The glory of being at the top
The September wind carried the crisp chill of autumn, causing the red notice board in front of the bulletin board to flutter loudly. Amidst the throng of people, Lin Xi's voice exploded like a candy: "Zhi Xia! Look! First! You're number one in the whole school!"
She pulled me forward, her fingertips clenching until they turned white. The names on the honor roll were sorted by total score, with "Chen Zhixia" in bold at the very top, like a heavy medal.
My gaze swept down to the Physics section, where a perfect score of "100" stood out starkly in red, making my eyes water. Chinese 143, Math 117, English 135, Chemistry 98… each number seemed to resonate like a drumbeat, striking a chord with memories of those late nights spent studying by lamplight.
"Oh my god! A perfect score in physics! Zhixia, you're amazing!" Meng Meng pushed through the crowd and pointed at the report card, screaming, "Almost a perfect score in chemistry too! You're definitely the goddess of the science class!"
A wave of exclamations washed over me. Familiar classmates patted me on the shoulder, while unfamiliar younger students craned their necks to see my name. I smiled and nodded, but my eyes welled up with tears—who could have imagined that the girl who once couldn't even understand force analysis could now rank first in the entire school in physics?
"Zheng Yiming is here!" someone shouted.
My gaze unconsciously slid down and found "Zheng Yiming" in the 11th position. He still got a perfect score in physics, but his math and English scores had dropped significantly compared to last time, and his total score was nearly fifty points lower.
Among the crowd in front of the bulletin board, Zheng Yiming stood a little further away, carrying a backpack, his eyes fixed on the red list, his expression somewhat complicated. Our eyes met across the distance, he paused for a moment, then nodded slightly to me, a faint smile appearing on his lips, before turning and squeezing out of the crowd.
My heart felt like it had been gently bumped by something; it felt a little empty and a little bitter.
In my first year of high school, he always said, "Your problem-solving approach is very clear, but you lack confidence." During our cold war in my second year, he secretly put my competition notes in my desk drawer, and the handwriting was so neat it looked like printed text. Even during our last argument, when he shouted, "How important is physics?" his eyes held a hint of frustration at my lack of progress.
It turns out that those seemingly sharp expectations had already unknowingly become the driving force propelling me forward.
"What are you daydreaming about?" Lin Xi nudged me with her elbow. "The physics teacher wants to go to his office; he's probably going to give you an award!"
In the office, the physics teacher smiled so broadly his eyes narrowed into slits as he handed me a certificate for "Physics Subject Champion": "Shen Zhixia, you've really surprised your teacher! I was right to let you participate in the competition!"
"Thank you, teacher." I accepted the certificate, my fingertips feeling slightly warm.
"Zheng Yiming just came by too," the teacher suddenly said. "He asked if he could borrow your physics test paper to take a look, saying he wanted to study your problem-solving steps."
I was stunned for a moment.
"This kid has become a bit complacent this time," the teacher sighed. "But that's normal; it's inevitable to get a little restless after being admitted to a top university. You'd better keep working hard, or he'll catch up with you."
"I will."
As I stepped out of the office, the wind in the corridor carried the sweet scent of osmanthus blossoms. Zheng Yiming's figure flashed past at the stairwell, a physics error notebook in his hand, his profile appearing particularly thin in the sunlight.
I gripped the certificate tightly in my hand and suddenly quickened my pace.
"Zheng Yiming!"
He stopped, turned around, and looked surprised.
“Your collection of wrong answers,” I handed over my physics notebook, “contains a list of common mistakes that I’ve compiled. Maybe… it will be helpful to you.”
He looked at the notebook; the cover still bore that clumsy sunflower, the one I drew at the beginning of my senior year of high school. After a few seconds of silence, he took the notebook, and as his fingertips touched mine, it felt like a faint electric current ran through me.
"Thank you." His voice was soft. "Congratulations on being number one in the whole school."
"Keep it up, you too." I smiled. "Don't let me leave you too far behind."
He smiled too, the complexity in his eyes lessening, replaced by a familiar light: "No, it won't happen."
The sunlight slanted in from the stairwell, falling at our feet like a layer of gold dust. He opened his notebook, his fingertips tracing the steps I had written to solve the problem, and suddenly looked up: "The auxiliary lines here are drawn even more concisely than mine."
"I learned it from you," I blurted out, then felt a little embarrassed.
His ears turned slightly red, and he closed his notebook: "Then I'll go do my homework."
"Um."
Watching his retreating figure as he hurried upstairs, the hem of his white shirt swaying gently in the wind, like a bird about to take flight. I stood there, the certificate in my hand rustling slightly in the wind, and suddenly felt exceptionally at ease.
The meaning of hard work is not just about surpassing someone, but also about letting those who once illuminated you see that you can also become light.
During evening self-study, my physics notebook was returned, with an extra line on the first page: "Learning from you, let's make progress together." The handwriting was still neat, but it had a warmer touch than before.
Lin Xi leaned over to look, clicking her tongue in amazement: "You two are... admiring each other, heroes?"
I smiled as I put the notebook into my bag and opened the math workbook. The moonlight outside the window fell on the workbook like a layer of silver frost. The rustling sound of the pen tip cutting through the pages mingled with the distant chirping of cicadas, creating the most beautiful melody of my senior year.
The clamor surrounding the honor roll has long since subsided, but the glory of being at the top still burns in my heart. I know this is not the end, but a new beginning.
In the days to come, there will be countless monthly exams, countless rankings, and countless rounds of competition. But this time, I'm no longer afraid of comparison, no longer preoccupied with winning or losing, because I finally understand—
The best competition is not about crushing each other, but about illuminating each other's path.
Just like now, I stand at the top of the leaderboard, and he is chasing behind me. We are both running hard towards a brighter future. And this kind of running is itself a kind of glory.
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