57: Let the experts handle the task of setting exam questions.

The night view of SOHO Future City was excellent.

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, one could overlook the lights of half of Jiangcheng.

The cursor on Lin Que's computer screen blinked in the chat box.

The sender was Jiang Min, but the tone was clearly that of Chairman Gu.

【Teacher Jian Shen, regarding the topic for the finals, the Chairman would like to hear your opinion.

After all, it’s the “Jieyou Cup,” so you need to oversee the core of the topic.

Currently, the expert group has proposed three directions: 1. Responsibility; 2. Personal Growth; 3. Inheritance and Innovation.

Which do you think is suitable? Or do you have better ideas?】

Lin Que looked at these three topics and almost choked on the sip of cola he had just taken.

Responsibility? Inheritance and Innovation?

What era was this? Were they still playing with the style of “Reader” from twenty years ago?

If he had to write about these, he would fall asleep right there in the examination hall.

He put down the cola and his fingers flew across the keyboard.

【Secretary Jiang, the topic is an Introduction (introduction), not a frame (restriction).】

【These three topics are safe, but a bit lacking in inspiration.】

【It’s easy for the children to write them into mere chronicles or empty slogans.】

The reply came back very quickly:

【Then, according to Teacher’s brilliant insight?】

【The Chairman said that as long as you set the topic, even if it’s an unconventional one, we’d dare to use it.】

Lin Que pouted.

Old fox, he wants to push the blame onto me.

If the topic was too unconventional, and all the students in the province cried out in misery, then “Jian Shen” would be the one getting cursed.

Besides, I still have to go to the examination hall and write it myself. Why would I set a difficult topic for myself?

Am I sick?

He deleted the phrase “ten forms of loneliness” that he had just typed,

and changed his tone.

【The matter of setting a topic concerns all students in the province, and the responsibility is immense.】

【I have long resided in my study and am unfamiliar with worldly affairs, so I fear that the topics I set might be detached from the children's actual lives.】

【The experts from the Education Department are experienced; it would be better for them to make the decision.】

【I am only responsible for waiting at the finish line; as for which path the children take to get there, that is the wisdom of the topic setter.】

Click send.

Kicking the ball back, and doing it with style.

Less than a minute later, Jiang Min replied:

【I have learned much.】

【The Chairman said, since the teacher trusts us, we will boldly make the decision.】

【At that time, we will ask the teacher to oversee “at the finish line.”】

Done.

Lin Que closed his computer and stretched.

No matter what topic they came up with, as long as it wasn't something like “My District Chief Father,”

he could always steer it towards the style of The Miracles of the Namiya General Store.

After all,

the right of interpretation was in his hands... The night passed without a word.

The bustling campus life always managed to accurately pull people back down to earth from the clouds.

Tuesday, during the long break.

The playground of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School was bustling with people,

and the music for the broadcast gymnastics made one's head throb.

Lin Que hid in the shadow of the stands,

just as he was about to fall asleep, Wu Di's big face blocked his view.

“Brother Que, have you heard?”

Wu Di leaned over mysteriously, holding half a bag of Weilong Latiao in his hand.

“Zhao Zichen from Senior Year Three said he's definitely taking the Jieyou Cup this time.”

Lin Que pulled his school uniform jacket over his head:

“Oh. Then he's quite impressive.”

“Don't just ‘oh’! That kid is really arrogant!”

Wu Di said indignantly.

“He said your last essay, ‘reply letter,’ was opportunistic, playing on sympathy. This final is a live composition, competing on pure strength, and your unconventional approach will definitely be exposed.”

Lin Que rolled his eyes in the darkness.

Why was it that these days, there were always people trying to teach him how to write essays?

“Let him take it, let him take it.”

Lin Que's muffled voice came out.

“It'd be best if he also took that college entrance exam bonus points, saving me a trip to Jinling.”

“No way!”

Wu Di got anxious.

“If you lose, where will the face of our Class Three be? I've already bragged that you're Teacher Jian Shen's closed-door disciple, even if I self-proclaimed it.”

Just as he was speaking, the music on the broadcast stopped.

The Dean of Students' extremely penetrating loud voice rang out:

“Lin Que and Zhang Ya from Senior Two Class Three, Zhao Zichen from Senior Three Class One,

please report to the Chinese Language Group office immediately after hearing this broadcast!”

Lin Que sighed and lifted his school uniform.

The peaceful long break was just gone.

What was meant to come, came... In the Chinese Language Group office, the atmosphere was somewhat subtle.

Dean of Students Fei Yuncheng sat in the center, with three thick stacks of documents in front of him.

Zhang Ya stood on the left, head bowed,

clutching a small notebook, ready to take notes at any moment.

On the right stood a boy wearing black-rimmed glasses, his school uniform buttoned all the way up to the top.

This must be the Zhao Zichen Wu Di was talking about.

Seeing Lin Que swagger in, Zhao Zichen pushed up his glasses,

his gaze lingering for a second on Lin Que's unzipped zipper,

then moving away, his eyes carrying the unique arrogance of a top student.

“Everyone's here.”

Fei Yuncheng tapped the table.

“There are three days left until Saturday's finals. I called you here today for a pre-competition special training!”

He pointed to the documents on the table.

“These are the first-prize model essays from the provincial essay competition over the past five years that I've compiled, and... Teacher Shen, you speak.”

He gave Teacher Shen Qingqiu a look.

Teacher Shen Qingqiu nodded, picked up a stack of A4 papers from the table, and walked over.

“This is my overnight compilation of the core ideological framework and narrative technique analysis of The Miracles of the Namiya General Store.”

She distributed the materials to the three of them.

“What you need to do these days is not to memorize the sentences by rote,

but to understand how Teacher Jian Shen constructs warmth,

the subtle compassion and unspoken hope in his words,

that is what is most worth learning.

You must make it your own.”

Lin Que looked at the stack of “secret manuals” thicker than a Chinese textbook, and his mouth twitched.

Teacher, are you teaching me... how to imitate myself?

This feeling was like Bill Gates going for a Microsoft interview,

and the interviewer handing him a copy of “Master Windows in Three Days,”

and telling him to take it home and study it well.

“Teacher, actually, I think...”

Lin Que tried to struggle a bit.

“Writing is about genuine emotion; too much deliberate imitation would be inferior. Teacher Jian Shen surely hopes to see different fireworks, right?”

“Less nonsense!”

Teacher Shen Qingqiu glared at him.

“I won't emphasize the importance of this competition.”

Teacher Shen Qingqiu's gaze swept over the three again.

“Zhao Zichen, your argumentative essay structure is rigorous and logical, which is an advantage, but it can easily appear dry. Spend these few days reading more lyrical articles to polish your writing.”

“Okay, Teacher.”

Zhao Zichen nodded, his voice clear.

“I've already memorized half of ‘collection of ancient prose’ and plan to quote from it in my essay.”

Teacher Shen Qingqiu paused, looked as if she wanted to speak, but finally just nodded.

“Zhang Ya.”

Teacher Shen Qingqiu looked at the girl who had been keeping her head down.

“Your writing style is very delicate, but sometimes the scope doesn't open up. Don't always focus on trivial affections; pay more attention to social realities.”

Zhang Ya bit her lip:

“Understood.”

Finally, Teacher Shen Qingqiu looked at Lin Que.

Lin Que was staring blankly at “Erudition and Diligence” on the wall.

“Lin Que.”

“Here.”

Lin Que instinctively stood at attention.

Teacher Shen Qingqiu was amused by his appearance:

“Although your last essay received a high score, it was an unconventional approach. The judges for the finals are provincial experts, and even... Teacher Jian Shen himself.”

When the words “Jian Shen” were mentioned,

Zhao Zichen's eyes clearly lit up, and he straightened his back even more.

“So.”

Teacher Shen Qingqiu said earnestly.

“This time, you need to be more steady. Don't always have people dying, and don't always talk about the next life. You need to write about that warm, upward-moving power, understand?”

Lin Que nodded vigorously:

“Understood, understood. I will definitely make the judges feel a spring-like warmth.”

“Alright, take the materials back and read them. Come to me every evening self-study session, and I'll grade your practice writings.”

The three of them walked out, holding their materials.

As soon as they exited the office, Zhao Zichen stopped.

He turned around and looked at Lin Que, tightly clutching the “Jieyou” quotes book in his hand.

“Lin Que.”

Zhao Zichen lifted his chin.

“I've read your ‘reply letter.’ The technique is good, but that's sentimentalism, not literature.”

Lin Que looked at the senior who was half a head shorter than himself and found it a bit amusing.

“So?”

“So, in this final, I will show you what true orthodox literature is.”

After Zhao Zichen finished speaking, he walked away with his materials, head held high.

Lin Que stood still, scratching his head.

Orthodox literature?

He turned to look at Zhang Ya beside him:

“Is he always this chuunibyou?”

Zhang Ya didn't echo him as usual.

She looked at Zhao Zichen's retreating figure, then at Lin Que, her expression somewhat complex.

“Although he's arrogant, his fundamentals are very solid.”

Zhang Ya said in a low voice, her tone less sharp.

“Lin Que, although I don't like your style... that last essay was indeed... better than mine.”

After speaking, she didn't wait for Lin Que's reaction and quickly left with her materials.

Lin Que raised an eyebrow.

Did the sun rise from the west today? Zhang Ya actually admitted he was better than her?

Watching the disappearing figure, his gaze shifted to the “secret tome” given by Teacher Shen.

He casually flipped it open.

【Chapter One: The underlying logic of Jian Shen's gentleness—not giving, but awakening.】

【Case Study: Why do Grandpa Namiya's reply letters never preach?】

...Looking at the dense annotations and red lines,

Lin Que closed the book and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

“If I don't do well on this, I'll be letting down Teacher Shen's red ink.”

...