"Second Brother! Second Brother! You scored seven hundred and seven! Seven hundred and seven! Aaaaaah-!"
The two middle schoolers bounced and leaped around Zhou Cheng like lunatics, completely forgetting there were other people around.
"That's Zhuang Jingcheng?"
"My God, someone really scored that high? I thought they'd entered the score wrong!"
"The full score is only seven hundred and ten, and he got seven hundred and seven. Has the Star of Literature descended to earth?"
"I smell something fishy. My kid worked himself half to death just to scrape past six hundred. Over seven hundred? That defies all logic!"
Amid the shocked or suspicious looks and voices around them, Huang Ling and Zhuang Chaoying finally recovered from the enormous shock.
Ignoring the voices around them, they squeezed another two steps forward until their faces were almost pressed against the posted results.
Breathing in the smell of red paper and ink, they stared over and over at the name at the top and the numbers behind it, finally confirming that it was no illusion!
707 points!
What a staggering number!
National Top Scorer!
It was no longer a joke!
707 points, only three points short of a perfect score.
Whatever the exam paper, whatever the cutoff, whatever the scoring rules, this was an unprecedented, record-breaking result.
Huang Ling and Zhuang Chaoying were flushed and dizzy, even though Zhou Cheng had told them when estimating his score that it would probably be around seven hundred.
At the time, they had thought their younger son was being far too blindly optimistic.
They acknowledged that their son was a talent found in one in a thousand, even one in ten thousand.
But China was so vast, and they had heard so many stories about geniuses that they really did not think their son's talent