At first, Yan Zheng's first reaction upon seeing this title was disgust.
What kind of question is this?
Attention-seeking! Passive escapism!
In competitions like the "Relief Cup" that promote positive energy...
Writing on this kind of topic is simply courting death.
He was even prepared to give the essay a low score and throw it in the trash.
However, after he patiently read through the first paragraph,
That impulse to sentence someone to death was forcibly restrained by an inexplicable force.
The writing is rough.
There are no elaborate parallel structures, no quotations, and even idioms are rarely used.
The homeless man named "Old Crow" came to life in this student's writing.
Yan Zheng could almost smell the nauseating, sour stench emanating from the crow.
You can see those murky, greedy eyes.
I could hear that vicious line, "Are you going to die? Great!"
This level of writing skill is terrifying.
It's not writing an essay, it's creating a scene.
Yan Zheng originally approached the matter with a critical and judgmental eye.
But as he watched, a layer of cold sweat broke out on his back.
The despair and anger of the bankrupt middle-aged man when his briefcase was stolen.
The shock and hatred of the heartbroken girl when she was insulted.
The student's resentment and outburst when he was ridiculed after failing the exam...
All emotions,
This candidate dissected everything in a brutally honest way.
Spread out in the sun to dry.
This isn't an essay; it's a knife!
Yan Zheng read it once.
not enough.
He read it a second time.
This time, he read very slowly, chewing over each word repeatedly in his mouth.
When you reach the end, and the moldy tin box is opened, revealing only newspaper clippings and an account book inside,
Yan Zheng's fingers, which were turning the page, froze in mid-air, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the rough handwriting.
He is the ugliest demon in the world, and also the only guardian by the river.
Yan Zheng's hand trembled slightly when he read this sentence.
He suddenly raised his head and exhaled a long breath.
Only then did he realize that twenty minutes had passed without him noticing.
He was the only person in the entire marking hall.
I stared at an exam paper for a full twenty minutes.
"Old Yan?"
The teacher sitting next to him was startled by his reaction.
"Are you alright? Why is your face so pale? Is this test paper... really that badly written?"
Yan Zheng took off his glasses, took out a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"No."
Yan Zheng's voice was somewhat hoarse.
Not bad.
On the contrary, this is the most powerful writing I have ever seen in my thirty years of teaching.
"Then why do you have that expression?"
The teacher sitting next to him was puzzled.
"Since it's good, let's give it a high score! Our group has never produced a perfect essay before, so it's a good opportunity to show off to the group leader."
"Perfect score?"
Yan Zheng gave a wry smile and put his glasses back on.
He stared at the shocking title on the exam paper—"The Person Waiting to Die."
His gaze darted back and forth between the "high score" and "low score" ranges.
His eyes were filled with an unprecedented struggle.
From a literary standpoint, this article deserves more than a perfect score.
This insight into human nature
The idea of flowers blooming in the deepest darkness is simply the work of a genius.
but……
This is the examination room.
This is a provincial middle school student essay competition.
This is to select works that represent the spirit and outlook of young people across the province.
A protagonist who uses robbery, verbal abuse, and even instigating crime as his means;
Even if his initial intention was to save people, even if he was eventually whitewashed and turned into a "saint".
Finally, his gaze hardened again.
He has regained his "iron-faced judge" appearance.
"He has talent, even extraordinary talent."
Yan Zheng muttered to himself, as if trying to convince himself.
It was as if a verdict was being handed down to a candidate whom they had never met.
"However, the approach has gone astray."
Literature can expose darkness, but it cannot do good by doing evil.
If this value system is not corrected, it will surely become a major problem in the future.
After saying that, he took a deep breath and gripped the red pen tightly.
Without any hesitation, he wrote a number heavily in the score column of the test paper.
The bright red ink seeped into the back of the paper, like an unhealable wound.
It's not 59 points.
It's not a passing grade.
Instead, it was a huge, glaring, and utterly unavoidable situation—
0.
...
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