“Multiple choice questions: B, A, C… all correct?”
Xia Xiaolan nodded. If her memory wasn’t failing her, her answers indeed matched the standard answers.
If this had been Math or English multiple choice questions, no one in the class would have been surprised – those were Xia Xiaolan’s strong subjects, especially English! But getting all the Chinese Literature multiple choice questions correct was different. Xia Xiaolan wouldn’t lie – this score estimation would determine her university applications. She could easily get into a top-tier university with her normal performance, so there was no point in lying.
Chen Qing checked each question, and Xia Xiaolan only needed to compare with the standard answers and state whether she was correct. Multiple choice, fill-in-the-blanks, and true-false questions could be scored accurately – wrong meant zero points, right meant full points. The classical Chinese annotations and reading comprehension were more ambiguous. Xia Xiaolan looked at the answers, recalling how she had responded that day. Some matched exactly, others had variations. The scoring stalled at the essay section – while classical Chinese annotations and reading comprehension had standard answers, essays couldn’t be scored accurately.
The 1984 Chinese exam wasn’t divided by question types, but rather into three sections: modern Chinese, classical Chinese, and essay writing.
Modern Chinese was worth 40 points, classical Chinese 30 points, and the essay 50 points.
Everyone had always said Chinese Literature was Xia Xiaolan’s weakest subject, but maybe this year’s questions were truly easier. After estimating her scores for the first two sections, she had already secured around 58 points. An easier exam was a blessing for non-top students, as it narrowed the gap between them and the top students. With difficult questions, top students might score 90 while others managed 60, but with easier questions, top students would still only score around 90 while others could reach 80… Of course, elite students would approach perfect scores regardless of difficulty.
Out of 120 total points, if an elite student scored 120 and a regular top student scored 118, did that reflect only a two-point difference in ability?
The one scoring 118 reached their limit, while the one scoring 120 was only constrained by the maximum possible score!
Xia Xiaolan wasn’t poor at Chinese. The essay topic asked for an 800-word argumentative piece about “Views on Middle School Student Essays” – not poetry or prose, fortunately avoiding her weaker areas. Out of 50 points for the essay, she hadn’t strayed from the topic and should easily score above 30 points.
“Let’s estimate 90 points for Chinese.”
This score represented a normal performance for Xia Xiaolan, and she was being conservative.
Chen Qing quickly wrote down “Chinese: 90 points.”
Next came Mathematics. Math scores were easier to estimate. For this exam, considered the hardest math test in history, many people had just estimated scores around thirty-four points, some as low as 20-something, with even the highest not exceeding 70 points. Xia Xiaolan’s answers were all “correct,” and she knew she should get a perfect score, but to avoid seeming overconfident, she estimated “115.”
The entire classroom fell silent.
Everyone’s gazes burned like fire, suppressing doubts about their intelligence.
Why could Xiaolan score 115 points while they only managed thirty or 40?
“Could the estimate be wrong…”
From a corner, someone muttered, and even usually harmonious relationships couldn’t avoid jealousy at this moment.
Though that voice was quickly dismissed, people’s gazes at Xia Xiaolan couldn’t help but flicker. Could the intelligence gap between people be that large? Could Xia Xiaolan score 115 points on questions everyone else found difficult?
Next, they estimated Physics, Chemistry, Politics, and Biology in turn.
Shock, jealousy, envy… then numbness – the emotional progression of those listening to Xia Xiaolan’s score estimates was layered.
Only when hearing her political estimate did everyone finally feel they were hearing a score achieved by a normal person – out of 100 points, Xia Xiaolan estimated she’d score 50.
Chen Qing added up all of Xia Xiaolan’s estimated scores: Chinese 90, Math 115, Politics 50, English 98, Physics 92, Chemistry 94, and Biology 45, totaling 584 points. Chen Qing feared making a mistake and, despite it being a simple addition that any elementary student could do, calculated it two or three times with his pen.
“584 points?”
Last year’s science stream provincial champion in Yunan Province had scored 584 points.
This year’s Math and Physics were both difficult, and many people’s score estimates felt like salt being rubbed in their wounds. Only Xia Xiaolan had estimated such a high score.
Could she have overestimated?
Old Wang entered the classroom carrying a stack of materials.
“How’s everyone’s score estimation going? These are your preferred forms. You have all day to consider how to fill them out. You can consult with teachers if you have questions, or seek your parents’ opinions.”
Today was for estimating scores and filling out university preferences, and many parents would certainly accompany their children, fearing they might impulsively fill out the wrong preferences and fail to get admitted.
However, they remained outside the classroom for now, leaving the space for students to estimate scores, careful not to disturb their children.
The actual exam scores weren’t out yet, let alone the admission cutoff lines.
However, each school had its inside information and would analyze this year’s situation based on previous years’ admission data. This year’s Math was especially difficult, and Physics was also relatively hard. These two subjects would lower some average students’ scores, though the top performers would be less affected. Old Wang explained all these analyses to the students – this year’s undergraduate admission line should be around 460 points.
Those estimating 30 points above that should be fairly secure in applying to key universities.
If one could score 500 points, key universities were certainly within reach – just avoid the most popular prestigious universities.
Those scoring 30 points below 460 would probably only qualify for vocational colleges.
Using the undergraduate line as a standard, about 20 points above was the key university line, and about 20 points below was the vocational college line. The current college entrance exam scoring system was this simple and crude – the same test paper nationwide, the same admission lines nationwide. Score estimation was crucial, and filling out preferences equally so. Many students rushed out of the classroom with their preference forms, each seeking their mothers.
With most students gone from the classroom, Old Wang carefully asked Xia Xiaolan:
“What’s your estimated score?”
If not for her injured hand, would Old Wang need to be so careful?
“584 points, might not be exact, but shouldn’t be far off.”
Old Wang nearly crushed the chalk in his hand – estimated how many points, 584?!
Someone was even more excited – Principal Sun, who had been eavesdropping outside, burst in. “Student Xiaolan, is your estimate accurate, 584 points?”
How could Xia Xiaolan say it wasn’t accurate now? Principal Sun’s eyes were full of hope; she could only nod.
Principal Sun spun in circles, muttering “wonderful,” then after two turns embraced Old Wang. The two old men were being embarrassingly emotional – Xia Xiaolan found it painful to watch.
Principal Sun suddenly turned to ask her:
“What about your preferences? Which university will you choose?”
“Huaqing University, I like that school.”
With your grades, whatever you say is right! Schools like Huaqing and Jing University – what students in the country didn’t like them?
Principal Sun pulled out the fountain pen from his shirt pocket and handed it to Xia Xiaolan:
“Use my pen to fill it out!”
If Xia Xiaolan got into Huaqing, this pen would be a witness – Anqing No. 1 Middle School’s, no, all of Anqing County’s first student to enter Huaqing University, cultivated by his, Sun’s, keen eye for talent.