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Bai Lian’s hand, which was writing the symbol α, paused mid-arc, an alarm bell rang in her head, notebook?

“This…” Bai Lian took out three notebooks, three of them written by two people, physics by Xu Wenyao and biochemistry by Liang Wuyu.

“I prepared the physics one especially for Zhang Shize,” she said calmly.

She indeed needed the chemistry and biology.

As long as it didn’t involve physics, then everything was negotiable.

Jiang Fulai glanced at the physics notebook, “Can he understand it?”

The notebook and error collection from a Jiangjing University physics department ace, even Ning Xiao would need to study it seriously.

“Give it to him first,” Bai Lian found a good home for the notebook, “even if he doesn’t understand, Chi Lu will tell him.”

Jiang Fulai reluctantly believed her.

**

After studying until the afternoon, Bai Lian and Jiang Fulai went back to Purest Street for a meal.

Some of the things that Director Chen had in the morning were prepared by Jiang Fulai, who went early to worship the Tree God with Ji Heng and others, and at noon, there was a Vegetarian Feast at the Tree God Temple.

They didn’t go back.

In the evening, Ji Heng and Ji Shaojun prepared the meal and reminded Bai Lian and Jiang Fulai to come back for dinner.

Five o’clock in the afternoon.

Jian Zhe exited the library with light steps. He, who got into Beicheng University through an arts exam, had never studied this seriously even in his senior year of high school. Only after Bai Lian and Jiang Fulai got into the car did he ask Tang Ming who was beside him, “Do you… study every day from eight until now?”

Without a single break in between?

“Not exactly,” Tang Ming shook his head.

Jian Zhe breathed a sigh of relief.

“I get up at six every morning to memorize English,” Tang Ming shared his schedule with Jian Zhe, “then I come to the library at eight and go back at five in the afternoon. After dinner, I do the school’s basic question bank until midnight. That’s considered early, Ning Xiao and Sister Lian seem to sleep at one.”

As he spoke, Tang Ming frowned, “No, I have to stay up until one tonight as well, there are just over 150 days left.”

Jian Zhe: “…??”

How did they manage that?

Jian Zhe felt he was already quite amazing after focusing for two hours; if it weren’t for Jiang Fulai sitting next to him today, he’d probably have spent at least two hours on his phone.

He asked cautiously, “Which university are you two seniors in high school planning to apply to?”

Ning Xiao: “Jiangjing University.”

He answered with a lot of confidence this time.

Jian Zhe, who even found it difficult to dream of attending Jiangjing Art University: “…”

Isn’t it…

In this Xiangcheng… why does it seem like everyone who comes by can attend Jiangjing University? Did Jiangjing University become as common as cabbage?

Wouldn’t this be among the top ten even in Beicheng?

Jian Zhe began to doubt his life choices; who exactly were Bai Lian and her two classmates?

He carried his book and took out his phone, playing a racing game on his way to Xiangcheng Train Station.

His grandfather, Jian Zhonghai, was still waiting there to pick someone up.

**

Xiangcheng Train Station.

It has been renovated, but the foundation is old, and the train station still looks rundown. The new South Station is under construction and will connect to the high-speed rail.

Ren Wanxuan frowned as she stepped on the ground, following Ren Qian out of the car, very curious, “Grandpa, is the old president really waiting here in person?”

“Yes.” Ren Qian had already seen a large group of black-suited bodyguards up ahead.

He hurried over and greeted the man in the center—Jian Zhonghai—with great politeness, “President Jian, the person you are waiting for hasn’t arrived yet?”

Jian Zhonghai was not only the former president of the Beicheng Writers’ Association but everyone who had reached this position knew—becoming president meant holding multiple positions, like vice-chair of the Beicheng Political Consultative Conference, the head of the Department of Literature and Art…

The efforts of the Jian family for generations were not something any ordinary family could match, especially since they were from Beicheng.

Jian Zhonghai had silver hair, donned a grey coat, and his forehead bore three deep wrinkles.

Intellectuals often held each other in contempt, and he glanced at Ren Qian, speaking succinctly, “His train is at seven in the evening.”

Jian Zhonghai got the information from the people he had arranged; in actuality, after his elder brother left home, he never returned to the Jian family, and even seeing his brother was difficult for him.

Who could have known, that without the Jian family’s protection, the other could still make it step by step and eventually become the Sect Leader of the Jiangjing Bureau of Literature and Art.

The Jian family repeatedly asked him to come back, but he ignored them.

This time, Jian Zhonghai was not even sure whether his brother would meet him…

Listening to Jian Zhonghai, Ren Qian felt a tumultuous surge within him, the train was at seven in the evening and Jian Zhonghai was already waiting at four?

Jian Zhonghai was the previous president, and if he hadn’t retired, when it came to administrative status, Ren Qian, from a tier-eighteen small city, couldn’t compare at all.

Even if he had retired, the connections he still held were something Ren Qian coveted a great deal.