The recording began.
All five judges took their seats, with Catherine, the British expert, drawing the most attention.
Close encounters with foreign friends were rare enough, and Catherine had become famous through the “Follow Me” program. The audience members, all accomplished English speakers whether teachers or students, had mostly watched “Follow Me.” According to viewership surveys, the program had 10 million viewers in Hua Guo, which coincidentally matched the number of television sets owned by the country’s citizens.
To Catherine’s left sat Xu Guozhang, and to her right was Zhan Aiqun.
As a British expert living in Hua Guo, Catherine could speak basic Chinese. She clearly understood the essence of television program recording, and from the first contestant’s appearance, she attempted to communicate in simple Chinese—foreigners speaking Chinese, contestants speaking English, and everyone communicating in their non-native language, making it fair and considerate while helping to ease the contestants’ nervousness.
Contestant Number 1, who had scored highest in the written test, was from Fudan University in Shanghai. Though initially nervous, she became more composed after conversing with Catherine.
Xiao Lan, waiting backstage, could hear Contestant Number 1’s voice. She had to admit that exceptional people emerged at any time—someone good at written tests could also be remarkably fluent in spoken English.
The first section, “Self-Introduction,” was well-prepared. The contestant shared amusing anecdotes about learning English, masterfully handling the story’s flow and transitions. The vocabulary wasn’t complex, and Xiao Lan was certain that not just the judges but even the audience could understand everything—and find it entertaining, judging by the occasional laughter.
Applause followed.
Contestant Number 1’s performance put considerable pressure on those waiting backstage.
“She didn’t stumble even once!” Zhong Cai whispered.
Xiao Lan nodded. “She’s very good. When Chinese people use a foreign language, since it’s not their mother tongue, there’s usually a translation process during listening and reading—first converting English to Chinese, then Chinese back to English… Contestant Number 1 doesn’t seem to have this process, or rather, her thinking is so quick and clear that the conversion time is imperceptible.”
Even in translation, there were different levels of proficiency.
Some translators could understand but needed considerable time for conversion, either due to insufficient language skills or slow thinking speed, sometimes unable to translate accurately.
Better ones could balance speed while precisely conveying meaning.
The best were simultaneous interpreters, maintaining an average lag of just 3-4 seconds between original and translated content, without disrupting the speaker’s flow or the audience’s comprehension.
While this wasn’t a translation competition, Contestant Number 1’s quick thinking and precise vocabulary impressed Xiao Lan as superior to many professional translators—which made sense, given that she represented the cream of the crop among current university students, selected through a national competition.
Contestant Number 1 lived up to Xiao Lan and Zhong Cai’s evaluation, scoring 97.9 out of 100. With five judges each having full scoring rights, the final score was calculated by removing the highest and lowest scores and averaging the rest.
“That’s amazing!”
Indeed it was, and Contestant Number 1’s high score put immense pressure on those following.
Xiao Lan wasn’t worried about what Ji Jiangyuan had mentioned.
With each contestant taking about 15 minutes, plus intermissions, Number 17, wouldn’t be up for over four hours. Since they knew in advance, Hua Qing’s teachers would surely find a solution.
The judges might have doubts, but Teacher Lin and Professor He knew her well.
Teachers always knew their students’ capabilities.
As for the oral portion, she conversed with both teachers daily—that couldn’t be faked.
Xiao Lan calmed herself to think. Wang Guangping’s tactics were underhanded, playing on the judges’ sense of justice. If they had a preconception about her using connections, they’d be predisposed to dislike her. With some unexpected situation during recording, she’d surely panic.
At worst, it would affect her competition score; at best, who knew… It was quite a nasty move, though Wang’s family wouldn’t have to lift a finger.
Xiao Lan could guess that when Wang Guangping asked these people to “take care of” the situation, the instructions would have been deliberately vague, leaving no evidence and completely explainable as a simple concern—if anyone questioned why Director Wang was interested in Xiao Lan, they could even bring up Xia Ziyu.
They were relatives, after all, just family members showing concern! Xiao Lan, being experienced, could easily imagine all these excuses.
Tang Hong’en and Zhou Guobin would never stoop to such tactics. Whatever the reason, neither would personally trouble a student—they wouldn’t consider a student as an opponent worth personally dealing with. Wang Guangping’s level was too low; Xiao Lan was certain his work life after reinstatement must be quite difficult.
Those successful in their careers wouldn’t have time for such pettiness!
Only those who weren’t trusted with important work would have time for such nonsense.
This came quite suddenly—something must have happened in the Wang family. Either Xia Ziyu or Wang Jianhua must have mentioned their past “grievances.” Did the Wang family see her as trouble, not wanting to wait for her to establish herself in Beijing, fearing her revenge if she became part of the Zhou family?
From the Wang family’s perspective, this made sense, but to Xiao Lan, they were as disgusting as slugs—sticky and impossible to shake off. She wondered if she could catch Director Wang making a mistake; she wanted to bring down the Wang family in one fell swoop.
He Jia’s case wouldn’t work—the young woman should have started a new life by now. Bringing it up again wouldn’t bring down Director Wang but would only add to He Jia’s pain.
Xiao Lan’s thoughts wandered.
She felt her audacity—Wang Guangping was, after all, a deputy director-level official. Taking him down wouldn’t be easy.
Time passed minute by minute, but neither Teacher Lin nor Professor He came backstage.
What was going on? Ji Jiangyuan should have told the teachers.
Such an absurd situation—Teacher Lin and Professor He couldn’t possibly believe it, they must be trying to find a solution.
Zhong Cai was Number 8, scoring 95.5.
Coming off stage, Zhong Cai knew she had no chance at the special prize, probably not even the first prize.
“Xiao Lan, Hua Qing’s ranking depends on you now.”
The pre-competition nervousness gone, with everything settled, Zhong Cai’s pressure disappeared, and she cheerfully encouraged Xiao Lan.
Zhong Cai was completely unaware of Xiao Lan’s unfortunate situation.
…
“Old He, what a mess this has become.”
Today’s oral competition was quite brilliant. The host from Central TV was witty, the contestants performed well, and the judges’ comments were insightful. The interactions between contestants and Catherine, the British expert… For those teaching or learning English, the hours flew by—it was truly enjoyable!
If not for Xiao Lan’s situation disturbing his mood, Teacher Lin would have enjoyed it more.
Regardless of whether the students were from Hua Qing, their performance on stage reflected the current English level of university students, surely gratifying to any educator.
Professor He also sighed:
“Good things never come easy. As long as Xiao Lan’s foundation is solid, she can handle whatever Professor Xu and others throw at her. Teacher Lin, this is a crisis but also an opportunity. Such moments truly reveal one’s abilities… With Zhong Cai’s score ruling out both special and first prizes, Hua Qing’s final standing depends on Xiao Lan.”
Professor He’s words didn’t completely comfort Teacher Lin, but what could he do? The plum blossom’s fragrance comes from the bitter cold—hopefully, after this frost, Xiao Lan would bloom even more beautifully. Zhong Cai’s written test score wasn’t low, and she hadn’t made any mistakes on stage, but there were simply too many outstanding performers. At 95.5 points, she ranked 11th, and even without considering those yet to perform, she was destined for a “second prize.”
In the audience, Grandmother Zhou began feeling tired.
Making an elderly lady sit for several hours was physically demanding.
“When is it Xiao Lan’s turn?”
“Mom, I just checked—she’s Number 17, and they’re on Number 15 now, so she’s next after this one.”
Grandmother Zhou grumbled, “They put her way too late.”
Guan Hui’e couldn’t respond. The performance order was based on written test rankings—ranking 17th nationally was quite impressive in her view.
But Grandmother Zhou wouldn’t want to hear that—she expected Xiao Lan to take first place. The old lady’s thinking was too straightforward; fortunately, Xiao Lan didn’t know, or the pressure would have been overwhelming.