal voice broke through the classroom’s murmurs:
My family has a little Ninth Sister…
She’s clever and bright, admired by all…
Good at painting dragons and stitching phoenixes…
She knows music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, every one of them…
I came to Hangzhou to seek a master teacher…
Ninth Sister insisted on coming along…
I thought men must study the classics…
But women should also be allowed to learn…
I only blame my father for being too stubborn…
In the end, he left little Ninth Sister behind…
After she finished singing, she turned around.
Everyone just stared blankly at the girl on the podium.
Even the most disruptive students had gone quiet.
They knew it was opera, and they were familiar with that drawn-out “yi yi ya ya” style. Honestly, that kind of traditional sound wasn’t very popular among young people.
But they hadn’t expected this.
No accompaniment, no microphone—just a clear, pure voice. She told an old story in a soft, flowing way, in words they barely fully understood, yet the meaning still reached them. It was far beyond anything they expected from a high school student’s “talent performance.”
And yet the performer herself didn’t seem proud at all.
She didn’t say a word, didn’t wait for applause. Instead, she lowered her gaze slightly and quietly walked out of the classroom under everyone’s eyes.
“Holy—!”
Someone finally shouted, and Class Five instantly exploded like ice breaking.
“She’s basically an artist!”
“So the top student actually has this hidden skill?!”
“That voice is insane!”
“Yeah, her voice is really good. I noticed it last time when she read that challenge letter!”
Li Zhe snapped back to reality and nudged Xie Chen.
“Who would’ve thought? I thought she could at most recite a poem. No wonder she dared to challenge you—she actually had confidence. Hey, Chen? Brother Chen? We really underestimated her!”
Xie Chen looked toward the empty classroom door.
“We did underestimate her,” he said.
That voice still lingered in the air—soft and faint, like misty rain drifting through Jiangnan.
Outside the classroom, Yuan Weining rushed over with bright eyes.
“Yunluo, we’ve known each other for so many years and I had no idea you could do that. You’re seriously a genius!”
“It’s nothing. I just practiced it before,” Su Yunluo replied with a forced smile.
But she wasn’t happy.
Back then, she learned it just to convince her father to bring her back from the small town.
What began as resistance against the idea that “boys are better than girls” had now become the price of losing this challenge.
Men must study the classics… but women should also be allowed to learn…
Women.
No matter how talented she was, no matter how much she could master, in the eyes of many stubborn “fathers,” it still wasn’t the same.
She looked through the window toward Class Five.
The others were still noisy, but the winner was already sitting quietly, doing his work. From her angle, he looked even fairer than the other boys, upright and striking, carrying the sharp, polished aura of an excellent student.
Clean, composed, confident—carrying that quiet pride.
The kind of “son” many parents would be proud of.
As if sensing something, he suddenly looked up.
Their eyes met through the window.
His expression was calm, lips lightly pressed. Across the glass and the noise of the classroom, his gaze landed on her.
Su Yunluo froze for a brief moment.
What was that look? Sympathy? Pity? Satisfaction? Or something else?
But she quickly looked away.
Why was she even looking at her enemy like that?
She liked him even less now.