The laughter still echoed in the classroom.
Shen Qingqiu's smile faded quickly.
"Smack."
She gently placed the pointer on the podium, making a crisp sound.
The air in the classroom seemed to freeze instantly.
Wu Di shrank his neck and buried his head in the pile of books.
"Have you laughed enough?"
Shen Qingqiu's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough.
"After you've had your laugh, let's hear the data."
She glanced at Lin, Zhang, and Li.
"This preliminary selection is just the first step."
According to data from the Municipal Education Bureau, a total of 3,375 students from all middle schools in Jiangcheng City passed the preliminary selection process.
Three thousand three hundred and seventy-five.
As soon as this number was announced, the students who had been smiling just moments before stopped laughing.
Although Jiangcheng is not the provincial capital, it is considered a major city for education.
Several thousand top students—this is the number after a large number have been eliminated.
"The preliminary round is scheduled for the 1st of next month at the Jiangcheng Grand Theatre."
Shen Qingqiu looked at the three students who had passed the test.
"The school will organize a bus to take you there."
"teacher."
Zhang Ya raised her hand and stood up.
Are there any limits on the number of participants advancing from the preliminary round to the semi-finals? For example, how many of the top participants will be selected?
Zhang Ya only realized her palms were sweaty after asking the question.
If admissions are based on a proportional system, then the competition will be fierce and cutthroat.
Shen Qingqiu shook her head.
"This is precisely the most brutal, yet also the fairest, aspect of this 'Fuzhiyao' competition."
Her voice lowered, and her gaze swept across the entire class.
"This competition does not have a fixed number of qualifying spots, no percentages, and no hard targets."
The judging panel will have a ruler. Once you're above the height of that ruler, you can move in.
"This is a battle between oneself and the standards."
Shen Qingqiu's finger coldly drew a line in the air, as if cutting something.
"The line is right there."
Perhaps everyone advances, which would be great; of course, it's also possible that the entire team will be wiped out.
She paused, her voice as low as the wind outside the window:
"Don't think that getting 99 points means you're all set."
In this competition, mediocre excellence is a death sentence.
The classroom was so quiet that you could hear the ticking of the clock in the back row.
This seemingly lenient rule is actually more insidious than murder.
Because you have no idea when that sword hanging over your head will fall.
Zhang Ya's face paled, and she gripped the hem of her clothes tightly with her fingers.
Li Bowen stopped laughing, looked down at his notebook, and his expression became serious.
Lin Que leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table.
Not setting a quota is quite interesting.
This is like a web novel from another world of his.
There's no limit to how many books can become popular in a single day.
If you write well, readers will buy your books.
"Alright, the three of you should adjust your mindset these next few days."
"Also, don't dwell on things that are too cold or too remote."
The preliminary round was a live-action competition, testing quick wit and resourcefulness.
Don't write anything sensational but completely off-topic.
Lin Que consciously gave an "OK" sign.
The phone rang as if it were a lifesaver.
Shen Qingqiu left with her lesson plan, and the tension in the classroom finally eased.
"get out of class dismissed."
Shen Qingqiu left with her lesson plan.
Wu Di leaned closer, giving a thumbs-up with an expression of admiration:
"Brother Que, that's brilliant! 'The vengeful spirit of the rice,' how come I didn't think of that?"
If I wrote this in an essay, I'd probably win at least a creativity award, right?
"able."
"He's guaranteed to win the 'Judges Vomit on the Spot' award!"
...
Lunch break, in the cafeteria.
The sounds of stainless steel plates clattering, the auntie's calls as she served food, and the buzzing of students chatting all blended together.
This created a wave of youthful enthusiasm.
To avoid his mother's questioning, Lin Que slipped out early.
Right now, I'm hiding in a corner, sipping a cup of coconut milk tea.
"Hey, have you heard?"
This preliminary round of the "Fu Zhi Yao" competition is being held at the Jiangcheng Grand Theatre, a venue for symphony orchestras—it's incredibly prestigious.
"What's the use of being all high-class? There are over three thousand people. Just thinking about that scene makes my legs go weak."
I heard that over twenty students from the intensive review class at Experimental High School passed the exam, while only eight from our class did. This was truly a battle of the gods.
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