Zhan Guangtian took out his notebook and marked a check next to Shen You’an and Liu Runxi’s nas.
No wonder they’re ranked first and second—intelligence and physical aptitude go hand in hand. People like them succeed in whatever they do.
Next ca Gu Bichen and Leng Yunyang.
Jiang Yumo and Cheng Xuyuan arrived one after another. Jiang Yumo appeared relatively normal, only his cheeks were slightly flushed and beads of sweat adorned his forehead. Cheng Xuyuan, however, collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily.
Yuan Tingfang and Guan Xiaoying were the last to arrive, so exhausted they couldn’t even speak, lying motionless on the ground.
The group barely had ti to catch their breath when they were ushered into the classroom for a closed-book exam.
Yuan Tingfang felt so fatigued her mind was in a haze; the characters on the exam paper seed to blur and double. On the first day of school, they pulled sothing this brutal?
She felt like crying without tears.
Raising her eyes, she saw Shen You’an sitting diagonally in front of her.
The girl’s posture was impeccably straight. She wrote with an ease that was both composed and languid, her expression relaxed yet detached. Even the sunlight seed partial to her, enveloping her in a delicate halo.
Yuan Tingfang thought about the phone call she had received the previous night, and gripped her pen tighter.
The exam was a comprehensive test, not particularly difficult—so simple, in fact, that for students at their level, it was sowhat easy.
But the ti limit was very tight—only sixty minutes.
Once she recovered, Yuan Tingfang started answering the questions, and before she knew it, ti had slipped away.
At the sixty-minute mark, Han Jun began collecting the answer sheets. It wasn’t even ten in the morning yet, but Yuan Tingfang felt as though ti had never dragged so painfully.
Han Jun placed the collected exams on the lecturer’s desk and exited the room.
Then, a man walked into the classroom.
When Yuan Tingfang saw the refined gentleman entering, her jaw dropped. She was so shocked her mouth could fit an egg inside.
"I imagine none of you are strangers to . I’ll be teaching mathematics moving forward, and if you have any questions, you’re welco to co to anyti."
Mr. Xie opened up the exam papers and began grading them with a red pen while speaking evenly, "The Young Talent Class is adopting a brand-new teaching model. This will provide you all with an experience distinct from traditional education thods. I hope this journey will beco a lifelong mory for each of you."
His grading was swift, and the first test was quickly finished.
"Yuan Tingfang."
Yuan Tingfang was startled. Being called out suddenly was anything but pleasant. She stood up cautiously.
Mr. Xie’s gentle gaze landed on her.
"Seventy-eight points. Failed."
Yuan Tingfang’s mind went blank with a sudden "buzz." She looked up in disbelief.
"Co and collect your exam paper."
Yuan Tingfang stiffly walked over and received the sheet with both hands.
Glancing at it briefly, she noticed her mistakes were practically all in the simplest areas—errors born from carelessness, precisely the kind that should never have been made...
The other students, who had initially found the test straightforward and were confident in their performance, grew uneasy as they observed Yuan Tingfang’s reaction.
At this mont, they faintly began to realize—this seemingly simple test was anything but.
"Kong Yucheng, eighty-three points. Failed."
Kong Yucheng’s face darkened upon hearing his na.
With a total score of 100, perhaps, in Mr. Xie’s eyes, failure ant anything below ninety points.
"Cao Shuxiao, eighty-nine points. Failed."
"Guan Xiaoying, ninety-two points. Failed."
Guan Xiaoying embodied the archetype of the bookworm, a consistent first-place achiever who, since joining the CMO, realized there were always stronger individuals out there. Yet failing such an uncomplicated test left her utterly unable to accept the result.
Glancing at her returned paper, her mistakes were clearly in areas where errors simply shouldn’t occur.
"Jiang Yumo, ninety-nine points. Failed."
Thus far, not a single passing score had been recorded.
Perhaps only a perfect score of one hundred qualified as a pass.
How strange it was—although the questions were inherently easy, ideal for these academic elites who should’ve breezed through them, not one person managed a perfect score.
"Leng Yunyang, ninety-eight points. Failed."
When grading the next test paper, Mr. Xie paused briefly: "Gu Bichen, ninety-nine points. Failed."
Gu Bichen furrowed his brows as he went up to collect his test.
Looking down at the amateurish mistakes on his paper, he vaguely sensed the purpose behind Mr. Xie’s actions.
What seed like a simple exam was, in fact, deceptively challenging. After experiencing a five-kiloter sprint, physical condition was heavily compromised. Taking a test imdiately after—on the contrary, the simpler the exam, the more accurately it asured true ability.
And to produce a perfect performance amidst this trial...
Gu Bichen glanced toward the direction of Shen You’an and Liu Runxi.
"Liu Runxi, one hundred points. Passed."
The entire class turned their gaze toward Liu Runxi.
Mr. Xie smiled as he looked at the boy walking up: "Your handwriting is impressive."
The youth accepted his exam with an indifferent expression.
Gu Bichen’s grip on his paper tightened. The knuckles in his hand turned faintly pale.
This one-point difference was an unbridgeable chasm.
It could very well be the gap he would never conquer, even with a lifeti of effort.
Finally, there was just one exam remaining. Everyone turned to look at Shen You’an.
Mr. Xie gazed at the test paper in his hand and couldn’t help but remark: "This handwriting reminds of a Song Dynasty poet, Wang Zhu, who once wrote: ’From youth endowed with talent and wisdom, ambition soars high. Others wield treasured blades; I wield my pen like a sword. Its spirit echoes with fortitude, cascading like clouds. Marvelous.’"
Without a doubt, the student worthy of praise for such handwriting was Shen You’an.
Mr. Xie gazed appreciatively at Shen You’an: "Shen You’an, one hundred points. Passed."
The class reacted with expressions of inevitability.
Shen You’an and Liu Runxi, the CMO’s first and second place holders, were leagues ahead in terms of skill. Yet, while their perfect scores were expected, the rest harbored begrudging envy. They weren’t below the capability for a hundred points either—those mistakes were re accidents.
Shen You’an walked over to collect her exam paper.
Mr. Xie gave her a deep glance: "Shen, I eagerly anticipate your future performance."
Shen You’an took the paper and returned to her seat.
Mr. Xie surveyed the room with an air of calm authority: "Are you all secretly dissatisfied, thinking you were just as capable of scoring a perfect hundred, and that your failure was due to trivial errors?"
Embarrassed at being called out, the students lowered their heads.
Unperturbed, Mr. Xie continued, "Wrong. This is the truest reflection of your abilities."
"You are among the top ranks of your provinces and cities. So of you may have never dropped from first place, basking in the glow of accolades and praise. Yet, foremost among you top scholars and champions, let ask—how can your minds falter to the point of committing basic mistakes, such as errors in determining the domain of a function? Tell , what were you thinking as you answered?"
Though his tone wasn’t harsh—indeed, it seed almost gentle—the sharp authority it conveyed sent a chill through the room. One after another, the students bowed their heads in self-reflection.
"An ancient proverb says: ’Mount Tai does not reject the smallest bits of soil, and so it stands tall; great rivers do not discriminate against tiny streams, and so they flow deep.’ Every tiny detail can be the key that decides success or failure, and that key lies in the minutiae of your every action, the grains and fragnts you overlook."
"This is your first lesson: relinquish your pride."
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