Before yesterday, she would never have made such a request of Andrew Brooks. Back then, they were just classmates—very ordinary classmates at that. But now, since they shared a secret and had a common topic, shouldn’t they be a bit closer?

Unfortunately, this self-satisfied guy didn’t realize that this small gesture completely exposed his lack of emotional intelligence!

Maybe he really did just see me as an ordinary classmate. In Emily Young’s heart, there was a faint sense of disappointment, though she didn’t know where this feeling came from.

“Heh, yeah, I’m just here to return your stuff,” she quickly regained her composure, and took the opportunity to show this oddball what normal people’s EQ looked like. “How did you do on the exam?”

On the third day, the results were posted. Both of them ranked near the top. Out of ten civil servant spots, the two of them placed second and ninth, respectively, qualifying them for the interview prepared for the top twenty!

“Damn, this isn’t fair,” someone shouted loudly at the results board. Since they’d already failed, there was no shortage of people ready to vent their frustration. “It’s all backroom deals, definitely backroom deals.”

Quite a few people nearby pounded their chests and echoed, “Yeah, report them, report them!”

It was obviously fair! Andrew Brooks was a bit angry. To prevent the rumored “pre-selection,” he’d gone to great lengths, inputting the idea of “fair grading” into the minds of the exam committee members one by one. Weren’t these people denying all his hard work?

He was second place, but where was the backroom deal? He’d clearly earned it fair and square.

Because he’d forcibly implanted those thoughts, he’d used up more than half of the immortal energy he’d painstakingly accumulated! He felt so frustrated he wanted to shout, but fortunately, the experience at the registration desk three days ago was still fresh in his mind—being the target of everyone’s criticism was definitely not a pleasant feeling.

Anyway, these people weren’t talking about him. Once he figured that out, he calmed down. Whatever reaction the exam committee had was their business—why should he get involved?

Not bad, man, you’ve learned to watch from the sidelines, he even felt a bit proud of himself!

Emily Young squeezed over to his side, frowning. “Sigh, I’m only ninth, that’s really risky. Andrew, do you have any good ideas?”

“I’m not a god,” Andrew Brooks shook his head regretfully. Dude is a god—one who walks sideways among gods, even—but that was in the past. For girls, is being an official really such a big deal?

“Which position did you apply for?” Emily Young was a bit envious of him. Look at him—not cheating, just one night of review, and he still got second place. “This time, you’ve got a good shot. The written exam counts for seventy percent.”

“Personnel Bureau,” Andrew Brooks answered with a hint of pride.

The Personnel Bureau was one of the best positions in this recruitment, second only to the City Government Secretariat. However, Andrew Brooks’s reason for choosing the Personnel Bureau was obvious—he’d heard they were in charge of cadre assessment and appointments (clearly, this was just hearsay), so he’d have plenty of opportunities to interact with lots of people.

Communicating with people was becoming his strong suit, and Andrew Brooks had no doubt about that.

Unfortunately, the Personnel Bureau position was just too good, and someone had set their sights on it early on. Even with his second-place written score, he couldn’t shake some people’s determination.

So, during the interview, Andrew Brooks got a very strange question.

The interview questions were random. The main examiner would pose a question, and the candidate had to present their own views on the topic and elaborate. The candidate also had to be ready to answer deeper follow-up questions from the examiner, which required strong on-the-spot thinking.

This method later became part of the written civil service exam, and a specific term was coined for this format—“Shenlun” (argumentative essay)!

In short, it was similar to the old imperial exam format, but with one very important addition: practical requirements. For the given question, the candidate not only had to present their own insights, but more importantly, they had to propose concrete solutions or implementation methods—much more detailed than a policy outline.

For the position Andrew Brooks was applying for, he should have expected some basic organizational plans, assessment methods, or other very general questions.

Unfortunately, someone had noticed that this candidate had a very solid theoretical foundation, so he was given a question that left him dumbfounded: “What is your view on the social phenomenon of people being obsessed with feudal superstitions and tales of immortals and ghosts?”

Damn! Andrew Brooks was really stunned. He’d done a lot of prep for this oral exam, even carefully studying some highly controversial social issues and thoroughly researching the most authoritative opinions.

Come on, I applied for the Personnel Bureau, not the Religious Affairs Bureau.

He was stunned for a while before he managed to swallow and say, “Um, personally, I believe that immortals don’t exist. That was just something the ruling class in ancient times used to…”

It was really tough for him, but clearly, this question was very beneficial for his emotional intelligence development—even he himself thought so. Back in the day, Edward Lawson rarely lied.

And now, hehe! Even though it was just a small step, it felt like a real milestone!