Xiao Bai acted quickly. On the third day after Tang Xiao left the lab, he received a call from his counselor.
“Tang Xiao, you don't need to write a reflection any more. Dr. Xiao has already reported your recent activities to the school, and your absentee record has been removed,” the counselor said with a rather complicated tone. When the administration informed him, his initial reaction was shock—assuming Tang Xiao had used family connections to pull strings. But after calming down, he realized that if Tang Xiao could convince someone like Dr. Xiao to step in, he would have already been studying at Harvard instead of taking the national college entrance exam.
Besides, Dr. Xiao's notorious disdain for freeloaders and nepotism in academia was well-known. That left only one possibility.
Tang Xiao was genuinely indispensable to Dr. Xiao's project.
Reflecting on the subtext of the administration’s remarks, the counselor's emotions became increasingly complex. For a moment, he felt like he was sharing Professor Li's disbelief, wondering if it was April Fool’s Day or if he was still dreaming.
Over the years, he had encountered many talented individuals at the university, but none as extraordinary as this.
Regardless, the task assigned by the administration needed to be completed. It was ultimately a good thing since Tang Xiao's absences weren't due to slacking off or playing games. The counselor's tone softened. “The school has reopened the exemption application for you. Log in to Platform A, and you'll see it. Make sure to submit the materials as soon as possible.”
Tang Xiao opened Platform A as instructed, keeping the call active. After reviewing the eligible courses, he asked, “Teacher, I see that only general foundational courses are listed for exemption. Could specialized courses also be exempted?”
“Uh…” The counselor hesitated. “Generally speaking, no.”
At least, not at their school. Some universities might allow an exemption for specialized courses, but conditions like passing an exemption exam or publishing papers in the relevant field were usually required.
“But specialized courses don’t benefit me much anymore. I want to use my time more efficiently. I’m okay with meeting any conditions, such as exams. Could you help me inquire?”
Given Tang Xiao's unique circumstances and the fact that the exemption channel had been specially reopened for him, the counselor found it difficult to reject the request outright and agreed to ask on his behalf.
After ending the call, the counselor grimaced and called the school administration to explain Tang Xiao’s request.
The administration was equally troubled. Exams? They were easier said than done. The school didn't have the resources to organize a special exemption exam for just one student.
Oh, but this was Dr. Xiao’s protg. Never mind.
Dr. Xiao’s joint laboratory was a major priority for the school, not just as an academic project but also for its role in facilitating resource exchanges, inter-school collaborations, and study-abroad opportunities. If Dr. Xiao decided to withdraw in protest, the administration would face repercussions.
With a deep breath, the administration approached the dean of the School of Biological Sciences. Far from being annoyed, the dean expressed great interest in this student who could get Dr. Xiao personally involved.
The dean asked, “We have someone this talented in the Faculty of Biological Sciences? How come I’ve never heard anything about it?”
In the past, professors and administrations paid attention to special students before they entered school, such as the group of competitive students who could win national awards, or the top scorers in the college entrance examination in a certain province, and so on.
The administration replied calmly, “Actually, we have heard of him.”
The dean was intrigued. “Oh? Where? Did I forget?”
The administration: ……
He said calmly, “On the freshman overnight absence report list.”
And in the draft of the dismissal proposal that was about to be discussed by the department.
The dean: ……
After an awkward laugh, the dean said, “This student is... certainly unique.”
“Well, perhaps geniuses simply don’t follow the beaten path. Traditional coursework may have been limiting his development. I think geniuses should enjoy certain privileges,” the dean mused. “Let’s convene a brief meeting with the other professors to discuss creating a process for specialized course exemptions and how to design the exams.”
After speaking with the counselor, Tang Xiao didn’t dwell on the matter further and focused on preparing materials for the general course exemptions. Fortunately, he had ranked first in GPA last semester; otherwise, it would have been too embarrassing to ask the counselor to lower the standards.
What he didn’t know was that the next day, the Faculty of Biological Sciences held a meeting attended by the university president, the dean, and other faculty members. The meeting focused on integrating advanced international teaching methods and improving the university’s education system. In essence, they decided to introduce specialized course exemptions, modeled after foreign universities. As a pilot program, the requirements were set exceptionally high.
To even apply, students would need to pass an exam—not a typical final exam, but one with competition-level difficulty. Furthermore, the pilot program allowed only four slots, one per academic year, as a trial run.
While exemptions would waive course attendance and exams, students wouldn’t earn credits unless they completed alternative requirements, such as competitions, papers, or other professional achievements.
It was just a test version now. The conditions would be improved according to the application situations of students. Despite this, many professors found the concept hard to digest.
After the meeting, Professor Huang remarked to a colleague, “What’s gotten into the dean? I’ve never seen policy roll out so quickly. Normally, this kind of thing would take at least until next semester.”
“Exactly. And the conditions for exemptions are so harsh. Who could possibly meet them? I’d be happy if my students could even pass all their finals,” said Professor Wang, shaking his head as he thought about the dismal exam results from previous years.
Professor Li remained silent.
The timing, the efficiency, the requirements—it all felt too coincidental. It seemed tailored for one specific person. Perhaps it was a testament to Dr. Xiao’s influence. While strong individuals often faced resistance from established systems, it was clear the higher-ups highly respected Dr. Xiao. And after all, Tang Xiao was their student; they were happy to give him some leeway.
“Professor Li, why so quiet?” Professor Huang who had a better relationship with him asked, noticing his unusual silence.
“Nothing,” Professor Li said, suppressing his urge to brag about his student. He casually added, “Just make the test questions harder. One of my students might apply for this exemption, and I’d like to give him a little challenge.”
Professor Huang was stunned. “Wait, you actually have a student who might apply? Hang on—are you setting him up to fail? Oh, I get it. You’re just bragging indirectly. You sly old fox!”
Professor Li smiled faintly. “Not at all. If he doesn’t have what it takes, attending class would be better for him anyway.”
The other professors exchanged looks, unsure whether Professor Li was serious or just showing off.
The boasting was so outrageous that it seemed as if they weren’t afraid the difficulty would be adjusted to a level where no one could pass. Professor Huang didn’t bother overthinking it. Since Professor Li said so, he decided to proceed with the plan. In fact, he felt a mischievous urge to stir things up and forwarded Professor Li’s words to a few close colleagues.
The other professors, upon seeing the message, felt challenged. If that was the case, how could they not make the questions tougher? Their reputation was on the line.
After all, this wasn’t like a final exam. The logic of final exams was to test whether students had grasped the fundamental knowledge taught in class—study diligently, and most could pass. Too many failures would reflect poorly on the professors.
But the logic behind this exemption exam was different. It implied that the university’s curriculum couldn’t offer anything more to the students, granting them the freedom to explore on their own.
In other words, if too many students passed the exemption, wouldn’t that indicate the school’s teaching wasn’t up to par?
Thus, for the pilot program in the Biological Sciences Department, the professors were determined to teach these daring students a lesson.
When Tang Xiao arrived at the exam venue, he noticed a few other students waiting outside.
Unsurprisingly, the notification had been sent across the entire Biological Sciences Department. Since their university ranked among the top in the country, with competitive admissions for biological sciences programs, a few standout students were bound to try.
“Hey, Tang Yunfei!” Tang Xiao spotted a familiar face and waved cheerfully.
Unfortunately, the ‘familiar face’ wasn’t as happy to see him. The moment Tang Yunfei spotted Tang Xiao walking toward him, he quietly ducked behind a pillar, only to be discovered anyway.
“Tang Xiao, hi,” Tang Yunfei greeted through gritted teeth.
While it was pleasant to cozy up to Tang Xiao in the lab, none of the lab members really wanted to encounter him outside, especially in public settings.
It wasn’t that they disliked Tang Xiao; they just didn’t want the lab’s peculiar dynamics to become widely known. The fear of being mocked lingered—at least until Tang Xiao gained fame.
Once he became famous, well, then it wouldn’t matter. People would only envy them.
“If I’d known you were here, I wouldn’t have come,” Tang Yunfei admitted honestly, glancing around to confirm there was no sign of Xu Xianglei.
“Why?” Tang Xiao asked, puzzled. “Aren’t the slots divided by grade?”
There was one slot per grade level, and since Tang Yunfei was a third-year while Tang Xiao was a second-year, their interests shouldn’t conflict.
“True,” Tang Yunfei conceded, regaining composure. Mainly, he just felt unworthy of being in the same room as this prodigy.
Look at Xu Xianglei—he was smart enough not to show up.
Still, different paths meant there was hope.
Soon enough, Tang Yunfei regretted his decision.
Staring at the test paper in front of him, Tang Yunfei froze in shock.
Background intoduction
The myelin in the central nervous system contains proteins like myelin-associated glycoprotein (MAG).
Experimental results: Figure 1a shows the effects of DBCA treatment on neural cells over time.
[Picture]
Question 1: Integrate all experimental data and explain the mechanism by which CA reverses the inhibitory effects of central nervous system myelin on neuronal cell growth. 30 points.
The exam had only four questions, with each question taking up an entire page.
Was this even meant for humans?
A big question mark popped into Tang Yunfei’s mind. If they didn’t want him to pass, why not just say so? There was no need to trick him into showing up for this.
“The exam is two hours long. You may submit your papers early if you finish,” the lecturer in charge announced, scanning the group with a pitying look.
Although the test had few questions, the difficulty level was insane—it was as if the professors had collectively lost their minds. Did they seriously intend for no one to pass?
Although there weren’t many students applying in the first round, and everyone knew it was a pilot program, they didn’t have to fail every single one, right? In that case, what’s the point of having an exemption exam at all?
The lecturer in charge was fully prepared to collect blank papers or nonsensical answers.
Tang Xiao glanced at the exam paper.
Hmm, interesting.
Compared to the difficulty of final exams, this was undoubtedly several levels harder. But in the context of top-tier academic journals, it wasn’t impossible—just moderately challenging.
In no time, Tang Xiao had outlined solutions in his head. He scribbled rough ideas on scratch paper before organizing his thoughts and writing neatly on the answer sheet.
He didn’t notice that he was the only one actively writing. The rest of the students were either staring blankly at their papers or looking at the lecturer in charge, trying to confirm if the wrong test had been distributed.
The lecturer in charge remained calm. Nope, these were not mistakenly issued test questions.
After 50 minutes, Tang Xiao was the second person to finish and submit his paper. The lecturer in charge, seeing his densely packed answers, were stunned. Someone had actually written everything—and in such a short time.
Could it be nonsense? But it didn’t seem that way.
As Tang Xiao left the room, he noticed Tang Yunfei following closely behind, exiting at almost the same time.
“You’re done too, senior? These questions were pretty tough,” Tang Xiao said with a smile.
“Yeah, they were,” Tang Yunfei replied.
He didn’t have the heart to admit that he had spent 30 minutes staring at the first question before scribbling random answers and turning in the paper.
Of course, he wasn’t the only one. Tang Xiao hadn’t even been the first to leave. The first person had walked out just five minutes after the test began, completely giving up.
Who was this exam even designed for? Was there any point to it? If they didn’t want to grant exemptions, why not just say so?
And the timing was strange. Normally, exemption exams would have been done by now. This year, not only were they reopened, but specialized course exemptions were added with such limited slots.
Wait a minute.
Tang Yunfei stared at Tang Xiao, his gaze lingering.
“What is it, senior?” Tang Xiao asked.
“Nothing,” Tang Yunfei replied.
He just felt like he had stumbled upon a certain truth.
----------
No comments:
Post a Comment