66: See for yourselves.

Purple Gold Villa, third-floor conference room.

Cigarette butts piled up like a small mountain in the ashtrays.

The air was thick with the smell of tea and tar.

Although it was deep into the night, the conference room was still brightly lit.

On both sides of the long conference table sat the core members of the grading committee.

On the left were the “royalists”,

led by Ma Peiyuan, the head of the grading committee and a master teacher from Experimental Middle School.

On the right, there was only one person: Yan Zheng, who had given the zero score.

In the center of the table, that single test paper lay isolated.

The title,

The bright red “0” score was like a bloodshot eye,

staring at everyone present.

“Teacher Yan, let’s stick to the facts.”

Ma Peiyuan tapped his thermos on the table with a little force, and the goji berries in the lid rattled.

“I’ve read this article three times.

The structure, the seasoned writing, and the pervasive compassion that seeps through the paper—

let alone high school students, how many of those in our Writers Association could write something like this?

Isn’t giving it a zero too personal and emotional?”

Yan Zheng sat upright, his knuckles tapping the table:

“Group Leader Ma, I don’t deny the talent.

If this article were submitted to a magazine, I’d wholeheartedly approve.

But this is a middle school essay competition, a benchmark for hundreds of thousands of students across the province!

The protagonist robs, curses, and uses evil deeds as means.

If we give it a perfect score today, tomorrow students will dare to write about murder and arson as acts of redemption.

Once this precedent is set, there will be no bottom line!”

“Teacher Yan, this is a literary character! It’s artistic embellishment!”

A young female teacher next to him couldn't help but interject.

“Kids these days don’t fall for that ‘great, glorious, and correct’ stuff anymore.

The core of this article is redemption, a compassion that uses evil to curb evil.

Isn’t this much more profound than those insipid ‘waiting for flowers to bloom’ narratives?”

“Profound?”

Yan Zheng sneered.

“If the cost of profundity is twisted values, then I’d rather it be shallow.

I stand by what I said: as long as I’m on the grading committee, I will not change this zero score.”

The atmosphere fell into a deathly stalemate.

Just then, the conference room door was pushed open.

A middle-aged man in a white shirt and perfectly pressed trousers walked in.

He was followed by his secretary, who held a document.

“What’s going on here?”

The man scanned the smoke-filled conference room, frowning.

“I heard you arguing from a long way off.

Hasn’t the grading work already wrapped up? What, is there still a tough nut you haven’t cracked?”

Everyone present immediately stood up.

“Director Zhou.”

The newcomer was none other than Deputy Director of the Provincial Department of Education, Zhou Weiguo.

This “Jieyou Cup” was a key project for the province,

and he had specifically come tonight to inspect the final ranking situation.

Old Ma sighed and handed over the test paper:

“Director Zhou, you’ve come at just the right time.

The list of the top twenty is basically set, except for this one.

Teacher Yan gave it a zero, but the review committee believes it has the potential for a perfect score.

Currently, the disagreement is too great, and we can’t finalize the score.”

“Oh?”

Zhou Weiguo raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Zero and a perfect score? Such a huge disparity, how interesting.”

He took the test paper, not rushing to read the content.

He first glanced at the glaring zero, then at Yan Zheng.

“Old Yan, it’s you again.”

Zhou Weiguo smiled, his tone carrying a hint of teasing.

“The nickname ‘Iron-Faced Judge’ isn’t for nothing.

Alright, I want to see what kind of article could make you so angry.”

He pulled out a chair, sat down, and unfolded the test paper.

The conference room instantly fell silent, with only the faint rustle of paper in the air.

Zhou Weiguo read very slowly.

At first, his expression was relaxed,

even carrying a hint of the casualness of a leader inspecting work.

But as his gaze moved downward, his fingers resting on the edge of the table stopped tapping.

That homeless man named Old Crow,

that monster who waited for death under the bridge but also drove death away with malice,

crawled out from the words.

That raw, bloody sense of reality,

made Zhou Weiguo, an old hand who had navigated the officialdom for years,

feel a slight physical discomfort.

This didn't seem like something a high school student would write.

It was more like words carved into concrete by an old veteran who had seen through the harsh realities of life and struggled at the bottom of society for decades.

When he read the concluding sentence, “He is the ugliest evil spirit in this world, and also the sole guardian by the river,”

Zhou Weiguo let out a long breath and pushed the test paper back to the center of the table.

He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“This child has a very sharp pen.”

He tapped the paper.

“This precise control over malice, this extreme tug-of-war with human nature, it’s quite ‘wild’.”

He used a very subtle word

—wild.

It was neither good nor bad,

but rather uncontrolled, carrying a raw, rustic bloodiness.

He looked up at Yan Zheng:

“Old Yan, I understand your concerns.

This article is indeed a double-edged sword; if it’s published, there will definitely be controversy.

Our Department of Education might even be complained about by parents, saying we promote negative energy.”

Yan Zheng nodded, his expression softening slightly:

“Director Zhou is wise.”

“But—”

Zhou Weiguo changed the subject, tapping the test paper with his finger.

“If we stifle such talent because we fear controversy,

then what was the original intention of us hosting this ‘Jieyou Cup’?

Isn’t it precisely to break conventions and seek out true literary seedlings?”

He looked at everyone, posing a difficult question.

“The problem now is that this article is like a piece of jade with thorns.

It’s a pity to throw it away.

But it pricks your hand if you keep it.

We, who are involved in education, can’t even dare to judge a child’s article, can we?”

The conference room fell silent once more.

This was indeed a hot potato.

No one dared to make a decision lightly, as once it was classified, it would set a precedent.

“What about Chairman Gu?”

Zhou Weiguo suddenly asked.

“Isn’t the Writers Association always keeping an eye on things?

They have the most say in something with such strong literary merit.

Especially Jian Shen, isn’t he a specially invited judge for this event? What does he say?”

At the mention of “Jian Shen,” everyone present’s eyes lit up.

That’s right.

The soul of this competition, Teacher Jian Shen, who wrote the healing masterpiece The Miracles of the Namiya General Store.

If it were him, he would surely side with “positive energy,” wouldn’t he?

After all, the style of this article was completely opposite to the warm and healing

Yan Zheng straightened his back even more.

He was confident that the author who created Grandpa Namiya

would never tolerate such an article full of malice.

“Chairman Gu is in the next lounge, I don’t know if he’s already resting…”

Ma Peiyuan checked his watch.

“Shall I go invite him?”

“No need.”

A deep voice came from outside the door.

Gu Changfeng walked in slowly, hands behind his back.

He wore his characteristic gentle smile,

and still held his Zisha teapot.

“I’ve been listening.”

Gu Changfeng walked over to Zhou Weiguo, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

He didn’t look at the test paper on the table,

but instead scanned everyone, his gaze finally resting on Yan Zheng.

“Teacher Yan, upholding principles is a good thing.”

Gu Changfeng smiled.

“However, sometimes setting the bar too high can keep geniuses out.”

Yan Zheng frowned:

“Chairman Gu, are you implying…”

“I’m not implying anything.”

Gu Changfeng waved his hand.

“I’m just a messenger. A moment ago, I sent this article to Jian Shen.”

Upon hearing this, everyone held their breath.

Yan Zheng gripped his pen even more nervously.

Jian Shen’s evaluation would directly decide the fate of this article.

“He replied?”

Zhou Weiguo asked.

“Yes.”

Gu Changfeng took out his phone, unlocked the screen, and pushed it to the center of the table.

“See for yourselves.”

...