He gazed at the essay question demanding the use of "the Markov process and the Black-Scholes equation to predict long-term trends." The page was a blur of Greek letters and stochastic calculus symbols, like a swarm of distorted black ants dancing frantically across his retinas.
'I don't get it. I don't get it at all.'
What made his heart sink even more was the sound coming from beside him.
SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH—
It was the sound of Li Wei's pen flying across the paper.
He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye and saw Li Wei writing without even seeming to read the question. The very essay problem that made him sick to his stomach seemed, under Li Wei's pen, as simple as a first-grade math question: "If you have three apples and eat one, how many are left?"
'Wait a minute, aren't we taking the same exam?'
'Am I really that stupid?'
The student felt an immense pressure, and a cold sweat began to bead on his forehead.
