A Fifty-Fifty Chance of Winning

Everyone in the room looked at one another. They wanted to laugh but felt too embarrassed to, so they held it in painfully.

Professor Smith looked around blankly. "What's wrong? Is there a problem?"

Qin Ze glanced at him and thought, You'd better run. I'm not holding down Comrade Lei Feng's coffin lid for you.

The host gave a polite, definitely-not-mocking smile. "Today isn't Lei Feng Day. Those two characters on the calendar say Frost's Descent, one of China's twenty-four solar terms."

Professor Smith was dumbfounded. "It isn't Lei Feng Day?"

Host: "Of course not. Lei Feng Day is..." He checked his phone for a moment, then said, "March 5th."

Qin Ze thought, You should run too. I can't hold down Comrade Lei Feng's coffin lid.

Professor Smith stood there in a daze for a long while.

He remembered solemnly telling his students a few days ago, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Remember to do a few good deeds these days."

The sight of his students nodding vigorously was still deeply etched in his mind.

Just imagine it: while talking to Chinese contestants, the students would hold back their eagerness and ask, "Have you run into any trouble today?"

The Chinese students would say, "No. Why do you ask?"

Then the students would pat their chests and say, "Today is Lei Feng Day. Don't stand on ceremony with me."

So embarrassing. Boohoohoo.

Professor Smith had visited China many times and learned a little Chinese, enough for the simplest daily conversations. Then he called himself a china expert in public... because Chinese people really fell for that. Foreigners who called themselves china experts could easily blend in with Chinese people.

But in his eyes, all Chinese characters looked the same, one square block after another. English was at