Chapter 075: The Waterloo Incident

Nervousness is an intensified response of both body and mind to external stimuli, and during such moments, one can easily overlook many things. Lin Yu, anxious over his exam results, forgot everything else for a moment. He clenched his fists under the desk and began to pray, hoping his scores would be good this time and give him renewed confidence and motivation.

There was no need for Ms. He, the homeroom teacher, to maintain order; the entire Class 7 of Grade 11 was already silent as a grave.

Her expression was especially serious today, betraying neither joy nor sorrow, as she began in a soft but firm voice: "Before I announce the results, let me once again remind you of our class motto: 'The ignorant lack wisdom; the incapable lack achievement. Those with purpose possess virtue; those with ambition aspire to greatness.'"

As Ms. He recited the motto, the entire class joined in, their voices swelling in unison, creating a powerful and stirring atmosphere.

Even Lin Yu was affected, thinking to himself that Ms. He was nearly as formidable as Hitler, able to rouse the whole class’s spirits with such ease!

At that moment, shouts echoed down the corridor, each louder than the last—evidently, the other classes were reciting their own mottos as well.

After about a minute, Ms. He reached for the Grade 11 end-of-term report card pinned beside the blackboard, then spoke: “I want to commend you for your outstanding achievements last term. You defended the honor of our class and took first place overall! But this report card is now the past—let it drift away with the wind.”

With that, she tore the report card into pieces, flung open the window facing the podium, and tossed the fragments out with a flourish.

Returning to the podium, she allowed herself a slight smile as she picked up the Grade 12 midterm results. “This time,” she announced, “we are once again the top liberal arts class!”

Her words sparked a wave of elation; the entire class burst into cheers, easily drowning out the other classes.

Pleased with their enthusiasm, Ms. He motioned for silence and continued, “Although we took first place again, the gap between us and the other classes has narrowed. You all need to keep working hard and guard against pride. Now, I’ll read out the results. There have been significant shifts in rankings for many students this time. I hope those who made progress will remain humble, and those whose rankings slipped will reflect carefully. Though these results affect your seat numbers for the next exam, remember—they are still only one exam.”

She paused, glanced at the serene Yang Zhilin, then began, “As usual, I’ll read from the bottom up. Last place, Lin Lie, total score: 312.”

When Ms. He announced Lin Lie’s name, Lin Yu felt a wave of relief—he was finally free of the burden of coming in last! In truth, he hadn’t needed to worry; there was no way he’d score only in the 300s.

Ms. He, who appeared stern but was actually quite kind, continued reading out the names.

She finished the 300s range without mentioning Lin Yu’s name at all. Lin Yu’s deskmate, Wang Libo, smiled and congratulated him, knowing this meant Lin Yu must have achieved a personal best.

“Not bad, deskie! Even though your foundation isn’t great, after all your hard work, it’s still tough to catch up with us, but you have hope for a second-tier university.”

Lin Yu only smiled in response to this slightly patronizing congratulation. He knew Wang Libo hadn’t been tempered by life yet and wasn’t particularly tactful, so he didn’t take it to heart.

Soon, the 400s were read out—Qi Yue was in this group! But still, Lin Yu’s name was absent. That left only about thirty-seven or thirty-eight students scoring above 500.

At this point, Wang Libo, the chubby deskmate, was incredulous. It seemed impossible for Lin Yu to have improved so much in one go; he suspected Lin Yu might not have submitted his paper and thus had no score.

Lin Yu simply smiled at his surprised look, offering no explanation. He thought his score above 500 was just a stroke of luck.

As Lin Yu pondered this, a loud exclamation burst out in the classroom.

“Could it be because of me?” Lin Yu’s heart skipped a beat.

But he quickly realized everyone’s gaze was fixed on Yang Zhilin’s seat.

“What’s going on?” Lin Yu nudged Wang Libo, who was also watching.

“Didn’t you hear?” Wang Libo shrugged, then explained, “Ms. He just read out Yang Zhilin’s score—she only got 568, ranked twenty-seventh!”

“What? Only 568? How could that be?” Lin Yu was shocked. Yang Zhilin had always been the class’s top seed—how could her score drop so low?

“Maybe she’s been affected by Wang Keming chasing after her. I heard she even cried about it!” Wang Libo whispered to Lin Yu. In truth, about ninety percent of the class thought the same.

“I don’t think so,” Lin Yu replied, knowing that Yang Zhilin had cried because she was reminded of Biyao.

“Teacher! I really feel I did my best this time! I don’t believe my score is that low!” Amidst the murmurs, Yang Zhilin stood up.

Beside her, Qi Yue glanced back and forth between Yang Zhilin and Lin Yu, her little fists clenched tightly, a complex look in her bright eyes.

“Quiet, please!”

Ms. He sensed the class was getting noisy and tapped the desk. The room fell silent at once.

She then turned to Yang Zhilin with an odd look and said softly, “I know you did very well this time. But I just want to ask—who is Biyao?”

“Biyao?”

The name left Yang Zhilin momentarily stunned. Qi Yue and Lin Yu were at a loss for words.

“What’s the matter, Teacher? Please tell me,” Yang Zhilin asked, a little anxious after her initial surprise.

“Do you need to ask? You wrote ‘Biyao’ on your English exam! What on earth were you thinking?” Ms. He said, a hint of helplessness in her tone.

She felt a deep sense of regret over Yang Zhilin’s performance. With her English score of 144, her total should have been 712—enough to shatter the school’s long-standing record for the liberal arts class in Grade 12.

Such a score might have earned Yang Zhilin a special admission spot at Peking University.

But now, nothing could be done. The ever-steady Yang Zhilin had made the most elementary mistake—writing the wrong name on her exam!

Hearing this, Yang Zhilin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She glared at Lin Yu, then sat down and began blaming Qi Yue.

“It’s all your fault! You insisted on telling me that story! You made me cry in front of everyone, and now I’ve lost my grade…”

Qi Yue burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face.

Yang Zhilin’s name blunder in the midterm became known as the “Waterloo Incident” in Class 7. Everyone knew the class beauty—who was also the school beauty—was, in truth, still the real number one.