Scoring 750 on the Gaokao Made Me a State Secret

Reborn for three years, I was so broke I had to eat leftover cafeteria food. Then I suddenly awakened the "Perfect Gaokao Score System."

75 million in cash, or a permanent 750-point Gaokao buff?

I chose the latter.

And then:

I wrote a classical Chinese essay so brilliant that Wang Xizhi would have knelt down and called me his grandmaster. The head of the grading team burned incense before marking it;

I came up with four solutions to the hardest math problem, crushing the exam setters so thoroughly that the dean of Tsinghua drove over in the middle of the night to recruit me;

I excelled across science and English, smashing the national record with a perfect score of 750.

Now the admissions directors from Tsinghua and Peking University are fighting at the school gate, a literary master wants me as his final disciple, and a math expert is on his knees calling me "Wenquxing descended to the mortal world."

And all I want is to hole up in a KTV and belt out "The Lonely Brave."

[System in hibernation. I'm pretending to be a genius in the mortal world.]

This System has a bug: it only unlocks "knowledge found on exam papers." I can't do anything else.

So I grind through practice problems like crazy, treating the Gaokao as an experience dungeon and permanently locking in the knowledge from each subject as soon as I finish its exam.

Three years later, my head contains the entire high school curriculum, yet I still can't even recite all the chemical equations from middle school.

A professor from Tsinghua or Peking University asks me, "How did you do it?"

Me: "You probably wouldn't believe me, but I was just carefully 'copying the answers.'"

[Warning: This book contains a lot of humblebragging. Please bring your own blood pressure medication.]