Chapter Nineteen: Silent No More, A Stunning Debut

The moment Zhou Ziyang received the exam paper, the memories of taking it in his past life flooded back instantly.

This was the third city-wide joint examination of his senior year, touted as the one closest in difficulty to the actual college entrance exam. In reality, it was slightly harder, causing many of the brightest students from countless schools to falter.

After the exam, the teacher went over the papers with a smug air, mocking the students as they reviewed the answers: "Look, look, you got it wrong again, didn't you?"

"You all think you've mastered it, that you're familiar with the material? Exams are designed to test your carelessness."

"And this question—I've explained it eight hundred times, but the moment the approach is slightly altered, you're lost again, aren't you?"

The memories of his past life were vivid. Every time he saw a difficult problem, Zhou Ziyang could recall the exact problem-solving methods his teacher had taught him.

The Chinese exam paper wasn't particularly difficult. The multiple-choice questions at the beginning focused primarily on the pronunciations of obscure characters and the interpretation of idioms. As long as one had a good memory, these were easy to get right.

As for the two classical poetry analysis questions, the first was based on an extracurricular text, while the second was from the curriculum. The latter happened to be a piece the teacher had covered just a few days prior.

"What is the meaning of the lines: 'Picking through all the cold branches, it refuses to perch; lonely in the cold sandbar'?"

This question was worth three points. First, one had to provide a literal interpretation, explaining that the crow, having checked one cold branch after another, refused to use them to build a nest, preferring to endure the loneliness of the cold sandbar.

Next, one had to relate it to the poet’s situation at the time, noting that this was Su Shi’s third exile, caused by his refusal to collude with the factions at court, choosing instead to suffer alone in a desolate place. Only by including this could one earn the second point.

The third point required identifying the poet’s use of metaphor, comparing himself to the crow that refused to rest on the cold branches to express his own noble and unyielding character. Only by covering all three points could one secure full marks.

The rest of the paper consisted of two modern prose reading comprehension tasks and an essay. Modern prose reading doesn't have a standard answer, making it very difficult to get full marks. Even though Zhou Ziyang had access to the "standard" answers from his past life, he had no intention of revealing them all. He wasn't the type to seek the spotlight; besides, he only had a good memory, not an extraordinary genius. Doing well enough within the province was fine—reaching for higher heights might only lead to unnecessary trouble. Having been reborn, he knew better than anyone that striving for perfection in all things isn't always a good thing. In this life, he only wanted enough money to spend freely, to be a good son to his mother, and to find a few close companions.

The essay had no set prompt, only an excerpt from Zhu Ziqing’s *The Sight of Father’s Back*, leaving the students to develop their own themes. The direction was obvious. Without hesitation, Zhou Ziyang wrote the title: *My Father*.

In truth, the Chinese exam didn't require profound insight; it was mostly about rote memorization and applying specific formulas for reading comprehension. A clean paper and neat handwriting were genuine advantages. As it happened, due to his professional experience of writing reports for superiors, Zhou Ziyang’s calligraphy—while perhaps not rivaling a master—was better than almost anyone else's in the entire school.

Essays require a strong beginning, a substantial body, and a punchy ending. Most students loved to start with flowery, ornate language, followed by a middle section about a gray, drizzly day when their parents picked them up from school, only to realize later that their shoulders were soaked.

But there was another way—a direct, straightforward approach that was far more engaging. Zhou Ziyang started with a single sentence: "My father passed away when I was very young."

In just a few short lines, he captured the reader’s interest, making them unable to stop reading. As long as the rest of his essay was coherent and neatly written, the base score would not be low. As for the conclusion, he put in a little extra thought:

"The grass on the grave turns green and then yellow, yellow and then green. Just like my longing, year after year, it never breaks."

"Later, I went to primary school, then high school, but it has been ten years since I last called out 'Dad'."

"I think about the day when I have a son, and then a grandson."

"I will return to that overgrown land and lie down beside him."

"Perhaps by then, if I call out 'Dad' once more, he will be able to hear me."

The entire piece lacked flowery rhetoric; it contained only a deep, profound yearning for his father. The exam lasted two and a half hours, but Zhou Ziyang finished in an hour and a half. After a quick review, he found no major errors. On a 160-point paper, he was certain to score at least 145. That was enough.

Zhou Ziyang raised his hand. The proctor asked what he needed. Zhou Ziyang replied that he was handing in his paper. The proctor signaled for him to leave. Zhou Ziyang was the first to exit, and his classmates merely glanced up, thinking him reckless. The head teacher had warned them repeatedly: No handing in papers early! He hadn't listened at all.

To be honest, the proctor was slightly annoyed when she realized he was handing in his paper, wondering why a student would be so impatient—couldn't he check it again? She assumed he must be a poor student. But as she reached his desk to check his name and caught sight of his neat, elegant calligraphy, she froze. His handwriting was excellent!

She glanced at his answers. *Wait, why isn't this student in my class?*

When she read the essay, she felt a pang in her heart, regretting her earlier judgment. He had gone through so much.

For every subsequent exam, Zhou Ziyang handed in his paper early. As expected, every time he received a paper, his past-life memories were triggered, making the exams feel no different from an open-book test. He intentionally made two mistakes in mathematics, but for English, he aimed for a perfect score. Xia Wei was the top English student in the school, never scoring below 110 out of 120, sometimes even getting full marks. Zhou Ziyang intended to surpass her.

The provincial college entrance exam consisted of five subjects, taken over two days. By the evening of the first day, the teachers were already eager to go over the papers during study hall.

The math teacher was a man of impatience; otherwise, he wouldn't have publicly declared that liberal arts students were inferior to science students. He had already skimmed through the papers that afternoon. His mood? One of extreme disappointment.

"This question—we practice it every single day! How could you still get it wrong?"

"And someone actually handed in their paper early?"

"Is handing in early something to be proud of?"

"Zhou Ziyang, don't pretend you're fine! I'm talking to you! Just wait, your head teacher will be talking to you soon!"

Zhou Ziyang’s scores weren't out yet, but the teachers already knew he had turned his paper in early. They had said it countless times: it was fine not to know the answers, or even to sleep at his desk, but he was not to hand in his paper early! The overall performance had been poor, putting the teachers in a foul mood, and Zhou Ziyang had made himself a target.

"And this problem, proving triangle similarity—I've explained it eight hundred times! How do you solve it? Anyone? Come up and explain it!"

The teacher drew a cube on the board, marking four points A, B, C, and D. He asked the class to prove the similarity of the triangles formed within the structure. The room was silent. Spatial geometry was a test of spatial imagination; you either got it or you didn't. The teacher glared at the students as they shrank into their seats, frustrated by their lack of progress.

"Xia Wei, did you solve it?" he asked, calling on the top student. Xia Wei hung her head in shame.

The teacher sighed. "Well, I can't blame you. Spatial geometry is all about imagination, and boys' imaginations are just better than girls'." He added, "Only two students in the science class could solve this. And your class? Not a single one!" He spoke with a sense of pride; he had always looked down on liberal arts students.

Just then, Zhou Ziyang spoke up from his seat: "Let P be the midpoint of AE."

The students turned their eyes to him. The math teacher looked at Zhou Ziyang, who met his gaze with an indifferent expression.

"Continue," the teacher said.

As Zhou Ziyang explained, the teacher drew the midpoint P on the board. Following the logic, they connected PH. Since both were midpoints, the segment was parallel to the base. Therefore, the triangle formed by the midline was similar to the triangle at the base. This proved the similarity.

As Zhou Ziyang spoke from his seat, the teacher transcribed the steps onto the board. At first, the students were confused, wondering how Zhou Ziyang could solve it—wasn't he the one who turned his paper in early? But as the steps appeared on the board, realization dawned on them.

"Oh, right!"

"So you finally realize it's right?" the teacher snapped, still looking at the class with disappointment. "Besides Zhou Ziyang, did anyone else solve this?"

Silence.

The teacher snorted and asked Zhou Ziyang, "How did you solve this?"

"My brain works well."

"Pfft!" The students couldn't help but stifle their laughter.

Having solved a difficult problem, the teacher couldn't be quite as sarcastic toward him, though he remained suspicious. "Then, the next question—what is your answer?"

"Oh, negative one to one."

"?"

Getting one hard problem right might be luck, but two? The teacher was puzzled. "And the next?"

"Zero."

Right again! Even the science class hadn't solved that one. The teacher’s attitude shifted instantly. He smiled at Zhou Ziyang. "Come up here and explain your steps."

Zhou Ziyang didn't decline. He knew this exam was his chance to shock everyone. Rather than letting them suspect him of cheating, it was better to establish his reputation before the scores were even posted.