Lucky Golden Dragon in the 80s: My Dad? I Switched Him for a Better One

It wasn’t the scolding that made her cry; it was the rage of losing control.

She had been trying to find an opportunity to humiliate Shanshan since last week, but every attempt was easily thwarted.

Unwilling to give up, the more she failed, the more determined she was to get even. This time, she resorted to directly tampering with the procedure, figuring that even if she failed, she could drag someone down with her.

Lately, Yuan Zhihe’s attempts to cause trouble had been relentless, as if she were wound up like a clock. But each time, Shanshan would casually brush her off.

When she questioned the data source in a group meeting, Shanshan pulled up the original records for everyone to see. When she reported non-standard experimental procedures, Shanshan produced a video of the entire process. Even the rumors she spread in private were immediately refuted by the person involved.

At first, no one paid much mind to these incidents, but they soon became office gossip.

The first few times, people just saw it as a minor incident and paid it no mind.

After a week or two, Yuan Zhihe was still relentlessly at it, and it was starting to get on Shanshan’s nerves.

She hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of it, as the project was her priority, but Yuan Zhihe’s actions were starting to affect their progress and the team’s morale.

If this kept up, people might start to think she was the uncooperative one, which would damage her reputation.

’This woman is like taffy—once she sticks to you, you can’t get her off. It’s so annoying.’

She had tried ignoring her and giving her the cold shoulder. She even confronted her once, telling her to back off.

But Yuan Zhihe didn’t back down. The very next day, she came up with a new way to cause trouble.

This pointless harassment was increasingly getting on her nerves and disrupting her work.

She couldn’t help but complain to her senior.

That afternoon, the two of them sat in a corner of the cafeteria. Shanshan kept her head down, picking at her food, her voice laced with exhaustion.

Her senior listened to the whole story without an immediate response, silently taking note of every detail.

"Hey, didn’t our advisor mention a competition in a few days? I already signed you up. With your skills, placing high should be a piece of cake, right?"

Her senior suddenly spoke, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.

"Another competition?"

Shanshan frowned. "I never get involved in time-wasters like that."

She put down her chopsticks, her expression serious.

Competitions usually meant extra preparation and fielding questions from judges, which she considered a complete waste of time.

"There’s a break right after the competition! You’re not in a rush with your project anyway. By the time you get back from a little trip, this whole mess will be sorted out. Besides, it’s not like Yuan Zhihe can follow you home and keep bothering you, right?"

Her senior smiled and patted her on the shoulder, her eyes full of concern.

Her senior was, without a doubt, the most protective person she had met at the university.

Whether the problem was big or small, her senior would be there for her the moment she heard Shanshan was in trouble.

Sometimes she would help her get out of pointless meetings, other times she would organize complex materials for her. She would even secretly adjust the priority of tasks from their advisor to make sure Shanshan could work without interruption.

’Sometimes, Shanshan suspected her senior was raising her like her own daughter, always trying to shield her from trouble and pave the way for her.’

They were just fellow researchers, but her senior was more attentive than her own family.

She had thought about refusing her help, but she always swallowed the words before they could come out.

Because her senior always said, "You just focus on your research. Leave the rest to me."

As a result, neither could bear to let the other worry, and they only grew closer.

They would stay late in the lab together, each with a cup of coffee, silently working until the early hours of the morning.

They would also sneak off to the food stalls on weekends to satisfy their cravings, then return as if nothing had happened.

They didn’t need many words; a single glance was enough to know what the other was thinking.

In the end, her senior’s persuasion worked, and Shanshan agreed to enter the competition.

’She thought it over. Maybe getting away for a while really was a good idea.’

She could avoid the current conflict and also use the time to reset.

More importantly, she didn’t want to keep her senior worried.

But when she saw the list of participants, she was surprised to find Yuan Zhihe’s name on it.

The day the registration list was posted, she glanced over it and saw that familiar name listed prominently in Group Two.

A flicker of surprise passed through her, but she didn’t dwell on it.

The competition had multiple tracks for different specializations, so it was unlikely they would face each other directly.

Shanshan didn’t give it another thought—until the day of the competition, when Yuan Zhihe had the audacity to try and swap her team’s key experimental data. In her haste, she fumbled and nearly spilled a test tube of corrosive liquid all over her own hand.

It happened during the data handover for the final stage, when everyone was gathered in a common area to calibrate their equipment.

Yuan Zhihe pretended to be helping upload the results, but was actually trying to replace the original parameters.

She rushed, her hand trembled, and the test tube tilted, the liquid inside nearly splashing out.

The area was instantly thrown into chaos.

An alarm blared, security personnel arrived swiftly, and the immediate area was sealed off for emergency handling.

Staff members repeatedly checked the protocol and only restored order after confirming no one had been injured.

The data was ultimately restored after third-party verification, and the operational error was officially recorded.

Although Yuan Zhihe managed to talk her way out of serious trouble, her score still ended up dead last.

Shanshan, on the other hand, had a smooth run and easily won the championship.

From the preliminaries to the finals, she barely faced a worthy opponent, winning every round with an overwhelming advantage.

The judges’ scoring was nearly unanimous, with her marks consistently topping the leaderboard.

The audience members nodded frequently, their murmurs filled with admiration and awe.

Her performance was poised and precise, her movements clean and efficient, with no wasted motion.

The spotlight on stage illuminated her composed expression and determined gaze.

After the award ceremony, during the photo op, Shanshan happened to glance down at the audience and was shocked to see Cao Daqiang sitting there.

He was wearing a brand-new suit, his hair was neatly combed, and he had even made a point to wear a tie.

His seat wasn’t near the front, but he’d chosen a corner with the best line of sight, clearly so he could get a good view of her on stage.

A few people around him were talking to him now and then, and he responded with a smile, seeming unusually animated.

The man even gave her a little wave, a smug grin plastered on his face.

It wasn’t a big wave, but the gesture was deliberate, as if reminding her to notice him.

His lips peeled back to reveal a set of perfect teeth, his eyes glinting with a kind of gloating pride.

His posture wasn’t that of a supportive audience member, but rather someone there to make a declaration.

The smile on her face instantly froze, then vanished completely, replaced by an icy chill.

The corners of her mouth, which had been turned up in victory, flattened into a hard line. Her gaze grew sharp.

Her fingers tightened around the trophy, her knuckles turning white.

She tore her eyes away from him and looked straight ahead, but the sight of him had already poisoned her mood.

Her good mood vanished in an instant.

The joy of her victory felt as though it had been doused with a bucket of ice water, plunging her into a sudden chill.

The applause and cheers around her sounded distant and unreal.

She felt a tightness in her chest, as if something was caught in her throat, suffocating her.

She turned, wanting to leave, but she heard a chorus of fawning, sycophantic voices coming from his direction.

Several people were gathered around Cao Daqiang. One handed him a bottle of water, another offered a tissue, and someone else even took it upon themselves to straighten his cuffs.

A guy in glasses was saying, "Cao, you really have a good eye. You saw Ling Xueshan’s potential from the start."

Someone else chimed in, "Exactly! If you hadn’t supported her back then, she wouldn’t have achieved this today."

Cao Daqiang stood in the middle of the circle, soaking in the endless stream of flattery.