The ropes hanging in the air slowly descended, stopping in front of the examinees.
“Please sit properly and place the rope around your neck,” Invigilator A said calmly.
There was no room for resistance; the examinees had no choice but to obey, placing the life-threatening ropes around their necks.
The rope was rougher than it looked, and the coarse inner surface scraped against their tender skin, causing a slight stinging pain.
Once all the examinees had the ropes around their necks, a rustling sound came from the ceiling. Suddenly, the ropes tightened sharply. The examinees gasped in surprise as the ropes locked firmly around their throats.
“Damn…”
A low curse came from the back row.
Tong Yang, sitting in the second row, fourth seat, was the only examinee without a noose around her neck. However, her expression was no lighter than the others’. In fact, she looked more serious than ever.
As long as she completed this exam, regardless of the outcome, she would pass and return to the real world. But under these circumstances, she couldn’t afford to relax for even a second.
“Please begin the exam.”
Tong Yang took a deep breath. Science was her strongest subject, and the only areas where she usually lost marks were in Chinese and English. If she was careful, scoring full marks was not impossible for her. As long as she was cautious, extremely cautious, she could pass the exam with everyone else and return to the life they knew.
This exam was more than just a test—it was a new beginning for Tong Yang.
By passing the exam and achieving the required scores for university, she could secure a full scholarship and tuition waiver. This would finally allow her to escape the parasitic life she and her brother were trapped in.
They lived in the Dongyang Community, which used to house the workers from an old water plant. After the plant closed, the government took over the area, turning it into housing for those who had nowhere else to go. But as the buildings aged, most residents who could afford it left to find better living conditions. The government issued a demolition plan, which was supposed to begin last year. However, Tong Yang and a few other residents refused to move, and attempts to forcibly evict them had failed. Now, people derogatorily referred to those still living in the Dongyang Community as “parasites.”
Though they were merely receiving government assistance, they were seen as shamelessly occupying a place that wasn’t theirs. Tong Yang and her brother were among these “parasites.” Although she could barely support herself and her brother through part-time jobs and odd incomes, leaving Dongyang Community meant she would likely lose their home, and her brother might be sent to an orphanage. Tong Yang would never allow that to happen.
She had been waiting for an opportunity—a chance to break free from this parasitic life. For her, the college entrance exam was that turning point.
No matter how this exam might involve the lives of others, she would give it her all.
The pen touched the paper, making a soft scratching noise. Tong Yang regulated her breathing, calming herself, and fully focused on the exam.
She left her most troublesome subject, biology, for last and started answering the other sections.
The room was silent, with only the sound of pens scratching against paper. Tong Yang answered each question methodically. Whether it was multiple choice, true or false, fill-in-the-blanks, or problem-solving, she mentally confirmed the answers before writing them down, ensuring no mistakes and avoiding corrections. She wasn’t just aiming for the highest score; she also wanted her test paper to be neat, free from any deductions for sloppy writing.
For now, she pushed aside all irrelevant thoughts and became absorbed in the exam, momentarily forgetting her stress and worries.
Time passed unnoticed. About fifty minutes later, she had finished checking her physics answers, making sure there were no mistakes or omissions. Her test paper was immaculate, with not a single correction—almost as if it had been printed.
Perhaps due to some tension, Tong Yang was about five minutes slower than usual. With her familiarity with the questions and solving methods, she should have finished the physics section in about forty minutes.
Tong Yang stretched her heavy shoulders and glanced around. The ropes were taut above everyone’s heads, practically forcing the examinees to keep their heads up. Some of them were dripping with cold sweat, perhaps due to the awkward position, or perhaps out of fear of the unknown.
After two seconds, Tong Yang lowered her head and continued answering the questions.
To be honest, the questions on this college entrance exam were simpler than the ones Tong Yang usually practiced. Many of the multiple-choice questions required little thought to answer.
Of course, part of that was due to the large number of practice problems she had solved over the past year. She had spent countless hours preparing for these two days.
She finished the chemistry section faster than the physics section, including time for checking, in about forty-five minutes.
Her answering method remained the same—no mistakes or corrections.
Tong Yang was confident that she wouldn’t lose any points in chemistry or physics. As long as she could complete the biology section without errors, this nightmare would be over.
“Please keep your eyes on your own paper,” Invigilator A’s cold voice echoed.
Science exams, unlike humanities, don’t leave much room for writing when you don’t know the answers. Most of the students had finished answering what they could and were now waiting for their fate.
Tong Yang could feel multiple gazes frequently landing on her.
She glanced up at the classroom clock. There were exactly fifty minutes left until the exam ended.
Fifty minutes… That’s enough!
As time passed, more and more students stopped writing.
Because of the rough ropes around their necks, they couldn’t even rest their heads on the desks. Sitting in the same position for too long made their shoulders ache, and the ropes had chafed their necks, causing small spots of blood to seep out and stain the ropes.
At this point, only Tong Yang was still writing, her pen scratching against the paper in the otherwise silent room. The ticking of the clock in the front seemed to echo like their collective heartbeat.
Finally, with fifteen minutes left, Tong Yang only had one last biology problem to solve.
She carefully read through the question, thought for a moment, and then began to write.
The answer flowed easily, much smoother than she had anticipated.
Just as she was about to finish, Tong Yang paused, re-reading the question. She suddenly realized she was about to make the same mistake she’d made in the past—adding her own interpretations that weren’t in the textbook.
The thing about descriptive answers is that they aren’t always absolute. Sometimes she would score full marks, and other times she would lose a point or two for focusing on the wrong details. If this were a regular exam, she wouldn’t worry too much about such small deviations. But now, there was no room for error.
So, Tong Yang crossed out the second half of her answer with a line and rewrote it.
It was a bit regrettable. Up until now, her test paper had been pristine, without a single correction mark.
After finishing the last question, Tong Yang let out a sigh of relief. She put down the now-hot pen and quickly flipped through the pages to check her answers one last time. Her forehead was damp with sweat, and her palms were clammy.
There were seven minutes left in the exam.
“Examinee number twelve, please submit your test paper before the exam ends. Other examinees, please close your papers and move away from the desks.”
Three minutes later, with four minutes left, Tong Yang put down her paper, raised her right hand, and said, “I’m done.”
Everyone held their breath and turned their attention to Tong Yang.
“Please submit your paper.”
Tong Yang stood up and brought her science test to the front, handing it to Invigilator A.
When she turned back around, she saw the nervous expressions on everyone’s faces—their red eyes, their trembling shoulders. She lowered her gaze silently.
She couldn’t guarantee the outcome, but she had done her best.
If there were a couple of mistakes, there was nothing she could do.
“Return to your seat.”
Tong Yang walked back to her seat. As she did, the boy sitting behind her—whom she still didn’t know the name of—managed to offer her a strained, comforting smile.
She lowered her head and picked up her still-warm pen, doodling meaningless shapes on her scratch paper.
Even though she had completed the most important exam of her life, her mood couldn’t be worse.
Invigilator A began reviewing her test paper quickly. All eyes were on the thin stack of papers, except for Tong Yang, who sat with her chin resting on her hand, staring at her random doodles on the scratch paper, her lips tightly pressed together.
“Physics, full marks, no mistakes.”
Invigilator A’s cold voice filled the classroom. Tong Yang faintly heard the sound of someone exhaling in relief.
The room was filled with wide-eyed, breath-holding students.
“Chemistry, full marks, no mistakes.”
The sound of heavy breathing grew louder, and the tension in the room rose.
If biology received full marks like the other two subjects, they would all be safe. They could return to the real world, go eat the hot pot they had promised, and celebrate Tong Yang’s birthday again. This time, they’d buy a real cake!
Even if there were one or two mistakes, it would be understandable, and they could accept it.
After a brief pause, Invigilator A put down the paper and looked up at the class. His voice, still cold, echoed through the room: “Biology, full marks.”
At the sound of those four words, the tension that had been building in the room exploded into excitement and disbelief.
Tong Yang did it?!
She got full marks?!
They were going home?! Everyone was going home?
Was this really the end?!
It’s over? For real?
The pen that Tong Yang had been gripping tightly suddenly slipped from her fingers, rolling across the desk and falling to the floor with a soft clatter.
“First, congratulations to examinee number twelve for achieving a perfect score in the science exam.”
Tong Yang’s heart pounded in her chest as she bent down to pick up her fallen pen.
“Second, congratulations to examinee number twelve for successfully passing all parts of the Independent College Entrance Exam.”
“And finally, since examinee number twelve made more than thirty-two mistakes in the last biology question, all other examinees have failed the exam. Punishment begins now.”
“What…?”
Everyone froze, their faces filled with disbelief.
“But wasn’t it a perfect score?”
“Why are we…”
Before they could finish their sentences, the silence of the classroom was pierced by the sharp, grating sound of desks and chairs scraping against the floor.
Tong Yang, still bent over, stared in shock as she looked up to see all the other examinees being yanked into the air by the ropes around their necks. They hadn’t even had time to cry out for help.
Their bodies hung in the air, legs kicking desperately as they struggled for breath. Their necks and faces bulged with veins, tears streaming down their cheeks as they suffocated.
Outside, the sun was hidden behind dark clouds, and countless shadows of suffocating figures engulfed Tong Yang.
The bodies that had fought so hard against death gradually weakened, their limbs going limp. The sound of the ropes rubbing against the ceiling grew fainter, and soon dozens of lifeless bodies swayed gently in the air, one shoe falling to the ground with a soft thud.
Their eyes remained wide open, filled with anger, bloodshot, faces twisted in terror and despair.
Desks and chairs lay overturned on the floor, and test papers with names written on them scattered across the room.
Tong Yang sat unharmed in her seat, slowly straightening up. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the lifeless bodies swaying above her—those familiar faces now twisted in horror and despair.
Beyond them, she saw the three invigilators watching her, their faces twisted with mad satisfaction and triumph, their eyes gleaming with amusement. It was as if they were more eager to see the despair and shock on Tong Yang’s face than they were to watch the others struggle in the air.
“Didn’t the teacher mention? Neatness counts too,” came the cold, mocking voice, dripping with sadistic pleasure.
“Is that so…”
Tong Yang’s face turned pale. She gripped her pen so tightly that it broke, piercing her skin. She muttered under her breath, as if in disbelief.
Suddenly, she recalled the rules Invigilator A had mentioned at the beginning of the exam.
He had said, “One mistake, one death,” not “one point, one death.”
Just as Tong Yang had exploited a loophole in the rules during the math exam, they had also used a loophole in the language of the rules, hiding the real meaning from everyone.
At that moment, the clock’s hands aligned perfectly at 5:30.
The bell rang, and Invigilator A smiled.
“Congratulations to examinee number twelve for successfully passing the exam. We’ll see you again.”
Tong Yang looked at his pale face, her nails digging deep into her palm.
