All the poultry gathered together.

Zheng Fanren knew that the Han Empire used the pentatonic scale, which was why it was so simple for him to sing melodies in the seven-note scale. If he sang popular songs from his previous life, they would sound like the wailing of ghosts and howling of wolves! So for "Winter Plum" to have learned several of those songs when he sang so flamboyantly, she was truly remarkable! Fortunately, the female music instructor was also an expert, or she might not have recognized the value of the seven-note scale. It didn't negate the original five-note scale, but instead added many possibilities to music.

Though her heart was surging with excitement, her tone remained gentle as she asked, "Your name is Zheng Fanren?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Do you know what I must do if I want to give you full marks?" she continued.

Zheng Fanren immediately felt awkward, never expecting such a question. He could only brace himself and answer, "I suppose... I probably need to compose a seven-note melody."

She nodded and said, "Go on, then."

From her expression, Zheng Fanren knew that asking about his grade would be pointless.

He left the music room in low spirits, walking slowly. The others didn't continue to laugh at him, for the instructor in charge of order was quite authoritative.

Murong Shushan had not yet come out, but from the elegant sound of the zither, one could sense his confident flair.

...

Back at the campsite, Zheng Fanren felt uneasy, worried that Gao Xian was becoming too enthusiastic—and too fond of his pastries. At this moment, he wanted to keep some distance, but the tent was simply too small.

He could only say stingily, "There aren't many pastries left."

Gao Xian, oblivious as ever, replied cheerily, "No problem, I'll just eat a bit less."

Zheng Fanren asked helplessly, "Why didn't I see you at the exam hall?"

Gao Xian looked dejected. "I finally got to shine at the riding ground, but then the Supreme Mystery Institute informed me there was no need for me to take any more exams."

"No need to test?"

"Yeah, so I'm already a student at the Supreme Mystery Institute now."

Zheng Fanren could no longer hold back and shouted, "Get out!"

Gao Xian grabbed a pastry and dashed off.

As for the afternoon's etiquette exam, Zheng Fanren was utterly disgusted. For someone who had once been a servant, liking the so-called ancient Han rites and the rules of hierarchy was an absurd notion.

Not to mention, he still possessed the values of his past life.

Seeing the eager gaze of the instructor from the Supreme Mystery Institute, he was full of doubt—was he such a unique candidate? After all, out of three subjects, he had no grades for two, and the third was still pending.

Since the beginning of the exams, Zheng Fanren's impression of the Supreme Mystery Institute had worsened, and facing the etiquette exam paper, his mood became even gloomier.

After much deliberation, unable to suppress his pride and sense of uniqueness, he decisively wrote two sentences in the essay section:

"I am helpless before this world, and this world is helpless before me."

"Etiquette is no etiquette, no etiquette is etiquette—it's all up to the remarkable ones to decide."

After writing, he felt a bit better, so he flamboyantly signed, "The Farmer from the Western Unknown."

Putting down his pen, he boasted inwardly, "I'll go farm!"

What he didn't know was that after he left, the elderly proctor quietly took his paper, wrote "Full Marks" next to his name, and then grinned slyly.

Returning to camp, Zheng Fanren considered giving up early, but then thought that would be too theatrical. Would he one day have to explain to the rice in the fields, "It's not that I couldn't pass, it's that I didn't want to"?

He really couldn't say such a thing. Besides, there were still two exams the next day—he could show off one more time and at least say, "Well, at least I was here!"

On reflection, the latter sounded more flamboyant, so he decided to stay another day, adopting a "since I'm here, I might as well make the best of it" attitude.

...

The next day, the candidates received a notice: the literature exam had concluded together with the etiquette exam.

The instructors explained, "Since you already wrote in the etiquette exam, we won't waste more time."

Zheng Fanren could only inwardly scoff at such a ridiculous excuse.

Returning to the exam hall for the mathematics exam, which he was very confident about, Zheng Fanren saw that the room was quiet as he took his seat.

But as soon as the test papers were handed out, the previously silent candidates began to show all sorts of anxious gestures—some pulling at their hair, some with trembling hands, some pale-faced...

Because talking was strictly prohibited, the students suppressed their groans, though many probably wanted to leave.

Zheng Fanren checked his writing tools, took a deep breath of the hot air, and opened the test paper. There was only one question:

"There is a strange chicken. On the first day, it eats one grain of rice; on the second day, two grains; on the third day, three grains; and so on. How many grains of rice does the chicken eat in a year?"

Only then did Zheng Fanren understand why there was an abacus on the table. In the Han Empire, a year had three hundred sixty days, so the total grains the chicken ate would be 180 times 361.

This pattern, which you could spot by summing from one to ten, was obvious to him. He didn’t even need the abacus, just wrote down the calculation method from his previous life and quickly found the answer: 64,980.

Zheng Fanren wrote his answer neatly on the paper. There was still plenty of blank space, so he added, "This chicken should be killed."

On further thought, he felt this didn’t quite express his concern, so he added, "Kill the chicken to prevent poverty."

He was very satisfied, recalling that in his past life, he had written something similar: "Kill the chicken to avoid decline."

But in this life, no one would grasp the double meaning of "chicken."

This mischievous habit of leaving notes had already surfaced when he borrowed clothes on the boat, but today he outdid himself!

When he set down his pen, the sound of abacus beads clicking filled the room. Zheng Fanren felt that while there were thousands striving, only a few would succeed.

Still, not everyone was so lost; those who recognized the pattern only needed a single multiplication, as the Han Empire's abacus method had long popularized such calculations.

After basking in his own brilliance, he noticed the abacus clicking hadn’t stopped, so he got up to leave.

Those nearby, noticing him, were first stunned, then smiled knowingly and followed his example.

Zheng Fanren wanted to say, "My leaving is not the same as yours," but seeing their expectant faces, he stopped himself.

The candidates nearby comforted him, "Don't worry, we're all in the same boat!"

Zheng Fanren quickly left; staying any longer would make him seem pretentious.

Once outside, he saw Gao Xian sitting by Supreme Mystery Lake.

When Zheng Fanren approached, Gao Xian consoled him, "That question was tough, but I managed to solve it too."

Zheng Fanren just smiled, thinking, "I'm still better than you!"

Just then, he faintly heard the proctor announce the end of the exam.

...

All six exams were over.

All the candidates stood quietly on the spacious stone terrace, craning their necks and standing on tiptoe, gazing at the wall where the results would soon be posted.

Several instructors emerged from between the buildings, climbed onto wooden tables, and pasted a large red sheet onto the wall.

No longer able to contain themselves, the crowd surged toward the wall with a roar.

The sound of people scrambling was like a flock of poultry fighting over feed.