Switched Life:I Went Viral on a Family Variety Show-Chapter 46: Really? I Don’t Believe It

Sang Ning slowly got up: "Alright, since that’s the case, then come with me."

Sang Chuan was confused, but he felt an oppressive aura from Sang Ning’s cold gaze.

"You... what are you trying to do?"

His voice unconsciously softened.

"You said you’d rather jump off a cliff than study, right? Then jump now and show me. If you’re brave enough to jump, I’ll respect you as a man." Sang Ning lowered her eyes indifferently, her tone casual but decidedly not joking.

Sang Chuan swallowed hard, hesitating.

Maybe... let’s forget it. He was afraid of heights.

Seeing Sang Chuan’s silence, Sang Ning spoke just in time: "In that case, I’ll assume you’re giving up on the cliff-jumping and choosing to study."

"Studying isn’t impossible, but let me make this clear upfront: my brain simply doesn’t work that way. If you end up dying of frustration, that’s not on me." Sang Chuan stubbornly retorted, trying to regain some dignity.

Sang Ning sat back down in her chair, picked up a pen, and wrote a word on a blank sheet of paper before holding it up in front of Sang Chuan, asking, "Do you know what this word means?"

Sang Chuan stared at it, pronouncing it letter by letter: "a-b-a-n-d-o-n—"

After finishing, he looked up at Sang Ning cluelessly and shook his head, "No idea."

Sang Ning glanced at Sang Chuan with disdain, her red lips parting lightly: "Abandon—it means ’to give up.’

[Sang Ning’s pronunciation of the word is so beautiful, it’s almost making my ears pregnant.]

[What’s the point of sounding beautiful? She’s still a thief. If there’s no explanation about the test question incident, I’ll blacklist Sang Ning for life, and boycott Zijin Research Institute along with her.]

Sang Chuan blinked his eyes, grinning ingratiatingly: "So, Sis, are you telling me to give up?"

"No." Sang Ning shook her head slightly. "I’m telling you to copy it two thousand times. If you can’t remember it after copying it two thousand times, I’ll admit your intelligence is indeed problematic and will never force you to study again."

Sang Ning handed the pen to Sang Chuan and casually said two words: "Write it."

Sang Chuan took the pen, cheeks puffed out, and grumbled defiantly: "Fine, I’ll write it. But remember, you said it—don’t pressure me afterwards."

Next, Sang Ning had Sang Chuan copy the word by himself in a corner, while she started a one-on-one session tutoring Song Shiye on English vocabulary and grammar.

[Sang Ning’s teaching methods are truly unique—one explanation is enough for anyone to understand.]

[I often confuse the usage of ’before’ and ’until,’ but after Sang Ning’s explanation, I suddenly got it.]

[English is absolutely my least favorite subject, bar none. I usually score twenty or thirty points at most. If English didn’t drag me down, my total score could enter the top ten in my grade. But now it’s different—Sang Ning has rekindled my interest in English. I’ve obediently sat down at my desk, following her explanations and taking notes. I hope she does an English tutoring livestream every morning. If she can save my English scores, from now on, she’s my god!]

[Here to check in as a struggling grad student—my English is extremely poor as well. What Sister Sang says is genuinely useful; she’s practically saving my life.]

The livestream screen was gradually inundated with barrage comments tagged #EnglishStudyCheckIn, while online trolls clung to the issue of Sang Ning allegedly stealing the Zijin internal test questions, trying to recruit neutral viewers to their side.

[What can you possibly learn from a thief? Wake up.]

[Everyone, we must boycott Sang Ning. Let’s unite and flood Zijin’s official account with comments—we have to force them to give an explanation.]

[It’s summer break—why bother studying? People who truly love studying would’ve done enough already. Can’t stand you pretentious types.]

The trolls’ extreme remarks quickly provoked the viewers who were earnestly studying along with the livestream.

An instant counteroffensive began, with viewers roasting the trolls so hard they couldn’t handle it. The trolls got scared and withdrew quickly—turns out when scholars seriously insult people, it’s terrifying.

Losing their battleground in Sang Ning’s livestream, the trolls shifted their attack to Zijin’s official account. They refused to believe that having the institute itself step in wouldn’t destroy Sang Ning.

Qian Yang finally arrived at the director’s office, his phone buzzing non-stop. Frustrated by the noise, he forgot to knock and stormed straight in.

"Director, this is bad!"

Tang Yuanmao was fiddling with his celestial model. Startled by the sudden commotion, his hand trembled, causing one of the spheres to fall to the ground and chip its edge.

"My Pluto!" he cried out in anguish.

Qian Yang pressed his hand to his forehead, his mouth and eyes slightly open—a disaster!

The next moment, the elder, wearing thick black-framed glasses and sporting Einstein-like hair, raised his head.

His messy hair and faded, coarse cloth attire—worn from repeated washes—made him look more like a vagrant.

"Qian Yang, why so restless? Does this behavior befit someone involved in academic research?" Tang Yuanmao adjusted his glasses, his voice slow yet firm.

Qian Yang quickly ran up, crouching to pick up the fallen Pluto: "I’m sorry, Director. I promise to fix it for you today."

Tang Yuanmao straightened his back, placed his hands behind him, and slowly walked to his desk to sit down, exuding the authority of a director.

He slightly bent his right knuckle and tapped the desk rhythmically as he spoke: "I hope your reason is worth the commotion."

"Here’s the thing, Director: a celebrity named Sang Ning is currently copying our institute’s intelligence test questions during a livestream.

This material is internal and not meant for public access. I suspect a disreputable student from our institute leaked the questions to this celebrity.

The nature of this issue is extremely severe—we must identify and punish the leaker to set an example!"

Tang Yuanmao listened without a visible reaction, instead countering with a question: "You didn’t participate in this year’s admissions process, correct?"

Qian Yang nodded in confusion.

"Well then, there it is!" Tang Yuanmao’s voice finally showed distinct anger. He knocked his knuckle on the desk again. "That set of test questions is outdated and no longer internal confidential material. We’re planning to switch to a new set next year. This year, we didn’t even require incoming students to sign confidentiality agreements—you didn’t know that, did you?"

Qian Yang was stunned into silence by Tang Yuanmao’s scolding, nodding dumbly with his mouth agape: "Oh."

Tang Yuanmao inhaled deeply, then let out a heavy exhale through his nose, gradually calming his temper. He chastised Qian Yang earnestly: "Qian Yang, academic research requires rigor, and so do all other matters, whether big or small. Today, you should’ve first verified this issue with the admissions office."

Seeing Qian Yang bow his head silently, Tang Yuanmao picked up a nearby cup, tinkling the rim with the lid as his tone softened slightly.

"As for the celebrity copying our test questions—what you described also lacks rigor. Though the figures in our test questions seem simple, the lines are incredibly intricate and nuanced. To date, I’ve only seen one person capable of fully replicating them."