I got into a very good junior high school.

Fortunately, Wang Shiyu and I were not in the same school.

My junior high school only picks the top students from nearby elementary schools, while the rest are assigned to schools based on their household registration.

After the class placement exam, I realized the seriousness of the problem.

The rankings of the class placement exam will not be made public.

Although Wang Shiyu was not there, everyone around me was a hundred times, a thousand times better than Wang Shiyu.

I was crushed, beaten, and then thrown into the parallel class.

Even in the parallel class, I was still inconspicuous, even a bit foolish.

Before my brain could even process the question the teacher had just asked, many students around me would raise their hands and loudly shout out the common answer.

I stared blankly at everything around me, my pen trembling uncontrollably in my hand.

The familiar sense of fear once again enveloped me.

I wanted to study desperately, but I couldn't even take in a single word.

The teacher lectured quickly, only focusing on a few key points, and once most students understood, they wouldn't explain it again.

I started hanging around with those students who seemed to have good grades and asked each of them my questions.

They grew impatient with my questions and would subconsciously grumble, "You don't understand this? Didn't you take the prep classes? This is the most basic stuff."

That was the first time I learned about the existence of prep classes in this world.

They had been in class for the whole summer and had finished half a book ahead of time.

While I spent the whole summer helping my mom, cooking, cleaning the house, and washing customers' hair at the hair salon.

I deeply realized that the information gap originated from my parents, which affected me.

The belated strong impact kept me in shock for a long time.

I begged my mom to enroll me in tutoring classes for math, physics, and chemistry.

My mom didn't believe me at first, and she turned around and asked me, "You didn’t work hard enough. It's no use no matter how many classes you take."

"Are they all taking outside classes? Then what are the school teachers doing? Didn't you ask? Ask the teacher, ask your classmates, as long as you work hard, how could you not do well?"

She attributed my poor performance to my lack of effort.

But I really did work hard, I studied and memorized, while others were eating and sleeping, I was studying.

Was it really because I didn't work hard?

Ultimately, she asked a customer who casually said, "Yes, everyone is taking extra classes. You won't keep up in school if you don't. The school teachers only cover the textbook content. If you don't put in the effort to enroll your child in classes, they will fall behind sooner or later."

My mom, holding the scissors, awkwardly smiled and said, "Well, I didn't know all this. I thought the school covered it all..."

The sound of the scissors snapping echoed, and the cut hair scattered at her feet.

My mom enrolled me in a tutoring class, recommended by a customer.

I had to go to the teacher's house for classes, taking a two-hour bus ride every Saturday from the far north of the city to the city center.

The teacher's house was in a high-end gated community, and I was often locked out, too scared to call the teacher, just waiting for someone to open the door and hastily following them in.

I had to wear shoe covers to enter the teacher's house, where she would teach me at the dining table.

She looked about the same age as my mom, her house was spacious and bright, and she was wearing a diamond ring.

She was patient and her teaching was vivid and imaginative. She could explain those complex force analysis diagrams in just a few words.

She often said, "Take your time, you are very smart, the teacher believes you will understand it soon."

The fear of ranking was dissolved in her gentle and encouraging words.