The University Dream

The midsummer wind, carrying the chirping of cicadas, blew into the hotel private room, throbbing against my temples. Today was Nancy Shawn's admission banquet. She was a student my father, Professor Scott, had sponsored for three years, and it was said she had been admitted to the Mathematics major at Riverland University. Father sat in the honored seat, wearing a gentle smile I hadn't seen in ages. He kept picking up food for Nancy, and even his gaze toward Nancy's mother held a touch of sympathy. I sat in the corner, holding a glass of boiled water, but my fingertips felt cold. During the banquet, someone praised Father, saying he was not only knowledgeable but also kind-hearted to have nurtured such an excellent student. Nancy hung her head, pretending to be shy, and said, "It's all thanks to Professor Scott. Otherwise, I definitely wouldn't have gotten in." Those words stung like a needle. I stood up under the pretense of going to the restroom and stopped Jim, Father's teaching assistant, in the corridor. Jim had worked with Father for years and was an honest man. After I pressed him a few times, he sighed and told me the truth. Nancy's college entrance exam score was a full nine points below Riverland University's cutoff for the Mathematics major. It was Father who pulled strings with several old classmates at Riverland University to get her into the program. Nine points. My mind went blank, and all I could hear was my heavy breathing. Three years ago, after my college entrance exams, I missed Riverland University's admission cutoff by just one point. I knelt before Father, crying and begging him for help—even if it meant getting into an ordinary major. But he had frowned and refused coldly, saying education should be fair, that I shouldn't take shortcuts, and that I should accept reality. Fairness? I looked at the brightly lit private room, at Father's meticulous care for Nancy, and felt an overwhelming surge of anger and grievance threatening to consume me. I turned and rushed back to the room, my steps feeling as if I were treading on cotton one moment and sharp blades the next. Before anyone could react, I reached out and flipped over the table in front of me. The sound of breaking bowls and plates was ear-splitting. Soup and dishes splattered across the table—and onto Nancy's white dress. The room fell instantly silent. Everyone stared at me in shock. Father's face darkened immediately, and he shouted sharply: "Wendy Scott! Have you lost your mind?" I looked at him, my eyes red, my voice hoarse but every word clear: "Lost my mind? Dad, tell me—what is fairness?" I pointed at Nancy, my voice trembling uncontrollably: "She was nine points short, and you pulled strings to get her into Riverland University's Mathematics major." "I was one point short, and I begged you for help. But you said education fairness is important and told me to accept reality." "Yale Scott, this isn't fairness—this is double standards! Do you even treat me as your daughter?" Nancy turned pale with fright, hid behind her mother, and began sobbing softly. Mother hurried to my side, grabbed my arm, and said with dissatisfaction and urgency: "Wendy, stop talking nonsense! Apologize to Nancy right now!" "Apologize?" I pulled my hand away, staring at her in disbelief. "Why should I apologize? It's you who should apologize!" "Nancy's family is in a difficult situation. It wasn't easy for her to get into Riverland University. Your father helped her out of kindness. It's for the sake of her future." Mother frowned, her tone full of sympathy for Nancy. "What about my future?" I looked at Mother, my heart feeling as if it were being tightly squeezed, the pain almost unbearable. "My regrets back then, my dream of attending Riverland University—were they worth nothing to you?" Father stood up, walked over to me, and his eyes were cold: "Wendy, you're spoiled rotten. You must apologize to Nancy for this, or you won't be allowed to leave this door." Spoiled? I laughed, tears streaming down my face. From childhood to adulthood, they had been busy with work, busy sponsoring Nancy, busy caring for other people's children—when had they ever truly spoiled me?