Chapter 78: Exams, the Main Theme of Senior Year

Since the day Cheng Xiaoyu unleashed his formidable presence in class, rumors and gossip noticeably subsided. What might circulate privately was no longer of concern, for nearly everyone had turned their focus to the looming college entrance examination. A large red calendar, counting down the days to the exam, was affixed above the classroom, and each page torn away served as a reminder of the distance to the most crucial battle of their lives. Every classroom bore its own motto; for Class 3(2), it was: “Without enduring the agony of purgatory, how could there be the rebirth of the phoenix?”

The number of practice papers multiplied, and all free time was instinctively devoted to revision. Every student relinquished their statutory holidays, hurrying between school and cram classes. The homeroom teacher, Wang Wei, posted an inspirational quote in the group chat each day—always his own creations—followed by a stern reminder: “Spend less time on your phone, more time with your books.”

Students’ social feeds fell silent; everyone was immersed in feverish activity. Though summer had not yet arrived, the oppressive atmosphere left everyone irritable, yet they had no choice but to sit steadily at their desks, dissecting the logic behind each question.

When the bell rang for class to end, the students would collectively rest their heads sideways on their desks. The next teacher would arrive, arms laden with stacks of papers, sigh gently at the sight of the weary faces below, then begin distributing the tests.

Occasional entertainment came in the form of writing in classmates’ yearbooks. Curiously, Cheng Xiaoyu was especially sought after; many students who had never spoken to him before handed over their books, hoping he would pen a few words.

Cheng Xiaoyu’s poetry had been published in “The Surge,” and the school made much of it, with the announcement board displaying the opening poem, “Ride Dreams Like Horses.” Many students had heard of this eccentric poet, yet Cheng Xiaoyu did not leave behind grand verses in the yearbooks.

For the girls, he wrote lines such as: “I refuse to lose the memories of spring breezes, summer rain, autumn frost, and winter snow, nor will I forget the laughter we shared on the road of life.” “The rings of time, like the black spinning record, play beautiful old songs deep within each of us!” “Much flows away on the river of years. Will the red leaf we met upon also fade?” And so forth.

For the boys, most of his entries were: “Studying is like taking a dump; you work hard, but what comes out is just a fart, so contentment is happiness.” “Our relationship can be described by the curve of a high-degree equation.” “A talent must be accompanied by a beauty! May you soon blossom and bear fruit, bringing blessings to generations!”

Chen Haoran, for his part, did not bother with yearbooks at all. His recommendation exam for Fudan was approaching, but he showed no sign of nervousness.

Cheng Xiaoyu did not ask others to write in any yearbook either. Instead, he embarked on a grander project: a school alumni album.

For Xia Shamu’s yearbook, he drew a musical staff; for Wang Ou’s, he wrote lyrics. Put together, the two yearbooks formed a complete song.

Cheng Xiaoyu promised that after the arts exams, he would record the song and have it pressed, gifting each of them a copy.

Now, after class Cheng Xiaoyu would head straight home to practice piano. Occasionally, when Wang Ou skipped sports club, they would spend an hour or two at Lantern Forest.

Recently, Cheng Xiaoyu increased his practice time, choosing to continue playing the piano even during dinner, foregoing revision. He had boasted to Aunt Zhou that he didn’t need a teacher; Cheng Xiaoyu himself did not know why he refused one—a decision made without much thought, unrelated to self-confidence.

These days, Cheng Xiaoyu devoted more energy to piano practice, for to him, the arts exam was more important than the college entrance exam. So long as he passed the arts exam, the academic score requirement was not particularly high.

The preliminary arts exam at Shanghai Theatre Academy was set for May 3rd. Zhou Peipei had already registered him. After the New Year, Zhou Peipei wanted to hire a teacher for Cheng Xiaoyu, but he refused. Seeing Cheng Xiaoyu so confident, Zhou Peipei did not insist.

Moreover, she had already reached out to several friendly proctors, requesting they take care of their own. Zhou Peipei was well-liked at Shanghai Theatre Academy—straightforward, generous, and on good terms with everyone. If asked, she would help as much as she could, and she possessed considerable connections. Thus, when she spoke, many were willing to oblige; favors from such people were bound to be useful someday.

As May 3rd arrived, Cheng Xiaoyu was not particularly anxious. That morning, he even had two extra buns at home.

Su Yuxi, for once, said “Good luck” to Cheng Xiaoyu before school.

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled and replied, “Alright.”

Since their return from the capital, the two had strangely not run into each other at school. At home, aside from prohibited times of conversation, they would see each other at meals, but otherwise kept to their own piano rooms.

As for the weekends spent picking up Xu Qinning for hotpot, they had done that twice, until Xu Qinning abruptly ended it for reasons unknown. The siblings were used to these oddities.

Cheng Xiaoyu drove himself to the academy. Zhou Peipei had already briefed him: as long as his performance was within normal bounds and not abysmal, he should have little trouble. After all, arts exams are highly subjective; it is all too easy to bend the rules, which put Cheng Xiaoyu at ease.

The exam began at nine. Early that morning, the academy gate was crowded with people—some accompanied by parents, others brought by their class or school. The dense crowd surprised Cheng Xiaoyu. Today, no outside vehicles were allowed on campus, but Zhou Peipei had secured a permit for him, displayed on his car. Yet, the sheer flow of people forced him to inch forward, and his conspicuous white Ferrari immediately drew attention.

Cheng Xiaoyu was unconcerned by the anxious stares. He turned up the music to drown out the noise and moved slowly with the crowd.

A large portion of the candidates were from out of town. To prepare for the exam, they often rented places near the academy two or three months in advance. Cheng Xiaoyu, being local, was spared much hassle.

After finally entering the campus, he parked, grabbed his admission slip, and headed toward the piano department’s examination site.

The campus had numerous signs directing candidates, and student volunteers from the academy maintained order and guided exam-takers.

Walking along, Cheng Xiaoyu reviewed the exam content. The preliminary round was relatively simple.

1. One piece from Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier (only the fugue). (A fugue is a compositional form—a fixed style of polyphonic music, not a musical form.)
2. Two technical fast etudes, played consecutively, both selected from Chopin’s Etudes op.10 or op.25.
Candidates must perform from memory, or their score will be invalidated.

Cheng Xiaoyu was confident the preliminary round would be easy for him. As for the second round, he could not yet gauge his competitors’ abilities; unless they all matched Su Yuxi’s level, he saw little reason to worry.

Exams and competitions generally judge accuracy, not musical interpretation, which was a disadvantage for Cheng Xiaoyu.

He had neglected the piano for over a year. He remembered winning a major piano award at sixteen—not first, but among the top three. His skill back then had been impressive. With persistent, intensive practice recently, Cheng Xiaoyu was unsure of his current level, feeling he had not quite regained his former prowess. Still, he believed his ability was sufficient for the exam.

To be fair, technical proficiency is limitless only in science; in art, once one reaches a certain level, it is not so much about technique—everyone at this stage possesses it.

Laymen notice speed, strength, and accuracy—surface qualities—yet many performers neither seek nor value these (except for accuracy).

Professionals focus more on skill, which is far more complex than mere technique. Skill includes technique but extends beyond it; some performers value skill over technique, though this does not mean their technique is lacking.

At this point, Cheng Xiaoyu unconsciously regarded himself as a performer rather than a student. Overall, his confidence was high.

For the second round (with no overlap from the preliminary repertoire), Cheng Xiaoyu did not choose particularly challenging showcase pieces. With Aunt Zhou’s support, he only needed to perform steadily and avoid mistakes to secure admission, so there was no need to attempt difficult works.

For the first item, a classical sonata (selected from Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, or Schubert), Cheng Xiaoyu chose Beethoven’s Sonata “Moonlight,” third movement.

For the second item, one foreign piece—he selected Chopin’s Etude “Black Keys.”

The final exam component was basic music theory (results not included in the overall score, but a passing grade is required):

1. Music theory;
2. Sight-singing and ear training (written and oral).

These fundamentals were trivial for Cheng Xiaoyu, whose ear was exceptional.

At this moment, Cheng Xiaoyu confidently felt that he already had one foot inside the academy.