Chapter 81: The Mysterious Code
The next day was Sunday, and Lin Yuan went to work as usual.
Meanwhile, at the Qinzhou Academy of Arts, the Fine Arts Department was conducting a major exam. The test lasted the entire day, with watercolor in the morning and sketching in the afternoon. This exam not only tested the students' skills but also challenged the stamina of the instructors, who had to grade the papers by the end of the day to ensure the results could be posted the following day.
After the exam, the students headed back to their dorms, while the instructors stayed behind to work late into the night grading the sketches. It wasn't until around 9 p.m. that most of the teachers were finally done.
In one of the large offices of the Fine Arts Department, Professor Kong An of the Painting Department stretched and smiled, feeling relieved. "Finally done. Have you noticed that the students' sketching skills seem to have improved a lot this semester?"
"Yeah," several sketching instructors chimed in, agreeing as they finished their grading.
As they waited for the final results to be tallied, the teachers engaged in small talk:
"There's definitely been improvement." "I graded a hundred sketches, and more than ten were really exceptional. Normally, I’d see only three or four at that level." "I think the average score for sketching this term is going to be much higher. The students must have been working hard."
One of the sketching teachers then said, "I heard there's a second-year student in the art club who's been giving paid sketching lessons. It seems like his teaching has played a part in the improvement."
"Really?" a female instructor drinking coffee remarked. "One of my students, who used to struggle with sketching, has shown huge progress after taking a couple of his lessons."
"I'm surprised too," she continued. "The person teaching is also a student, and not even from our Fine Arts Department."
"Interesting," Professor Kong An raised an eyebrow. As a professor specializing in sketching, he didn’t interact much with students unless it was in large lecture settings, where it was difficult to keep track of individual progress.
"I heard about it from my students," another sketching instructor by the window added. "The kid's name is Lin Yuan, a second-year student from the Composition Department. He's been charging quite a bit for his lessons, too."
"Lin Yuan?" Kong An asked. "How much does he charge?"
"Five hundred yuan per hour," someone responded.
Kong An was taken aback. "Wow, I only charge a thousand an hour for private lessons, and I’m a professor!"
As an established figure in the art world, Kong An’s fees were considered reasonable given his reputation. But hearing that a student was charging half that amount surprised him. Was he undercharging, or was the student overcharging? He couldn’t help but feel this was taking advantage of their Fine Arts students.
Sensing his dissatisfaction, the instructor drinking coffee chuckled awkwardly, "Of course, he can't compare to someone of your stature, but the kid seems to know what he's doing. A lot of students have seen significant improvement after learning from him, so in that sense, five hundred an hour might actually be worth it."
Kong An's tone became firmer, "But he's just a student. This sets a bad example."
"Exactly!" one of the male instructors seated nearby jumped in. "As a professor, you should speak out about this. With your standing, you could put a stop to this nonsense!"
This particular instructor had a personal grudge. He had overheard some students comparing his teaching unfavorably to Lin Yuan's, and it had made him angry to think that his expertise was being overshadowed by a mere second-year student.
"You’re wrong," the coffee-drinking instructor frowned. "Lin Yuan's students improved significantly, and they willingly pay for his lessons. He’s not doing anything wrong."
"That’s just a few isolated cases," the male instructor, surnamed Gao, argued. "One-on-one lessons can help a student improve quickly, but we have to teach entire classes. That's the real challenge of being a teacher. Can Lin Yuan handle a whole class?"
The coffee-drinker turned away, unwilling to engage further with Gao, whose face grew visibly sour.
At that moment, a staff member entered the room, holding a report. "Professor Kong, the results have been tallied. Please take a look."
"Thank you," Kong An said as he took the results. He glanced at the top fifty students and immediately noticed something odd. "Is there a system error? Why do so many students have the letter 'L' after their names?"
"It's not a system error," the staff member said, laughing awkwardly. "A lot of students added that letter themselves. I couldn’t verify if it was on their student IDs, so I just entered the names as they wrote them."
Kong An frowned. "That's ridiculous."
The coffee-drinking instructor took a look and, after a moment of confusion, suddenly burst into laughter. "I think I understand. Come take a look, everyone. You might recognize your own students."
What was going on? Why would they need to "recognize" their students?
Curiosity piqued, the other instructors gathered around. After a few moments, their expressions turned strange.
"What's going on?" Kong An asked, still puzzled. What was the significance of this "L"? Some kind of secret code?
One of the instructors spoke up awkwardly, "The third-place student, Zhong Yu, is from my class. He’s taken quite a few of Lin Yuan's lessons."
Another added, "Fourth place, Pang Bo, is from my class. He’s also been learning from Lin Yuan."
"The sixth place..." "The eighth place..." "Cough, and the ninth and tenth places too..."
Out of the top fifty students, thirty-nine had added the letter "L" after their names.
Kong An was getting anxious. "What's going on?"
The coffee-drinking instructor finally finished her cup and explained, "Professor Kong, all the students who added an 'L' to their names have one thing in common—they’ve all taken Lin Yuan’s sketching lessons."
"So..." another teacher chimed in, "It looks like 'L' stands for Lin Yuan."
The room fell into an awkward silence. More than half of the top students in this sketching exam had been taught by Lin Yuan? What did that say about their own teaching?
While some were feeling embarrassed, others couldn’t help but be amazed. They had assumed Lin Yuan’s one-on-one sessions had only helped a few students, but this result showed that his influence was far greater than expected.
"I get it now," Kong An took a deep breath, looking at the results. "I’m going to see the dean."
Instructor Gao, feeling vindicated, jumped up. "Yes! You should definitely talk to the dean! These students have gone too far, and Lin Yuan is disrespecting our entire Fine Arts Department!"
"What are you talking about?" Kong An shot him a glare. "Lin Yuan single-handedly raised the entire department's sketching scores. I’m going to convince the dean to transfer him to our department!"
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