The second game will test the two coaches' leadership abilities.
Whether a person can lead a team well requires consideration from many aspects.
"The second level is very simple. Please listen to the question: Imagine the school is hosting a competition, and you are the person in charge. You have fifty people who can be assigned tasks. Please assign them to appropriate positions to ensure the smooth running of the competition."
She turned her wrist slightly and raised the ancient hourglass. Fine sand, like the blood of time, was sliding down the neck of the bottle. "You have a quarter of an hour!"
When the gong exploded with a clang, Su Zhuxing's pupils suddenly contracted, as if the surface of a lake was broken by a stone.
He subconsciously clenched the folding fan in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the force, and his nails almost digging into his palms.
I originally thought that the exam would involve questions about chapters and sentences, or essays on state governance strategies, but I didn't expect it to be such trivial questions as needle and thread arrangement.
Song Qiquan beside him was also slightly startled. The wolf hair brush was hanging on the gold-sprinkled rice paper, and the ink in the inkstone was rippled by the spring breeze, just like his surging thoughts at the moment.
Both of them were born into wealthy families with many servants at home.
As a pampered young man from a wealthy family, calculating the weight of purchased materials and balancing the division of labor among employees have always been the responsibilities of his mother and housekeeper.
All they had to do was hold the white jade cup and chat and laugh as the host when the banquet started.
"The most important ability of a good leader is to know people." Gu Jiayue's voice sounded like a heavy hammer in the ears of the two men.
Song Qiquan took a deep breath and unfolded the goose-yellow roster in his hand. Fifty names were densely marked with cinnabar ink, their strengths and weaknesses: Butcher Zhang's son was broad-shouldered and immensely powerful, yet ignited like a firecracker; the accountant's daughter had phoenix eyes, meticulous yet taciturn; there were also a few nodding scholars, their fingertips stained with the scent of ink, and village girls skilled in needlework, whose needles could produce flowers of all seasons...
His fingertips lightly slid across the paper, and he suddenly remembered the look on his face when his mother arranged the Mid-Autumn Festival banquet at home.
In the flower hall filled with sandalwood, my mother sat on a rosewood armchair, her jade bracelet tapping the abacus beads, and she calculated an accurate budget with the crackling sound.
She could always see through everyone's strengths at a glance, and would give the purchasing tasks to the servants with good words, and let the skilled cooks take charge of the kitchen. She even knew which woman steamed the softest osmanthus cake and which servant was the fastest to deliver the invitations in time.
"There are no useless people in this world, only masters who don't know how to use people." This sentence that his mother often said was like a bright light at this moment, illuminating Song Qiquan's chaotic thoughts.
He recalled the layout of the buffet banquet he had seen at the literary gathering in the provincial capital: the greeter had to have a bright smile and a clear voice, so as to make the guests feel at ease; the accountant had to have his fingertips on an abacus, with perfect accuracy; and as for the person who maintained order, he naturally had to be a strong man with a physique as strong as an iron tower and a resounding voice.
The pen tip moved quickly on the rice paper. The butcher's son, who was extremely strong, was sent to build the stage, the accountant's daughter was in charge of purchasing silver and money, and the two calm scholars were arranged to be "mobile posts", like the reserve troops on the battlefield, specifically to check for omissions and fill in the gaps.
The ink words fell on the paper, gradually forming a clear division of labor diagram. The fifty people were like chess pieces on a chessboard, each in his own position, but connected to each other by the dotted line of "overall coordination".
On the other hand, Su Zhuxing had already seen beads of sweat oozing out of his forehead, which flowed down his angular jawline into his collar.
He stared at the roster intently, but the names were like naughty children, jumping around on the paper and he couldn't catch them.
He inexplicably wanted to send the cook who was good at making osmanthus sugar cakes and could fill the whole street with sweet fragrance to greet guests; and he arranged the peddler who had traveled all over the country and had nimble hands and feet to knead dough in the kitchen.
The tip of the pen pierced the rice paper several times, and the ink spots spread out like tear marks, blooming sad flowers on the paper.
He vaguely recalled the scenes when his family held banquets. He only needed to lazily say to the housekeeper, "Follow the rules of previous years," and he could sit back and relax. He never thought that behind these light-hearted words "rules" lay so many insights into human nature and the nature of things.
"Time's up!" Gu Jiayue's voice was like the final whistle, startling everyone present.
The two answer sheets were respectfully presented on the desk. At first glance, they were both written in neat small regular script, revealing the results of years of practice.
But upon closer inspection, the difference becomes apparent.
Song Qiquan's plan is well-organized and divided into three parts: "front field", "back kitchen" and "logistics". Next to each person's position are small words such as "can hold concurrent positions" and "need supervision".
Even possible emergencies were outlined with emergency plans in red pen.
The thoroughness of the consideration is admirable.
On Su Zhuxing's paper, positions and names were randomly piled up. The embroiderer who was good at needlework was sent to carry heavy tables and chairs. The hunter's son who was reckless and walked briskly was responsible for keeping valuable gifts. The whole layout was a mess, like a jigsaw puzzle game put together by a child.
Gu Jiayue's eyes swept across the answer sheet and fell on Su Zhuxing's pale face.
The young man's lips were pressed tightly into a straight line, his jaw tensed so tightly that one could almost hear the crackling of bones, and his Adam's apple rolled violently, as if he was swallowing a burning flame.
The arrogance in his eyes had now shattered into pieces all over the ground, blown away by the wind.
"Do you want to take a look?" Gu Jiayue handed over Song Qiquan's plan.
Su Zhuxing suddenly took a half step back, the jade hairpin on his hair crown swaying slightly with his movement. When he shook his head, his hair scattered in front of his forehead, covering his red eyes. "I believe in the headmaster."
His voice was hoarse as if it had been repeatedly polished by sandpaper, and he was choking with sobs that were difficult to conceal.
After saying that, he turned and left. His long blue cloth gown rustled in the autumn wind, fluttering like a tattered flag. His staggering footsteps startled a few withered yellow leaves in front of the steps.
The fallen leaves were swirling, as if they were sighing for him.
Watching his back disappearing behind the moon-shaped door, Gu Jiayue tapped the table lightly with the drumstick in her hand, making a rhythmic sound, as if to put an end to the competition.
The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting mottled golden edges on Song Qiquan's upright figure, making him look even more vigorous.
"Song Qiquan will be the leader of the Lanting Gathering this time." Gu Jiayue's voice spread throughout the venue, and sparse applause broke out in the stands, some of which were praiseworthy, while others were on the sidelines.
After the game, people on the Cuju field left in groups of two or three.
In the end, only Song Qiquan and a few children were left.
Gu Huangan frowned. "Should we go and comfort Master Su? He looks very sad."
Zhang Zhaodi's face turned pale. "No need, right? If we go to comfort him, won't he feel embarrassed?"
Men, after all, would rather die than live in pain because of their pride. Zhang Zhaodi understood this.
"Then let's go. That Lanting Elegant Club has nothing to do with us anymore. Instead of standing here and watching them celebrate, we might as well go back and read some more books!" Meng Ziqi pretended that she couldn't hear the sounds of Gu Yuhe and the others celebrating not far away, and also pretended that she didn't care.
Zhang Zhaodi and Gu Huangan also agreed with this. "Okay, let's go."
The three of them turned around and were about to leave, but were stopped by Song Qiquan.
However, Zhang Zhaodi pulled Gu Huangan's sleeve and quietly shrank into the crowd.
The words Master Su had said in private were still ringing in her ears: "That Song guy, relying on his uncle being the prefect, is the best at winning people over. Don't be fooled by his words..."
So when Song Qiquan called them, she bit her lip and stared at him vigilantly, as if guarding against a potential beast.
"Tomorrow morning, all of you will come to the library to see me." His voice was much gentler than usual, with a brotherly warmth. "I will give you a intensive training on the rules of the Lanting Elegant Society."
Zhang Zhaodi looked up suddenly and saw that his eyes were not mocking at all, but full of smiles. That light, like the warm spring sun, instantly dispelled the haze in her heart. "But we..."
Before she could finish her words, Song Qiquan interrupted her: "The competition is to select a team leader, not to kick anyone out."
Zhang Zhaodi's eyes sparkled. "Master Song, are you telling the truth? Are you not lying to us?"
But you can't blame Zhang Zhaodi for thinking this way. In the past few days, Su Zhuxing has told them many times that Master Song is not a good person and asked them to pay more attention to him in their daily lives.
Therefore, Zhang Zhaodi and others' first impression of Song Qiquan was wariness.
"Of course it's true. If you don't believe me, you can go ask Master Su!"
The children looked at each other and then ran away.
Where to go? Of course, to ask Su Zhuxing.
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