157: Old Shen smiled, his fate uncertain.

Friday.

The wind was somewhat dry, swirling the dust from the playground and slapping it against the glass.

Although the official rankings for "Fu Zhi Yao Competition" hadn't been posted yet,

that undercurrent had already traveled along the phone lines,

silently exploding within the teaching and research groups of major high schools.

It was said that the grading team over at Fudan University had been put through the wringer by a strange essay this time.

Of course, these matters were too far removed from Jiang City.

At this moment, in grade 11, class 3, it was the final period—the class meeting.

Usually at this time, everyone would have already been packing their bags in their desks, preparing to welcome the wonderful weekend,

but today, the classroom was eerily quiet.

Zhang Ya sat in the front row,

clicking her ballpoint pen "click-clack, click-clack," nearly wearing out the spring.

She looked up at the door from time to time.

Li Bowen, beside her, wasn't doing any better.

He was holding "Introduction to Quantum Mechanics," but ten minutes had passed and he was still on page eighteen.

A layer of fine sweat covered his thick lenses; he took them off to wipe them, put them back on, and then took them off to wipe them again.

At this age, a sense of collective honor could sometimes feel bigger than the sky.

Even though only three people from the class were competing, this reputation belonged to the whole class.

If two people from Class 2 next door passed, while only one from Class 3 did,

they wouldn't be able to hold their heads up in the hallway anymore.

In the back corner.

Wu Di sprawled across his desk, his chubby face squeezed out of shape as he muttered incessantly into Lin Que's ear.

"Brother Que... I'm so nervous.

I just went to the bathroom and heard those guys from Class 2 bragging, saying the topic 'Happy Occasion' was basically a freebie, and they could write something brilliant with their eyes closed.

If you carry me to victory, I'll cover your breakfast from now on—the kind with two extra eggs."

Lin Que's head throbbed from the nagging; he slapped the pen he'd been spinning onto the desk.

"You'll cover my breakfast? Are you trying to stuff me to death so you can inherit my Huabei debt?"

Wu Di looked serious:

"I don't need the Huabei, just give me your Honor of Kings account."

Just as Lin Que was about to kick him,

a series of crisp, rhythmic sounds echoed from the hallway.

"Clack, clack, clack."

It was the sound of high heels on the marble floor.

The entire class turned their heads in unison, a movement so synchronized it rivaled a military parade.

The classroom door was pushed open.

Shen Qingqiu walked in.

She wasn't wearing her usual stern professional attire today;

instead, she had changed into a lotus-root colored knit sweater, which made her look much softer.

Most importantly, she was holding a yellowish-brown kraft paper envelope.

The envelope was still sealed.

But on Shen Qingqiu's face was an unfathomable... smile?

"It's over."

Wu Di wailed, burying his head in his arms.

"When Old Shen smiles, life and death are unpredictable.

The last time she smiled like that, our class average dropped twenty points."

Shen Qingqiu walked up to the podium and gently placed the envelope on the desk.

There was no long speech like after previous exams, nor was there a lecture on discipline.

She leaned her hands on the podium, her gaze slowly sweeping over the class,

finally pausing for a moment on the seats of Lin Que and the other two.

"I have received the notice just issued by the provincial organizing committee."

Shen Qingqiu's voice was a bit airy, but to Zhang Ya's ears, it sounded like a sentence being passed.

"For this preliminary round of 'Fu Zhi Yao Competition,' across the thirteen prefecture-level cities of Su Province, there were over forty thousand participants in total."

"The average advancement rate..."

Shen Qingqiu paused and held up two fingers.

"Is less than 20%."

"Hiss—"

A collective sharp intake of breath echoed through the classroom.

20%?

This wasn't a competition; it was a battle royale! Four out of five people were going to be cut?

Didn't they say the topic was 'Happy Occasion' and that it was very simple?

Looking at the pairs of shocked eyes below the stage,

the smile on Shen Qingqiu's face faded slightly, replaced by a touch of coldness.

"Do you find it unbelievable? Did you all hear that the topic was very simple?"

She picked up a piece of chalk and casually wrote the two large characters for 'Happy Occasion' on the blackboard,

then drew a heavy 'X' over them.

"Many students came out of the exam saying this topic was a gift.

They wrote about the braised pork their mothers made, the hugs of a long-awaited reunion, the tears of recovering from an illness..."

"Indeed, these are all happy occasions.

But you forgot, this is 'Fu Zhi Yao Competition',"

it's an arena for selecting the top literary talents in the province and even the country, not a primary school diary selection contest!"

Shen Qingqiu threw the chalk stub back into the box and brushed the dust off her hands.

"The simpler the topic, the deeper the trap.

When everyone is praising beauty in the same monotonous way and forcing sentimentality, the graders are already tired of seeing it.

This is a typical 'survivor bias' trap.

Only a madman would run headlong into a wall, and no fool would waste an opportunity on a mundane account."

"Most of the thirty-thousand-plus people who were cut this time died because of the word 'mediocrity'."

Zhang Ya's face turned pale instantly.

She had written a modern version of a wedding night; although she had piled on the flowery language,

the core was still centered on that small, personal happiness of romance.

Was this... the mediocrity Teacher Shen spoke of?

Li Bowen was even more restless, feeling as if there were nails on his seat.

He had written about rain after a long drought, combining cloud seeding and scientific breakthroughs;

although the concept was elevated, would it be too dry?

The atmospheric pressure in the classroom dropped to its lowest point.

No one dared to speak, for fear that a single word would shatter the psychological defenses of the three contestants.

Seeing that the tension was just right, Shen Qingqiu finally picked up the envelope unhurriedly.

"Riiip—"

The sound of the seal being torn open was exceptionally piercing in the quiet classroom.

She pulled a thin sheet of printed paper from inside.

"However..."

Shen Qingqiu changed her tone,

the softness in her eyes returning, even deeper than before.

"It's worth celebrating that all three students from our class who signed up have passed the preliminary round."

"Boom!"

The classroom instantly erupted.

"Awesome! Everyone passed!"

"I knew our class was blessed by the God of Literature!"

"That was a 20% advancement rate, but we got one hundred percent!"

Zhang Ya suddenly covered her mouth, tears falling instantly.

That feeling of weightlessness from being pulled directly from hell to heaven made her whole body shake.

Li Bowen let out a long breath,

his whole body seemingly losing its spine as he slumped into his chair.

"Quiet."

Shen Qingqiu tapped on the desk, a smile playing on her lips.

"I will read the specific ratings and comments. You should have a clear idea of where you stand; the semi-finals won't be this lucky."

"Zhang Ya."

Zhang Ya stood up immediately, her legs still weak.

"Rating: B-."

Shen Qingqiu read: "Comment: Delicate and gorgeous writing style, sincere and moving emotions.

Although the concept is somewhat conventional and lacks eye-catching innovation, it excels with solid basic skills and complete narration.

A standout among similar themes. Advanced."

"Thank you, Teacher! Thank you, Teacher!"

Zhang Ya bowed while wiping away her tears.

B-!

Although it wasn't the best, given that elimination rate, it was already the greatest affirmation for her.

"Li Bowen."

Li Bowen stood up by holding the corner of the desk, his hand shaking as he pushed up his glasses.

"Rating: B."

Shen Qingqiu glanced at him, her eyes filled with approval:

"Comment: Unique entry point, rigorous logic.

Able to step beyond the joy of personal matters to write of national joy through the joy of research,

with no lack of warmth within the rationality—a rare rational work.

Advanced."

"Yeah!"

A boy in the back row whistled.

"Bowen is still steady! From now on, your name should be Bo-Steady!"

The entire class burst into laughter.

A smile finally appeared on Li Bowen's face, though it looked a bit goofy.

The two passing slips had been read.

The originally heated atmosphere in the classroom suddenly became subtly quiet.

All eyes, as if drawn by gravity, began to converge on the back corner.

Lin Que was sitting there.

He was still spinning that black gel pen in his hand, and hadn't even changed his posture,

leaning lazily against the wall as if this class meeting had absolutely nothing to do with him.

Everyone remembered.

On the day the exam ended, Zhao Zichen, Li Bowen, and the others had all asked what Lin Que had written.

He said it was "success in the imperial examination."

If it were before, everyone would have definitely felt Lin Que was safe.

But Teacher Shen had just said,

"The simpler the topic, the deeper the trap."

"No fool would waste an opportunity on a mundane account."

success in the imperial examination—this was the king of "clichés"!

If not written well, it would be the most typical mundane account,

a "mediocre work" that a grader would throw into the trash after one glance.

Just now, Zhang Ya and Li Bowen got a B- and a B respectively;

they had either avoided the minefield or danced upon it.

What about Lin Que?

Wu Di stopped muttering; he nervously grabbed Lin Que's sleeve, his palm full of sweat.

"Brother Que... your 'success in the imperial examination' shouldn't... be written too clichéd, right?"

Lin Que didn't speak, he just pulled his sleeve out of Wu Di's hand.

On the podium.

Shen Qingqiu held the final slip in her hand.

She didn't read it out directly like the previous two times.

She lowered her head, looking at those few words on the paper,

and even that special mark in the grade column that seemed so out of place.

One second.

Two seconds.

Five seconds.

A full ten seconds passed.

Shen Qingqiu just stood there without saying a word.

This silence was like an invisible giant hand, choking the throats of everyone in the class.

"It's over, it's over, there's definitely a problem."

"Could it be a barely passing grade? A C-?"

"Even a C- is a pass, it's better than failing."

Just as the whispering began, Shen Qingqiu suddenly looked up.

She took a deep breath, and those eyes that were usually filled with scrutiny

were now terrifyingly bright, staring straight at the boy in the back row who was still spinning his pen.

"Next."

Shen Qingqiu's voice was a bit hoarse, as if suppressing some massive emotion.

"Lin Que!"

...