The Grades She Held Back
1069 Words
Midterm exams arrived like any other routine that did not require meaning.
For Shen Yuxin, those days carried neither pressure nor expectation. She came to school at the same hour, sat in the same seat, and opened her exam papers with the same calm composure.
There was only one difference.
This time, she calculated.
Not the correct answers—
but which answers did not need to be written.
Her pen moved steadily, neatly, without hesitation. Yet beneath that calm surface, her mind worked far faster than it appeared. Every question was read, understood, and then decided upon: fully answered, simplified, or deliberately left incomplete.
She was not aiming for the highest score.
She was aiming for safe numbers.
Lu Chenyan sat beside her, leaning lazily against his chair. From the outside, he looked like someone who barely cared about exams—yet anyone observant enough would notice the sharp focus in his eyes from the very first minute.
He glanced at Yuxin unintentionally.
Not because her movements were suspicious,
but because there were no unnecessary movements at all.
No tapping fingers.
No furrowed brows.
No shifts in rhythm.
As if the questions… were never a problem.
Chenyan looked back at his paper.
But his mind noted one thing clearly.
She writes too calmly.
---
The first day of exams passed.
The second followed in the same silence.
By the third day, Mathematics and Physics trapped most of the class on the same page far longer than usual. Some students erased answers repeatedly. Others bit down on their pens in frustration.
Yuxin read the final question.
She knew the answer.
But she also knew—
if she wrote the most efficient solution,
her score would rise too much.
She altered one step.
Changed her approach.
Still correct, but no longer perfect.
Then she stopped.
Her pen was set down lightly.
Chenyan checked the clock.
There was still plenty of time left.
He glanced sideways.
Yuxin stared forward—not because she was blank, but because she had already finished making her decision.
Chenyan returned to his paper.
Yet this time, there was something he could no longer ignore.
She could be faster… but chose not to.
---
The exam results were posted a week later.
Students crowded around the notice board as usual. Some cheered, some sighed in disappointment, some pretended to be calm despite the tension on their faces.
Shen Yuxin did not push forward.
She stood at the back, far enough to avoid the atmosphere entirely.
Lu Chenyan stood near the board, one hand in his pocket. His eyes scanned quickly, searching for a particular name—not out of curiosity, but habit.
He found it.
Shen Yuxin — Rank 27.
Stable scores.
No subject stood out.
None fell drastically.
Perfect… in the safest way possible.
Chenyan turned around.
Yuxin already knew.
“You’re not bad,” he said as they returned to the classroom.
“That’s enough,” Yuxin replied.
“You could do better.”
“I could,” she said shortly.
The tone made Chenyan stop walking.
“You did it on purpose.”
It was not a question.
Yuxin paused briefly, then looked at him. Her gaze was flat, without defensiveness.
“Standing out is troublesome.”
Chenyan smiled faintly.
“I agree.”
But inside, a conclusion quietly formed.
She isn’t average.
She’s pretending to be.
---
The school’s reaction to Yuxin was… ordinary.
No admiration.
No envy.
No excessive rumors.
She was labeled as a quiet transfer student—stable grades, no issues, nothing remarkable.
And that was exactly what she wanted.
A few students tried to invite her to group study sessions, but once they saw her results—good but not exceptional—their interest faded on its own.
Yuxin did not mind.
She preferred quiet lunch breaks, sitting in a corner of the cafeteria with a cold drink, or walking alone toward the library.
One afternoon, two students from another class spoke loudly in the hallway.
“They said the transfer student was smart.”
“Turns out she’s pretty average.”
Yuxin walked past them without looking.
From a distance, Chenyan heard the conversation.
He did not smile.
He did not get angry.
He simply became more certain.
---
Trouble still came—though in smaller forms.
A senior student bumped into Yuxin on the back staircase.
“Watch where you’re going,” he snapped.
Yuxin stopped. Looked at him briefly.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Her voice was neutral.
The student looked dissatisfied—not because he was pushed back, but because he received no reaction at all.
As he left, Chenyan appeared from behind a pillar.
“You avoided it on purpose.”
“I don’t like unnecessary conflict.”
“You could’ve won.”
“I know.”
That was what made Chenyan fall silent.
---
That night, Yuxin sat in front of her laptop.
The screen glowed with a blank document—not for schoolwork, but for another world known only to her. A pen name she never spoke aloud in real life sat quietly in the corner of the screen.
Her fingers moved swiftly.
In this world, she did not need to hold anything back.
She did not need to hide her intelligence.
She did not need to measure herself to appear ordinary.
But when she stopped typing, one thought surfaced uninvited.
Lu Chenyan sees too much.
She closed the laptop.
Exhaled softly.
Not everyone was dangerous.
But someone who was too sharp… needed distance.
---
At his home, Chenyan trained alone.
His movements were free, unstructured. Every strike was tested, refined, simplified for efficiency. He stopped mid-practice, recalling Yuxin’s expression in the classroom.
Not surprised by the results.
Not disappointed.
Not satisfied.
Just… accepting.
“Strange,” he murmured.
Many people want to appear outstanding.
Few want to appear ordinary.
And fewer still are capable of choosing it.
---
The days after the exams returned to normal.
But something had shifted.
Lu Chenyan no longer saw Shen Yuxin as a quiet transfer student.
He saw her as an unopened variable.
Someone who deliberately stood in the middle—
not because she couldn’t step forward,
but because she did not want to be seen.
And for the first time in a long while,
Chenyan’s curiosity did not come from competition…
but from the self-control of someone far too perfect to be ordinary.
- Writer
