Chapter Thirty: Examination Procedures

Bear Mountain led his group out of the assembly hall and onto the sports field.

“No need for more words. The exam depends entirely on your own abilities. Just one rule: no cheating. If you’re caught, you’re out. The time and place are all on your wristbands. Go on, get back to your studies. The exams start tomorrow. Li Daoran, stay behind.”

Bear Mountain dismissed them without a trace of politeness. Compared to the other instructors, who were painstakingly advising their classes, Bear Mountain’s laissez-faire approach was glaringly apparent.

Xu Xingxing, however, called out loudly, “Permission to speak!”

“Go ahead.”

Lowering his voice, Xu Xingxing asked, “What if someone cheats but doesn’t get caught?”

“If you’re not caught, is that still cheating? Are you daft?” Li Daoran shot him a scornful look. He had every intention of cheating and was confident he wouldn’t be discovered, so he spoke as though it were only natural.

Veins bulged on Bear Mountain’s forehead. He grabbed both of them, one in each hand, and hauled them off with ease, as though they were nothing more than chicks.

The rest exchanged glances, then burst into laughter, dispersing in groups to see if they shared exam rooms. When they found familiar faces, they exchanged sly, knowing smiles.

Bear Mountain dragged the two to a secluded corner and tossed them aside. Li Daoran and Xu Xingxing didn’t mind; they stood up, dusted themselves off, and stood there grinning.

“Xu Xingxing, why are you hanging around with Li Daoran?” Bear Mountain frowned as he looked at him.

“Uncle Bear, Li Daoran—” Xu Xingxing thought Bear Mountain was like the other classmates, unaware of Li Daoran’s unique qualities, and wanted to explain. But Li Daoran, having heard Bear Mountain, interjected before Xu Xingxing could continue.

“Brother Bear, I don’t like what you’re implying. Why say I’m leading him astray? What’s wrong with me, anyway? Huh? Uncle Bear?”

Li Daoran was surprised to hear Xu Xingxing call Bear Mountain “Uncle,” and turned to look at him.

“Uncle Bear is an old friend of my father’s. Isn’t it a bit much for you to call him ‘brother’?” Xu Xingxing was a little put out at being inexplicably demoted a generation.

“It’s all relative, doesn’t matter,” Li Daoran replied smugly.

“In the future, just call me ‘brother’ as well. To say we’re old friends already flatters me. Master Xu taught me a great deal; I wouldn’t dare consider myself his equal,” Bear Mountain said with a touch of pain.

“Then why did you make me class monitor?” Li Daoran caught on that the two had a history and grew even more puzzled as to why he had been chosen for the role.

“Xu Xingxing is too arrogant. That’s not a good thing; he needs to be tempered a bit. And you just rub me the wrong way,” Bear Mountain said bluntly, not hiding anything.

“Enough chatter. You signed up for so many subjects—don’t tell me you were serious about what you said last time.”

“Of course I was. I’m a genius, after all.” Li Daoran showed not a hint of guilt.

Xu Xingxing was thoroughly confused, not understanding what sort of riddles they were speaking in. Hearing that Li Daoran was really going to try to pass so many exams, he was a little shocked. He’d thought Li Daoran was just casting a wide net, but now it seemed that wasn’t the case.

Though he’d always had faith in Li Daoran, he realized now he’d still underestimated him.

Bear Mountain continued, “Fine, even if you’re a genius, the circumstances aren’t in your favor. Eighty-three subjects in three days—on average, at least twenty-seven exams a day. That means you’ll need to finish at least six exams in the time it takes others to do one. Each exam is twenty minutes, not counting the time it takes to change classrooms.”

“What? Is that really the case?” Li Daoran felt doomed just hearing about it. Was that even possible?

Hearing how hard it would be, Xu Xingxing’s mouth fell open. He quickly checked if any of his own subjects overlapped and, finding only two, breathed a sigh of relief. Worst case, he could just skip one; after all, they didn’t have the privilege of being late, and even if they worked fast, there was no way to make both.

“Everyone thinks you’re just being clever, but the young lady believes you’re not joking, so she signed you up for all of them. But the exam process can’t be changed just for you, so she did everything she could and got you the privilege of submitting early or being late,” Bear Mountain said.

Li Daoran fell silent. He was often teased about living off others, but he couldn’t deny that the kindness of a beauty was hard to refuse. With Liu Meng helping him so much, he didn’t know what she wanted from him. How could he repay her? Should he really offer himself? Maybe that wasn’t so unthinkable.

“I’ve said all that needs saying. Think carefully about which subjects you’re most confident in and which you can give up. As for cheating, if you don’t get caught, that’s your own skill—but don’t underestimate us invigilators. That’s it, you two can go.”

Bear Mountain hesitated, then turned to leave.

Li Daoran took a few steps, then turned back, exasperated. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it. No need to act like this.”

“How do you plan to cheat?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Forget it. In such a short time, it’s impossible,” Bear Mountain sighed, waved his hand, and left.

Xu Xingxing was intrigued. He nudged Li Daoran and whispered, “How are you going to cheat? Teach me, brother.”

Li Daoran slumped his shoulders. “You wouldn’t be able to learn my methods. Don’t ask—just know that it’s genius, and rely on yourself.”

Suddenly, Xu Xingxing posed a question: “My side’s star coordinates are 152.168.256, the enemy’s are 225.369.147. The enemy is in a Crane Wing formation. What formation should we use to counter it?”

Li Daoran stared blankly at him. What on earth was he talking about?

“All right, I get it,” Xu Xingxing nodded, realizing Li Daoran truly didn’t know. He walked off, disappointed, leaving Li Daoran confused and at a loss.

Li Daoran returned to his dorm alone. He’d wanted to thank Liu Meng, but figured since he wasn’t getting an injection today, he could wait until tomorrow.

Back in his room, he turned on two wristbands, each playing a different course, and continued his finger dexterity exercises.

His life had become very routine. Each morning upon waking, he’d return to Water Blue Star for two or three hours, then go back to Dao Ran World to get an injection from Liu Meng and chat for a while. Afterward, he’d return to the dorm for his daily physical training, then start studying, exercising his fingers until bedtime. He lived an ascetic, dull life.

Sometimes he considered slowing down his courses to better understand the material, but the efficiency was too poor, so he dismissed the idea.

Now, it seemed as if Dao Ran World had become his primary world, with Water Blue Star feeling more like a dream. He wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. He’d mentioned it to Chen Ming and the others, and they’d said it was normal—after all, he spent less time on Water Blue Star. Only this routine, they said, was best for him and for all humanity.

Sometimes he worried: what if he got injured? Chen Ming laughed and said, “If that happens, don’t even think about coming back until you’re healed. We’ve prepared anesthetics and medical staff. We can keep you unconscious for a month, no problem—as long as you don’t try to return yourself.”

Li Daoran didn’t know if he was joking, but felt relieved; at least he wouldn’t cause irreparable consequences by returning while injured. As for what would happen if he died, he didn’t ask—and Chen Ming didn’t say.