「September 1, 2001.」
The mornings at City No.1 Middle School were as noisy as an early-morning marketplace.
The retractable iron gate at the school’s entrance was pulled open to its maximum width. A few old men stood guard, but they were powerless against the tide of youthful hormones that surged in with the heat wave.
This was a special year.
Although *Meteor Garden* was still a few months away from sweeping across the mainland like a virus, the first stirrings of that restless energy were already showing up in the boys’ hairstyles and the cuffs of the girls’ pants.
Everywhere you looked were half-grown kids who hadn’t fully shed their childishness, but whose bodies were already shooting up like weeds.
The boys wore baggy school uniforms, their pant legs dragging a little on the ground. They walked in groups of three and five with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, chattering about the newly released game *Legend* or the latest NBA broadcast.
The girls, on the other hand, were a bit more clever about it. They’d secretly tailored their uniforms to be a little narrower at the waist, revealing a sliver of their pale ankles, and wore their ponytails tied high.
Among a crowd of second and third-year students with an average height of nearly 1.6 meters, nine-year-old Chen Zhuo stood out.
He was only 1.42 meters tall.
He wore a brand-new, small-sized middle school uniform, the cuffs of his sleeves and pants still rolled up once by his mom.
He had a not-so-large bookbag on his back and carried a water bottle in his hand.
Walking across campus, he looked like a primary schooler who had wandered onto a university campus by mistake.
Which, in fact, he practically was.
Curious gazes were constantly cast in his direction.
"Hey, look, isn’t that the kid?"
"Which one? The short one?"
"You can’t talk about him like that. He’s this year’s top student. He’s only nine, skipped a bunch of grades to get here."
"Holy crap, nine? When I was nine, I was still playing in the mud."
For some reason, their chatter always reached Chen Zhuo’s ears.
Chen Zhuo pushed up his glasses, his expression blank.
He paid the comments no mind. He was used to it.
’For a mature adult with a soul that had long since grown up, these comments didn’t stir any particular feelings in him. At most, they were just a bit noisy.’
Following the class assignment sheet, he found the classroom for First Year, Class One.
On the east end of the first floor.
The experimental science class.
This was a new gimmick City No.1 Middle School had come up with this year, claiming this class brought together the brightest minds in the entire city.
Quite a few people were already in the classroom.
The clamor in the room came to an eerie halt the moment Chen Zhuo stepped inside.
Dozens of pairs of eyes turned to look at him.
Unfazed, Chen Zhuo scanned the classroom under everyone’s gaze.
There was no need to look for a seat.
The center-stage seat in the very first row, directly facing the teacher’s podium, was empty.
This desk was clearly a bit different from the surrounding ones.
Its height seemed to have been specially lowered, and the matching chair wasn’t one of the standard-issue hard wooden stools.
As he got closer, he saw it was an adjustable chair with a black padded cushion.
Although its style was tacky, looking like something discarded from an administrative office, it was, without a doubt, a height-adjustable chair.
Taped to the back of the chair was a printed slip of paper:
Chen Zhuo
Chen Zhuo stuffed his bookbag into the desk’s cubby and, without any fuss, sat down as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The height was just right.
The cushion was perfectly firm.
He placed his water bottle on the corner of the desk, pulled a thick book from his bag, and spread it open on the desktop.
The hushed whispers started up again.
"A padded chair... I’m so jealous."
"Me too."
"If you could test in as number one at nine years old, you could sit in the principal’s office for all anyone cares."
The morning’s proceedings were unremarkable.
Roll call, self-introductions, getting to know one another.
The homeroom teacher, Old Zhao, was a man in his forties. He taught math and was also the grade-level head.
When he walked into the classroom, he gave a pointed look at Chen Zhuo sitting in the front row.
It was a complex gaze.
As if he were looking at a genius, but also at a fragile piece of porcelain.
He didn’t call on Chen Zhuo to introduce himself, nor did he offer any platitudes about "learning from classmate Chen Zhuo."
He simply tapped lightly on the corner of Chen Zhuo’s desk as he passed by and asked in a low voice:
"Is the height okay?"
Chen Zhuo nodded.
"It’s fine, thank you, Teacher."
"Mm, let me know if there’s any glare on the blackboard."
With that, Old Zhao walked to the podium and began his classic speech about school rules and regulations.
This special yet ordinary treatment made Chen Zhuo feel very comfortable.
’Dealing with smart people is so much easier.’
Since the school had recruited him, they would naturally provide him with the best environment. All he had to do was stay quiet, win some honors for the school when he had the chance, and that would be the greatest return on their investment.
However, that feeling of comfort came to an abrupt end at twelve o’clock sharp.
BRRRING~
The bell rang, and the students swarmed out.
The middle school cafeteria was on the other side of the sports field.
For several thousand growing kids, the path to the cafeteria was basically a racetrack.
The students around him shot out in a WHOOSH, stirring up a gust of wind.
Chen Zhuo slowly packed his things and ambled out of the classroom.
He didn’t run.
Not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t keep up.
Even though he’d been consistently jogging every morning for two years, making his physical fitness far superior to his peers, it was still nothing in the face of such a large age gap.
The legs on those second and third-year boys were almost as long as he was tall, and one of their strides covered the same distance as several of his.
By the time Chen Zhuo slowly meandered his way into the cafeteria, long lines had formed at every service window.
People were cutting in line, shoving, and shouting unintelligibly.
Chen Zhuo stood on the outskirts, looking at the nearly impenetrable wall of people, and calmly assessed the situation.
’It’d be difficult to push through at my height. Someone might not see me, trip, and spill soup all over me.’
’Not worth the risk.’
Chen Zhuo sighed, turned around, and walked out of the cafeteria against the flow of people.
’Good thing I came prepared.’
Chen Zhuo went around the academic building, crossed the sports field, and arrived at the perimeter wall on the west side of the school.
There was an iron fence here, and just outside was the back gate of Yu Hong Primary School.
The midday sun was brutal, and the cicadas in the trees shrieked their hearts out.
Chen Zhuo didn’t have to wait long by the fence before a chubby figure came running over, panting.
Zhang Qiang.
The kid was in sixth grade this year, stressed out of his mind about the upcoming entrance exams for middle school, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to serve as Chen Zhuo’s "logistics minister."
A while back, Chen Zhuo had gone to Zhang Qiang’s house to hang out and ended up tutoring him. When Zhang Qiang’s mother heard from her son that this was the nine-year-old kid who’d placed first in the city-wide exams and was tutoring Zhang Qiang for free, she was absolutely overjoyed.
She immediately tried to stuff some money into Chen Zhuo’s hands, but he firmly refused. After some thought, he asked if she could help by making lunch for him instead.
They hit it off instantly. Both were thrilled—one had saved tens of thousands in tutoring fees for her child, and the other had solved his lunch problem.
"Brother Zhuo, over here!"
Zhang Qiang was covered in sweat, his uniform collar askew, and in his hand, he carried a heavy insulated lunch box.
"I knew you wouldn’t be able to fight for food over there with your size, Brother Zhuo."
"My mom made braised pork belly this morning, and there are two chicken legs, too. It’s all still hot."
Chen Zhuo took the lunch box. It was surprisingly heavy.
"Thanks."
Chen Zhuo didn’t stand on ceremony. He found a stone block in the shade of a tree, sat down, and opened the lid.
The bottom was filled with rice, topped with large pieces of braised pork belly and two big chicken legs. There was even a thoughtful fried egg tucked inside.
Chen Zhuo picked up his chopsticks and began to eat heartily.
Zhang Qiang didn’t leave. He squatted outside the fence, holding half a popsicle, and watched Chen Zhuo eat.
"So, Brother Zhuo, how’s middle school? Anyone bullying you?"
"No."
Chen Zhuo took a bite of a chicken leg, his cheeks puffed out.
"It’s all good."
"That’s good."
Zhang Qiang chuckled. "If anyone messes with you, just call me. I might not be able to test into City No.1, but I know some of the thugs over there..."
"Go memorize your vocabulary."
Chen Zhuo cut him off.
"Have you finished reading those math notes I gave you?"
"I have, I have... it’s just that there are some parts I don’t get."
Zhang Qiang scratched his head, a pained expression on his face.
"If you don’t get it, just memorize it for now. There are only a few types of problems."
Chen Zhuo lifted the container and scraped up the last bite of meat, then wiped his mouth.
"Zhang Qiang, if you don’t pass the exam to get in here next year, there’ll be no one to bring me lunch."
"I’m counting on you to come protect me."
Zhang Qiang froze for a second.
He looked at the small, thin figure inside the fence.
Even though Chen Zhuo was now the school’s number one prodigy, in Zhang Qiang’s eyes, he was still the same little brother who needed his protection and needed him to bring him lunch.
"Don’t worry, Brother Zhuo!"
Zhang Qiang tossed his popsicle aside, a sudden ferocity in his eyes.
"To protect you, I have to pass that exam!"
"What’s so great about some stupid equations? I’m going back and I’m gonna master them!"
Chen Zhuo nodded and handed the empty lunch box back.
"Come to my place tomorrow night. I’ll tutor you."
"You got it!"
Watching Zhang Qiang’s retreating back, Chen Zhuo pushed up his glasses.
’This was nothing, was it?’

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