"What... what are you doing?"
The crowd stiffly gathered around her, their expressions frozen.
"Studying. We have a math exam this afternoon—aren’t you reviewing?"
"You still have the mood to study right now?"
Tong Yang gave them a look as if they were insane. "I can’t let something like this derail my college entrance exams, can I?"
"Something like this? You’re way too calm about this! What the hell!"
Tong Yang couldn’t be bothered to argue. She waved them off. "Then move aside. Don’t waste my time."
"..."
"You know what? She’s right. I’ve slaved away all these years just for this damn exam. Since it’s relatively safe here, might as well get some studying in."
"True. Didn’t that invigilator say our written scores wouldn’t be affected?"
"Tong Yang, you’re the one who always tops the district rankings, right? Mind giving us some hints for the afternoon exam? It’s not like we’re in the real world here—no surveillance to worry about."
Tong Yang lazily glanced at them. "Sure. But I might feed you the wrong answers. After all, I’m a bit of a study snob."
"..."
"Damn it! I’ve had enough of you! Who the hell do you think you are?"
The boy who had earlier tried to pick a fight with Tong Yang in the classroom—only to have a flying dagger graze his neck—stepped forward, jabbing a finger at her face.
He was built like a tank, his chest muscles bulging, his clothes splattered with blood. His menacing glare was enough to intimidate most.
Tong Yang, however, continued scribbling equations on her test paper without missing a beat, her expression cool and laced with mockery. "If you can’t stand me, go die. I won’t stop you. No point reasoning with someone hellbent on destruction."
"Hey, cut it out! I was just joking..."
But the boy wasn’t listening. Humiliated in front of everyone, his face twisted in rage. He kicked the desk in front of Tong Yang, sending her papers flying, then grabbed her collar and yanked her forward.
"Say that again, I dare you!"
Before he could tighten his grip, something sharp and icy pressed against his right eyeball—so close it nearly touched. His voice died in his throat.
Frozen in place, the boy realized Tong Yang had the tip of her pen poised to pierce his eye. Her hand was steady, her gaze unflinching. One wrong move, and she’d drive it straight through.
Cold sweat trickled down his forehead. He didn’t even dare blink, his pupils dilated in shock. The sheer calm in her eyes sent a chill down his spine.
She was dead serious. That pen would go straight into his eye if he so much as twitched.
"Don’t—don’t do anything rash! We should be working together right now!" Sun Ye rushed over, trying to mediate.
Unlike the others, Sun Ye had survived a life-or-death situation with Tong Yang before. He knew better than to underestimate her—she wouldn’t hesitate.
After a tense standoff, fear flickered across the boy’s face.
"Let go."
Tong Yang broke the silence first.
The boy released her collar like he’d been burned, but he still didn’t dare move, the pen’s threat lingering.
"Pick it up."
Sun Ye scrambled to gather the scattered test papers, dusted them off, and set the desk back in place.
Tong Yang stared coldly at the trembling boy for three long seconds before finally lowering her arm.
The boy stumbled back, legs wobbling, nearly collapsing. Whether from shock or something else, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tong Yang, who had already resumed her studying as if nothing had happened.
The others watched in stunned silence. If not for her human appearance, they might’ve mistaken her for one of the monsters from the parallel world. But in a way, her unpredictability was even more unsettling.
Combined with her unwavering confidence, she seemed utterly untouchable.
A silent consensus formed among them: Do not provoke Tong Yang.
Chu Shiyu stood frozen nearby, staring in awe. She hated to admit it, but most girls were at a physical disadvantage against boys. Tong Yang was no exception—yet she’d turned the tables effortlessly. Quick, decisive, unshakable. Her beauty and humble background paled in comparison to her sheer presence.
Someone like her… was downright cool.
Way more impressive than those muscleheads who relied on empty bravado.
Tong Yang, undisturbed by the interruption, refocused on her test prep. Just then, two crisp red bills appeared in front of her, held by slender, pale fingers.
She looked up, surprised. Chu Shiyu’s cheeks were faintly flushed. "The usage fee we agreed on. Here."
"Thanks." Tong Yang took the money without ceremony, flipping open her notebook to cross out Chu Shiyu’s name from the debt list.
Seeing this, the others hastily dug into their bags.
"Sorry, I don’t have 200 on me."
"Can I pay you back later?"
Tong Yang jutted her chin toward Chu Shiyu. "She might have some. Ask if she’ll lend it to you."
Chu Shiyu blinked, then nodded. "I do. Need a loan?"
"Yes!"
"Thanks, classmate!"
Tong Yang felt zero guilt about encouraging this financial patchwork. She collected 6,200 yuan—including the boy’s share—and tucked it into her bag.
Not bad. Six grand in half a day. Though she’d have to split half with the group chat later. Tch. Should’ve gone for a 70-30 split.
Still, there was a day and a half left. Plenty of time to squeeze out more profit.
Suddenly, an idea struck her. Her eyes gleamed as she addressed the group. "Anyone want a set of predicted exam questions? I’ll sell it cheap."
"..."
"Are you running a business here…?" someone muttered under their breath.
"This is the district top scorer’s predictions!"
Money was serious business. Tong Yang doubled down on the sales pitch. "Not just the district—I might even be this year’s provincial science champion! So? Interested?"
While the others hesitated, Chu Shiyu didn’t miss a beat. "How much? I’ll take it."
"500. Last copy left. You’ll have to transcribe the questions yourselves. No guarantees, but I’d say 60-70% accuracy. And I’ll explain anything you don’t get."
"Alright, I'll take it." Chu Shiyu, true to her wealthy heiress status, always carried a considerable amount of cash in her backpack. After lending out a couple thousand, she still had several thousand left in her pocket.
She pulled out five crisp red bills and handed them to Tong Yang.
As she took the money, Tong Yang had a sudden idea. She crooked a finger at Chu Shiyu, signaling her to come closer.
Confused, Chu Shiyu stepped forward.
Tong Yang wrapped an arm around her shoulder, steering her away from the others to a secluded corner for a whispered conversation.
"For the remaining time, I can do my best to ensure your safety. How about this amount? If you make it out alive, you can pay me afterward. If, unfortunately, you don’t... I’ll try to make sure your death isn’t too ugly, and I won’t charge you a single cent." Tong Yang raised her left hand, flashing a "five" in front of Chu Shiyu’s face.
Chu Shiyu fell into thought, seemingly weighing the credibility of her words. Still, Tong Yang appeared far more reliable than the others. Having her protection and strategic advice would likely improve her odds.
"Can you go any lower? I don’t have that much allowance to spare," Chu Shiyu said hesitantly.
Tong Yang gasped in mock outrage. "No lower! Are you saying your life isn’t worth a measly fifty thousand?"
Chu Shiyu blinked. "Fifty thousand? That’s no problem—I can transfer it to you as soon as we get back. I thought you meant five hundred thousand!"
Tong Yang’s expression froze, and instant regret washed over her. If only she’d asked for five hundred thousand! This rich girl clearly had money to burn—she could’ve haggled her way to that amount!
Returning to the group, Tong Yang’s mood soured slightly, as if she’d just lost out on four hundred and fifty thousand. But the deal was already struck, and Chu Shiyu had agreed so readily. Backing out now would be bad form. Clearly, her ability to gauge people’s limits still needed work.
Outside the cafeteria, the earlier commotion had died down, but with the situation still unclear, no one dared to leave recklessly. A few brave students gathered the mangled corpses near the door and tossed them behind the serving counters, clearing a clean space.
During the cleanup, they stumbled upon a stash of snacks and drinks in what used to be the school convenience store, triggering a cheerful round of "free shopping."
However, with the lingering metallic scent of blood and the sight of corpses behind the counters, most people had lost their appetites.
Tong Yang, on the other hand, ate with gusto—several bread rolls and a yogurt later, she checked the time. With the next exam still a while away, she asked Chu Shiyu if she had any questions about the practice test. When Chu Shiyu said no, Tong Yang found a quiet corner to nap, instructing Sun Ye to wake her before the exam.
After a morning of tension, exhaustion weighed heavily on everyone. Yet, no one dared to fully relax, fearing another sudden crisis.
So when they saw Tong Yang sprawled across a cafeteria bench, jacket draped over her face as she slept soundly, they couldn’t help but feel a mix of exasperation and envy. Still, with no idea what the afternoon might bring, conserving energy for the exam was crucial.
One by one, they leaned against each other and dozed off.
Time passed indeterminately until the cafeteria filled with the steady rhythm of breathing.
Then—thud.
Tong Yang jolted upright on the bench. Everyone else remained slumped over the tables, undisturbed by the noise.
Following the sound, her gaze landed on the shattered window, where an expressionless figure was clumsily climbing inside, dislodging a shard of glass that clattered to the floor.
"Couldn’t wait until we were awake, huh?"
Tong Yang stretched, grabbed her makeshift spiked club, and strode toward the window, careful not to wake the others.
"Talk about bad timing. Everyone’s trying to sleep here."
Thump!
The sound of something heavy hitting the ground startled a few students awake. Their panicked eyes darted toward the door.
Tong Yang was dragging a bloodied corpse toward the pile behind the counters, leaving a gruesome smear in her wake. Noticing the commotion, she glanced up, flashed a grin, and waved.
"Nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep."
In the silent afternoon campus, a shrill bell suddenly pierced the air.
The thirty-three dozing examinees in the cafeteria jerked awake, scrambling to their feet in disoriented alarm.
"Twenty minutes remaining until the exam. Please proceed to your testing halls."
The robotic announcement echoed across the school grounds. The students exchanged uneasy glances, still groggy from sleep.
"Time to go," Tong Yang said lazily, stretching before slinging her backpack over her shoulder and hefting her club. She walked straight to the cafeteria’s rolling shutter, pressed the control on the wall, and with a metallic groan, the door began to rise.
Outside, dried blood stained the ground, mingling with unrecognizable chunks of flesh. The scene resembled a slaughterhouse, every inch marked by visceral horror.
As the shutter lifted, a mangled leg—barely attached by sinew—came into view. A blood-soaked woman slumped motionless against the wall, clutching a pair of sharp scissors. Though immobilized, her glare burned with malice.
"Jesus, that scared me!"
"Another one of those things?"
"Damn it, I thought this was all a nightmare."
Gasps rose behind her. Tong Yang tightened her grip on the club, studying the woman’s blood-streaked face. There was something familiar about her.
Chu Shiyu stepped forward, eyes widening in shock. "Ms. Yang?!"
The woman’s ravaged features were identical to those of Yang Xu, homeroom teacher of Class 12-9—the advanced class where Tong Yang and Chu Shiyu were students.
"That’s not her. Just a lookalike," Tong Yang said flatly.
Just like the woman who had appeared in her home that night, bearing the face of her long-dead mother. These weren’t real people—just hollow imitations.
Tong Yang’s gaze trailed down the woman’s ruined body. A slick trail of blood led backward, as if something had dragged itself here while hemorrhaging.
She must have crawled all the way from Classroom 1209, legs nearly severed, driven by some unseen purpose.
"Leave her. Let’s go." Tong Yang had no intention of finishing her off. Unlike the two mysterious killers they’d encountered earlier, the school’s so-called "hunters" seemed more like pre-programmed robots—barely alive, despite the blood.
As Tong Yang brushed past, a faint, guttural whisper reached her ears.
"Kill… me…"
She paused, glancing back. The woman’s lips trembled with effort, a faint tear track cutting through the grime on her cheek.
"Kill… me…"
Tong Yang’s eyes widened. She crouched, staring intently into the woman’s eyes. "You’re… aware?"
"Kill me?" Tong Yang tilted her head. "You dragged innocent students into this mess. Shouldn’t you apologize first?"
For two seconds, she held the woman’s gaze. Then, without another word, she stood and walked away.
Chu Shiyu and Sun Ye hurried after her, not daring to spare the woman a second glance. The other examinees followed suit, stepping gingerly around the gruesome figure as they made their way to Classroom 1209.
The path was littered with dried bloodstains and coagulated flesh, the air thick with the faint metallic scent of blood. Each person bore traces of blood on their clothing, gripping weapons of varying sizes in their hands. Behind them, a woman with limited mobility dragged herself forward, leaving a long trail of blood in her wake, crawling tirelessly toward them—perhaps until her life was completely drained in pursuit.
Arriving at the entrance of Examination Hall 1209, the ground was strewn with hunters who had lost the ability to move but still clung to their last breaths. Their wounds pulsed, oozing fresh blood, their throats emitting pitiful gurgling sounds—no different from a slaughterhouse.
Perhaps numbed by too many shocks, the group’s emotions remained eerily calm at the sight of such carnage.
"Please place all non-exam-related items on the storage shelves."
At the same time, another announcement crackled over the intercom.
The examinees set down their bags and weapons, retrieving only what was necessary before stepping into the examination hall.
Taking their seats, they gazed out the window at the withered maple branches. The thirty-three examinees felt a shift in their hearts compared to the first time they had sat here, staring outside. Stripped of the fear and confusion that had once clouded their emotions, they now simmered with anger and the suffocating frustration of being chosen for danger. The hall was silent, waiting for the next test they would face.
As the clock at the front of the room neared three o'clock sharp, three proctors stepped onto the platform.
"The second mathematics exam will now begin. First-row students, please come forward to collect your test papers and scratch paper."
The scratch paper for math consisted of two A4 sheets. Once distributed, Proctor B and Proctor A walked down the aisles, stationing themselves in the left and right corners at the back of the room.
"This written exam will last one hundred and twenty minutes. Early submission is prohibited. No whispering or any behavior unrelated to the exam is allowed."
Proctor A stood at the lectern, calmly surveying the students below.
"Please place both sheets of scratch paper on your desks."
Baffled but compliant, the examinees spread the two A4 sheets flat on their desks.
"Please retain one sheet of scratch paper and refrain from using it until the exam concludes."
"The exam has now begun. You may start answering."
That… was it?
The examinees looked up at Proctor A in disbelief. Could the second exam really be this straightforward—just keeping one sheet of scratch paper unused?
"Begin."
Tong Yang stared at the two pristine sheets before her, certain it couldn’t be that simple. Just in case, she decided to keep both untouched.
Accustomed to maintaining neat work, even with mathematical formulas, Tong Yang was meticulous—running calculations entirely in her head before committing anything to paper. She preferred mental math and rarely used scratch paper.
The exam commenced, and Tong Yang focused. Math was her strongest subject. Every problem the teacher had covered, every exercise she’d practiced, even past college entrance exam questions—she had mastered them all. For three years of high school, she had either aced every math test or come close.
After nearly an hour and a half, Tong Yang set down her pen for a final review.
Satisfied there were no mistakes, she relaxed slightly and glanced around. Most students were still writing, a few doodled idly on their scratch paper, and two or three slumped drowsily over their desks.
After all, with math, if you didn’t know the answer, you couldn’t fake it.
Tong Yang turned back to her desk, retrieving the two blank sheets of scratch paper. She studied the proctors on the platform, wondering what their true intentions were. Of course, no matter how much she racked her brain, she wouldn’t figure it out. Not one to waste time, she resolved to take things step by step.
When the intercom chimed, signaling fifteen minutes remaining, the three proctors finally stirred.
"Please stop writing."
By now, nearly all examinees had finished and sat upright, watching Proctor A in confusion.
"Now, please take out a clean sheet of scratch paper. Ensure it bears no markings. Examinees who fail to comply will forfeit this exam—and all future ones."
All thirty-three examinees, aware of the stakes, had kept one blank sheet. In a place where lives were casually at risk, they weren’t taking chances.
"Copy the answers to the seven major problems on the blackboard onto your scratch paper. Note: You may either transcribe the answers from your test paper or write their opposites."
Proctor A stepped aside, revealing seven question numbers on the blackboard, corresponding to the exam’s problem-solving section.
"Begin copying."
The examinees didn’t understand the purpose, but with college entrance exams on the line—years of effort hanging in the balance—they had no choice but to comply.
Tong Yang paused. The rules hadn’t specified keeping only one sheet—just that the scratch paper had to be unmarked. Unlike the others, she had an extra option.
Best not to waste it.
Though unclear on the reasoning, having a backup plan was wise.
So, on one sheet, Tong Yang copied the correct answers. On the other, she deliberately wrote all the wrong ones. Then she stacked the two sheets together and waited silently for Proctor A’s next move.
By the time everyone finished, the exam’s official end time had long passed.
"Close your test booklets."
One by one, the students complied.
It was nearly 5:30 PM. Outside, the sky was overcast, and the examination hall’s lights had long since flickered on.
"Examinee Number One, stand up."
A short-haired girl sitting by the wall jolted at the sudden call, scrambling to her feet.
Proctor A retrieved a sealed corkscrew knife from the lectern. Its triple-edged blade bore three blood grooves and numerous small holes—designed to ensure unstoppable bleeding once plunged into flesh.
At the same time, a cacophony of footsteps echoed in the hallway, like countless ants skittering across the floor. The students turned to see the windows filling with ashen-faced, hollow-eyed "people," each still clutching sharp weapons.
Then came the rustling outside. Seven or eight pallid faces pressed against the suspended windowpanes, among them the man Tong Yang had seen hanging upside down behind Sun Ye that morning.
At the sight, the students paled.
If their narrow escape at noon had been due to exploiting a loophole in the rules, this was an entirely different game. They were trapped like fish in a barrel, completely surrounded in the classroom, with no telling when those things outside would burst in and slice them open.
Even Tong Yang, usually unflappable, wore a grave expression.
Proctor A approached Examinee One’s desk. The corkscrew blade glinted coldly before he suddenly drove it into his own palm. Blood gushed instantly. He yanked the knife free, strands of flesh clinging to the spiraled edge.
Candidate No. 1 paled in terror, her body involuntarily retreating half a step.
"Please select another candidate. If the answers copied on both of your draft papers match in correctness, you may sit down. Otherwise, you will receive the same punishment as me."
Candidate No. 1 widened her eyes in fear, seemingly not fully grasping Proctor A's words.
"Candidate No. 1, make your choice."
Seeing her frozen in hesitation, Proctor A leaned in, his face inches from hers, eyes glaring.
"I—I choose Candidate No. 9!" Candidate No. 1 blurted out, her scalp prickling with tension.
Beside her, Chu Shiyu stiffened, lifting her head in bewilderment.
"Candidate No. 1 must verify the answer to Question 4. Whose answer would you like to check first?"
With reddened eyes, Candidate No. 1 pointed. "Hers."
Proctor B walked to the front of the classroom, taking the draft paper Chu Shiyu handed over to examine the copied answer for Question 4.
"Correct."
Proctor A checked the answer as well, stating only whether it was correct without revealing the actual answer.
Next, Proctor A reviewed Candidate No. 1’s answer for Question 4. "Correct."
A visible wave of relief washed over Candidate No. 1.
"You may sit."
Tong Yang had mostly figured out the rules: they had to compare the correctness of one randomly selected answer from the seven copied questions with another candidate.
Given the premise that they could copy answers opposite to those on the exam paper, the answers on their draft sheets could be either correct or wrong—there was no discernible pattern. In other words, it all came down to luck.
Still, under such circumstances, most would likely copy the answers from their exam papers.
"Next, Candidate No. 9 must choose another candidate."
One of the rules: the selected candidate would become the next to choose, and they could not pick the person who had just chosen them.
Chu Shiyu seemed to grasp part of the rules too, realizing this was essentially a game of chance. Since she had no idea which question would be checked, she couldn’t strategize about who might have the right or wrong answer.
This is bad…
Chu Shiyu held her breath, her heart pounding so violently it felt like it might leap out of her throat. Just then, a sharp rap of knuckles against a desk echoed clearly behind her. As if struck by a sudden thought, she whipped her head around.
Tong Yang, her index finger bent, tapped the desk with her second knuckle, her gaze calm yet resolute as it locked onto Chu Shiyu.
"I—I choose Candidate No. 12!"
Tong Yang stood from her seat, stacking the two draft papers in her hands.
"Candidate No. 9 must verify the answer to Question 7. Whose answer would you like to check first?"
Tong Yang held two options. Ideally, Chu Shiyu would reveal her answer first, allowing Tong Yang to submit the corresponding draft paper to the proctor.
When Chu Shiyu glanced her way, Tong Yang subtly signaled with her eyes. But Chu Shiyu seemed to misinterpret it, nodding decisively before choosing to check Tong Yang’s answer first.
"I choose to check Candidate No. 12’s answer first…"
Tong Yang stifled a sigh. Proctor C strode toward her, leaving no time to hesitate. She handed over the draft paper filled with correct answers.
Proctor C glanced down. "Correct."
At the same time, Proctor B took Chu Shiyu’s draft paper and announced, "Correct."
Chu Shiyu exhaled deeply, casting a grateful look at Tong Yang.
Tong Yang accepted it without fuss. She hadn’t submitted the correct answer by chance—she’d recorded Question 7’s type in her practice exam. If Chu Shiyu had studied it carefully, there was no way she’d have gotten it wrong.
"Now, Candidate No. 12 must choose another candidate."
Uncertain how long this perilous game would last, Tong Yang decided to proceed methodically.
"I choose Candidate No. 2."
Her goal was to ensure every candidate in the room was selected at least once.
"Candidate No. 12 must verify the answer to Question 1. Whose answer would you like to check first?"
"Candidate No. 2."
"Correct."
Candidate No. 2 tensed, shooting Tong Yang an anxious look. Though aware that Tong Yang, the district’s top scorer, consistently aced math exams, Proctor A’s warning lingered—they could copy opposite answers. If Tong Yang had deliberately written a wrong answer for Question 1, it would spell disaster!
Expressionless, Tong Yang handed over her draft paper. Proctor C inspected it. "Correct."
Candidate No. 2 nearly collapsed in relief.
"You may sit."
Tong Yang returned to her seat, holding both correct and incorrect answers. If a candidate chose to check her answer first, she could submit the corresponding draft paper. But for the others, it remained a gamble.
Only after sitting down did Candidate No. 2 realize his relief was premature. The punishment had initially fallen on Tong Yang—now it was his turn!
"Candidate No. 2, choose another candidate."
Gritting his teeth, Candidate No. 2 stammered, "I—I choose Candidate No. 12."
Proctor A shook his head. "You cannot verify answers with the same person consecutively."
Trembling violently, Candidate No. 2 choked out, "I choose Candidate No. 7!"
The named candidate jolted in panic. The two seemed to know each other from the same school, their shared terror reflected in each other’s eyes.
"You must verify the answer to Question 3. Whose answer would you like to check first?"
Shaking, Candidate No. 2 whispered, "His…"
Proctor B examined Candidate No. 7’s answer before coldly declaring, "Wrong."
Proctor A checked Candidate No. 2’s answer, then raised a twisted corkscrew knife, lips parting. "Correct."
"Verification failed. Candidate No. 2 will now face punishment."
The knife rose high before plunging into Candidate No. 2’s arm. The blade’s grooves bore seven rows of tiny holes—only the first row pierced his flesh. A scream tore through the air as Proctor A yanked the knife free.
Blood trickled down his arm, but Proctor A didn’t continue. "You may sit."
Though the blade had penetrated less than an inch, the pain left Candidate No. 2 clutching his shoulder, drenched in sweat. Yet he dared not delay, scrambling back to his seat, terrified of further punishment.
Seeing this scene, Tong Yang narrowed her eyes. The twist knife had three blades and three grooves, seemingly different from other twist knives in the distribution of its small round holes. Starting about 2.5 centimeters from the tip, each hole was spaced roughly two centimeters apart, extending all the way to the part closest to the handle—exactly seven small holes in total.
After the second examinee made a mistake in verifying the answer, Proctor A only inserted the knife into the first small hole. Following this pattern, the seven holes corresponded precisely to the seven math problems they had copied.
In other words, each person had seven chances to verify their answers. As long as they checked all seven problems on their scratch paper, they could end the game and leave the classroom.
The only uncertainty was whether the verifications forced upon them by others would count toward their total.
If they did, Examinee No. 1 still needed to verify six problems, while Tong Yang, Chu Shiyu, and the injured Examinee No. 2 only had five left.
"Examinee No. 7, please choose another examinee."
After what happened to Examinee No. 2, the others all lowered their heads, hoping not to be chosen—being selected meant danger was imminent.
Examinee No. 7 looked around helplessly, her gaze finally settling on Tong Yang. Under the assumption that her own answers were correct, Tong Yang seemed like the safest choice. But after the earlier incident, she couldn’t be sure about the rest of her answers and lacked the confidence to pick Tong Yang. Instead, she turned her attention to the others.
"Make your choice," Proctor A urged sternly.
Trembling, Examinee No. 7 burst into tears and pointed to Examinee No. 15 beside her.
"You need to verify the answer to Problem No. 6. Please choose whose answer to check first."
"I choose hers."
"Wrong."
Proctor B stepped forward to examine her answer. "Wrong."
Examinee No. 7 exhaled in relief, while the chosen Examinee No. 15 turned pale.
Next, it was Examinee No. 15’s turn to choose. She selected Examinee No. 30, and they verified Problem No. 5—both answers were correct.
The following rounds of verification went relatively smoothly, with most pairs either both correct or both wrong. By the time every examinee had been passively or actively involved in at least two verifications, five people—including Examinee No. 2—had failed and suffered injuries.
Though the wounds bled profusely, they weren’t immediately life-threatening.
But one more mistake would mean deeper cuts and heavier blood loss—something they might not survive.
When Chu Shiyu was chosen again, she and the selector verified Problem No. 5, both answers correct. Then it was her turn to choose.
This time, as her eyes met Tong Yang’s, Tong Yang shook her head slightly, signaling her not to pick her.
Chu Shiyu had already verified Problems No. 3, 5, and 7—all correct. The remaining four problems were relatively simple, and if Tong Yang’s guess was right, all seven answers on Chu Shiyu’s scratch paper should be correct. All she needed was to choose someone else likely to have matching answers.
Tong Yang scanned the room. In such an uncertain situation, almost everyone would have copied the same answers as the test paper. She spotted a girl from their school who had always excelled in math and raised an eyebrow at Chu Shiyu in suggestion.
After a brief hesitation, Chu Shiyu chose the girl Tong Yang had indicated.
"You need to verify Problem No. 3."
Just as Tong Yang predicted, both answers were correct.
Now, Chu Shiyu only had three problems left unchecked. If she was chosen one more time, she might make it out safely.
Not long after, Sun Ye was selected. After verifying answers with another examinee, their answers didn’t match, resulting in punishment for the selector. Then it was Sun Ye’s turn to choose.
Following Tong Yang’s silent cue, he picked Chu Shiyu.
"You need to verify Problem No. 2. Please choose whose answer to check first."
Sun Ye nervously chose himself.
"Correct."
Chu Shiyu’s answer to Problem No. 2 was also correct, allowing Sun Ye to escape unscathed.
Now, Chu Shiyu only had Problems No. 1 and 6 left. As long as she chose someone who had previously verified both correctly, she’d avoid punishment.
After a round of verifications, the other examinees had mostly grasped the rules. Chu Shiyu, being from the advanced class, no longer needed Tong Yang’s hints. She selected someone she believed had matching answers.
"Correct."
"Correct."
As expected, Chu Shiyu escaped harm once more.
By now, she only had one problem left. Perhaps one more selection would let her leave the classroom. Tong Yang also wanted to test whether the rules aligned with her assumptions, so when Examinee No. 2 was chosen next, she signaled for her to pick Chu Shiyu (Examinee No. 9).
Chu Shiyu only had Problem No. 1 unchecked, and Examinee No. 2 had previously verified it correctly. If she chose Chu Shiyu, both of them would be safe.
After a brief hesitation, Examinee No. 2 did just that.
"You need to verify Problem No. 1."
Hearing this, Tong Yang confirmed her theory—since Examinee No. 2 had already checked Problem No. 1, but Chu Shiyu only had that one left, the verification prioritized the examinee with fewer remaining problems.
"Correct."
"Correct."
"Congratulations, Examinee No. 9. You have successfully completed the exam. Please gather your belongings and leave the classroom."
The announcement sent a wave of shock through the room.
Chu Shiyu had been chosen four times—verifying two problems in the first three rounds and one in the last, totaling seven without repetition. She had passed!
Tong Yang pondered for a moment. If she wanted to help the others escape, she’d have to use repeated verifications to keep herself in the game.
"I choose Examinee No. 33."
When Sun Ye was selected again, he and the other examinee verified Problem No. 3. The proctor declared both answers wrong.
By now, Sun Ye had verified five problems, leaving only Problems No. 1 and 7—coincidentally overlapping with Tong Yang’s checked answers.
Thud— Tong Yang tapped the desk with her knuckles, and Sun Ye understood.
"I choose Examinee No. 12."
"You need to verify Problem No. 7. Please choose whose answer to check first."
Sun Ye remembered that Tong Yang and Chu Shiyu had verified Problem No. 7 as correct. All he needed was to confirm whether his own answer matched.
"I choose to check mine."
Proctor C walked over, picked up his scratch paper, and announced, "Wrong."
Sun Ye’s face paled. His answer didn’t match Tong Yang’s!
No one in the room doubted the correctness of Tong Yang’s answers. The moment Sun Ye’s mistake was revealed, fear spread like wildfire—everyone could imagine the punishment awaiting him, knowing they might face the same fate at any moment.
As invigilator B approached, Tong Yang nonchalantly handed him a scrap of paper.
After glancing at it for a few seconds, invigilator B returned it to her and said, "Wrong."
"What?!"
Sun Ye froze, his voice laced with disbelief.
The other students in the classroom also stared at Tong Yang with incredulous expressions.
When she had compared answers for the seventh question with Chu Shiyu earlier, she’d been absolutely correct!
