Chapter 6: Scoring

"Will the examiners please provide their scores for Candidate Number 35."

It took the two scorekeepers a good while to collect themselves and begin the procedure. Even before the final tally was out, the two clerks exchanged wide-eyed, curious glances. They suspected that they were witnessing not just the highest interview score for this session, but perhaps the highest in the history of the provincial civil service examination. It was even possible, they mused, that Candidate 35 was setting a record that might never be broken.

Sure enough, the first examiner raised their scorecard: 95.5 points.

The scorekeepers gasped. They had expected a high score, as they would have given one themselves, but 95.5 right out of the gate was staggering. Interview scores in their Hedong Province typically fell within a specific range. Generally, scores were concentrated between 75 and 85; barring the truly unlucky, very few fell below 75. Anything under 70 was considered a failed interview, and anything below 60 was virtually impossible unless the candidate had insulted the examiners.

High scores were equally rare. An 85 was a formidable threshold. For those defending their position—such as a candidate ranked first in the written exam for a single-opening post—anything above 80 or 82 was usually enough to secure the win. Surpassing 85 was an immense challenge. Out of the five or six thousand candidates vying for spots each year, with roughly fifteen thousand in total, only a dozen or so would manage to break 85. It was a ratio of about one in a hundred.

Scores above 90 were a matter of luck, occurring perhaps once or twice—at most four times—across the entire pool of fifteen thousand. They could be counted on one hand. Beyond 90, every single point of increase represented a doubling of difficulty. Any score below 60 or above 90 triggered an automatic review to ensure fairness and impartiality. Therefore, any score above 90 required a written justification. To start with a 95.5 meant the record had already been shattered. As the clerks tallied the numbers, their hands trembled.

Next came the second examiner. "96 points."

The clerks swallowed hard. 95.5 was already extraordinary, but the second score was even higher. Then, the subsequent scores defied all expectations, shattering their perception of the process: 97.5, 97, 98, 97.3, 97.2...

The two clerks squinted and leaned in, terrified that they were misreading or mishearing. How could this be? They had thought the initial 95.5 was high, yet as the examiners finished, that 95.5 had become the most conservative, the lowest score of the lot. The chief examiner had even awarded a 98.

The clerks calculated the final average. They checked it once, twice, three times. The math was simple—drop the high of 98 and the low of 95.5, then average the remaining five scores—a task a primary school student could perform. Yet, they were agonizingly cautious, knowing the impact this data would have once released.

An interview score of 97 would break the all-time record for the Hedong provincial exam, and perhaps the national record as well. This was an interview, not a written test. A score of 92 or 93 was noteworthy, but 97? That was a different realm entirely. It was only three points shy of a perfect score. Regardless of how many times they calculated it, the result remained 97. They locked eyes, nodded, and one of them began the announcement.

"Candidate 35, excluding the high of 98 and the low of 95.5, your final average score is 97. If you have no objections, please sign here."

The clerk’s voice wavered as he spoke; he thought to himself that if he were the one being interviewed, he would struggle to even hit 79 with nerves like those.

Li Xiuyuan was equally ecstatic. He had hoped for a high score, banking on it to turn the tide. Without significantly overtaking the third and fourth-place candidates from the written exams, there would be no way to secure his spot at the County Government Office. But he never dared to dream of a 97.

As he signed his name, his hand shook. Fortunately, the quality of his handwriting didn't matter now. After signing, he bowed once more and walked tremblingly toward the exit.

As he stepped out, he bumped into Candidate 36, who was preparing to enter. Candidate 36 glanced at Li Xiuyuan and wondered why the guy’s legs were shaking so violently. Were the examiners inside that fearsome? Had they berated him for a poor answer? Already anxious, Candidate 36 felt even more intimidated by Li Xiuyuan’s state.

Li Xiuyuan felt a pang of pity for the next candidate. Of all the draw numbers, he had to be next. The examiners were so energized by the high score they had just given that the pressure on the next person would be immense. It was like finishing a gourmet meal and then being served a mediocre dish; the contrast would make the second meal taste terrible. Comparisons were indeed the source of all misery. *Sorry, buddy,* he thought silently.

Once the interview was over, he was required to leave the premises immediately. Li Xiuyuan walked slowly toward the school gate. His steps were measured and steady. Halfway out, he stopped and looked back at the teaching building where the interviews were held, letting out a long, deep breath.

He knew he had made it. Barring any surprises, he was destined to land the position. His pace quickened, his entire being filled with an indescribable sense of relief.