40. The Terrifying Assessment

There is no second chance in life—this statement is both true and untrue.

The classroom fell silent once more. It was unclear whether the student knocking outside had heard Professor Qiao’s words; in any case, the knocking ceased as well.

Professor Qiao pulled a thick stack of papers from his folder and held them up, the blank sides facing the students.

“Now we’ll begin the first round of exams,” he announced.

He gestured to several students who had been sitting in the back row but had not responded to roll call. “In a moment, the teaching assistants will distribute the test papers to everyone. The papers must be handed out blank side up, with the questions facing down. Once everyone has their test, you may only begin after I announce the start of the exam. Anyone who turns over their paper before I say so will be disqualified.”

An exam was an exam—why emphasize that no one could turn the paper before the start was announced? To the extent that early flipping would lead to immediate elimination?

Did this mean that in this test, even half a minute—perhaps just a few seconds—could ultimately make a decisive difference?

“This exam tests your integrity and sense of the bigger picture. I ask everyone here to follow the rules, and not let a moment’s curiosity bring lifelong regret.”

With that, Qiao Yusen divided the papers among the teaching assistants. The room was so quiet that only the soft footsteps of the assistants and the rustling of paper could be heard.

Integrity and a sense of the bigger picture… Chen Ruowen fell into thought. According to the information her father had helped her gather, the winter camp exams at Southern University were unconventional, rarely focusing solely on academic performance, and the format changed every year. So what was being tested this time?

Integrity was straightforward—did one wait until the announced time to turn over the test?

But a sense of the bigger picture? Was it about not letting a fleeting curiosity ruin one’s life, as Professor Qiao had said?

That seemed a bit of a stretch.

The test papers were distributed flawlessly to each student, blank side up, staring them in the face. The tension in the air seemed to grow heavier.

Once everyone had a paper, Professor Qiao signaled the assistants to return to their seats at the back of the room and continued, “There is no time limit for this round. Extra points will be given based on the order in which you turn in your paper. The last ten to submit will be eliminated.”

The last ten to submit would be eliminated, regardless of their scores? No wonder Professor Qiao had emphasized timing so strongly. Realizing this, the remaining students—over a hundred of them—grew even more nervous.

Professor Qiao lifted his wrist, revealing an elegant watch beneath his cuff.

“Follow my countdown.”

“Ten, nine, eight…”

The students quickly grabbed their pens, clutching them tightly.

“Seven, six…”

The students’ fingers gripped the corner of their test papers, eyes glued to Qiao Yusen’s lips as his countdown continued, hands trembling with tension.

“Four, three…”

More than a hundred people inhaled at once, and the atmosphere became so dense it was hard to breathe. Even Chen Ruowen, usually unfazed, couldn’t help but feel a hint of anxiety.

“Two…”

Everyone was poised, waiting for that final number to escape the professor’s lips, for this anxious pause to end and the real test to begin.

Professor Qiao’s lips moved, his raised right hand slicing sharply downward.

A shrill ringtone pierced the air.

Qiao Yusen’s phone was ringing.

“Excuse me, I need to take this call,” he said, withdrawing his hand and strolling out the classroom door, phone in hand.

“Are you kidding me?!”

The classroom erupted.

What kind of madness was this? The phone had to ring at the very last second! Was he trying to give them all a heart attack?

The students, previously strangers, suddenly found common ground in their shared frustration, whispering rapidly to one another while Qiao Yusen was outside.

But as the initial flurry of complaints died down, silence settled over the room again, bringing with it an even sharper tension and a barely restrained urge to act.

Many students still had their fingers resting on the edge of the test, their pens ready, but the person in charge was gone. There were assistants in the back, but they weren’t Professor Qiao.

If one could just block their view and sneak a peek at the test…

Surely it would be fine? Even if the assistants reported it, Qiao Yusen wouldn’t have witnessed it himself.

Some students began glancing around, checking for surveillance cameras.

The urge to cheat started as a fleeting thought, but with every passing minute—five now without the professor’s return—a few could no longer sit still. Some began to shift in their seats, “accidentally” dropping a pen or leaning down to tie a shoelace, lowering their heads beneath the desk.

After all, Professor Qiao had made the importance of timing abundantly clear.

Chen Ruowen stifled a yawn. About ten seconds after Qiao Yusen left the room, she leaned back lazily in her seat and pulled out her phone to scroll through Yibo.

Only half a month left until the New Year—where to travel this year? It would be best if she could bring Bai Jinyan along, but he was preoccupied with college entrance exams. Who knew if he’d be able to join her…

Creak—

No telling how much time had passed, but finally the classroom door opened again. Professor Qiao returned to the podium and nodded toward the assistants in the back row. One by one, they came forward to show him something, then returned to their seats.

“Qi Yu, Shen Jiajia, Zhang Jianwei, He Le—you’re eliminated.”

The room exploded again. Those named slunk out, heads hanging in resignation, while two others protested loudly.

“Why am I eliminated? On what grounds?”

Unmoved, Professor Qiao crossed out their names on the roster. “I said anyone who turned over their paper before I announced the start would be eliminated.”

One of the boys insisted, “I didn’t turn it over! What proof do you have?”

Professor Qiao nodded at an assistant, who immediately brought out a phone and showed the screen to the boy. After a mere two seconds, the boy’s face flushed and paled in quick succession, and he slung his bag over his shoulder and left.

So they’d recorded everything—how devious!

Those who hadn’t been named let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness they’d resisted the temptation; otherwise, they’d be the ones leaving.

Professor Qiao’s gaze swept the room. After seeing Chen Ruowen slip her phone back into her pocket, he inexplicably smiled. Just as everyone was puzzled by this sudden gesture—

“The exam begins.”

…

!!!

This time, there wasn’t even a countdown—he just started it!