65: Zero points and full marks

Initially, when Yan Zheng saw the title, his first reaction was revulsion.

What kind of title is this?

Sensationalist! Escapist!

In a competition like the Jieyou Cup, which promotes positive energy,

writing such a topic was simply courting disaster.

He had even prepared to give this essay a low score and toss it into the waste bin.

However, after he patiently read the first paragraph,

that urge to condemn it to death was forcibly pulled back by an inexplicable power.

The writing was crude.

There were no elaborate parallelisms, no classical allusions, and even very few idioms.

The vagrant named Old Crow came alive under the pen of this examinee.

Yan Zheng could almost smell the nauseating, sour stench on Old Crow,

could see those murky, greedy eyes,

and could hear that malicious phrase, “Are you going to die? That’s great.”

This level of writing skill was terrifying.

It wasn’t writing an essay; it was creating a realm.

Yan Zheng had originally approached it with a critical and judgmental eye,

but as he read, a layer of cold sweat actually seeped from his back.

The despair and anger of the bankrupt middle-aged man when his briefcase was snatched.

The shock and hatred of the heartbroken girl when she was insulted.

The indignation and outburst of the failed student when he was mocked... all these emotions,

were brutally dissected by this examinee in an almost cruel manner,

laid bare to be exposed to the sun.

How was this an essay? This was clearly a knife!

Yan Zheng read it once.

Not enough.

He read it a second time.

This time, he read very slowly, savoring every word.

When he reached the end, where the moldy tin box was opened to reveal only newspaper clippings and a ledger,

Yan Zheng’s finger, turning the page, froze in mid-air, his fingertip unconsciously caressing the rough handwriting.

“He is the ugliest fiend in this world, and also the sole guardian by this river.”

Reading this sentence, Yan Zheng’s hand trembled.

He suddenly looked up and let out a long, turbid breath.

Only then did he realize that, unknowingly, twenty minutes had passed.

In the entire grading hall, he was the only one,

staring blankly at an exam paper for a full twenty minutes.

“Old Yan?”

The teacher next to him was startled by his reaction.

“Are you alright? Why is your face so pale? Is this paper... written that badly?”

Yan Zheng took off his glasses, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“No.”

Yan Zheng’s voice was a little hoarse.

“Not bad.

On the contrary, these are the most powerful words I’ve seen in my thirty years of teaching.”

“Then why do you look like that?”

The teacher next to him was puzzled.

“If it’s good, then give it a high score! Our group hasn’t had a perfect score essay yet, this is perfect to show off to the team leader.”

“Full marks?”

Yan Zheng gave a wry smile and put his glasses back on.

He looked at the shocking title on the exam paper — “the person waiting to die”.

His gaze moved back and forth between the “high score” and “low score” ranges,

his eyes filled with unprecedented struggle.

From a literary perspective, even a perfect score would be too little for this essay.

This insight into human nature,

this profound concept of blooming in extreme darkness, was simply the work of a genius.

However... this was an examination hall.

This was the provincial middle school essay competition.

This was to select works that represented the spiritual outlook of the province’s youth.

A protagonist who used robbery, insults, and even induced crime as means,

even if his original intention was to save people, even if he was eventually whitewashed into a “saint,”

Finally, his gaze hardened again,

resuming the appearance of the “Iron-Faced Judge.”

“There is talent, even monstrous talent.”

Yan Zheng muttered to himself, as if trying to convince himself,

and also as if passing judgment on the examinee he had never met.

“But, the path is crooked.”

“Literature can expose darkness, but it cannot do good through evil.

If this value system is not corrected, it will become a major problem in the future.”

After speaking, he took a deep breath and gripped the red pen in his hand.

Without any hesitation, he heavily wrote a number in the score box of the exam paper.

The crimson ink soaked through the paper, like an unhealing wound.

Not 59 points.

Not a passing score.

But a huge, glaring, irreversible—

0... Jinling International Conference Center.

Lin Que had just finished showering, his hair damp and falling over his forehead.

He wore the white bathrobe provided by the hotel,

holding a can of iced cola, sitting cross-legged on the sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.

He was alone in the room.

Zhao Zichen had been called by Shen Qingqiu to review today’s exam, which gave him rare alone time.

The laptop screen on the coffee table was lit,

displaying an encrypted chat interface.

【Jiang Min: Teacher Jian Shen, are you there?】

The message was sent ten minutes ago.

Lin Que slowly pulled the tab.

With a “hiss,” bubbles surged.

He took a sip and typed on the keyboard with one hand.

【Jian Shen: Just brainstorming plots for a new book. Secretary Jiang, is something wrong?】

The other side replied almost instantly.

【Jiang Min: Teacher Jian Shen, the preliminary review has concluded. The grading team was very efficient, screening out 80% of the papers in the first round. The remaining few hundred papers are now undergoing a second round of cross-grading.】

【Jiang Min: Teacher Jian Shen, there’s an interesting phenomenon. Among this year’s examinees, many imitated your style,】

【but most of them failed to draw the tiger and ended up drawing a dog instead.】

【Jian Shen: Normal. Suffering, if lacking the support of experience, appears overly sentimental.】

【Jiang Min: In addition, there is currently one work with significant controversy. The Chairman specifically instructed that we need you to set the tone.】

【Jian Shen: Oh? You can send it over.】

【Jiang Min: Okay, Teacher Jian Shen, please wait.】

Immediately after, a PDF file was sent.

【Jiang Min: Teacher Jian Shen, this is the essay. The grading teacher gave it zero points, but the review team leader believes it has the potential for full marks.】

Lin Que raised an eyebrow.

Zero points?

When he finished writing “the person waiting to die” in the exam, he anticipated controversy.

After all, that dark healing style,

for traditional educators accustomed to righteousness, was indeed like swallowing mustard.

But he didn’t expect the reaction to be so strong.

Zero points and full marks.

This was the first time anyone had such extreme, polarized evaluations of his writing.

【Jian Shen: Oh? Such a thing? Wasn’t the topic “Waiting”? Can this topic also be written so brilliantly?】

【Jiang Min: Yes. The Chairman was also greatly shocked after reading it, saying that this child found a unique approach. But the writing is mature, and the concept... is very “Jian Shen.”】

Lin Que let out a muffled chuckle, almost choking on the bubbles.

Very “Jian Shen”?

This evaluation, he didn’t know if it was praising him or insulting him.

Lin Que clicked open the file.

On the screen was his own familiar, messy handwriting.

Below the title “the person waiting to die,”

the crimson “0” stood out glaringly,

with a large question mark next to it.

Seeing his own exam paper appear on his own computer, and having to grade it himself.

This feeling... it was like a judge presiding over a case,

only to find the defendant was himself, drunk from last night.

Lin Que put down the cola,

interlaced his fingers, and stretched his wrists.

Give it full marks? Too narcissistic.

Give it a passing grade? Unworthy of the essay’s quality.

Since that grading teacher thought it was a “0,”

then he, as “Jian Shen,”

would show these old-fashioned people what it meant to fight poison with poison.

He typed a line of text into the chat box.

【Jian Shen: I’ve read the essay.】

【Jiang Min: What do you think, Teacher?】

Lin Que’s lips curved into a slit, the sound of his typing particularly crisp in the quiet room.

【Jian Shen: The teacher who gave it zero points is a responsible and good teacher. He gave zero points out of fear. He saw the abyss, so he wanted to cover the child’s eyes.】

【Jiang Min: So... Teacher Jian Shen, you also think it should be given ‘0’ points?】

【Jian Shen: No.】

Lin Que paused, then continued typing.

【Jian Shen: The meaning of literature is to gaze into the abyss, not to gloss over peace.】

【Jian Shen: A knife is a weapon, but also a tool to save lives. There is no essential difference between a surgeon’s scalpel and a butcher’s knife. The difference lies in the heart of the person wielding the knife.】

【Jian Shen: This essay isn’t about evil; it’s about compassion. A compassion that had to don the guise of a fiend. In this lukewarm era, we need such words that dare to tear open wounds.】

【Jian Shen: If I absolutely had to grade it...】

Lin Que paused for two seconds, then typed out his final verdict.

【Jian Shen: I would give it full marks. Plus a one-sentence comment: Gods do not cross the suffering of mortals, yet fiends walk among them.】

...