The school Qin Yuhan chose for the little one was, naturally, no ordinary institution. Nor was it just a simple elentary school. Nad Jixia Academy, it encompassed elentary, middle, and high school levels, and its existence had received official recognition.
The na "Jixia" imdiately brought to mind the Jixia Academy of the Warring States period. That historical institution was the world's first higher education establishnt of its kind—organized by the governnt but managed privately. During its ti, academic works were published one after another, creating a favorable social environnt for the contention of a hundred schools of thought and promoting the flourishing of academic culture in the pre-Qin era.
This school, daring to call itself "Jixia," was certainly not as legendary as its historical nasake, but it was far from simple. If you couldn't afford a Ferrari with your daily inco, or if your child wasn't a renowned prodigy, you wouldn't even know of its existence. The reason for its exclusivity? Its principal had once been the teacher to the principals of both Shuimu and Longjing Universities. He was also a descendant of the Confucius Family of Qufu and, therefore, a direct descendant of Confucius himself.
The weather was hot, and before the school gates had even opened, a kind-hearted, white-haired old man was already there, distributing complintary mung bean soup to the children and parents to help them cool off.
Jixia Academy was located on an obscure mountain in Yang City, usually a peaceful place filled with the songs of birds and the fragrance of flowers. But since it was registration day, the area at the foot of the mountain was bustling with traffic.
Wu Tian had already brought the little one here. The drive itself should have taken only ten minutes, but to set a good example for his child, Wu Tian drove in such a proper, rule-abiding manner that it took them an hour.
Along the way, however, the little one grew displeased. "I thought you had the driving skills of Takumi Fujiwara, Dad, but it turns out you don't."
Wu Tian didn't argue. This little one will definitely be a female driver one day—and not just any female driver, a fighter jet among them.
At the base of the mountain, Wu Tian and the little one also had so mung bean soup. The old man who served it wore a rare Zhongshan suit and was as thin as a bamboo stalk. He had a full head of white hair and a kind face. Perhaps because he spent all his ti in the mountains, his skin was fair enough to make many won jealous.
Seeing Wu Tian and the little one drink his soup, he blurted out, "Well, I'll be damned. Finally, soone is drinking the mung bean soup I brewed."
PFFT! The little one, who was in the middle of drinking, sprayed her soup everywhere. She hadn't expected such an elderly man, who by all rights should be a cultured intellectual, to speak so coarsely.
Wu Tian, on the other hand, had seen it all. What kind of person hadn't he t? He'd known a tomb-raiding Taoist, a damned black dog, and even powerful experts who would repeatedly provoke the weak only to be beaten ti and again, claiming they were trying to comprehend a higher Martial Path from the beatings. Nothing surprised him anymore.
"You have no idea," the old man sighed. "I brew this mung bean soup every year at this ti, but what happens? The rich people don't want to drink it, probably because they think it's not clean. As for the families who aren't rich, their children must be geniuses. They don't want their kids drinking it either, afraid they'll get an upset stomach and it'll affect their performance on the exam."
"Exam?" Wu Tian imdiately grasped the key point.
"Right, didn't you know? To register, you have to pass an exam first." The old man glanced around before whispering to Wu Tian and the little one, "The school needs funding, you know. It isn't a governnt institution, and even the official schools don't have that much money. Without money, how can you provide a good education? That's why this school accepts the children of the wealthy. But what if they turn out to be dunces? Simple. They get sent to the Sky Class. Don't be fooled by the impressive-sounding na; it's just to placate the rich parents. We just take their tuition and put on a show. The class that receives the real attention and cultivation is Class A."
"Mhm." The old man nodded one last ti, then waved his hand. "You can go now."
He had been the one to start the conversation, and now he was the one ending it.
This kind of person...
Wu Tian laughed heartily. Holding the little one, he started up the mountain. He felt that this Jixia Academy seed quite interesting. The little one, anwhile, was buzzing with a sense of excitent.
Bring it on, exam! Let's see just how hard you are. I'm not afraid of you!
Of course, Wu Tian couldn't enter the examination hall and could only wait outside. The little one was led by an invigilator to her assigned seat. When the ti ca, the exam papers were distributed.
The first paper was Language Arts, and the students had one hour to "duel" with it. Right off the bat, they were t with a long passage of text. So of the children here didn't recognize that many characters; after all, they were all under seven years old. After the reading, there were three short questions, each worth ten points. This was followed by a section on reading and interpreting ancient poetry and prose. Finally, there was a picture-based composition.
For children under seven, this was a formidable challenge. Therefore, any child here not from a rich family was guaranteed to be exceptional.
The little one was no different. She imdiately picked up her pen and began to write. A four-year-old holding a pen was a rather amusing sight, and Wu Tian couldn't resist taking out his phone to take a picture.
The little one, oblivious to her picture being taken, was overjoyed. She thought the Language Arts exam was simple—much too simple. In less than thirty minutes, she had finished all the preceding questions.
Now, she was facing off with the essay task.
It was rumored that so students had scored full marks on the essay before. Of course, Wu Tian had only ever heard of such a thing. The fewest points he had ever lost on an essay was two, and growing up, he had never known anyone to get a perfect score.
The little one looked at the essay prompt with a solemn face. The task was to write a composition based on a series of pictures. The first picture showed two children playing. The second depicted one child falling into a large vat. The third showed the other child picking up a rock to smash the vat.
In the examination hall, the eyes of many gifted children lit up. Wasn't this the story of Sima Guang smashing the vat? They imdiately began writing furiously. Most of the children from wealthy families, however, didn't know this story and could only scratch their heads in frustration. Only a few of them recalled the tale.
The little one also thought of Sima Guang smashing the vat. But just as she started to write, she quickly stopped her pen.
Who said that child had to be Sima Guang? Besides, looking closer, there was no water in the vat in the drawing. So the question is, why would the other child smash the vat?
The children who wrote about Sima Guang smashing the vat chose thes centered on being quick-witted and calm during a crisis, and other similar ideas.
The the of the little one's essay, however, was... "Taking care of public property is everyone's responsibility."
Her pen flew across the page, her line of reasoning strikingly clear.
And just like that, her eloquent, eight-hundred-word essay was complete.
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