Chapter Thirteen: Admission Secured

After the college entrance examination, students estimate their scores by referring to the standard answers and roughly calculating their results. This estimation tends to be quite accurate for science subjects, but it's a bit less so for liberal arts. For science students like Li Mu and his peers, the greatest margin of error lies in the Chinese exam, followed by English.

In Chinese, the reading comprehension and essay sections don’t have standard answers, making it difficult to estimate accurately. English, on the other hand, is mostly multiple choice, so it’s relatively easier to estimate, with the main uncertainty in the essay section. But the essay is only worth 25 points, so the margin of error isn’t too large.

Li Mu didn’t need to estimate his scores in Chinese, Math, or the Science Composite; he couldn’t remember how he answered at all. However, he knew for certain that he scored a total of 486 points in those three subjects. That morning, he ignored the other teachers’ explanations, waiting solely for the last English paper to estimate his score.

At eleven o’clock, the English teacher strode in, hurriedly guiding everyone through the correct answers. Li Mu remembered every answer he’d filled in during the English exam, every choice he’d made. So as soon as the teacher began announcing the answers, he started checking them carefully in his mind.

The further he went, the more excited he became.

Listening section—all correct!

Single choice questions—all correct!

Cloze test, reading comprehension, short error correction—all correct!

In other words, excluding the essay, Li Mu had already secured 125 points in English! Even he himself was astonished by this perfect score.

He hadn’t dared to be too optimistic before, estimating he could score between 120 and 130. But now it seemed even the lowest he could get was 140!

As for his essay, he had at least used slogans like “One World, One Dream,” which would be adopted officially in later years. Out of the 25 points, surely he could get at least 15!

Overcome with excitement, Li Mu did a quick calculation.

486 + 140 = 626.

What does 626 mean? Judging by previous years’ cut-off scores in South Su Province, 626 was more than enough for a top-tier university. He could surpass the admission line for any university. However, with this score, getting into elite institutions like Yanjing University, Tsinghua, Fudan, or the People’s University was still uncertain.

But Li Mu possessed a crucial piece of information: in his cohort, students generally underperformed in English, making the year’s cut-off the lowest in history. Additionally, students were cautious when filling in their preferences, so top-tier schools had fewer applicants than ever before.

He didn’t know the exact situation for Yanjing University or Tsinghua this year, but in his previous life, because he knew Su Yingxue always dreamed of attending the People’s University, he had paid special attention to it. This year, the People’s University’s science cut-off in the province was lower than usual, only 615. Moreover, because students were so cautious, as long as he passed the score line, admission was guaranteed.

With a minimum score of 626, applying to the People’s University would be no problem. Since he also preferred universities in the capital, he might as well choose the People’s University.

Su Yingxue had attended the School of Economics at the People’s University, majoring in economics—one of the school’s most popular majors. Li Mu’s score might not be high enough for the most sought-after programs, but that didn’t matter. As long as he agreed to be assigned to any available major, the People’s University would accept him.

For someone like Li Mu, with a mind full of astonishing, game-breaking golden fingers, the choice of major was the least important thing. Even if he had to study philosophy, he wouldn’t have any objections.

Having made up his mind, Li Mu decided in his heart to list economics at the People’s University as his first choice. Perhaps he’d get lucky and end up in the same department as Su Yingxue. Next would be finance, international law, and social psychology. He’d simply opt to accept any reassignment.

The whole class thought Li Mu’s ambition to apply to the People’s University was a joke, but none of them knew that the moment he finished estimating his English score, he had already made up his mind.

With the score estimation over, everyone had several days to consider their choices. The students began to chat among themselves, asking about each other’s intentions for filling out the application.

The class monitor, Lu Gengyu, walked to the podium and announced loudly, “Since we’re coming to school next Monday afternoon to submit our applications, let’s have a class gathering that evening—a farewell dinner for our class. What do you all think?”

A group of third-year high schoolers, who had never left Haizhou to live elsewhere, had never really had a class gathering. But realizing they would soon part ways, many immediately agreed enthusiastically.

In fact, the sentiment of impending separation had been growing for two months. Everyone had bought various autograph books, asking classmates to write messages and well-wishes. Only Li Mu, having been reborn, had missed out on this.

The pressure of the college entrance exam had made all fifty-plus students temporarily forget about the looming farewell. But as soon as the class monitor mentioned a “farewell dinner,” the youthful sorrow of parting burst forth like a floodgate opened.

Some girls were already hugging their best friends, quietly shedding tears. Even the boys, thinking about going their separate ways, couldn’t help but have reddened eyes. Only Li Mu, already in his thirties, had been through too many farewells; this sadness at graduating high school didn’t really move him.

On the contrary, he was impatient for the university life ahead. For him, only in the capital could he truly begin to realize his ambitions.

At that moment, the class monitor proposed everyone chip in fifty yuan each for a meal and karaoke—any leftover money would be refunded. Everyone agreed, and the class monitor began to record the names of those willing to join. By the time he got to Li Mu, nearly forty out of more than fifty had already signed up.

Li Mu glanced at the list and saw that Su Yingxue had written her name. Without hesitation, he signed as well.

Then, carrying his application form, Li Mu hurried out of the school. With both parents at work, he didn’t bother going home. Instead, he stopped by the public phone booth at the school gate and made two calls to the Xiling Coal Mine switchboard—one to his mother’s office in the finance department, and one to his father’s survey team.

On the phone, Li Mu calmly told his parents about his estimated scores. Between 626 and 630—he wasn’t sure he’d get full marks for the English essay, so he was being conservative. Objectively, his theoretical maximum was 150 in English and a total of 636, but that depended on whether the essay graders were ahead of their time.

Even this cautious estimate utterly stunned his parents. In all the mock exams that year, Li Mu had never scored over 600. This was a result they’d never dared to dream of.

Both parents asked repeatedly if he was joking. When Li Mu said he was ninety percent sure, his mother was moved to tears on the phone, while his father was silent for a long time before saying, “Come home for dinner tonight. The two of us will have a drink.”

Li Mu hadn’t thought his score was so incredible, but feeling his parents’ excitement, he was filled with emotion.

If he really got into the People’s University, it would change not only his own life but also bring his parents years of happiness. Over the next four years, whatever they were doing, just thinking of their son studying at one of the country’s top five universities would surely make them smile.

After paying for the calls, Li Mu walked out of the booth and bought a bottle of ice-cold cola from a nearby stall.

The blazing midday sun was almost blinding. A gulp of cold cola was refreshing to the core. Back in high school, nothing could be happier than buying a cold drink on a hot day, having ten yuan in your pocket, and spending an afternoon in an air-conditioned internet café.

Li Mu shook his head with a quiet smile. Now, cola and internet cafés could no longer satisfy him.

Many students were already leaving, but Li Mu stood motionless at the school gate, carefully surveying his surroundings.

Everything was just as familiar as ever—the stationery shop called Dawn, the Three Yuan Stir-Fry restaurant, the noisy little music studio. Nothing had changed from his previous life, except that he was now altering the course of his own destiny. The matter of university was settled! For the next two months, his only task was to make money.

Make money. The Stone Age Overlord!

Li Mu snapped out of his reverie, turned, and ran.