Chapter 14: Zhai Da’s Extraordinary Plan to Rewrite Destiny

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The next day, Zhai Da continued diligently playing the role of a “high school student.”

Things were going relatively smoothly.

Except for the occasional inquiry about whether his fainting after a confession was real.

Yesterday was the first day back to class after the second mock exam. Everyone was cautious, wondering if Zhai Da was too fragile and might lose his composure at the slightest provocation, so they held back somewhat.

Now that they realized Zhai Da was quite “resilient,” they became even more brazen.

This trivial incident spread throughout the school with a reach and persistence far beyond what Zhai Da had anticipated.

No amount of six exam papers a day could silence their gossip. Zhai Da even considered petitioning teachers to assign more homework in each subject. After all, in senior year, writing half a “Five-Three” workbook daily wasn’t too much to ask, right?

Besides, he didn’t have to do the work himself.

Another matter was that since the chance encounter at the cold noodle shop, he vaguely sensed Lin Shuyao secretly observing him. Often, when he glanced up during breaks, he’d find the girl looking his way.

He even once thought Lin Shuyao was playing a childish game of fishing for reactions, like “If you don’t look, how do I know I’m being noticed,” “You looked, so you must like me,” “If you like me, you can’t like anyone else,” “Lend me 2000 yuan, I need to go to the hospital,” and so on.

But Zhai Da wasn’t about to take the bait. He was busy.

After settling into his high school identity, he immediately turned to the most important task: planning his “studies.”

As a reborn individual with a hidden advantage, academics weren’t his only trump card. But since he still held this card, he might as well maximize its use.

After two days of sampling each subject, Zhai Da clearly understood the problem he needed to solve.

A catastrophic problem.

By his unreliable calculations, if he took the college entrance exam now, he’d score barely above 150 points.

Total.

“No big deal, I still hold the advantage here.”

Back home, Mrs. Yu didn’t work overtime today, so Zhai Da got to enjoy his favorite dishes—braised pork tied with bean curd knots and salted giant prawns.

After fainting once, besides having more pocket money, Yu Xiaoli had indeed put more effort into his diet.

Zhai Da, already somewhat chubby from birth, worried about his future weight...

After eating his fill, Zhai Da said he’d go back to his room to start studying early. Yu Xiaoli didn’t quite believe him but didn’t say much.

If before, Zhai Da saying he would study hard was like “the boy who cried wolf,”

Now, it was more like “he says the wolf is coming, and the wolf really does come—even aliens wouldn’t surprise me.”

Zhai Da could only sigh at how his mother’s love seemed outdated. This time, he genuinely intended to rescue himself.

After two days of gathering intelligence, it was time to make a plan.

In his room, Zhai Da pulled out a laminated, stiff sheet of paper from the wardrobe he had hastily transformed into a bookshelf.

It was an A4 sheet distributed uniformly by the school to help this year’s students understand the college entrance exam rules, handed out in the second year and well preserved inside the plastic cover.

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He vaguely recalled that when it was first distributed, both teachers and students were sweating profusely trying to understand it.

Some might wonder: aren’t the rules straightforward? Why would teachers and students need to study the material together?

Here, one must mention the peculiar rules of this region.

Unlike most areas where the college entrance exam is scored out of 750, the “Scattered Province” had a total score of only 440, testing only the three core subjects—Chinese, Math, and English—with an additional 40-point optional question in either Chinese or Math, but not both.

This description was confusing. Zhai Da remembered that when it was issued, the homeroom teacher, Ding Rong, thought she had misunderstood. Total score 440, but the theoretical highest was 480...

Moreover, apart from the three core subjects, all other courses became “academic proficiency tests,” no longer scored numerically but graded on an imported foreign ABCD scale.

Candidates had to choose one from “History” and “Physics” as an elective subject.

Writing was classified as elective yet effectively mandatory, deciding whether you were in the arts or sciences track and which “bonus points” you could earn.

Then from “Politics,” “Chemistry,” “Biology,” and “Geography,” you chose two compulsory subjects.

Writing was also compulsory but slightly less important. These two exams were not held on the same day as the main college entrance exam but were organized separately by the province. They were relatively easier but fiercely competitive.

Generally, students combined subjects based on arts or sciences, such as “Biology and Chemistry” or “Politics and Geography.”

Of course, there were some oddballs who split arts and sciences, which the school did not recommend but the rules allowed.

As for the ABCD grading, there were various interpretations.

For example, the “compulsory subjects (less important)” were graded by absolute scores: above 90 was an A, 89 to 75 a B, and so on.

The “elective subjects (important)” used ranking: top 20% in the province got an A, and the top 5% an A+.

This created a new problem: the new rules in Scattered Province clashed with the “selection systems” of almost all universities nationwide.

Previously, universities simply checked score thresholds, and at most considered arts or science streams. Now, they had to establish a separate system for the province’s bizarre rules.

The complexity for students applying to universities skyrocketed. Besides scores, they had to check if their grades in specific subjects met requirements, which varied by major.

It was like going to a restaurant where diners and owners were used to eating with chopsticks and paying in yuan.

Now, the urban management officials stepped in and said no, you must eat with your feet and pay in at least three different currencies while singing “Wa Xie Bu Lai Love Song.”

Confusing, isn’t it? That’s precisely the point. Everyone except a few rogue education experts in the province was baffled.

If you don’t understand the rules, how can you get into any decent university?

Adding to the misfortune, these rules were first implemented in 2008...

Zhai Da was the unlucky student caught in this system.

Years later, facing these ridiculous rules, Zhai Da still felt like showing up those education experts.

But there was a silver lining.

Whenever a new system emerges and many can’t adapt...

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It also means... a massive “resource mismatch” occurs at this moment.

For instance, some very capable students failed to get into their desired universities due to errors in application.

And the prestigious schools that didn’t grasp the key points of the Scattered Province’s rules... were also baffled when setting admissions criteria.

That summer was full of regret and complaints, and for the following two years, Zhai Da heard endless discussions and rumors.

From QQ groups, classmates’ reunions, or other examinees from his year.

Not just in Dongyang County, but throughout the entire Scattered Province.

For example, so-and-so was rejected by Peking University because of a B in a compulsory subject.

Or another prestigious university couldn’t fill its enrollment quota due to misjudgment.

Of course, this foresight only helped him work more efficiently when filling out applications...

It didn’t mean he could skip studying now.

Having good scores but submitting poorly planned applications wouldn’t help.

That’s when he needed to deploy another trump card.

One that offered a tiny boost beyond his own efforts: the System.

Zhai Da reviewed the information he gathered throughout the day... and had begun to discern a pattern.

Going to top universities like Tsinghua, Peking, Zhejiang, Jiaotong, or Fudan was out of reach.

But with a bit of luck... earning a bachelor’s degree shouldn’t be too difficult.

After all, a boy who won the lottery wouldn’t have such bad luck.

On his desk, Zhai Da organized his study plan and nodded with satisfaction.

First, I need a powerful television!

“Old Man TV”: increases addiction to content by 300%.

Though this seemed like a negative effect, it was exactly what Zhai Da urgently needed.

He didn’t just want to defy fate—he wanted to do so joyfully and effortlessly.

Obsessively pushing himself to compete against students who had been studying since childhood was something only a fool would do.

Why not use my advantage?

If hard work guaranteed success, what’s the point? Isn’t that how it should be?

Real satisfaction comes from rewards gained with ease!