Chapter One: The Super Learning System

When Zhang Wenhao arrived at the private room on the sixth floor of the River City Grand Hotel with his parents, more than a dozen people were already seated inside. Men and women, young and old, all gathered around a large dining table, engaged in an animated discussion. These were all relatives from his father's side: grandparents, uncles, aunts, and their families had come together for tonight's New Year's Eve dinner.

Ever since Uncle Zhang Xingyao made his fortune in business, dining together at this hotel for New Year's Eve had become a tradition for the Zhang family. Tonight was no exception; Uncle was once again the host.

Although the River City Grand Hotel was one of the finest in the city, Zhang Wenhao felt nothing but indifference toward the meal. Every year, it was the same—Uncle Zhang Xingyao monopolized the evening, boasting about how much money he had made, what grand projects he had landed, or which influential people he had befriended. Of course, he would also praise his daughter, Zhang Ranran, for being so obedient and outstanding in her studies.

In comparison, Zhang Wenhao's family seemed worlds apart. Both his parents were ordinary workers at a state-owned mold factory in the city. Their combined annual income barely reached seventy or eighty thousand yuan—a sum his uncle could probably make in a month. Zhang Wenhao himself was no source of pride either. In his final year of high school, like his cousin Zhang Ranran, he had never managed to score above four hundred points on any mock exam. With such grades, he would be lucky to get into a halfway decent technical college in the upcoming summer entrance exams.

What made it worse was that every time the two families gathered, Uncle would seize the chance to compare him to Zhang Ranran. After all, they were the only two of similar age in the family and in the same grade. Who better to serve as a foil to Zhang Ranran’s excellence than Zhang Wenhao?

As soon as they entered, the family greeted the grandparents, and then Uncle drew his parents into the lively conversation. Zhang Wenhao sat silently between them, listening to the adults discuss current affairs. Bored, he pulled out his phone and started reading a novel.

Soon, the conversation shifted from national matters to the college entrance exams. Uncle, brimming with pride, declared, "At the end of last term, Ranran scored 692 on her mock exam. According to her homeroom teacher, as long as she performs normally in the real exam, she’ll have no trouble getting into a top university."

Aunt Zhang Yanmei, who was always close with Uncle’s family, was quick to respond, exclaiming, "Oh my, Ranran is about to become the first in our family to attend a key university! Big brother, sister-in-law, you really know how to raise children. If my own boy could be half as good as Ranran, I’d be thrilled."

Her son, the chubby Qin Xuan—barely in his teens and the apple of her eye—paused in devouring his lobster to mutter, "Is it really that hard to be half as good as Ranran? She scored 692, so if I get 350, I’ll have reached half. Even Wenhao can manage that, so of course I can too!"

Zhang Wenhao’s face froze, irritation welling up inside him. This brat, usually his shadow, now used him as a shield and took the chance to poke fun at him. Infuriating.

Aunt patted her son’s head and scolded with a laugh, "You rascal, half her score really means half, does it? I’ll tan your hide!"

Everyone burst out laughing. Uncle laughed heartily too, then turned to Zhang Wenhao, who was still engrossed in his phone, and asked, "Wenhao, how did you do on your mock exam?"

This was exactly what Zhang Wenhao dreaded. Did Uncle have to drag him into this just to show off his own daughter? Must he always be the negative example?

But he could not refuse his uncle, so he put down his phone and replied awkwardly, "382."

"Ah, that’s an improvement!" Uncle praised. "With that score, you should have no trouble getting into a technical college. If you work hard this last semester, even a third-tier university is possible. If you get into one, I’ll buy you a laptop."

Zhang Wenhao forced a laugh, thanked him, and fell silent. To them, Zhang Ranran was bound for a top university, while he would be fortunate to scrape into a third-tier school.

The evening left Zhang Wenhao feeling gloomy and frustrated, and guilt toward his parents gnawed at him. He wasn’t stupid, but he just couldn’t focus on his studies. Whatever little cleverness he possessed seemed always to go astray.

His cousin Zhang Ranran, seeing his dejection, offered kindly, "Wenhao, don’t worry. Come over to my house when you have time, and we can review together. If there’s anything you don’t understand, I’ll help explain it."

Zhang Wenhao knew she meant well. Though only four months older, she had always been gentle and caring toward him, her words free of any condescension.

He was about to thank her when his aunt cut in sharply, "Ranran, don’t be silly. This last semester, your only task is to prepare for the entrance exam. You can’t afford to be distracted. Besides, being a good student doesn’t mean you can teach well. If Wenhao’s grades drop further, how could you bear that responsibility?"

Zhang Wenhao understood her intentions all too clearly. She worried that helping him would drag Ranran down, and she would not allow anything to hinder her daughter’s success.

At that moment, his father, Zhang Xingping, spoke up. "Brother, sister-in-law, my wife and I have been thinking—Wenhao’s grades aren’t good, and he’s unlikely to get into a decent school. Even with a technical diploma, finding a job will be tough. But our factory has some sponsored training spots this year—placements at the Light Industry College under the Provincial Institute of Technology. The diploma isn’t widely recognized, but it’s accepted within our company. After the New Year, I’ll try to pull some strings and see if I can secure a spot for Wenhao."

"Sponsored training?" Uncle raised his brows meaningfully and smiled. "That’s not bad. He can go straight to college without taking the entrance exam. But you know those diplomas aren’t recognized outside. And if your factory’s situation doesn’t improve, what happens if it closes down? What will the boy do then?"

His father shook his head with a wry smile. "No one can say what the future holds, but the training is in a relevant field and very practical. If he picks up some skills, he should still find work in the industry. Mold-making is still in demand these days."

"True," Uncle nodded. "It’s another safety net. But you’d better act quickly if you need connections. If you need money, just let me know."

His father thanked him and, glancing sideways at Zhang Wenhao, their eyes met. In his father’s gaze, he saw a mixture of disappointment and regret that made him wish he could sink through the floor.

While everyone else enjoyed the feast, only Zhang Wenhao and his parents found no pleasure in the meal.

Afterward, Uncle offered to drive everyone home in two cars, but his father politely refused. With no cabs in sight on New Year’s Eve, the three of them walked home for over half an hour in the cold, silent all the way.

At home, after washing up and preparing to retire to his room, Zhang Wenhao was stopped by his father, who sat in the living room, gloomily smoking. With a sigh, his father said, "Son, your father’s lot in life is set; I’ll never amount to much. Couldn’t you try a bit harder and bring some pride to our family?"

Zhang Wenhao’s face flushed with shame. He stared at his toes, unable to look his father in the eye.

His mother, Song Huafang, muttered, "That’s enough. Don’t make the boy uncomfortable in the middle of the night. Let him wash up and go to bed."

His father sighed deeply. "Wenhao, get some rest. I’ve had a bit to drink and I’m in a foul mood. Don’t let it get to you. Let’s just take things as they come. What’s meant for us will come, and what isn’t, let’s not force."

Relieved, Zhang Wenhao retreated to his room and collapsed onto his bed, overwhelmed with guilt. In the past, he always thought there would be endless tomorrows and that the college entrance exam was still far away. But tonight’s family dinner brought a crushing sense of urgency—only four months remained until the exam!

Spurred by the evening’s events, for the first time in his life, he sat at his desk in the dead of night, opened his dreaded math textbook, and forced himself to start working through practice problems.

It was a disaster—he got nine out of ten wrong, and the one he got right was pure luck.

He usually scored thirty or forty on math exams, most of it from guessing on multiple-choice questions. Now, confronted by his own shortcomings, frustration welled up within him. He turned on his computer and typed into a search engine: "What’s the most effective way to study?"

A flood of results appeared. He clicked the first link, only to find the site contained nothing but a pop-up window.

"Are you willing to become the sole tester of the Super Learning System?"

Zhang Wenhao didn’t care what kind of system it was—he just wanted a lifeline. Without hesitation, he clicked "Yes."

Suddenly, a powerful electric current surged through his mouse, instantly knocking him unconscious.