As soon as morning self-study ended, Wang Chen was summoned to the grade director's office.
The grade director for No. 5 High School's first-year students was surnamed Zhao, a refined middle-aged man. He kindly gestured for Wang Chen to sit and handed him a bottle of mineral water.
Wang Chen accepted it. "Thank you."
Director Zhao smiled faintly. "Wang Chen, do you know why I called you here?"
Wang Chen nodded. "It's about my grades, right?"
"That's right."
Director Zhao was frank. "You did very well on this final exam—so well that many teachers found it hard to believe. Logically speaking, as teachers, we should trust and respect our students, but..."
"I understand."
Wang Chen set the bottle of water aside, interlaced his fingers, and forcefully cracked his knuckles. "Director Zhao, how about this? Please give me a few reserve exam papers. I'll do them again right here."
If he had been an ordinary sixteen-year-old boy, he would surely have felt wronged by such suspicion, perhaps even become rebellious.
But Wang Chen could understand the other man's concerns. After all, his grades had been downright heaven-defying.
And the solution was truly simple.
Let strength speak for itself.
Director Zhao was very surprised.
He had seen thousands upon thousands of students, top students and poor students alike, yet he had never seen a teenager with the kind of calm confidence Wang Chen possessed.
Subconsciously, Director Zhao believed Wang Chen.
But belief was one thing. The grade director still called in two teachers and found a math paper and an English paper.
The questions on these two reserve papers were vastly different from those Wang Chen had taken before, more than sufficient as proof.
Moreover, Wang Chen did not need to retake every subject. As long as he passed these two papers,