Chapter 19: After Finishing an Exam

When I reached the final questions, I wracked my brain to write down everything I knew. For those I didn’t understand, I refused to leave them blank, scribbling every formula and theorem that came to mind. When I could think of nothing else to write, there were still about forty minutes left.

With the remaining time, I went back to check the fill-in-the-blank and multiple-choice questions I’d answered at the start. The ones I couldn’t solve were still beyond me, and even the ones I’d completed didn’t feel certain. While others lamented that the time was too short, I wondered, “Why isn’t it time to hand in the papers yet?”

At last, the broadcast announced to the proctors to collect the exams and for students to leave the room. My face was no longer flushed, my hands had stopped trembling, but my whole body felt drained, devoid of strength.

I gathered my belongings and walked slowly out of the exam hall. Outside, some students were excitedly comparing answers, others complained about the difficulty of this year’s math test. What I wanted to say was, “Difficult or easy, I wouldn’t have known either way.”

I followed the crowd out of the hall and, from a distance, saw Dad waiting for me outside. It was already near noon. July in Y City was the hottest month of the year; though not as sweltering as the nearly forty degrees in the south, it was still thirty-two. Shade trees lined the sidewalk outside the exam hall, but at midday, their shadows shrank smaller and smaller.

The scorching sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting mottled patches on the ground. Dad was tall, with a slight stoop, and among the throng of waiting parents, I spotted him immediately, chatting with others.

I hurried over and called out, “Dad!”

“So, how did it go?”

“I wrote down everything I knew, and didn’t leave anything blank.”

“Good, that’s one subject done. Let’s go, your mother’s made lunch at home. Let’s eat!”

“Okay.”

Mom had already calculated when I’d return, and when I arrived, lunch was freshly prepared—everything I liked. She said, “Once you’re done, it’s over. Next subject. Rest well at midday, and your dad will take you back this afternoon.”

“Mm, Chinese in the afternoon. It’ll be better than math, at least,” I replied.

At noon, I lay down for a while. I couldn’t sleep, but I closed my eyes to rest, feeling my energy slowly return.

Ah, there’s still another subject this afternoon.

Outside the exam hall, the crowds remained, but noticeably, everyone’s expressions were no longer so anxious as they had been in the morning. Those who did well brimmed with confidence and anticipation for the Chinese exam; those who did poorly had found their footing and adjusted their mindset.

As for me, knowing full well that my math results would be poor, after enduring the morning’s ordeal and harsh test, I was no longer so tense. After all, the exam was over. No use worrying. There were still four subjects ahead.

Soon, the doors to the exam hall opened.

I entered once more.

Each subject had a different hall and seat, and a different proctor. When the proctor handed out the Chinese test papers, I filled in my name, candidate number, and other information as usual, and began to answer the questions.

After all, it was my native language. No matter how poorly I’d studied, I wouldn’t be at a complete loss.

Filling in classical poetry was a mandatory section. Before the exam, I memorized many poems—not their full texts, but the most famous lines from each. For example, Du Fu’s “Spring View”—no need to recite the whole poem, just the memorable line: “Moved by the times, flowers shed tears; grieved by partings, birds startle the heart.”

Before the exam, I thought I’d memorized enough and that the poetry section wouldn’t pose any problem. Yet, when the paper was handed out, I realized most of what I’d memorized was useless; I only recognized one, and the others were completely unfamiliar.

There was nothing for it. Sticking to my principle of not leaving blanks, I racked my brains and, based on the rules of parallelism, simply guessed.

For the remaining questions, I continued in this manner.

The essay was to be written as an argumentative piece based on a provided image. Compared to other genres—lyrical, descriptive, narrative—I was better at argumentation. But this year’s college entrance essay was much tougher; the image was complex and ambiguous.

Truthfully, I barely understood the picture. What could I do? Make something up.

I wrote and wrote on the essay sheet, and by the end, I had no idea what I’d written, or what point I was trying to express.

In short, it wasn’t a good piece.

But my writing skills were only so-so; I couldn’t expect much more…