How Did The Young Lady Go Bankrupt? - Chapter 17

She had tried her best not to let her emotional fluctuations affect her studies, but back then, Lu Zhiyao was still just a seventeen-year-old child. How could she achieve perfection in something that even adults can’t always manage?

Duan Zishu was one grade above Lu Zhiyao; after they broke up, Lu Zhiyao happened to enter her senior year of high school.

Her grades took a massive dive.

Lu Zhiyao didn’t let herself spiral into self-abandonment; she quickly realized that she couldn’t go on like this. If she couldn’t maintain her grades, it would be over. Without a good ranking, she wouldn’t get a scholarship. More importantly, she wouldn’t be able to get into a good school through the Gaokao.

If she didn’t get into a good university, her life would be over prematurely.

Although life doesn’t drop a cleaver from the sky to chop off your unstudious head the moment you receive an admission letter from a low-ranking university, Lu Zhiyao just understood: if she didn’t get into a good school, her life was over.

How exactly it would be over was a concept too complex for a high schooler who hadn’t experienced society. She only thought vaguely that without a prestigious degree, twelve years of hard work since primary school would go to waste. Life spent waking up at 5:00 AM and sleeping at 11:00 PM for years would be over, even if nothing physical happened, if it didn’t result in superior grades.

So, she had to study hard.

Subjective questions inevitably lose points, so the multiple-choice questions had to be perfect. If she got one wrong—if she got one wrong, then it was over.

Write the paper, check the answers. The answer key says A. Good, she wrote A too.

But the answer key says B, why did she write D?

It’s all over.

No, maybe there’s still a chance. If she only misses one multiple-choice question, is there still a possibility of redemption?

But the next question, why is it different from the answer key again?

She felt rage, hesitating between two options, wondering why she always chose the wrong one. The barrel of her gel pen was clamped in her mouth; the cheap plastic was easily crushed by her teeth. Crunch, crunch—the loud noise echoed inside her head.

Why? If she missed five out of eleven multiple-choice questions, forget the scholarship, forget the good university. She wouldn’t compare to anyone; she wouldn’t even get into college.

In her freshman year, wasn’t her goal her mother’s alma mater? With conditions far worse than hers, her mother had entered the most prestigious, high-profile university, even drawing praise from township leaders and appearing in the newspaper.

Do you remember her mother’s response when she told her the goal? Her mother said, “If you are my daughter, that is what you should do.”

But if she missed five out of eleven questions, even if her weekly test scores from yesterday hadn’t dropped from the top of the grade, it was over. Doing well was an accident; doing poorly was the norm.

It was all over.

She spat out the plastic fragments and bit her fingertips until they were a bloody mess.

Lu Zhiyao somewhat regretted choosing this high school. She had been lured by the scholarship; this school full of “rich second-generation” kids was excellent in terms of faculty and facilities. But unlike another high school, it didn’t use militarized management, and the schedule wasn’t strict. So she had to be self-disciplined. But perhaps her self-control wasn’t that good, which is why her grades were slipping.

She couldn’t say these things to her classmates. Those students who would still be taken care of by their families even if they scored 200 points would only think her complaints were “humble bragging” because her grades were better than theirs.

She couldn’t say these things to her mother either. Her mother said, “This is your own choice, I never interfered.” Yes, her mother had been hands-off when she chose her preferences; even if she felt regret, she couldn’t complain to her mother.

She told these things to the teacher she trusted most. The teacher was a good teacher; she said, “You are the smartest child I’ve ever seen, you can definitely do it.”

But I can’t. I can’t. Teacher, I missed five out of eleven multiple-choice questions; maybe I was never suited for studying from the very beginning.

Ultimately, Lu Zhiyao graduated. Her score was nearly forty points lower than her mother’s back then. Her mother didn’t scold her; she said, “I knew the result would be like this. Yaoyao, you have never been a smart child.”

It was still far from time to rest.

“I can still take the postgraduate entrance exam for that school.”

“Go try it,” her mother replied. “It’s very hard, and you aren’t smart. But I support you because you are my child.”

She felt a dread toward exams, so for her next goal, Lu Zhiyao wanted to enter her mother’s alma mater through a postgraduate recommendation (Baoyan). She joined the student council because a lot of first-hand information passed through their hands. Being close to teachers and becoming a department head could add points.

When the competitions were being held, which awards carried weight—if you wanted to win a school-level award, it was impossible without joining a certain teacher’s team.

Upon learning of her plan, her mother—who had previously expressed support, her mother who never felt emotional fluctuations for her—actually got angry. “Do you think recommendation is easy? How could you do it?”

Later, just as her mother said, she indeed didn’t do it.

Later still, Lu Zhiyao came to work at a bubble tea shop.

By the standards of her high school self, life was already over, right? But the sword hanging over her head didn’t fall; she was working a job she could have managed even if she hadn’t gotten into high school, living every day like this. Even if she missed five out of eleven multiple-choice questions, it didn’t seem to matter much.

What was it that forced that seventeen-year-old self to bite her fingers bloody just because of one unsatisfactory assignment? If someone could have told her back then that “it’s okay to be like this,” perhaps things would be a bit better now.

Perhaps she wouldn’t have back pain so severe she couldn’t sleep because of sitting for a whole day. Perhaps her lumbar vertebrae wouldn’t affect her sciatic nerve, making her legs constantly vent their existence. Perhaps her cervical vertebrae wouldn’t be failing from always bowing her head to solve problems, making her fingers swollen every morning.

So, Duan Zishu is lucky, isn’t she?

Lu Zhiyao looked at the person lying on the bed, who had developed a fever just because she’d been out in the night wind once. Her head had hurt a bit on the day of the wind; the next day she seemed fine, but then her temperature started rising in the afternoon. She was sent to the clinic for an injection, and by nightfall, the fever returned. She had just taken fever reducers, but the medicine hadn’t kicked in yet; Duan Zishu looked very uncomfortable.

Her eyebrows were knit together tightly, likely due to a headache. Lu Zhiyao sat beside her, placing a towel soaked in hot water on her forehead.

The Duan Zishu of the past certainly never had to be anxious about grades. People like them would be lifted up by their families even if they accomplished nothing. Now she had basically nothing, yet she still had an “old slave” like herself, who was used to it, following her.

Lu Zhiyao thought that she must still like her. If she didn’t like her, why would she be so tireless and uncomplaining?

Duan Zishu opened her eyes; the hand tucked inside the quilt tried to reach out, but Lu Zhiyao pressed it back.

“It’s a bit hot,” she said.

“Is it? That means the fever is about to break.” Lu Zhiyao tucked the quilt in even tighter. “I’ll go get another small blanket.”

“It’s very hot.”

The person on the bed was extremely weak, possessing no power to resist. So when her head hurt yesterday, it must not have been that painful. You see, if someone is truly suffering, they definitely won’t have any strength at all.

“You need to keep bundled up and warm; once you sweat a bit, the fever will break,” Lu Zhiyao said.

Actually, it wasn’t that she didn’t know; even though sweating is indeed a sign of a breaking fever, wrapping someone in quilts while their temperature is falling is definitely not a good method. Not only does it have a poor effect on the illness, but the patient will also be very uncomfortable. Even that towel used for the forehead shouldn’t have been soaked in hot water.

Duan Zishu slowly turned her head and looked at Lu Zhiyao. “Lu Zhiyao, I’m sorry.” She said it suddenly.

“It’s nothing,” Lu Zhiyao replied indifferently.

She thought of her high school self again, and her even younger self. Perhaps she was born for a life of toil; taking care of others was nothing. Her high school self liked Duan Zishu so much; she surely wouldn’t mind serving a sick senior at night.

“It’s not just today.” Duan Zishu’s voice was faint. “I never apologized to you. I’m sorry. That time we argued and broke up on the cruise ship… I’m really sorry.”

Sick people become fragile, and the night makes people sentimental. Without any preamble, Duan Zishu brought up the events of that year.

“Sigh.” Lu Zhiyao let out a soft sigh.

Actually, it wasn’t a big deal; there were no third parties involved, no “red roses or white moonlight,” no generational feuds or melodramatic misunderstandings. Duan Zishu didn’t get a red face when she drank, so you couldn’t tell if she was drunk or not, but she was somewhat incoherent. She pulled Lu Zhiyao over and stuffed money into her arms.

Duan Zishu said, “I can give you money, I can give you a lot of money.”

If it were now, Lu Zhiyao felt she might unzip her pockets and tell her to stuff more in. Sometimes she would even forget the reason she got angry; at that time, all her difficulties came from a lack of money, so why did she feel angry because Duan Zishu gave her money?

Then she felt a sense of tragedy, a betrayal of her seventeen-year-old self. The one who should be mocked is her current self, who has become worldly and cynical, not the her of the past who felt insulted.

“I’m not angry anymore,” Lu Zhiyao answered.

But her seventeen-year-old self would definitely be very angry; having banknotes stuffed directly into one’s collar can’t be considered respectful by any stretch of the imagination.

But the Lu Zhiyao of high school really, really liked Duan Zishu. Even after such an unseemly breakup, even after the most important dignity of a youth was insulted, it was still hard for her to cleanly and decisively forget her feelings. She still liked Duan Zishu, until she was no longer a youth herself.

Lu Zhiyao often recalled her high school self and thought, I’m sorry I couldn’t become the person you expected me to be.

But the person you liked so much is still here. Duan Zishu has come back. Lu Zhiyao thought she must still like her.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Duan Zishu was still apologizing; because of her weakness, her voice was as low as a murmur to herself.

“It’s okay.” Lu Zhiyao touched her face; it was still a bit hot. “You have to get well soon.”

In high school, she had never seen Duan Zishu sick. They didn’t spend a long time together; if she had been sick, she would have taken leave and wouldn’t have been seen. She had seen Duan Zishu frustrated, but never lying there so powerlessly.

Duan Zishu wasn’t supposed to get sick.

“You need to recover quickly.”

Because I don’t like the way you look when you’re sick.

Lu Zhiyao didn’t think there was anything strange about this thought. Anyone wouldn’t want the person they like to be sick, right?