Friday.
The wind was a bit dry, whipping up dust from the playground and slapping it against the glass.
Although the official rankings for "Fuzhiyao" have not yet been posted,
But that undercurrent had already traveled along the telephone line.
It quietly caused a stir in the teaching and research groups of various universities.
It is said that the Fudan University grading team was quite troubled by a strange article.
Of course, these things are too far from Jiangcheng.
This is the last class meeting for Class 3 of Grade 11.
Normally, everyone would be packing their bags in their desks by this time, getting ready for the wonderful weekend.
But today, the classroom was eerily quiet.
Zhang Ya sat in the front row.
The ballpoint pen in my hand was clicking away so hard that it almost broke the spring.
She would glance up at the doorway every now and then.
Li Bowen, standing next to him, wasn't much better off.
He was holding the book "Introduction to Quantum Mechanics" in his hands, and ten minutes had passed, but the page was still on page eighteen.
A thin layer of sweat covered the thick lenses. He took them off, wiped them, put them back on, and wiped them again.
At this age, a sense of collective honor is sometimes more important than anything else.
Although only three students from the class participated, the class's pride was at stake.
If two students from Class 2 next door pass, and only one student from Class 3 passes,
After that, I couldn't lift my head in the hallway.
The back corner.
Wu Di lay on the table, his chubby face contorted in pain, muttering something in Lin Que's ear.
"Brother Que, I'm so panicked."
I just went to the restroom and overheard those guys from Class 2 bragging. They said the question about "happy events" was practically a freebie, and they could write something amazing even with their eyes closed.
If you take me flying, I'll buy you breakfast from now on, with two eggs included.
Lin Que's head was throbbing from his nagging, so he slammed the pen he was spinning on the table:
"You're paying for breakfast? Are you trying to stuff me to death so you can inherit my Alipay account?"
Wu Di looked serious:
"I don't need Alipay, just give me your King of Glory account."
Lin Que was about to kick him when
A crisp, rhythmic sound came from the corridor.
"Da, da, da."
It was the sound of high heels clicking on a marble floor.
The whole class turned their heads in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized, comparable to a military parade.
The classroom door was pushed open.
Shen Qingqiu walked in.
She wasn't wearing her usual austere business attire today.
Instead, she changed into a light purple knit sweater, which made her look much softer.
Most importantly, she was holding a brownish-yellow kraft paper file folder.
The file folder was still sealed.
But on Shen Qingqiu's face was a smile that was hard to fathom...?
"It's over."
Wu Di let out a wail and buried his head in his arms.
"Old Shen smiled, and his fate was uncertain."
The last time she laughed like that was when our class average dropped by twenty points.
Shen Qingqiu walked up to the podium and gently placed the file folder on the lectern.
There were no lengthy speeches or disciplinary crackdowns as was common after exams.
She rested her hands on the podium, her gaze slowly sweeping over the entire class.
Finally, it paused briefly at the location of Lin Que and the other two.
"We have just received a notification from the provincial organizing committee."
Shen Qingqiu's voice was a little light and airy, but to Zhang Ya, it sounded like a verdict.
"In this preliminary round of the 'Fuzhiyao' competition, more than 40,000 people from all 13 prefecture-level cities in Jiangsu Province participated."
"Average advancement rate..."
Shen Qingqiu paused for a moment, then held up two fingers.
"Less than 20%."
"hiss--"
A collective gasp filled the classroom.
20%?
This isn't a competition, it's a battle royale! Four out of five people are going to be eliminated?
Wasn't the title "Joyful Event" supposed to be simple?
Looking at the shocked eyes below the stage,
Shen Qingqiu's smile faded slightly, replaced by a cold expression.
"Isn't it unbelievable? Haven't you all heard that the questions were very easy?"
She picked up a piece of chalk and casually wrote the two large characters "喜事" (happy event) on the blackboard.
Then it was marked with a heavy cross.
"Many students said after the exam that the questions were easy points."
She wrote about her mother's braised pork, the hugs of long-awaited reunions, and the tears shed while recovering from illness…
Indeed, these are all happy events.
But you've forgotten, this is 'Fu Zhi Yao' (扶之摇).
This is a competition to select the most promising writers in the province and even the country, not a contest to select elementary school students to write their diaries!
Shen Qingqiu threw the chalk stub back into the box and dusted off her hands.
"The simpler the question, the deeper the trap."
When everyone is uniformly praising the good and forcibly trying to evoke emotions, the examiners are already tired of reading them.
This is a classic example of the 'survivorship bias' trap.
Only a madman would deliberately run into a brick wall; no fool would waste an opportunity on mundane tasks.
"Most of the more than 30,000 people who were eliminated this time failed because of their 'mediocrity'."
Zhang Ya's face turned pale instantly.
She wrote a modern version of the wedding night, although it was filled with flowery language.
But at its core, it's still about those little moments of happiness in family and children.
Is this what Teacher Shen meant by "mediocrity"?
Li Bowen was extremely restless, feeling as if there were nails under his buttocks.
His writing was like a timely rain after a long drought, combining the effects of artificial rainmaking and scientific breakthroughs.
Although the theme has been elevated, is it too dry?
The air pressure in the classroom was extremely low.
No one dared to speak, for fear that opening their mouths would break through the psychological defenses of the three contestants.
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