I'm A Math Idiot, So What? - Chapter 23

As the saying goes, “Three humble cobblers can match Zhuge Liang,” but I’ve exhausted all my resources. The first person who comes to mind for help is my best friend, Wang Ziqi.

She’s a low-key soon-to-be wealthy woman who’s seen a lot of the world, perhaps offering unique insights.

When Wang Ziqi was young, her parents divorced, and she followed her father. Her mother, after returning to singlehood, successfully climbed her way up to become the chairwoman of the board of a famous home decor company’s listed corporation—an experience as legendary as Dong Mingzhu’s.

But that’s not the point.

The point is, her mother is an orphan and hasn’t remarried, which means Wang Ziqi is the sole legitimate heir to billions in assets. I calculated once, and the interest generated from depositing this money in the bank would equal my parents’ five years’ worth of salary.

Yet, with vast wealth at her disposal, she hides in plain sight at Changning University, sharing the cafeteria’s tasteless soup with me, enduring the frigid winters and scorching summers in dorms, and experiencing the unpredictably hot and cold water in the school baths together.

Because of this, I’ve asked her several times if she secretly has a crush on me, fearing societal pressures, and pretends to be my best friend while nobly joining me in humble singlehood. That’s how it goes in those yuri novels I read. I told her it’s okay, if she has such thoughts, she should tell me early, and I’ll change my orientation for her. After all, being straight hasn’t helped me find anyone either.

Then Wang Ziqi replied that she wished she liked women, for she would definitely want Song Hye-kyo to get divorced. That way she could have Song Hye-kyo, and I could live a lifetime with Song Joong-ki. She’s that considerate, even when plotting to break up a marriage, she doesn’t forget to bring me some benefits.

This summer, both Songs got divorced, and our chance has come! However, this prophetic friend ran off to the Southwest Border with a crew filming a public welfare documentary and hasn’t returned to school yet.

I glanced at the time. It was nearing midnight, thinking she probably wouldn’t have filming tasks now, so I stood on the balcony and video-called her.

After about two rings, she answered with a yawn to start: “If you have something to report, speak up. If not, retreat from the court.”

“You’ve changed.””When you used to get my calls, you’d always ask me with concern, ‘Sweetheart, what’s wrong?’ But now, you’re so cold, so heartless. Be honest, have you fallen for someone else?”

“I won’t allow you to think that about me. My heart has always belonged solely to you, and if you don’t believe it, I’ll cut open my chest and show you.”

“No! I forbid you from harming yourself!”

“So have you been thinking about me these days?”

I turned my head: “No.”

She widened her nostrils with her fingers: “But there’s not a single day I don’t think about you.”

I bashfully lowered my head: “Well, when I said I don’t think of you, it was a lie.”

Wang Ziqi wiped her face: “Alright, let’s talk about the main issue.”

“Okay!” After performing our long-unchanged silly act and confirming she was indeed my goofy friend, we effortlessly switched back to normal conversation. I briefly recounted the situation with The Beauty of Mathematics, skipping over the now secondary matter of Fang Congxin, and waited for the well-traveled Wang Ziqi to give her advice.

Wang Ziqi thought for a while and said, “It’s not that there’s no way.”

I perked up, listening intently: “I’m all ears.”

Wang Ziqi picked at her ear: “One way is for you to start kowtowing three hundred times at the Department of Mathematics entrance from tomorrow. Keep that up for one hundred and eighty days.”

I said, “Do you think I’m fermenting soybean paste here? Though my brain doesn’t work quite right, I’m not about to use it as a drum. Give me a less time-consuming method.”

Wang Ziqi, with a serious expression, continued, “How about sacrificing me? Wait for me to get back, and I’ll break your leg, so you can stay in the hospital for three months and take a medical leave.”

I said, “Why don’t I head over right now and break your leg first?”

Finally, under my glaring eyes, Wang Ziqi got to the point. She squeezed a pimple on the camera and said, “Are you stupid? That Fang Rui is from Taixi, a math teacher. Ask your dad if he knows this colleague from the same hometown. According to the social hexagon theory, there’s a good chance they know each other.”

“You know how my dad is. I fear if he finds out I’m asking him to reach out to another math teacher, he’ll beat me like Lu Zhenhua beating Yiping.”

“Didn’t Yiping eventually get the money though?”

“… Yes.”

“Then go home and let your dad give you a beating.” She heartlessly ended the video chat.

Wang Ziqi’s suggestion is indeed a method, though a rather brutal one.

My dad is a distinguished math teacher at Taixi High School, with countless successful students, and has revived several students struggling in the math quagmire. Parents rank him highly, yet a doctor cannot heal himself. Then came me, Liu Adou, who splattered ink all over his brilliant career.

For instance, my “innovative cheating” where I copied a ‘b over q’ calculation as ‘3 over 2’ once appeared publicly on our class bulletin board for a week. Since our class is located on the path between the administrative and teaching buildings, this situation was like having my criminal record displayed on the big screen at Subway Line 1 Xidan Station. During that time, my mother hid all invisible, yet potentially deadly, household weapons.

Another example was my high school senior year birthday, coinciding with a mock exam, and my dad just happened to be assigned as the proctor for my class. That day, his gift to me was a helmet.He told me to wear the helmet while taking the math exam, so I wouldn’t be afraid of him accidentally hitting me. However, halfway through the exam, to avoid disrupting the exam room and for the sake of his own blood pressure, he ended up swapping duties with a teacher from the neighboring class.

Another instance was at the parent-teacher meeting before the college entrance exams. My dad and the math teacher looked at each other with tearful eyes, not knowing whom to blame. After the exam results were out, my dad and the math teacher hugged and cried together, these two middle-aged men weighing a combined 365 pounds laughed like children.

He thought that once I was in college, he could finally shake off this burden that was constantly causing him trouble. Indeed, in the past two years, he had regained his vigor and was slowly starting to recover his lost confidence. If I were to make a sudden comeback, it felt like a do-or-die battle!

But I’m truly at my wit’s end!

The next morning, I indirectly sought help from my mom.

My mom, despite having a background in science and engineering, has a young mindset and varied interests. She was a fan of Super Girl (a Chinese reality show), and voted for Good Man (another Chinese talent show). Although she’s frugal when it comes to spending on me, she acts like a generous patron when it comes to supporting her idols: she has customized gifts, traveled abroad to attend concerts of her favorite Korean stars, and even served as the vice president of a fan club for a young band. After watching the wildly popular drama “Autumn in My Heart,” she started her long journey of following soap operas, soaking herself endlessly in melodramatic series and mastering a set of love strategies, able to imagine a complex drama of love and hate from just a glance.

Lacking a practical field for this talent, since I went to college, my mother’s focus on me shifted from academics to relationships. In the past few years, she’d bring up the topic of romance carefully and subtly, but ever since this year, she’s become completely unabashed. No matter what unrelated topic we discussed, she’d always bring it back to romance.

I’d say, “There’s a great new dish at school.” She’d reply, “In the future, find a husband who can cook.”

I’d say, “I bought some discounted clothes at H&M today.” She’d ask, “Did your boyfriend go with you?”

I’d say, “I won’t be coming home this Golden Week.” She’d reply, “Then don’t bother coming back at all.”Even the little Tang Tang from Aunt Zhang’s place next door has brought her boyfriend home.

“Who’s little Tang Tang?” I asked, completely baffled.

“Your Aunt Zhang’s new cat.”

“…”