Chapter 54.4: The Visit

He was grateful that the principal had gone out of his way to invite him to lunch, but he still couldn’t get used to the atmosphere. Most students would probably feel the same discomfort.

But looking at it another way, it was already quite commendable for a principal to go this far.

"Binbin is back too," Li Zhuiyuan said with a smile to Zheng Haiyang, then stepped behind the curtain, lay down on the spring bed, and closed his eyes for a nap.

He fell asleep quickly and even had a dream.

In the dream, he was standing on a deck. He seemed taller now, as tall as Binbin.

He held Ah Li’s hand, and Cuicui stood by his side.

Further away were Runsheng and Tan Wenbin. Behind them loomed many indistinct figures.

The boat dropped anchor and stopped in a certain area.

In the dream, he stood at the edge of the deck and pointed downward. "This is the spot. Get ready—we’re going in!"

A chorus of responses followed, and everyone began to don their diving gear.

Li Zhuiyuan also put on his suit. After slipping the mask over his face, his vision turned slightly blurry.

Some climbed down the ladder; others simply dove in.

Li Zhuiyuan chose the latter and jumped.

"Smack!"

The moment he hit the water, he sat up and woke.

The curtain lifted, and Wu Xinhang’s kind face appeared. “Had a dream?”

“Yeah.”

“If you're tired, rest more. You’ve got a heavy load at school.”

“It’s not that…”

Li Zhuiyuan felt awkward admitting he was tired, especially since he usually slept or read extracurricular books during class.

"Xiaoyuan, this is your scholarship and stipend from the school. The itemized list and the money are inside. Take it home to your parents."

"Thank you, Grandpa Principal."

"And this…" Wu Xinhang pulled out some money from his pocket. "This is some pocket money from me personally, as your grandpa."

“I can’t take this.”

“Take it. Do your best in the competition this weekend. I’ve already ordered a banner to celebrate. Don’t blame your grandpa for putting pressure on you.”

“Thank you, Grandpa.”

Li Zhuiyuan accepted the money. He didn’t feel pressured—other schools might have genius students too, but he wasn’t worried. His whole class used to be geniuses.

“It’s me who should be thanking you.”

Wu Xinhang let out a deep breath. He gave this money entirely of his own will, hoping to let himself speak more sharply during meetings.

“Grandpa Principal, I’m going to class now.”

“No need. The bell for the fourth period is about to ring.”

Li Zhuiyuan was surprised. Had he really slept the entire afternoon?

The consequence of sleeping all afternoon was that he couldn’t sleep that night. So, he stayed up late drawing with Ah Li.

Ah Li sat as his model while he painted her.

But the more he drew, the less satisfied he felt, tearing up several sheets of paper.

Ah Li, sitting there, started to feel uneasy. Her eyes looked to him questioningly, as if asking whether she had done something wrong.

"Ah Li, it's your fault. You're too beautiful, too elegant. My skills aren’t good enough—I really can’t capture it."

The girl frowned, puffing out her cheeks slightly as if scolding him.

"Heh heh heh..." Li Zhuiyuan chuckled. Ah Li could now understand sarcasm.

Honestly, beautiful things are easier to draw. The trouble lay in her aura.

Part of her elegance was innate; the rest was cultivated by Liu Yumei.

Nowadays, people followed Western aesthetics in everything from habits to fashion, regardless of whether it suited them. Traditional dress was a rare sight, mostly confined to stage performances.

Li Zhuiyuan sighed helplessly. Drawing Ah Li was truly difficult. Even if his technique improved, she would grow older, taking on a new aura—probably making her even harder to capture.

Maybe it was time to practice on someone else?

He brought Ah Li back to the east room downstairs. Liu Yumei, in white pajamas, opened the door and asked, “Did you finish the painting?”

“No.”

“Our Ah Li is just too beautiful.”

“Yes.”

Back in his room, Li Zhuiyuan didn’t go to bed right away. Instead, he spread out new paper, prepared his paints, and began to draw again.

This time, he painted—Little Oriole.

Halfway through the painting, drowsiness overcame him. He put down his brush and went to sleep.

The night wind blew through the gauzy door, fluttering the corner of the painting.

It was as if someone were standing at the desk, quietly admiring it.

…

The day of the city math competition arrived.

Unlike past years of rushing to and from the venue quietly, this time Shigang Middle School brought out a bus decked in banners. Even the front sported a red flower.

In short—tacky and ostentatious.

Besides the chaperoning teachers, Principal Wu himself led the team. After boarding, he gave a pep talk and distributed fruit, bread, and drinks.

The exam venue was Pingchao Middle School—a large, impressive campus.

Once seated in the classroom, Li Zhuiyuan gazed out the window at a row of beautiful ginkgo trees.

When the test papers were handed out, he was still lost in thought.

The proctor tapped the desk gently to prompt him.

He bowed his head, wrote his name, and dove into the questions—finishing rapidly and handing in his paper.

Afterwards, he stood under the ginkgo trees for a long while.

Even so, he was the first to leave the exam room, his speed startling.

School buses from every district were parked on the playground. Teachers clustered together, smoking and chatting in tones that masked pointed jabs with politeness.

To teachers, these competitions were battlefields as much as they were for the students—perhaps even more so, given the students’ youth and naivety.

When Li Zhuiyuan came out, Teacher Yan rushed over with water and snacks.

Principal Wu wasn’t there—he was in the other school’s office, trading passive-aggressive barbs while building up his own arsenal of snark.

Other teachers watched the small boy emerge and were visibly shocked. An ominous hunch settled over them.

Either Shigang Middle had given up and brought the principal’s grandson for fun…

Or the kid was a heavy hitter.

Clearly, no one believed the former.

In the education world, even if you’ve never taught a prodigy, you’ve heard the stories.

The real question was: how did a child like this end up at a rural school?

Soon, teachers began flocking to Teacher Yan to ask questions, their tones genuinely respectful—not fake.

No one wanted to risk being embarrassed by a hidden ace once the scores came out.

Teacher Yan was thrilled, enjoying his moment in the spotlight. For once, he didn’t have to share it with Principal Wu.

Once a bystander always overshadowed, now even Principal Wu had rehearsed a speech. How could Teacher Yan not come prepared?

“Come on, come on, you’re flattering us. Really. It’s just a city-level competition, nothing to celebrate. Wait for the provincial and national rounds—that’s when we might pop some champagne.”

Li Zhuiyuan lay on the bus for a while before the final bell rang.

Some students did finish early—but very few. Most, especially those from their own school, had been strictly instructed by Teacher Yan and Principal Wu not to hand in early!

Of course, Little Yuan was exempt—he was a teaching assistant.

On the return trip, Teacher Yan and Principal Wu checked in with other students, who gave mostly positive feedback.

These were top math students who had practiced specific question types—good results were expected.

Principal Wu was overjoyed and even led a song on the bus:

“The setting sun glows red over the western hills, the soldier returns from the range…”

By the time they returned to school, it was afternoon. Principal Wu waved a hand, giving all test-takers the rest of the day off.

Li Zhuiyuan still went back to class and walked out of the gates with Tan Wenbin after dismissal.

At the gate, they saw Tan Yunlong on his motorcycle.

Tan Wenbin panicked, instantly shielding Little Yuan behind him.

Tan Yunlong got off and pointed at his son, then at a distant trash can.

Tan Wenbin saluted and walked off.

“Uncle Tan, did something happen?”

“Zheng Haiyang’s mother died in the psychiatric hospital. Suicide.”

“What? How?”

Li Zhuiyuan couldn’t believe it. She had already gone mad—mad in a way that showed she was clinging to survival.

“She had a visitor yesterday. In the story you repeated from her, this name came up often. According to that tale, he should have stayed at the bottom of the sea.”

“Who was it?”

“Zhu Changyong.”

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