Zhuang Chaoying felt deeply frustrated as he listened, but forced himself to smile and play along. He knew that, in his mother's household, he was nothing more than an ox. All he could do now was carefully protect his own little family.
The main reason Zhuang Chaoying was in such a bad mood was that, after Wang Yue had suddenly risen to prominence, the children in the Zhuang family seemed merely decent by comparison. The glory they had brought him was suddenly overshadowed, leaving him unable to feel proud at all.
The most disheartening thing was that, apart from meddling in other people's business, Wang Yue was practically the perfect example of someone else's child.
And right now, this "someone else's child," Wang Yue, was staring eye to eye with Lin Dongzhe.
Wang Yue simply couldn't believe that Lin Dongzhe really had no idea how to write essays. Nothing Wang Yue tried worked. Lin Dongzhe could always pad his writing with enough nonsense to meet the word count.
Wang Yue even began to suspect the boy was doing it on purpose. But when he met Lin Dongzhe's adorably foolish, admiring gaze, he could only believe that the boy simply hadn't learned how.
So Wang Yue reluctantly told Lin Dongzhe to wait. The next day, he went to his Chinese teacher and asked for the high-scoring essays of various types that the teachers had collected from previous students. He took them home, had Lin Dongzhe copy them out, and told him to memorize them by rote.
At first, Lin Dongzhe protested. He said, confused, "Brother Wang, I've tried that before! Last time I copied Zhuang Xiaoting's essay, the teacher caught me."
Wang Yue glanced at Lin Dongzhe and said disdainfully, "That's because you're stupid. Who writes about the exact same person