Chapter 169 The King of Exams, Wow, the Golden Legend!
The school bell rang sharply, and you gripped your pen, your palms sweating. The whole class sprang to their feet, and after the teacher left, they started chatting and laughing. Even the three students who had seemed utterly hopeless earlier looked up as if nothing had happened. But their faces were full of worry; failing the exam had clearly affected them.
In short, only you, Meiling, and Huimin are still experiencing intense emotional turmoil.
The three of them practically fled to the corner of the stairwell, where they looked at each other.
Just as you were about to speak, you heard Meiling and Huimin both say in unison with pained expressions, "This exam is too difficult!"
How could that be? You thought this was just a regular pop quiz.
But they both looked like green bitter gourds, so there was nothing more to say to someone like you who knows nothing and just blindly fills in the blanks based on the golden light. You could only pat them on the shoulder.
But you need to confirm one thing first: "Is this kind of exam really something that happens every few weeks?"—Is this a regular occurrence, or is it a special case targeting you?
Fortunately, you received a positive answer.
Meiling hugged her arms tightly, her forehead still damp with sweat: "I remember, I think I took the test before."
But then she shook her head: "To be honest, my memory of the previous exams is very vague, like there's fog in my head, and I can't recall the details."
“If it weren’t for today’s exam, we probably wouldn’t even remember that something like this had happened before,” Huimin continued. “No matter how we try to recall, we would probably only know that we felt scared and heavy-hearted, but we couldn’t explain why we were scared.”
You squint your eyes.
This fits the situation where Meiling and the others gradually became aware of the strange occurrences at school due to your influence. For example, the three Thai girls can still remember events that happened not long ago, but they can't remember anything from before that.
In other words, it is not that their memories have been altered or sealed, but that they actually happened, but were disturbed by changes in their consciousness, thus leaving only a vague shadow.
Therefore, this is credible.
You pressed further, "And then what happens after the exam? Will the results be announced, or will the students be publicly criticized?"
Anyone who has been a student in China knows that the scariest time is never the exam, but the announcement of the results.
Meiling shook her head: "No. Our rules here don't allow the public release of grades and rankings. Teachers can only tell you your score privately, and they would never humiliate you in public. But now that you mention it, I suddenly remembered... it seems... sometimes people suddenly disappear after an exam—there don't seem to be many of them... so everyone just assumes they transferred schools."
Huimin shuddered and echoed, "Right, right! And the teacher never said where they went. It's just that the next day, that person's desk was empty. We really didn't pay much attention to these things."
"What caused it to disappear?" you ask.
They couldn't say it.
You're not sure what to do.
If the process were the same as in the Flower Kingdom, such a bizarre exam could at least be used to find "evidence" of punishment through a system of comparing scores and rankings; however, in the Kingdom of Thailand instance, the system that is used in reality to protect students' privacy and self-esteem has become a "fig leaf," rationalizing the real demise as "since there is no ranking, there is no need to ask any questions," and no reason can be found.
You frowned, dividing your thoughts into two lines:
If the standard for punishment is a competition model that prioritizes grades, then you might be able to use your strength in mathematics to try and get on the good side of your math teacher. Teachers are always like this; they may feel frustrated with students who are weak in certain subjects, but they will ultimately have a greater expectation that "maybe she can do well in her studies."
Alternatively, you could appeal to the teacher "Kuba" regarding the exam itself. After all, the purpose of an exam is fairness, and this should be the underlying logic for punishing students who cheat or disrupt the exam. As a student who has only been learning Cantonese for a few days, forcing you to take such an exam violates this fundamental principle of fairness.
If the logic of punishment follows the "not caring about rankings" model—that is, not allowing public rankings—then students (the majority of ordinary students) will be less likely to compete for scores, and teachers will not only care about grades. Therefore, what you can do now is not to dwell on the exam format and results, but to continue focusing on the two key points: the "teacher's" attitude and your own.
After observing for a week, you have noticed something unusual about our Chinese teacher: she sometimes pauses while speaking, and all the punishments that just happened seem to be related to her mouth.
The noisy people quieted down, those who broke the rules had their tongues pulled out, and those who caused trouble had their mouths gagged.
These punishments that occur in real time during exams are more like a deterrent, and the mastermind and logic behind them are solely related to the teacher.
Choosing this method is probably inextricably linked to the school's secrets.
You stare at the back of the Chinese teacher at the other end of the corridor, chatting with another teacher while holding exam papers, and say, "Perhaps the main purpose of all this is to 'maintain' things. Having an exam every two weeks is too frequent for a place that doesn't value exam results much, so we can guess that teachers must have exams, and someone must be punished during the exams, or even someone must be thoroughly punished after the exams—disappear—so that teachers can continue—indefinitely 'like this'."
“What do you mean by ‘like this’?” Mei-ling and Hui-min asked, voicing what everyone wanted to know.
It's hard to say.
Based on the logic of horror movies and stories, the teachers in the school are likely all ghosts, and everything they do is naturally to maintain their own existence and the normal operation of the school.
However, these are the conclusions you draw from a perspective outside the game, from an observer's point of view, that is, from the perspective of a "player in action," so it's not easy to explain them to Meiling and the others.
“We’ll know everything once we’ve looked up the school history and explored the campus after school,” you said.
The advantage of being a riddle teller is that your companions admire you and think that whatever you say makes sense.
After a moment of silence, Huimin suddenly realized something. Her lips parted slightly, and her face turned pale: "Oh no! I think I remembered again. We have weekly quizzes for the main subjects every two weeks. Today, we're not only going to have a Chinese test, but also other subjects! Language and math too! What are we going to do? If they're all this difficult, I'd rather not know the consequences..."
"Really?" Your eyes lit up, feeling like you'd seized a new opportunity.
“So there are two more exams today.” You lean against the wall, taking their hands to calm them down. “That means we have two more chances.”
You slowly sort out your thoughts and put the three things that happened today back together: "First, the girl who went to the restroom—her problem was that she didn't follow the rule of 'not leaving the seat at will.' Second, the conspicuous bag—he wasn't punished for doing poorly on the test, but for being too arrogant and disrupting the classroom order, which is why his tongue was cut out. Finally, the one who passed the note—it wasn't because he actually cheated, but because he didn't take the exam seriously at all."
Upon hearing this, Meiling understood what you meant: "So, what truly triggers punishment during exams isn't 'mistakes,' but rather—attitude?"
“That’s right.” You nodded. “Now that we can boldly step aside, the purpose of the exam isn’t for grades, but to maintain certain ‘conspiracies’ between the teachers and the school. So what they care about is our obedience as students—specifically, in exams and studies, whether everyone shows respect and focus. As long as we are careful and attentive in the exam room, we can avoid the most direct disaster.”
Huimin hesitated and said, "But if attitude is the key, then I think there should be more students who are punished after the results are released..." As she spoke, she touched her nose a little guiltily.
You smiled and continued your analysis: "This is related to the three consecutive and concentrated exams. The criteria for determining whether punishment is met are probably not loose or strict. In other words, those who disappear are probably particularly abrupt."
You lift your fingers and break them apart one by one: "Of the three subjects, everyone has their own best and favorite one. So in that subject, as long as you do your best and answer the questions as well as possible, you can raise your grade; in the other subjects you are not good at, as long as you have the right attitude, don't be arrogant or careless during the exam, and answer the questions carefully, you can basically pass safely."
"The key may be to play the role of a good student who studies hard and takes exams seriously."
After going around in circles, you've finally revealed rule 11.
Mei-ling and Hui-min understood now.
If further supporting evidence is needed—take out your phone, research the relevant literature, and summarize: "We need to understand one principle: the underlying logic of all behaviors is not simply the same as what appears on the surface. For example, exams are not just about testing knowledge, but also about understanding society's emphasis on 'cause and effect.' Theravada Buddhism says that lying will lead to the hell of having one's tongue pulled out. Lying includes not only lying, but also arrogance, contempt, and disrespect. Those punishments correspond precisely to these transgressions—this is why I think this way. So, adopting a learning attitude, even if you can't write anything, might be the best approach."
Huimin slowly exhaled, her face still pale, but her eyes showed a newfound calm: "Then do we still have a chance today?"
“Of course.” You nodded, your tone confident. “The more exams we take, the more space we have to prove ourselves. As long as we don’t make mistakes and aren’t seen as the one who ‘breaks the ritual,’ we can get through it.”
"There are only a few minutes left before class!" Meiling grabbed your arm, her tone urgent. "Why don't we go talk to the teacher and sound her out?"
You don't think this is a good suggestion.
If the exam is about the score itself, trying to get close to the teachers who will be grading the papers or saying nice things won't work; if the attitude is paramount, then going too far will backfire and make you seem too utilitarian.
However, you do have some tips to share.
Although this point is far less logical and well-founded than your lengthy explanation...
You clear your throat to make yourself look exceptionally serious.
You described how you used the golden light to guide your answer from that special angle.
As expected, both of them gave each other a "stop it" look.
“I know you think it’s ridiculous, saying that following the golden light to choose a subject sounds like nonsense.” You shrug. “But think about it, even without the ‘golden light,’ there are still ways to guess the right answers in the exam.”
You patiently explained: "For example, multiple-choice questions, no matter how tricky the teacher's questions are, they're still written by humans, and they can't be perfect. The test-taking skills we usually learn are:"
1. Look for contradictions – if the question says 'all' at the beginning but 'sometimes' later, it's definitely a trap.
2. Look for recurring keywords – key points often appear multiple times in the answer choices, which are clues to the correct answer.
3. Look for sentences that seem unusually abrupt—options that are too absolute or extreme are often incorrect.
You paused, looking at their attentive expressions, and added, "It's just like the golden light I saw. The golden light reveals these patterns, allowing you to filter out the correct answers more quickly. But even without the golden light, you can still use these methods to guess quite a few questions."
Huimin's eyes widened: "So, is it based on golden light or logic?"
Of course it's because of the golden light, but you can't understand the question anyway.
But you still nodded: "That's right. Jin Guang was just reminding me where to look. If I know how to do a question, I'll do it myself; if I don't know how, I'll just follow Jin Guang."
"Because everything that gold represents is correct." You explained this rule logically.
They were both taken aback by your persuasion, but fortunately, they were used to listening to you, so they nodded seriously, indicating that they would give it a try.
Two exams followed one after another.
When you first received the English test paper, you were initially relieved. After all, English was practically the only subject you were certain you could understand the questions. But as you scanned the paper, your heart sank.
In regular English classes, which are similar to what is common in a second-year high school class in China, the content is basically basic grammar exercises, such as tense conversion, passive voice, and conditional sentences. The reading comprehension passages are not long, and the topics are mostly about travel, environmental protection, and campus life. The vocabulary is kept within a certain range, and group discussions are very easy.
This exam paper, however, was completely different. The reading section presented a long passage resembling an academic paper, discussing economic globalization and environmental protection.
The vocabulary includes obscure words that are not even in the textbook.
Even the writing prompt was absurd: "Please discuss the contradiction between postcolonial literature and cultural identity."
Looking at this question, you couldn't help but smile wryly. If it weren't for the fact that you had been constantly cramming vocabulary suitable for various complex scenarios in the past few months, and that you were fortunate enough to have some familiarity with these obscure terms from your previous US instance where you were part of a team exploring and conducting research in the rainforest, this reading comprehension would have been enough to make your scalp tingle.
No wonder Meiling and the other girl said the exam paper was unusually difficult!
This isn't an exam, it's a complete trap! But there's nothing you can do, at least this is the subject you can truly rely on your abilities, so you have no choice but to bury your head and keep writing.
After handing in their papers, the two students were completely stunned, hugging you and saying, "Who said that golden light wasn't useful? It's absolutely amazing!"
Next up is the math test. After a week of studying, you should have a good grasp of the types of math questions here, which are roughly equivalent to the later stages of junior high school in China.
These questions, taken individually, are not difficult for you at all. The problem is—you can't understand the question stem.
All the words are gibberish! You can still recognize the numbers and symbols, but when it comes to textual descriptions, such as "Suppose there is a straight line passing through a fixed point P...", you can only understand the word P.
However, compared to language subjects, the simplicity of mathematics lies in the high repetition of its problems.
You may not understand the questions, but since you know that only these types of questions will be tested, you can guess the solution by following the framework.
Multiple choice questions are still the easiest; you can just choose the answer circled in gold. For short answer and fill-in-the-blank questions, just bite the bullet and guess the question stem first, then guess what is being asked, and finally solve it yourself from the questions you gave.
Fortunately, geometry questions made up only a small portion of the exam, so there was almost no need to guess; you could just solve them directly.
After spending the whole morning engrossed in answering questions, as you finish the last equation, you suddenly realize: how similar these methods are to how you survive in the dungeon.
You may not understand the language of this world, but as long as you keep an eye on the unchanging rules, you can survive.
Math exam papers are the most intuitive analogy.
Numbers are patterns.
Symbols are the order you can touch.
Text? Even if you can't understand it, it's just noise attached to rules. Once you conquer it, all rules become irrelevant.
By this point in the exam, you are no longer an anxious test-taker unsure of whether your ideas are right or wrong; you are almost completely immersed in solving the questions.
When the bell rings to signal the end of the exam, you feel completely drained, yet strangely relaxed.
Even if you're still not sure if what you wrote is correct, at least you've given it your all.
Even if your reasoning doesn't have absolute evidence, you just feel that you're unlikely to be in trouble.
Meiling Huimin is the same.
They learned your approach, and when they took the exam, they didn't think about how to avoid being punished, but rather how to "do their best" and then feel a hundred times more relaxed after it was all over.
Just as you were about to go buy lunch with the two of them, a soft voice came from the classroom door: "Hey, come here for a second."
You look up and see your Chinese teacher.
She had lost the demonic demeanor she had displayed while proctoring the exam. Now back to normal, she smiled and waved at you, her expression gentle, without a trace of reproach.
Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly relaxed—this expression doesn't seem like a bad thing.
You walk over, and the teacher leads you to the eaves outside the corridor and hands you your test paper.
The test paper was covered in red pen marks, and your answers to almost every major question were circled.
Is this... completely wrong? You wailed in your heart, filled with despair.
Strangely, she maintained a smile throughout, without a trace of anger in her eyes.
“Look,” the teacher began, her tone gentle, with a hint of encouragement that was half-smile, “you didn’t get these parts right.” She pointed to the parts marked in red pen.
Haha. Your heart skipped a beat.
But she continued, "However, you worked very hard to copy down the questions and even copied the keywords into the answer key. This shows that although you didn't fully understand them, you were carefully analyzing the sentence structure. To be able to do this, you must have been studying the language diligently."
You catch your breath, and then your heart warms up.
The key is the attitude of hard work, not the result—something you already expected.
But when you actually hear this teacher, who is strange in herself, tell you clearly in such a strange environment: she has seen your efforts.
This feeling is very subtle.
You're not a student. Everything you do after entering the instance is for survival, not to gain anyone's approval. You've already experienced death and terror.
But at this moment, when a teacher says to you in the most ordinary encouraging tone, "I can see you are learning, you are doing very well," the vulnerability of those who have been drifting aimlessly for months and often don't know what they are doing is still gently touched.
You know she might turn into a vengeful ghost that gets in your way when you sneak into the school at night, but you still smile and say, "Thank you, teacher."
The teacher nodded, and as if afraid you might misunderstand, added, "Learning a language isn't easy, especially since you've only just arrived. Being able to write this much is already quite good."
Her fingers paused on the test paper for a moment before she encouraged, "Remember, exams aren't just about the results; they're also about whether you tried your best to understand. As long as your attitude is right, it's okay if you make a mistake. Study hard and keep going."
The light from outside the corridor shone on the teacher's figure, making her look completely different from the cold and distorted illusions she had seen before.
She appears to be both strict and tolerant.
The atmosphere is familiar: students hand in their papers with tension and anticipation, while teachers grade them with a mixture of scrutiny and satisfaction. This scene would feel perfectly natural in any school, on any ordinary afternoon.
You nodded solemnly and took the test paper.
You turned back to Meiling and Huimin, who peeked out of the classroom. Only after the teacher left did they whisper, "Are you alright?"
You smile and show them your test paper: "It's okay. The teacher said I did well."
They paused for a moment, then smiled. A brief moment of relaxation spread among the three of them.
And your guess about this school has changed a little.
Previously, you almost assumed that teachers and students were adversaries, but now it seems that, within the limits allowed by the game, the relationship between teachers and students is not much different from that of ordinary teachers and students.
Do you still want to risk your lives to uncover the school's secrets?
"Let's go eat first, and finish quickly so we can meet up with Went and go to the library to look up the school history."
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Author's Note: ^^
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