Lesson One

The temporary dormitory for the winter camp was a two-person room, and in Chen Ruowen’s eyes, the only word that could describe its setup was “crude.” The layout was much like a standard room in an ordinary hotel, which fit perfectly with the rumors online: “The Nanjing University Activity Center was converted from a hotel.”

Chen Ruowen’s roommate was a slender girl with short hair, who arrived about fifteen minutes after her, dragging a large suitcase and wearing glasses—a model student in appearance.

They nodded to each other in greeting, and when the time was nearly up, Chen Ruowen picked up her phone and headed to the assembly room.

The assembly room looked much like a classroom at No. 1 High School, with single desks for each student. Those present seemed unfamiliar with one another, and the atmosphere was somewhat stiff.

Chen Ruowen’s entrance naturally drew many eyes, but nobody approached her, nor did anyone, as immature underclassmen back at her high school would, noisily whip out their phones for photos.

After all, the registration fee for the Nanjing University winter camp was far from cheap. Having spent so much to get here, passing the assessment was everyone’s primary goal.

Within the remaining few minutes, the empty seats gradually filled. Right on time, a man in his thirties entered—his clothes immaculate with not a wrinkle, dressed in a suit and glasses, holding a stack of documents. He closed the classroom door with a click and locked it.

He swept his gaze over the packed classroom, pausing briefly when his eyes met Chen Ruowen’s. His eyes narrowed slightly, then he moved on as if nothing happened.

“Welcome to the Nanjing University Winter Camp. I am your supervisor, Qiao Yusen, and also the chief examiner for the first round of assessments. You may call me Teacher Qiao or Professor Qiao. I am a faculty member at Nanjing University’s School of Computer Science.”

“Wow, so young and already a professor? Amazing!”

A wave of whispers rippled through the classroom.

Qiao Yusen allowed about ten seconds for the students’ murmurs, then pulled a form from a folder.

“We’ll begin roll call now. No. 1 High School, Chen Ruowen.”

Chen Ruowen hadn’t expected to be called first. She raised her hand and answered.

“Present.”

Qiao Yusen’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, then he checked her name off the list.

“No. 1 High School, Bao Haijing.”

“Present!” A round-faced girl in the first row raised her hand.

“South City Foreign Languages Academy, Angel.”

“Present!”

“South City…”

“Present!”

…

Qiao Yusen patiently called each name. The student order seemed arranged by school: first the local South City schools, then North City—the capital, and finally other cities.

“…Nanjing University Affiliated High School, Li Yuanlong.”

This time, no one answered. Qiao Yusen called again, and a student, apparently Li Yuanlong’s classmate, pointed to a seat in the front row and explained.

“He just went to the restroom and hasn’t returned yet.”

Qiao Yusen said nothing, simply marked an X on his roster.

At that moment, a knock sounded on the classroom door, and a hurried male voice called out.

“Excuse me!”

The student who’d spoken earlier pointed outside. “Teacher, Li Yuanlong is back.”

Qiao Yusen made no reply, nor did he open the door for the person outside. He continued reading the roster, memorizing each student’s face and name. The atmosphere in the classroom grew instantly tense.

“…East City No. 2 High School, Gongsun Yudi.”

A boy in the third-to-last row raised his hand.

“Teacher, Gongsun’s flight was delayed. He might not arrive until tonight.”

Qiao Yusen marked another X.

The roster contained roughly a hundred names, with six or seven absent for various reasons—either not present or not yet returned, a reasonable proportion.

After he called the last name, Qiao Yusen glanced at the empty seats and the Xs on his list, then put the roster back in the folder.

“From now on, everyone not present for roll call is eliminated.”

The entire classroom fell silent.

The student who’d explained for Li Yuanlong glanced at the door and fell quiet amid the persistent knocking outside. Gongsun Yudi’s classmate, apparently close to him, hesitated before raising his hand.

“Teacher, Gongsun’s flight was delayed—it wasn’t intentional. Everyone’s journey here was difficult. If he’s eliminated for this reason, isn’t that too harsh? Couldn’t you give him another chance?”

Qiao Yusen looked at his students, some of whom seemed intimidated, and asked calmly and logically.

“When the list for the winter camp was announced, did you all see the notice on Nanjing University’s website and the text message sent to your phones?”

The students nodded.

“Did the website notice and the text message include the supervisor’s contact information?”

Some nodded, some quietly checked their phones, and others lowered their heads, feeling guilty.

Normally, people only check if their name appears on the list, not the supervisor’s contact info below. They’ve never met the supervisor, never spoken to him—who would think to message or call him directly?

“Among today’s absentees, only one sent me a message in advance—the student whose name I did not call. The rest missed roll call for various reasons, some due to emergencies, others unforeseen circumstances. But knowing you couldn’t arrive on time, why not notify the supervisor and explain? Yes, there’s no signal on a plane to send a text, but when waiting in the airport, shouldn’t you consider the risk of being late? Flight delays are common occurrences; why not have a contingency plan? Why not allow yourself enough time?

The farthest city among this year’s participants is only three hours by air from Nanjing University. We scheduled the assembly for four in the afternoon, giving everyone ample time. For such an important test, why not plan to arrive early?”

His words left everyone feeling ashamed—even those who’d thought, “There are so many emergencies; no one can guarantee avoiding them completely,” closed their mouths. But Gongsun Yudi’s classmate, apparently very close to him, bit his lip and raised his hand again.

“But Teacher, this was an accident. It wasn’t easy for any of us to get here. Eliminating someone for this reason seems… unreasonable. Can’t you give him another chance?”

Qiao Yusen adjusted his glasses, raised his arm clad in a perfectly unwrinkled shirt, and wrote the word “Opportunity” on the blackboard. Then, putting down the chalk, he faced the entire class, calm and solemn.

“This is the first lesson I want to teach you before entering Nanjing University: Life does not offer a second chance.”