The brilliant sunlight on the sports field fell entirely upon Rong Yu.

Rong Ruoyao dug her nails into her palms to keep herself from losing composure.

The first-place position in the talent show had been snatched away by Rong Yu.

The academic spotlight had also been stolen by Rong Yu.

Aside from anger and jealousy, she seemed powerless to do anything else.

The more she had once wanted to outshine Rong Yu, the more she had wanted to compete—now, she only wished to avoid her.

Never before had she so thoroughly realized the gap between them. Her once-unyielding pride bent little by little.

But from another perspective, wasn’t she already outstanding as the top student in liberal arts?

If she just maintained this level, even Peking University would be within her grasp.

Why did she have to compete with Rong Yu?

She kept comforting herself like this, and finally, her emotions settled somewhat.

Rong Wangtian stood dumbfounded.

His mind was a complete blank, devoid of any coherent thought. He could only stare blankly at the figure on the stage, radiant under the light.

The sunlight bathed Rong Yu, casting a faint golden halo around her—cool yet dazzling. Her gaze was calm as still water, yet it carried an undeniable force, like the steady orbit of stars in the vast universe—unassuming, yet impossible to ignore.

"Classmates, I’d like to share a story with you."

Rong ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‍Yu’s steady voice, amplified by the microphone, reached every corner of the field.

"Over seventy years ago, there was a boy who walked twenty miles of mountain roads to school every day. His bag was stitched from coarse cloth, his textbooks were handwritten, and he couldn’t bear to throw away his pencil even when it became too short to hold."

"He listened to lectures on an empty stomach because the family’s only egg had to go to his sick grandmother. In winter, the wind howled through broken windows, freezing his fingers until they cracked, staining his homework with blood… And yet, fate showed him no mercy—his school was bombed…"

Rong Yu was telling the story of an alumnus, years older than her, who had returned to China with her batch and devoted himself to scientific research.

She had only recently read about his later life in a magazine.

"That boy became one of China’s first-generation aerospace engineers."

"They calculated trajectories with abacuses, pressurized fuel with bicycle pumps… Without computers, they verified equations with pen and paper, over and over… Without advanced materials, they bridged the gap with sheer ingenuity…"

"And today—"

She looked at every student present.

"We sit in bright, spacious classrooms, using the most advanced teaching tools, scrolling through tablets to access the entirety of human knowledge!"

"Classmates, we walk on paths paved with the blood and sweat of our predecessors. We hold resources they could never have dreamed of."

"..."

"Today, we wield pens as swords and books as shields. Tomorrow, we will show the world—"

"This is the answer of China’s youth!"

As Rong Yu’s speech ended, the entire field fell into a brief silence before erupting in thunderous applause.

Though the topic was a familiar one, the way she delivered it was deeply moving.

Every student from the science stream, including the top achievers, stood up. Zhang Haoyu clapped until his palms turned red.

He knew better than anyone just how exceptional Rong Yu was.

Having always been a top performer himself, he had once looked down on girls, dismissing them as overly dramatic and obstructive. But Rong Yu had shattered his prejudice, proving that gender was no boundary—only capability was.

Song Huai clapped along with the crowd, his heart unsettled.

Students from the liberal arts stream, who had initially been mere spectators, now had reddened eyes.

A girl who usually cared only about fashion whispered, "I never thought… the phones and computers we take for granted were things they could only dream of back then."

At the back, the underachievers—usually rowdy—were uncharacteristically quiet. A boy who frequently skipped class stared at his phone screen, suddenly closing his game and muttering, "I suddenly feel like such a waste…"

The principal stood to the side, his eyes moist behind his glasses, recalling his own days teaching in the countryside when even chalk was rationed. The journey had been far from easy.

The academic dean observed the usually carefree students now wearing expressions of earnest reflection and realized this speech had been more effective than a hundred homeroom lectures.

"Rong Yu… she really is something," Teacher Yang said, suppressing the emotions stirred by the speech. She glanced at Pei Yaru and added with difficulty, "But don’t get too smug. Our elite class will reclaim the top spot eventually—just wait and see."

Pei Yaru smiled. "Let’s all improve together."

Madam Song sat frozen in her seat, her designer bag having slipped to the floor unnoticed. She thought of her earlier aggressiveness and suddenly found it laughable.

Rong Wangtian remained in a daze.

He couldn’t believe that this radiant figure, Rong Yu, was his own flesh and blood.

How fortunate he was—to have two such extraordinary daughters.

Ji Jingchuan sat among the crowd, his gaze burning with intensity.

Back in high school, he had always been the undisputed first, leagues ahead of the runner-up.

But coming to Haicheng’s top high school had humbled him—there were always greater talents beyond his own.

Now, he had a new goal.

He wanted to become someone as remarkable as his great-grandmother.

Ji Zhouye, however, harbored no such ambitions. Having inherited none of the family’s genius, he quietly pulled out his phone and recorded Rong Yu’s entire speech.

After sending it to the family patriarch, he opened a short-video app and uploaded it unedited.

The speech, powerful and resonant, would have sparked discussion even if delivered by an ordinary person—let alone by Rong Yu, the most popular contestant in the talent show.

Within minutes of being posted, the video topped the trending list.

"This is what a real scholar looks like—not someone crammed with tutoring, but someone who truly understands the meaning of learning!"

"Tearing up… My grandpa also studied by kerosene lamp back then."

"Remember in the first episode when Rong Yu taught her group English? People called it an act, but she’s clearly the real deal."

"Ugh, another dose of toxic motivation. Can’t they come up with something new?"

"Yeah, the struggles of people decades ago have nothing to do with us. It’s not like we caused them…"

These comments were immediately drowned out by a flood of rebuttals.

"‘Toxic motivation’? Your rat-sized brain can’t process anything beyond cynicism."

"Without the sacrifices of those before us, do you think we’d have this peace and prosperity?"

"So inspiring. As a fan of Rong Yu, I feel motivated."

"Say what you want, but I’m fired up—gonna grind through three practice tests tonight."

"Same. Just yanked my kid’s pacifier—no milk until he memorizes a poem."

"Ah, the poor child is innocent…"