Chapter Eleven: Another Reward

For Chen Chong, today was equally a dreadful day—he’d spent the whole day gnashing his teeth in hatred for Zhang Wenhao!

His exam results had always ranked him third in the class. He was far behind Su Ruoran, who was always at the top, and an honest, boarding student named Xie Xiaozhu consistently held second place. Chen Chong trailed closely behind in third. Since being assigned to the Liberal Arts Class Three in the second year, no matter the scale of the exam, Su Ruoran took first place, Xie Xiaozhu second, and Chen Chong remained steadfastly third. The homeroom teacher had even remarked that the three were the unshakeable iron triangle of the class. But in the mock test at the start of the new semester, Chen Chong slipped to fourth place.

When he brought the report card home today, his strict father, seeing his fourth-place ranking, scolded him thoroughly. Even though Chen Chong’s score had improved by two points compared to the previous exam, and he explained that a student named Zhang Wenhao had cheated and stolen his spot, his father—long used to officialdom—cared only for the ranking, ignoring the score and all other explanations.

That afternoon, Chen Chong returned to school with a belly full of grievances. As soon as class began, the math teacher spent ten excited minutes recounting Zhang Wenhao’s astonishing performance in the office, which only fueled Chen Chong’s anger.

After school, Chen Chong had intended to invite Su Ruoran out for dinner, but she headed straight for the third floor as soon as the bell rang. Chen Chong hurried after her, only to discover that she had gone to find Zhang Wenhao!

What made things even more unbearable was that Su Ruoran and Zhang Wenhao went to the sparsely populated bike shed, whispered together for a while, and Su Ruoran handed Zhang Wenhao what looked like a small gift. At last, Zhang Wenhao took Su Ruoran on his bike, escorted her to the cafeteria, and then left the school. Chen Chong was beside himself with rage.

He’d been admiring Su Ruoran from afar for ages, showering her with relentless attention and employing every possible method of pursuit, to no avail. Yet Su Ruoran was so attentive to Zhang Wenhao! How could Chen Chong possibly accept this?

Thinking of how Zhang Wenhao had been a thorn in his side all day, Chen Chong ground his teeth and muttered to himself, “Zhang Wenhao, you think you’re so impressive? You stole my ranking and now you’re cozying up to my woman. If I don’t make you pay, I’m not worthy of my surname!”

Meanwhile, as Zhang Wenhao cycled home, he hadn’t even made it upstairs when that pleasant notification rang in his mind: “For the influence caused by displaying your photographic memory skill today, the system rewards you with two hundred points!”

As he climbed the stairs, Zhang Wenhao abruptly stopped, and with excitement, shouted, “Fantastic!”

He hadn’t expected that using his photographic memory skill to achieve a good result would earn him a reward, and that today’s demonstration in the office, which put Ma Qianyong in his place, would also grant him points from the system.

Zhang Wenhao asked, “So as long as I display my photographic memory skill, I’ll be rewarded?”

The system replied, “It depends on the influence generated. Your demonstration today affected the whole grade and became a hot topic, hence the reward. If you only showcase it to a few people, the chances of getting rewarded are slim, and even if there are rewards, they will be single or double digits at most.”

Zhang Wenhao nodded in understanding. “So next time, if I achieve the same results in a mock exam, there probably won’t be any reward, right?”

The system answered, “Correct. That would no longer generate new influence, so there will be no reward. Now the entire school is aware of your abilities, and even if you score first in the next mock exam, the impact will not compare to today, so the system reward will decrease.”

Zhang Wenhao understood. But where could he find a better stage to showcase his talent? Should he join a variety show and display his photographic memory to the whole nation? He quickly dismissed the idea—he’d probably end up being studied like a lab rat. It wasn’t worth risking exposure just for points.

Back home, his parents had prepared a feast, and his father had even bought a bottle of fine wine costing over two hundred yuan. Zhang Wenhao shared a few drinks with his father, and the family was happier than ever before. From their radiant expressions, Zhang Wenhao realized that they suddenly had hope for the future.

But soon he understood: to his parents, his future was the future of the family. They had poured all their hopes into him.

That night, Zhang Xingping drank more than usual—his tolerance was only half a liter, but tonight he consumed seven taels. After dinner, Song Huafang and her son helped Zhang Xingping to his room to rest.

Zhang Wenhao wanted to help his mother tidy up the leftovers, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted that he return to his room and focus on his studies. Zhang Wenhao, half-forced, washed the dishes for her before finally heading back to his room.

Recalling the USB drive Su Ruoran had given him, Zhang Wenhao hurriedly booted up his somewhat outdated desktop and plugged in the drive.

It was a sixteen-gigabyte USB, packed with teaching materials Su Ruoran had copied for him. The TOEFL and IELTS resources were the largest—clear video tutorials with both Chinese and English subtitles. Zhang Wenhao tried watching one episode, forty minutes long. Though he could memorize all its contents, language wasn’t something to be mastered by rote alone. Even with his photographic memory, truly learning English would take considerable time.

A child, from birth to adolescence, can only roughly grasp the basics of spoken language. Just like the teenagers around him, they spoke fluent Chinese, but few could truly comprehend and integrate the language. Their writing revealed this—many people, even at forty or fifty, spoke like adults but wrote like elementary students, their work plain and unimaginative. Did that mean they had truly mastered Chinese?

No, not at all.

If it was just for exams, learning English wasn’t so difficult. But what practical value was there in passing English tests designed by Chinese educators?

Zhang Wenhao fell into deep thought. English was the world’s dominant language, and mastering it would greatly benefit his future. Weighing his options, he decided not to continue learning English merely for exams. Instead, he resolved to use two hundred points to exchange for English proficiency in the Super Learning System!

He now had four hundred and forty available points, and there seemed to be no urgent need to acquire other skills. Spending two hundred points to master a language was a bargain.

He entered the system, selected the language category under life skills, found English, and decisively exchanged his points.

“Exchange successful. Two hundred points deducted. You have now mastered English.”

Zhang Wenhao distinctly felt a flood of information pouring into his mind. He casually spoke an English sentence and was startled by his flawless American pronunciation! He could say whatever he wished, as easily and naturally as using his mother tongue.

He hurriedly opened his computer, browsed to his movies folder, found a film named “Pulp Fiction,” turned off the subtitles, and watched intently.

This time, Zhang Wenhao was even more amazed!

Previously, relying on subtitles, he thought he had a deep understanding of the film. Now, he realized that many translations only conveyed superficial meaning; the profound nuances embedded in the language could only be appreciated by native speakers. At this moment, he could fully comprehend every line of dialogue and the subtle meaning beneath it!

Incredible!

Zhang Wenhao was ecstatic. Now, if he spoke with Americans, they would never detect even the slightest accent. To any native speaker, Zhang Wenhao’s pronunciation was impeccable—purely American, flawless.