Lao Gou and Qi Lin’s group quickly noticed the commotion. Without hesitation, they stepped in front of Chen Mo, shielding him.
“Who are you? Do you know this is a school? Who let you in?”
“So, what exactly are you filming?”
Especially Lao Gou—his first impression of Chen Mo was shaped by the front-page headlines when he was found. His background was quite dramatic, and his story had dominated the news for several days. So naturally, Lao Gou’s first reaction was that this must be related to that matter again.
The cameraman was startled by the hostility of these young men.
He quickly explained, “Don’t misunderstand, don’t misunderstand! I just came to say hello first.”
“It’s fine.” Chen Mo gently pushed aside the people in front of him. He had already guessed what was going on and looked directly at the cameraman. “Did the school approve your presence here?”
“Yes, yes.”
The tall man nodded repeatedly and said, “It’s the consent form you signed earlier. This will be used for promotional and educational purposes. I’m in charge of filming your section. My name is Zhang Biao.”
“Oh, nice to meet you.” Chen Mo greeted him casually. Just as Zhang Biao started to relax, he suddenly heard Chen Mo continue, “I remember the school said this activity wouldn’t interfere with students’ daily lives.”
“That’s true.”
Zhang Biao did not deny it. “We’re just capturing your everyday routine—your classroom activities and free time. You won’t even notice me most of the time. I just wanted to introduce myself so you’d know we’ve started. There may be some interview questions later, but those will only be conducted with your consent and when you have time. The filming will last about half a month to gather enough footage.”
Sure enough, after that explanation, the camera quickly disappeared.
But soon, the whole school learned that the Education Bureau was filming a short documentary on high school life, and all the selected students were among the school’s best. The chosen students included third-year students aiming for Peking University and Tsinghua University, as well as first-year students full of enthusiasm for their new journey. For the second-year students, there were only two featured figures: Chen Mo and Yang Shule.
The reason for their selection was their unique backgrounds and the so-called inspirational theme—how fate had not broken them but instead made them stronger.
Additionally, Chen Mo was seen as a “dark horse” due to his sudden academic improvement.
Apart from the main subjects, the documentary also included panoramic shots of classrooms, playgrounds, and school life in general.
From that day onward, Chen Mo noticed everyone around him started behaving oddly.
For instance, Lao Gou began washing his hair daily.
The students in the front row of the classroom, who usually slouched, suddenly started sitting up straight throughout the entire class.
The girls began secretly applying lipstick during breaks.
Chen Mo found it amusing.
For the first few days, he didn’t feel much of a difference. Occasionally, he felt a little uncomfortable when the camera was pointed at him, but Zhang Biao rarely showed up. He was like an invisible man, so Chen Mo simply pretended he wasn’t there.
Until about a week later.
Chen Mo started feeling like he was being watched no matter where he went—even outside of school on weekends.
At first, he thought he was imagining it.
“What illusion?” Lao Gou held up his phone, looking at Chen Mo hesitantly. “You… might be famous now?”
Chen Mo took the phone and saw that the Education Bureau’s documentary wasn’t just a random project. They had a public platform under the United Education Channel, regularly posting inspirational videos. The latest ones were all about No. 1 Middle School, and they had even launched a new segment titled “Suicheng No. 1 Middle School—The School of Countless Dream Makers.”
A very serious title.
The first episode featured a high school senior frantically pulling at his hair in frustration.
The comments below were equally amusing.
[Suicheng No. 1 Middle School is amazing. Their college acceptance rate is terrifyingly high every year.]
[This guy must be thinking, ‘I hope the world ends soon!’]
[The true cause of premature balding.]
[Joking aside, senior year of high school has been my nightmare. But keep going! All the suffering now will be worth it.]
…
Another episode featured a beautiful scene of a freshman girl strolling down a tree-lined path, holding a book.
The comments were just as varied.
[A youth we can never return to.]
[If I looked like that, I wouldn’t have been single all these years.]
[Before you drown in the misery of senior year, enjoy your youth while you can.]
As for why an education channel had such a casual and playful tone, Lao Gou explained:
“They actually produced a very popular documentary before, following an elite training class for high school seniors. Do you know how many of them got into Peking University and Tsinghua University? Fifteen. It was insane. But watching that documentary was suffocating. It was too intense and depressing. Now, they’ve adjusted their approach to be more modern and engaging. Look at the number of views—it’s surpassing tons of mainstream accounts.”
There was a reason Lao Gou said Chen Mo was becoming famous.
Because he was in the latest episode.
This episode was a compilation featuring all the key figures.
The video was about a minute and a half long, and Chen Mo’s total screen time was less than ten seconds.
After all, the other students featured were either studying intensely or radiating youthful energy.
Chen Mo’s life clearly didn’t match the theme, so in the early edits, he wasn’t given much focus. In this final compilation, however, his scenes stood out.
The first time his face appeared, it was from the close-up Zhang Biao had filmed that day—his expression cold and intimidating.
Then, the video’s tone took a complete turn.
Every time he appeared afterward, he was either slouched over his desk, face hidden, or sipping tea absentmindedly from his thermos.
The comment section exploded.
[Did anyone else notice that one guy in this video who’s completely different?]
[Is he even a high schooler? Or is he actually retired?]
[I counted—at the 37-second mark, that cold stare is the dream crush of my high school years. Sexy as hell.]
[Your documentary team needs to film him more. What a waste of potential.]
[This guy has an anti-inspirational vibe. It’s hilarious. How did he even get selected? Was it just for his face?]
The view count skyrocketed.
Soon, so-called “insiders” began leaving revealing comments.
[Forget inspirational stories—this guy is No. 1 Middle School’s notorious troublemaker. One punch can send you straight to the hospital.]
[Nothing impressive, just someone who jumped from mid-tier to top 10 in the grade. Meh.]
[Oh yeah, he single-handedly got the most powerful math teacher in No. 1 Middle School replaced. That’s all.]
…
There was an undeniable sense of chaos and excitement.
Even the top management of the platform took notice of the sudden surge in popularity.
“This is a hot topic,” the senior executive concluded decisively.
However, the head of the segment responded apologetically, “This student isn’t suitable.”
“Is there a problem?” The executive frowned. “We’re not some gossip platform. Once we promote someone and make them a representative figure of high school, it can only benefit them in the future—whether it’s for the college entrance exam or school selection.”
The segment lead still shook his head helplessly.
“It’s really not possible. Someone already sent a message asking us to just capture him as he is, without adding too much focus on him.”
When the senior executive learned that it was the Xi family who made the request, he immediately dropped the issue.
“What a shame. If they wanted to keep a low profile, why agree to participate in the first place?”
“You don’t understand,” the segment lead explained. “This student’s past has been quite turbulent. The one who introduced us to No. 1 Middle School was actually a member of the Xi family, who is still a student there. He seems to have a good relationship with Chen Mo. This was his way of reminding us that Chen Mo was brought back due to public opinion pressure, and at this point, it’s best for him to be reintroduced in a way that aligns with public perception.”
The senior executive, well-acquainted with the Xi family, quickly grasped the situation and chuckled.
“They really know how to choose their avenues—using us to pave the way for their classmate. Their relationship must be quite good.”
The segment lead smiled and said, “Let’s focus on promoting someone else. This one, Yang Shule, received excellent feedback in his episode. He’s also very cooperative.”
The executive reviewed the material.
He immediately proposed the theme “Future Star”, instructing his team to conduct a thorough feature on Yang Shule.
Meanwhile, Chen Mo remained completely unaware of this.
He had no idea that Yang Shule’s trajectory, which had seemed identical to his previous life, had now completely diverged from this moment onward.
However, he gradually started to understand Xi Siyan’s intention behind encouraging him to participate in this event.
At first, Chen Mo had only agreed because he realized that since he had already used media influence to redirect the troubles caused by Chen Jianli, it would be more passive to reject this opportunity than to accept it.
He hated feeling passive.
Thus, the filming continued.
And because Chen Mo had become such a hot topic, the production team eventually created an exclusive episode for him and uploaded it to the platform.
Title: “Maybe There’s Another Kind of High School Life”
This episode featured only one person.
The first scene showed a young man squatting on the curb, wearing a blue wool hat, appearing as though he desperately needed a cigarette. A plastic lollipop stick rested between his lips, his entire demeanor relaxed and indifferent.
Then, something caught his attention, and suddenly, he smiled, his eyelids lowering slightly.
His carefree expression shifted through various moments:
— Laughing and hugging his friends.
— Complaining lazily yet playfully.
— Wrapped up in layers of clothing, looking like a bundled-up ball.
— So cold while doing homework that he had to tuck his hands into his sleeves, only to suddenly jump up and hit someone amidst the laughter of others.
It showed:
— The chrysanthemum tea that always sat on his desk.
— The test papers he completed, despite looking like he wasn’t capable of doing them.
— The teachers of every subject, especially the new math teacher, who kept trying to persuade him to compete in math contests, only for him to always find an excuse to change the subject and leave.
He was free-spirited yet grounded, flamboyant yet reserved, elegant yet mischievous.
All these originally contradictory traits somehow coexisted within him.
And so, Chen Mo was reintroduced to the public eye—not as an ‘inspirational role model’ from a humble background, not as the ‘long-lost young master’ of a wealthy family.
His name didn’t matter.
People didn’t care whether he was a Chen or a Yang.
All they knew was—his name was Chen Mo.
While Chen Mo’s popularity was skyrocketing, over at the physics competition training camp, some participants were starting to crack under pressure and drop out.
Many found the intensity unbearable.
“Brother Yan,” a boy from a different school, who shared the same dorm, couldn’t help but ask the man reading an English extracurricular book, “Two more people quit today. Do you feel anything at all?”
Xi Siyan closed the book.
“Every time someone leaves, I feel something,” he said, voice laced with amusement. “And the emotions are always so… rich.”
His tone was not cold-blooded.
After all, everyone here was a competitor. And Xi Siyan, a so-called genius, was merely using this training camp as a stepping stone to greater heights.
“I’m going crazy,” another boy groaned from the upper bunk. “I don’t think I’m suited for competition.”
Then, as if remembering something, he suddenly said, “Hey, have you seen that popular high school life documentary? There’s this guy in it… uh, what’s his name again? Oh! Chen Mo! Yeah, that’s him! Man, I wanna be as carefree as him.”
As soon as he spoke, the normally serious dormitory suddenly became lively.
“I saw him! He looks really cool. And I read that he’s in the top class.”
“This guy has an unshakable mentality. Honestly, people like him are better suited for competition than guys like us. They have big hearts.”
At this point, someone turned to Xi Siyan and asked,
“Brother Yan, you’re from No. 1 Middle School, right? Do you know him?”
The group of students all stared at him, waiting for an answer.
Leaning against his chair, Xi Siyan rested his head on one hand and smirked.
“I know him.”
“Damn! Then tell us—how close are you two?”
Xi Siyan’s gaze swept toward his phone, sitting on the table’s edge.
The screen was flashing with multiple unread messages.
Without hesitation, he reached out, flipped the phone over, and covered it with his hand.
Then, he replied casually,
“We’re just acquaintances. We never contact each other unless necessary.”
With that, he completely blocked anyone from prying further.
