A Perfect Score, Just as Expected

Wan Lixing could not comprehend why Murong Shushan was so concerned about Zheng Fanren’s results; all he knew was that Zheng Fanren had scored zero in both the horsemanship and archery sections. Thus, his attention was fixed on Gao Xian, the legendary student who supposedly needn’t sit for exams. He slowly moved toward the pair, as the other candidates squeezed aside to let him pass.

Before he drew close, he vaguely overheard Gao Xian saying to Zheng Fanren, “In mathematics, I am indeed no match for you.”

It seemed the two had been discussing the mathematics section. Yet how could someone directly admitted to the Supreme Academy be inferior to Zheng Fanren in that subject? Just then, Wan Lixing realized it was becoming difficult to move forward, as the crowd grew increasingly restless.

He heard Murong Shushan’s panicked exclamation, though the words were lost in the din. All around, people were talking about Zheng Fanren: the old black horse’s remarkable speed, his uncanny marksmanship, and some odd tunes he’d sung. There were even whispers about a veteran instructor secretly hiding his classics exam paper, but none of it made any sense.

Earlier, when Zheng Fanren had left, Ling Yun had felt a nagging curiosity. Now, seeing Murong Shushan’s genuine anxiety over Zheng Fanren’s scores, his own interest was piqued.

Moments later, his eyes widened in utter disbelief as he gazed at the rankings for music, ritual, literature, horsemanship, and archery. He saw Zheng Fanren’s name running in a line across all five subjects, and rubbed his eyes several times before he dared believe what he read. At last, his lips parted in astonishment, and in a dazed voice he recited, “Perfect score! Perfect score! Perfect score! Perfect score! And yet again, perfect score!”

Around him, other candidates erupted in exclamations. “Only mathematics is zero—all five other subjects are perfect!”

Those who had never met Zheng Fanren urgently questioned their companions, while those who had witnessed his unusual performance began to regale others with tales of his strange testing feats.

Beneath the rankings, the crowd parted as if by instinct, forming a path. One after another, people began walking down this path toward the candidate with the most bizarre exam experience of all.

Zheng Fanren, for his part, had no inkling why everyone was coming toward him. He was preoccupied with how to extricate himself from the web of boasts he’d spun before Luoxue, especially now that their wedding was approaching.

Ling Yun was the first to rush before him, staring in disbelief and asking in a trembling voice, “How did you get perfect scores in five subjects?”

Wan Lixing, meanwhile, felt as if he had been entirely forgotten. Gao Xian’s words about mathematics still echoed in his ears. Only now did he realize how naive his own supposed cleverness—shared by Zhou Zitian—must seem in the eyes of the old master of the Supreme Academy. As for the supposedly unfailing strategist Mo Dao, he might as well be a master of guaranteed mistakes!

More importantly, Wan Lixing had to face the fact: he truly was no match for Zheng Fanren. Once again, Zheng Fanren had slipped free of his schemes—but this time, Zheng Fanren hadn’t merely escaped; he had risen above him entirely.

Wan Lixing’s original plan was simply to ensure Zheng Fanren failed—not once had he imagined Zheng Fanren could become a threat. A cold glint flashed in his eyes, but he quickly forced a self-mocking smile and made to leave; he dared not linger any longer. However, by this time, so many people had gathered that he was penned in, unable to get away.

Soon, a storm of applause erupted around him. To stand amidst the crowd without clapping would have made him seem a complete fool. Farther back, Ye Yinghua whispered to Lu Qingsheng and another companion, “He may not be as good as us in mathematics, but we each have our strengths.” Whether meant as comfort for herself or her friends, her words sounded feeble amid the thunderous applause.

The younger Fang Zizai, thoroughly embarrassed, joined in the clapping to avoid standing out.

Ling Yun still gazed at Zheng Fanren, awaiting an answer.

At last, Zheng Fanren realized what was happening. Yet, having long been at the side of the masterful actor Nangong Mo, his own acting skills were not lacking. He responded with calm composure, “Perhaps it’s simply that the head of the Supreme Academy possesses unusual clarity.”

As he finished, he looked at the eager faces around him, offered a polite smile and nod, and almost raised his hand to wave, but thought better of it, fearing it would appear too theatrical. Awkwardly, he let his half-raised hand fall.

Inwardly he mused, “I am still the same unchanging self.”

Those around him understood the implication. To achieve such remarkable results had required extraordinary skill, yet had the head of the Supreme Academy not been clear-sighted, Zheng Fanren’s scores would surely have been zeros across the board. Because of this, the candidates’ feelings were complicated. If such a fair exam had still left them unsuccessful, the fault could only lie within themselves.

Self-reflection is a rare virtue, and naturally, many lacked it. Thus, there were plenty who remained dissatisfied—especially those who had heard Zheng Fanren sing, who now bristled with resentment and confusion.

Sure enough, Ling Yun pressed on, unwilling to concede: “How could you have received a perfect score for music?”

Her tone brimmed with skepticism and a touch of defiance. When Zheng Fanren had been downtrodden, she had felt an inexplicable kindness toward him; now that he no longer seemed a tragic figure, she returned to her noble role, questioning him as if she could not possibly have scored lower herself in music.

Zheng Fanren found such conversations irksome. He was who he was: if treated with excessive warmth, he became nervous and self-conscious, even awkward about waving his hand. But if confronted with suspicion, the proud side of him emerged.

He retorted, “You want me to prove it? And why should I?”

The onlookers were taken aback by his sudden coldness. Before anyone could react, he continued:

“If you are born noble, do you owe the servants proof of your nobility?”

“If you are wealthy beyond measure, do you have to prove your riches to the poor?”

“By the same token, I have no need to prove myself to you!”

“There is no reason, and there need be none. My results are simply better than yours! Nor do I need your acceptance, for your acceptance is of no value to me!”

With that, he turned to leave, finding the atmosphere unbearably stifling.

Ling Yun was left standing there, her hands trembling. Only now did she realize that the uncouth servant was not someone she could question at will, nor someone who had to cower before her.

Just then, a gentle voice called out from the back of the crowd.

“I was the one who awarded him the perfect score in music. Is there a problem?”

Everyone turned to see a white-haired woman standing beneath the rankings. Though frail in appearance, her demeanor was commanding. Seeing the crowd still dazed, she went on, “If there’s no problem, then let’s listen to the music.”

“It’s the Grandmaster of Supreme Music! They say even the head of the Academy must defer to her!” someone exclaimed.

Cries of amazement swept the scene. “It was she who gave him the perfect score!”

At that moment, a bolt of lightning seemed to flash through everyone’s mind. All dissatisfaction and doubt evaporated—not because they were no longer curious, but because they dared not question further.

Zheng Fanren did not know her identity, but could sense her formidable presence from the crowd’s reaction. He bowed respectfully: “Greetings, Madam.”

His respect had nothing to do with her rank, but simply because she was worthy of it. Had it been another instructor, the chance of receiving a perfect score would have been slim. That she had appeared here, at this moment, made her all the more deserving of respect.