Chapter 167: The Application Dilemma

It wasn’t until after 10 AM that Xu Chen walked from the company to the school.

The classroom was already packed, with everyone huddled in groups, chatting away.

Some discussed their college applications, while others shared emotional goodbyes.

Chen Dahai wasn’t there today; as an athlete, he’d already secured early admission and didn’t need to apply.

He’d only come yesterday for the graduation photo, and now he was off on a trip with his parents.

…

Around 11 AM, the homeroom teacher Zhang Liqun entered the classroom.

“Class monitor, collect the college application forms.”

Everyone, stay put until 12; I’ll double-check that all forms are filled out correctly.

Keep your phones on—or the home numbers you provided—from this afternoon until tomorrow afternoon in case of emergencies…

If any issues come up, we’ll reach out.”

…

…

Xu Chen sat resting at his desk as several classmates stopped by to ask for photos.

Some he barely knew; a few hadn’t exchanged a word in three years of high school, just aware of each other’s names.

But Xu Chen didn’t turn them down, smiling warmly every time.

Around 11:30, the class monitor approached:

“Xu Chen, the homeroom teacher wants you in his office.”

Xu Chen nodded and got up without a word, heading out of the classroom with a neutral expression.

The office building connected to the teaching building, so he could cut through the hallway.

At Zhang Liqun’s office door, Xu Chen knocked.

Zhang Liqun sat alone, sipping from a large tea cup and blowing on the leaves.

Seeing Xu Chen in the doorway, he smiled warmly:

“Come in, Xu Chen.”

Xu Chen said nothing and stepped up to Zhang Liqun.

A stack of application forms lay on the desk; the one in front of Zhang Liqun was Xu Chen’s.

“You’re applying to Tonghai University?!”

Xu Chen: “Yes.”

Zhang Liqun: “Didn’t I go over this with you yesterday?”

With your scores, you could aim higher!

Fudan, Renmin University, Zhejiang University—these are the ones you should go for.”

He picked up the form and glanced at it again:

“And advertising isn’t a great major anyway. You’d be better off with something versatile like history, Chinese literature, or journalism.”

Xu Chen’s face stayed calm; he didn’t respond.

Seeing no reaction, Zhang Liqun continued:

“I’ve thought this through for you—Fudan, Renmin, Zhejiang. You could go for Chinese literature, history, even philosophy or public administration!

So why Tonghai University?”

Xu Chen finally spoke:

“With my score of 628, applying to Fudan, Zhejiang, or Renmin is risky—nowhere near a sure thing.”

“I’d probably end up with the least popular majors, and there’s still a chance of not getting in at all.”

His tone was steady but firm.

Zhang Liqun paused, realizing Xu Chen had clearly researched and weighed his options.

He took a sip of tea, shifted in his seat, and said:

“Where’s your ambition?”

Sure, they’re all 985 schools, but there’s a difference—university rankings show it.

“Fudan, Zhejiang, Renmin—these are ‘world-class universities.’

“Tonghai is a step down, more like a ‘world-renowned high-level university.’

“There’s a real gap.

“When you graduate and job hunt, it’s the school that matters, not the major!

“Even the worst major at Fudan or Zhejiang beats the best at Tonghai.”

He adjusted his large brown glasses, looking at Xu Chen with disapproval:

“I’m saying all this for your own good!”

Xu Chen frowned, feeling it was a waste of time.

He hesitated, then said:

“If Tsinghua and Peking are better than Fudan, why not suggest those?”

Zhang Liqun: “Your scores aren’t high enough!”

Xu Chen: “Fudan, Zhejiang, Renmin—all carry risks with my score.”

“I did well on the exam, and for applications, I won’t take any chances.”

“To me, they’re all 985 schools, and the gap between Fudan and Tonghai isn’t worth risking a slip-up.”

“You…”

Xu Chen’s words were straightforward and resolute.

If Zhang Liqun kept pushing his ‘suggestions,’ it would show ulterior motives.

Zhang Liqun hesitated, then said coldly:

“I need to discuss this with your father.”

“College applications aren’t just your decision; I should share my thoughts with your parents.”

Xu Chen stayed silent, knowing this tactic would come up.

Most students dreaded calls to their parents.

Xu Chen thought for a moment and softened his tone:

“No need to contact my dad, Teacher—he’s really busy.”

Zhang Liqun paused, then smiled.

He sipped his tea slowly before declaring:

“I’m rejecting your application here.

“Fill out a new one.”

With that, he grabbed Xu Chen’s form and tore it in half, tossing it into the trash.

“…”

The truth came out.

Xu Chen said nothing, but for a moment, anger flashed across his face.

He quickly composed himself, standing quietly with his head down.

Zhang Liqun adjusted his glasses and slid a fresh form across the desk:

“Go to the empty spot over there and fill this out.

“You can leave once it’s done.”

Xu Chen took the form without a word.

Zhang Liqun put on a concerned expression again:

“I’m doing this for you—you’re the top scorer in our class and have the best shot at a top school.”

“It’s a shame to give up now!”

He handed Xu Chen a black pen:

“Fudan, Renmin, Zhejiang.”

“I checked, and they all have advertising majors if that’s what you want.

“But to play it safe, go for something less competitive.”

He passed over a handwritten note:

“These majors are ones I looked into—they’re low-risk for you.”

Xu Chen stayed quiet, seeing the setup was ready.

Zhang Liqun had gone to great lengths to push for ‘top schools.’

Xu Chen glanced at the note—full of obscure, boring majors.

Labor and social security, museology, archaeology, philosophy…

Those would lower the risk of not getting in, sure.

But there was still a chance.

And none appealed to Xu Chen.

…

Xu Chen didn’t want to hear more; he took the form and pen to the nearby desk and quickly filled it out.

He returned, placing the form and pen back on Zhang Liqun’s desk.

Zhang Liqun picked up the new form and finally smiled, satisfied.

“You’ll thank me when you get into Zhejiang—now go on.”

Xu Chen said nothing, turned, and left with his usual expression.

He hurried down the hallway, pulled a voice recorder from his pocket, and confirmed the whole conversation was captured.