Miss Wheelchair - Chapter 12

“I’m not so desperate that I’d take whatever comes along.”

When Gu Ci said this, her beautiful face was calm and unruffled. The emotional meter above her head didn’t so much as flicker.

Alright then. She really wasn’t interested.

Tan Xin drew this self-deprecating conclusion.

But the +10 in Curiosity Value was very real.

What was Gu Ci curious about?

When in doubt—look it up.

She reopened the book she had already read three times, Five Years with the System, Three Years of Simulation. By the time she reached Chapter 4, she finally found a bit of useful information.

Gu Ci had been classmates with Dr. Lu Ran. Since Lu Ran studied medicine, Gu Ci must have picked up some medical knowledge as well.

What’s more—she was one of the founders of Hongkang Private Hospital.

Clearly, sharing just the “wheelchair” topic wasn’t enough. She needed professional common ground.

The moment the thought formed, a sharp “beep” sounded above her head.

It was the system.

[New Mission: Enter Medical University]

So the idea was correct. She had even triggered a mainline quest.

“How exactly does ‘enter’ count?”

She had to clarify.

Literally speaking, even just stepping onto the campus could be considered “entering.”

The system promptly gave the criteria:

“Employment or enrollment. Choose one.”

Not bad—reasonable enough.

Tan Xin raised her hand and hit confirm. Mission accepted.

Completing missions meant rewards. If she got lucky, just like at the press conference, maybe she’d impress Gu Ci and even gain a few points of favorability.

Once the system retreated, she started planning her strategy.

Her phone showed it was January. Too late for college entrance exams or graduate school entrance exams.

That left only the employment path.

She had practiced taekwondo; maybe she could be a security guard.

But with her legs still not fully healed and needing a wheelchair, that idea was a stretch.

She browsed through the recruitment listings at Medical University—and instantly felt the world’s malice.

• Administration Office — Master’s degree required.

• Research Assistant — Master’s degree required.

• Counselor — PhD required.

Tan Xin hadn’t done graduate studies, but she at least understood how universities worked.

Research assistant she could understand—it needed technical expertise. But why on earth did a counselor need a PhD? When a student got into a fight and ended up at the police station, were they supposed to whip out their dissertation for the officers to read?

Frustration aside, what she felt most was helplessness. Against society’s endless gatekeeping, ordinary people really had no recourse.

If you’re drifting through society, how can you avoid getting cut?

She scrolled through the listings from top to bottom. Every office-related position required a master’s. Only one laboratory assistant posting had this note: Master’s degree or higher, but requirements may be relaxed for outstanding candidates.

Perfect. She would be that outstanding candidate.

The next afternoon, Gu Ci had just come home from work when she found Tan Xin waiting in the living room, a folder resting on her lap.

“President Gu, you’re back.”

Tan Xin greeted her with a smile. After a full day of practice, she was already adept at maneuvering the smart wheelchair Gu Ci had given her.

Gu Ci handed her laptop bag to Aunt Wang and asked:

“Something you need?”

Five Years with the System, Three Years of Simulation had clearly stated that Gu Ci was decisive in all things—she hated beating around the bush.

So Tan Xin got straight to the point:

“I want to apply for the research assistant position at Medical University. I drafted a résumé. Could you take a look and tell me what needs fixing?”

Gu Ci glanced at the folder in her hands, then steered her wheelchair into the small side room by the entryway.

“Wait a moment.”

“Okay.”

Tan Xin’s heart brimmed with delight. Gu Ci’s voice was like a silver bell picked up from a mountain stream at dawn—one soft chime that carried with it the sound of running water, clear and crystalline.

When Gu Ci reemerged, having switched wheelchairs, Tan Xin immediately offered up her résumé.

She had downloaded a template from the internet, a white page with a blue border, and filled in her educational background and experience section by section.

Gu Ci took it, her slender fingers pinching the edge of the paper, and began to read from the top.

Name: Tan Xin

Age: 24

Education: Bachelor of Pharmacy, Jiangcheng University of Pharmacy

Experience: President of the Taekwondo Club – 1 year

Awards & Achievements:

• First-Class Scholarship, University “Three Good Student” Award

• National Taekwondo Runner-Up

• “Most Outstanding Volunteer” at the Provincial Games

Self-Introduction:

I am optimistic, motivated, and carry a positive attitude. In life, I am upright and get along well with my peers. In academics, I am diligent, hardworking, and persistent. As a qualified and capable university graduate, I believe I am well-suited for the position of research assistant.

Tan Xin’s ability to polish her résumé was limited. The original template filled an entire page, but once she pared it down—cutting here, trimming there—barely any words were left. She had to bump the font size up a notch just to keep it from looking too empty.

Gu Ci read, while Tan Xin waited.

Truthfully, while admiring Gu Ci’s beauty up close was one of her greatest pleasures, at this moment she cared more about getting feedback from Gu Ci as the founder of a hospital.

Gu Ci didn’t speak. The résumé was so sparse it only took seconds to read, yet she stared at it for a long while. As though flowers were blooming across the page—or as though she could pierce straight through the thin sheet of paper to the words hidden behind it.

Tan Xin rubbed her palm nervously against her pant leg before breaking the silence, voice trembling:

“Is this résumé terrible?”

Gu Ci withdrew her gaze, gave the page another quick sweep, and asked:

“When you look at this résumé yourself, don’t you feel something’s off?”

Tan Xin scratched at her cheek guiltily. “This is already the polished version.”

Gu Ci cut straight to the point: “What was your major in university?”

“Pharmacy,” Tan Xin blurted.

“You really studied at the University of Pharmacy?”

“Of course.” That much she was certain of—she had, in her real life, graduated from the University of Pharmacy.

“So what exactly did you learn there?”

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

Her head dropped in guilt. “Well, it was undergrad. People forget after graduation. It’s been two years.”

Gu Ci pressed further:

“If they test you on professional knowledge during the interview, what will you do?”

At this, Tan Xin finally found a shred of confidence.

“I’ve already tracked down their graduate exam prep materials. Before the interview, I can cram.”

“One week won’t be enough.”

“It will. I have a great memory. Just this afternoon while waiting for you, I memorized several chapters. If you don’t believe me, test me.”

Gu Ci glanced back at the résumé. “Not necessary. It’s your job—you just need to know your own limits.”

Then she pointed out the flaws:

“You’re applying for a research assistant position. Anything related to taekwondo can be deleted. Leave the ‘work experience’ section, though—that shows you’ve taken on responsibilities and will help your application.”

Tan Xin hurried to jot down the advice. “Mm, okay. What else?”

Gu Ci skimmed again. “The overall content is too thin. Do you have any other experiences?”

Tan Xin froze. “Well some people’s lives are just simpler.”

Gu Ci shook her head. “Send me the electronic version. I’ll revise it for you.”

Tan Xin lit up as though bestowed with imperial favor. “Really? I’ll send it to you right now!”

She leapt out of the wheelchair, hopped on one leg back into the bedroom, and quickly uploaded the file from her charging phone.

If Gu Ci was willing to personally help her revise her résumé, that must mean she cared!

While Tan Xin was busy in the bedroom, Gu Ci placed the résumé on the desk, then turned toward Auntie Wang, who was just setting dinner on the table.

“Auntie Wang, where was this résumé printed?”

Auntie Wang smiled.

“She sent it to me this morning. I printed it at the shop next to the market when I went grocery shopping.”

“She didn’t go into the study?” Gu Ci asked, half skeptical.

“No. Didn’t you tell her yesterday not to go in there? She’s been in her bedroom all day.”

Gu Ci fell into thought.

Impossible.

She had warned Tan Xin yesterday—the study contained hospital and biotech R&D data. If Tan Xin were a corporate spy, she would have acted by now.

Or had she already made a move while Auntie Wang was out buying groceries?

With that thought, Gu Ci steered her wheelchair into the study and pulled up the surveillance footage.

Meanwhile, oblivious to these suspicions, Tan Xin’s heart fluttered wildly as she saw Gu Ci hurry into the study.

So eager to revise her résumé for her?

See, this is love!