บท 13: Chapter 13: Giving Up
Everyone was stunned by those words from Zhou Wei, leaving them speechless. Even Chen Tong's face darkened with frustration as he retorted, "Fine, then we'll aim for the outer campus. Is that acceptable?"
"Sure, the outer campus is easier to get into with its thousand slots," Zhou Wei replied, still smirking. "But let me tell you something—last year, only 101 students from our district got in. Of those, 72 were from Haiheng, the top academy in the district. Our school only managed to send three. And among those 101, quite a few got in through connections. So, tell me, how many slots do you think went to students purely based on merit?"
Hearing this, Su Ming frowned deeply. He hadn't expected the difficulty to be this overwhelming.
"To be honest," Zhou Wei continued, "those three from our school who got into the outer campus last year? They were all part of the special training program. The Royal Military Academy has never been for students like you. At best, you can hope to scrape into some third-rate school."
Zhang Tai sneered disdainfully. "Aiming for the Royal Military Academy? You're better off working hard to get into one of those lesser colleges. Maybe after joining a mech reserve unit and grinding for years, you'll get to touch a real mech."
"How is this even possible?" Zhao Ran exclaimed in disbelief. "They allocated so many slots to our district. If they're only accepting so few, how can the Royal Military Academy even fill its quota?"
Zhou Wei chuckled at her naivety. "That's not for you to worry about. Of course, they'll fill their slots. We're just District Thirteen—the weakest of them all. The other twelve districts ahead of us have far superior resources and students. Then there's the ground-based cities, whose students enjoy resources we can only dream of. They're in an entirely different league. And if that's still not enough, there's always the external colonies. Sure, conditions there are worse, but among their millions, there's bound to be one or two geniuses. Given the sheer size of their population, their contributions are significant."
He paused, then added with a smirk. "So stop daydreaming. It's embarrassing. Just try your best to get into some garbage-tier school, join a reserve unit, and hope you get promoted someday."
"Enough," Lin Chuyu interjected, her voice calm but firm. "Let's go."
Zhang Tai and Zhou Wei fell silent at her command and followed her out of the training area.
Left behind, Mingke and the others looked utterly defeated, like wilted plants after a frost. Some of the girls even squatted on the ground, burying their heads in their arms.
Seeing this, Su Ming sighed inwardly. The mood had been completely crushed. Zhang Tai and Zhou Wei had drenched everyone in cold water, leaving them chilled to the bone.
Meanwhile, Mr. Tang returned from his conversation with Mr. Chen. He walked back into the training area, his thoughts weighed down by the topic of quotas. The so-called quotas referred to the number of students a teacher successfully guided into the Royal Military Academy's outer campus. Achieving enough quotas allowed teachers to apply for transfers to better schools.
For Mr. Tang, thirty quotas were the magic number needed for a transfer to a school in one of the major cities. But after years of teaching, he had only managed three.
A shortcut did exist, though—guiding just one student into the Royal Military Academy's inner campus would instantly qualify a teacher for promotion. Unfortunately, such opportunities were rare.
Pushing aside his concerns, Mr. Tang stepped back into the training area, only to freeze in his tracks. The lively training atmosphere from earlier had vanished. His students were now slumped on the ground, radiating defeat and despair.
It was as if the crops he had painstakingly nurtured had all withered at once. Panicked, he asked, "What's going on? Why aren't you training?"
"What's the point?" one student muttered, slumping further.
"It's hopeless anyway," another added.
Frustrated, Mr. Tang turned to Mingke. "Mingke, what happened?"
Looking conflicted, Mingke raised his head and asked, "Mr. Tang, is it true? Has no one from District Thirteen gotten into the Royal Military Academy's inner campus in the last five years? And is it true that only the special training students have any chance of getting into the outer campus? Do we really have no hope at all?"
The other students looked up, their faces filled with desperate anticipation.
Realizing what had happened, Mr. Tang silently cursed Zhang Tai and Zhou Wei for undermining his efforts. He had poured so much into encouraging his students, only for those two to ruin it in an instant.
Forcing a smile, he said, "What they said is true, but you must believe in yourselves! There's a saying: 'The world is not set in stone; underdogs can prevail!'"
"Really?" Mingke asked hesitantly, hope flickering in his eyes.
"Of course," Mr. Tang replied, his tone full of conviction. "You must believe in miracles!"
"Miracles?" The hopeful flicker died as quickly as it appeared. The students slumped further, their spirits sinking lower than ever. To them, miracles were no different from winning the lottery—impossible odds.
Even Su Ming couldn't help but cringe. Mr. Tang's attempt to comfort them had backfired spectacularly.
Realizing his mistake, Mr. Tang hurriedly added, "Don't give up! It's not over yet. Hard work can still change your fate!"
But his words fell on deaf ears. The students remained dejected, their defeat palpable.
Biting his lip, Mr. Tang made a desperate decision. "Alright, listen up. Don't lose heart. Effort matters! To cheer you up, I'll treat everyone to barbecue tonight!"
"Really?" The students perked up immediately, their moods lifting at the prospect of free food.
"Yes, really! Let's go!" Mr. Tang declared, though inwardly he winced at the thought of the expense.
"Alright!" Mingke and the others cheered, their excitement returning.
---
Half an hour later, the group gathered at the bustling Niu Niu Barbecue restaurant near the school. The once-quiet eatery was now packed to capacity with fifty energetic students.
A plump middle-aged woman, the restaurant owner, beamed as she barked orders to her staff. "Hurry up! Bring out all the meat!"
In an era where business was tough, such a large group was a rare blessing.
The sizzling sound of grilling meat filled the air, accompanied by the mouthwatering aroma of charred fat.
"This is delicious!"
"Yeah, food always tastes better when someone else is paying!"
The students laughed and joked as they enjoyed their meal. Though the meat was just mass-produced feedlot fare, it still tasted wonderful when grilled.
Su Ming, however, sat silently, staring at the golden-brown slices of meat on the grill. His mouth watered, and his rational mind told him not to eat, but his body betrayed him.
Torn between restraint and temptation, he felt utterly miserable.
(End of Chapter)
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