Shu accepted it.
The ten-year-old boy sat at his desk, staring at the two silver certificates, and finally accepted reality—
He was just an ordinary person.
This wasn't some self-deprecating facade where someone calls themselves a "goblin" while secretly remaining self-centered, judging others entirely through the lens of their own pride.
He genuinely accepted it. He truly believed that he was insignificant, that his words carried no weight.
He felt there was no longer any need for him to voice his opinions, because no one needed to care about them.
Right...
No one was obligated to trouble themselves over his thoughts. They had much more important things to do.
This realization seeped into him like water into sand—silent, traceless.
He thought back on his past year.
Three hundred and sixty-five days. Almost a tenth of his entire lifespan.
For that tenth of his life, he had stretched himself as tight as a bowstring. Like a bamboo shoot desperately trying to shed its husks, he thought he could pierce the sky and become a towering bamboo praised by all.
But what was the reality?
He was probably just a potato in the kitchen, searching for soil.
Sprouted, and toxic.
He didn't know why he had learned so much, why he had done so much.
Maybe it was because of his mother's words—
"Why can't you just learn from your sister?"
Maybe it was because he wanted to prove that he could do it, too.
Or maybe it was just because... he didn't know what else to do besides "working hard." His world was so incredibly small... so small that he couldn't find any other meaning in life outside of sheer effort.
Sometimes, he actually wanted to stop and think about something else. Like, the "meaning of life," perhaps?
Hah, that really sounded like some lofty, grandiose proposition. Unfounded anxieties, pretentious ignorance, aiming too high while achieving nothing...
Was that the kind of question he should be contemplating?
Obviously not.
And if he wasn't supposed to think about that, what else did he have left?
Keep working hard. Aside from merely staying alive, the only thing you have left is to keep working hard.
And so, he continued.
And Xu Xi was always by his side.
She never disturbed him. She just sat quietly—sometimes reading, sometimes drawing, sometimes just watching him.
He could feel her gaze.
Those eyes carried emotions that Shu couldn't decipher. He didn't know what she was thinking, nor did he dare try to understand the mind of a "genius." He just thought her eyes were sparkling and beautiful.
Even the light in her eyes was so beautiful.
Try harder...
I need to try harder.
Maybe then, he could catch up to her just a little bit. Maybe then, he could stand by her side a little longer.
Even if it was just a little bit.
When the exam results came out, he knew his efforts had paid off.
His class rank hadn't improved, simply because the only person above him was his own sister. He had always been second, but his actual score had objectively gone up by a significant margin.
During the piano competition, he got to witness the fruits of his labor.
He played his competition piece flawlessly, practically hitting his absolute ceiling. And prior to that, he hadn't even specifically practiced that piece... or rather, he hadn't prioritized it.
There were gasps of surprise from the audience, genuine applause, and people sincerely cheering as he walked offstage. Even he was surprised by his own performance; it truly felt like his absolute limit.
Yet, he only took home a silver medal.
The gold, without a doubt, went to Xu Xi. The gap between them was so immense that she could afford to accept the trophy early.
And there were so, so many more. The competitions where he was relegated to second place, the evaluations he wasn't even qualified to enter, the events where he could only sit in the audience and applaud for her along with the vast, faceless crowd...
She was like a sun, radiating blinding light.
And him?
Even after a full year of excruciating effort, he remained hidden amongst the common masses. Perhaps he stood a hair taller than those who didn't try as hard, but he still hadn't broken away from them.
So...
When exactly did he start thinking he was smart?
Was it when he was younger, and a teacher casually remarked, "This kid is pretty bright"?
Or was it that, watching Xu Xi shine so brightly, he suddenly deluded himself into thinking he could do it, too?
Shu didn't know when exactly he started harboring those thoughts. At the time, he genuinely believed he just wasn't working hard enough.
He gathered his certificates and tucked them into a small, inconspicuous corner of a drawer. The drawer wasn't exactly small, but the remaining space was awkwardly cramped.
He was almost out of room to store all the discarded certificates and trophies he had salvaged from his sister. He'd probably have to find a new spot...
Or tell Xu Xi to stop throwing them away...
Shu suddenly looked up at the wall plastered with certificates, at the bookshelf lined with trophies.
Just today, their mother had swapped out a batch of old certificates and trophies. It was as natural and abundant as swapping out seasonal decorations.
That was a level he could probably never reach, no matter what he did...
He couldn't catch up. He really couldn't catch up.
He was just an ordinary person.
And she was a genius.
To put it nicely, they lived in two completely different worlds.
To put it harshly...
He should be praying that she even considered him human.
The young Shu sat quietly at his desk, slowly sliding the drawer shut with a trembling hand.
And then... his expression twisted.
Anger, jealousy, resentment... Every shred of targeted malice and negative emotion bared itself entirely on that youthful face, tearing his visage apart and swallowing his eyes.
"Why..."
Perhaps it was all just an illusion of the bystander. Perhaps Shu hadn't actually displayed those emotions on his face at all. But his agony was palpably leaking out, materializing into wisps of black smoke that warped the surrounding world.
He kept his head bowed. In the gradually darkening room, his shoulders trembled as his hands clenched into fists, as if he were about to unleash all this emotion into physical force the very next second.
"Why..."
The word was squeezed through gritted teeth—hoarse and shattered.
"Why can she do it..."
"Why can't I..."
"What makes her so special..."
It sounded like the most venomous curse from a demon, or a blasphemous prayer delivered by a grandiose angel. The speaker was being ripped apart by his own emotions, creating a violent contrast within himself.
His body began to sink.
Sometime during this internal collapse, a pool of black mire had materialized beneath his feet. It was thick, dark, and deadly silent, like coagulated asphalt, yet as ravenous as the maw of the abyss.
The mire silently churned, inch by inch swallowing the boy's calves, his knees, his waist.
He didn't struggle. Or rather, he did struggle, but his struggles were just as frail and pathetic as he was.
The mire seemed alive. It wrapped around him, pulling at him, dragging him down.
"What makes her so special..."
He was still muttering.
His voice grew lower and hoarser, sounding as if it were coming from a very, very deep place.
"Why can she do everything..."
"Why am I still not good enough, even when I try so hard..."
"Why do I have to be her shadow..."
"Why—"
His eyes suddenly snapped up.
Those eyes were filled with hate. The most vicious, purest hatred imaginable.
Hatred for himself.
Hatred for fate.
Hatred for this world.
And hatred for—
That radiant, blinding sun.
The mire had already reached his chest.
And he simply stared at a certain point in the empty void with those hate-filled eyes.
"If only..."
"If only she wasn't here..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
The mire washed over his shoulders, his neck, his chin.
It was about to swallow his mouth, his nose, his eyes.