The 23rd.

Monday.

A workday, technically — but Xu Ye’s parents had both taken half-day leave. Gaokao results day outranked everything else on the calendar.

“It’s almost ten. Why isn’t your son up yet?”

“He got home late last night.”

Zhang Hong waved a hand. “Go wake him up. Results are about to drop. We can’t be late for this.”

She was already too anxious to sit still.

Xu Ye’s dad jogged to the bedroom and found his son face-down on the mattress like a corpse, completely unresponsive to the universe.

“Son. Son.”

Nothing.

He walked up and gave him a firm pat on the backside. “Get up. Results.”

Xu Ye rubbed where he’d been smacked, unamused. “Stop bothering me. Admission ticket’s on the desk. Look it up yourselves.”

His dad had no better option. He retrieved the ticket and went back to the living room.

“He’s not up?”

“Dead asleep. He said to look it up ourselves.”

“What is wrong with that child? He can actually sleep through this? I’m a nervous wreck over here.”

His dad laughed. “Him being relaxed is a good sign. The ones who are nervous are the ones who don’t know how they did.”

“I’m not worried about the other subjects. It’s the English. Please, please let him have done okay in English.”

“Passing would be fine.”

“Let’s hope.”

Twenty minutes later.

“It’s time.”

“Quick, give me the ticket.”

“You need to log into the website first.”

“It won’t load.”

“Too many people checking at the same time — keep refreshing.”

While his parents were battling the website in the living room, Xu Ye lay in bed for another half hour, stared at the ceiling, accepted that sleep was no longer an option, and got up.

“You get in yet?”

“No — it just keeps spinning. Maybe our internet’s slow?”

Xu Ye sat down between them, pulled out his phone, loaded the results portal, typed in his admission ticket details, and hit submit.

A loading bar appeared. Stalled in the middle.

Then the page refreshed.

It went through.

He hadn’t expected it to work that fast. He’d braced for a long wait.

His eyes went straight to English.

125.

So the answers I remembered were correct.

“Ah!”

Zhang Hong had leaned over, seen the screen, and yelped loud enough to make Xu Ye’s dad jump out of his skin.

“What are you yelling for—”

“558! 558!”

She leaned in and looked again, just to be sure she hadn’t misread it. She hadn’t.

She was too overwhelmed to form words.

His dad stepped up and squinted at the screen. He turned to Xu Ye with a furrowed brow. “Son. How did you cheat on the English section?”

“You can’t cheat on the gaokao. I just guessed on the ones I didn’t know. Got lucky, I suppose.”

“Holy—!”

His dad stood up straight, spine suddenly very upright. “The ancestors are smiling on us today. That score clears the top-tier cutoff based on last year’s line.”

“Quick, call your parents and give them the good news!”

“On it!”

Xu Ye had known the outcome, but watching his parents light up like this still hit him somewhere warm. He exhaled and picked up his phone.

Xu: Zhiwei. your results up yet?

Social Anxiety Patient: still checking.

Social Anxiety Patient: you got yours?

Xu: yeah.

Social Anxiety Patient: how much?

Xu: 558.

Social Anxiety Patient: get out of here. stop messing with me.

Xu Ye screenshot the results page and sent it over.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Zhiwei called.

Xu Ye answered and put it on speaker.

“Xu Ye you absolute — 558?! What species are you?! If you were standing in front of me right now I would stab you, how did you score over 120 in English, did you see the answers beforehand, did you cheat, I can’t live anymore—”

This was exactly the behavior of a man who was simultaneously afraid his best friend might be struggling and also completely unable to handle his best friend thriving.

Xu Ye didn’t bother responding to any of it.

Then, from somewhere in the background, Auntie Wang’s voice broke through:

“Zhiwei, Zhiwei — I’ve got it. You scored 507.”

Xu Ye paused.

That was higher than he’d expected. In the first life, after Xu Ye had gotten his own results, Zhiwei had only said he did “a bit better.” Xu Ye had assumed it meant ten or twenty points. He hadn’t imagined Zhiwei had cracked five hundred.

“Son, 507 clears the standard four-year cutoff, doesn’t it?”

“Mom — that idiot Xu Ye scored 558. He’s going to a top-tier school.”

“He is who he is and you are who you are. You cleared the four-year line — I couldn’t be more pleased.”

Xu Ye spoke up. “Zhiwei. Driving practice this afternoon. I’ll come find you.”

Social Anxiety Patient: I don’t want to see your face right now.

Xu: then don’t.

He hung up. Zhiwei was mid-redial when the homeroom teacher called him instead.

Zhiwei had always been one of the more reliable students in class — a university candidate the teacher had quietly counted on. So the first call of the morning went to him, not to check in on him, but to find out if the numbers were adding up for the teacher’s bonus.

“Zhiwei, results come through?”

“Yeah.”

His tone was flat enough that the teacher started mentally preparing the speech about retaking the year.

“I got 507.”

The teacher’s voice switched registers immediately. “Over 500 — you can get into a proper public university with that. Solid work. You’re the second-highest in the class so far, right behind Li Nan.”

Zhiwei said, flatly: “Teacher. You know what Xu Ye scored?”

“Three mock exams, all lower than you. I’d put him somewhere between 450 and 480. Clearing the standard line would already be—”

“We just talked. He scored 558.”

“WHAT.”

“He sent me a screenshot.”

“How much did he get in English?”

“Over 120. He said he guessed everything he didn’t know and it all came up right.”

“Good lord above.” The teacher could barely contain himself. “I’m calling to confirm right now!”

The gaokao wasn’t like an in-school exam. In school, a sudden spike in scores raised eyebrows and suspicions. In the gaokao, it didn’t matter how you got there — only where you landed. The result was the only thing anyone cared about.

In the class group chat:

Li Nan: Just heard from the teacher — I got 509, highest in the class so far. Cutoff this year is 471. Anyone else clear it?

Duan Qingjun: 486.

Gu Mengyao: 492.

Li Nan: Anyone else? Zhiwei, what’d you get?

Social Anxiety Patient: 507.

Li Nan: Looks like I’m still the class high score. I’m having a celebration dinner at my place during summer break — everyone’s welcome.

Xie Hong: Called it.

Jiang Lei: Man, I only got 300-something. English was 65.

Social Anxiety Patient: Both of you, shut up.

Xie Hong: ???

Jiang Lei: ???

Social Anxiety Patient: Xu Ye scored 558. Top-tier cutoff.

He knew nobody would believe it on his word alone, so he blurred out the personal details on Xu Ye’s screenshot and posted it to the group.

Xu Ye’s phone buzzed again — the teacher this time. He answered, confirmed everything, hung up, and then noticed Zhiwei had already gone and put his score in the group chat.

“You absolute traitor. Did I ask you to show off for me?”

(End of Chapter)