When it came to the civil service aptitude test, Alan Cooper already had a strategy, but he had absolutely no confidence when it came to the essay portion. “Alright, I’ll head over now, thank you.”

After hanging up the phone, Alan Cooper let his mother know, grabbed his study materials, and walked out the door.

Beijing Tumor Hospital.

Alan Cooper had never worked part-time, so he was a bit short on cash lately. On the way, he bought some seasonal fruits from a street vendor—the cheaper kind. After asking around in the inpatient department, he finally made his way up to the third floor, west side, next to the oncology radiotherapy department, in the comprehensive oncology ward. He walked up to the door marked Room 3016 and knocked.

“Come in.” On the bed by the window, Grandpa Harris was wearing reading glasses and looking at a photograph.

Alan Cooper walked over, smiling as he set the fruit on the table. “Grandpa Harris, I wish you a speedy recovery.”

“You didn’t have to bring anything.” Grandpa Harris smiled cheerfully, pulled him to sit down, and touched the family photo with his hand, turning it so Alan Cooper could see. “This is my eldest son, this is my daughter, and look, this is my youngest son and daughter-in-law.” The woman in the photo had a big belly, apparently pregnant. “...Sigh, I almost didn’t get to see my newborn grandson. Little Alan, if it weren’t for you pulling me back from the brink that day, this old man wouldn’t be here. Thank you, truly!”

“You’re giving me too much credit.”

Grandpa Harris’s eyes grew a little moist. “Sometimes I think, there’s no cure for my lung cancer, maybe it’d be better to go early and be at peace. But when it really comes down to dying, I can’t let go of anything. Living, you still have to live!”

Thinking about how he had completely changed the fate of both Grandpa Harris and Evelyn Carter, Alan Cooper was deeply moved.

After a few pleasantries, Grandpa Harris suddenly said, “Did you bring all the essay reference materials? Come on, what are you struggling with? I’ll explain it to you.”

Alan Cooper quickly asked about the questions he couldn’t figure out.

Grandpa Harris thought for a moment and replied, “If you answer the questions the way you just described—too subjectively—it’s not ideal. After all, those aren’t well-honed arguments, so there will be small mistakes and issues. The graders will deduct points for that.”

Alan Cooper asked in confusion, “Then how should I answer? Be vague? Just say empty words?”

Grandpa Harris laughed, “Little Alan, don’t underestimate the phrase ‘empty, grand, and fake.’ Sometimes, if you use it well, it’s not easy, and it can actually make your arguments shine. When you need to be fake, be fake; when you need to be grand, be grand; when you need to be empty, be empty. Not just in the civil service exam, but in officialdom too. Come, let me tell you more…”

So Alan Cooper listened intently all afternoon.

Honestly, Grandpa Harris was truly knowledgeable—everything he said made perfect sense.

As time went on, Alan Cooper became more familiar with him and spoke more freely. “Sigh, the people who write these exam questions, why do they have to make them so hard? Isn’t this just making things difficult for us on purpose?” This complaint had been buried in Alan Cooper’s heart for a long time. “I’ve done all the essay questions from every province over the past few years, and each year they get harder and more out there. It’s easy for them—they just have to talk, but what about us? What did we ever do to deserve this?”

Grandpa Harris frowned and said nothing.

Alan Cooper hesitated—had he said something wrong?

After a while, Grandpa Harris finally spoke: “You can’t look at it that way. If all the questions were easy and everyone could answer them, what would be the point of the civil service exam? Even if everyone got full marks, there would still only be a few positions in the end. There’s always competition—it’s the same for everyone.” He opened a reference book of past provincial exams, pointed to a page, and said, “My son and I are both academics. He’s more capable than I am—he’s already got his PhD. Look, last year, more than half of the essay questions on the Shanghai civil service exam were written by him.”

Only then did Alan Cooper realize that his earlier complaints had inadvertently included Grandpa Harris’s son.

Damn, look at this big mouth of mine…

Wait, I haven’t used BACK today!

BACK!!!

……

The moment time rewound, Alan Cooper felt his lips moving—he must have been in the middle of speaking. Across from him, Grandpa Harris was frowning, listening. Seeing the old man’s expression, Alan Cooper realized he’d used BACK a bit late. “Um, Grandpa Harris, where was I?”

Grandpa Harris gave a wry smile. “You were saying the people who write the questions are making things difficult for you.”

“That’s right.” Alan Cooper quickly adjusted, following that thread. “It’s really tough!”

Grandpa Harris’s frown deepened.

“But…” Alan Cooper changed tack, picking up the collection of essay questions. “But the essay questions from Beihe Province two years ago and Shanghai last year were really interesting. You can tell just by looking at them—they’re high quality. They’re hard, sure, but they’re interesting. If this year’s Beijing civil service exam had questions like that, even if I couldn’t answer them, I wouldn’t complain.”

Grandpa Harris was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Little Alan, let me tell you, most of last year’s Shanghai essay questions were written by my son.”

Alan Cooper feigned surprise. “Ah?”