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墨書 Inktalez
After the college entrance examination, students gathered in groups to discuss their experiences. I felt anxious due to the circumstances I faced during the exam, and the conflicting emotions of pride and insecurity as a transfer student made it difficult for me to fit into this circle. Early on July 10, I left school and went home.
On July 17, the fifteenth day of the sixth lunar month, it was my grandmother's seventieth birthday. A large number of relatives came to visit, and no matter who it was, the first question they asked me was, "How did you do this year? Which university can you get into?"
What could I say? I stammered through my responses, and when I could no longer bear it, I simply replied, "It was okay."
The next day, I woke up early and took a bus to school. My classmates were estimating their scores based on the standard answers provided by the teachers. Comparing them with my own recorded answers, I discovered that I had completely messed up the math exam; out of a possible 120 points, I would be lucky to get 85, which was far from the 100 points I had scored in multiple practice tests. Fortunately, my English had improved a bit. My total estimated score was around 520 points. Although it fell short of my initial expectation of 550 points, based on the cutoff scores from the past two years, I should be able to get into an ordinary undergraduate program. I finally felt a sense of relief.
After estimating our scores, everyone waited to fill out their application forms. We waited and waited until the afternoon when the school announced that the higher authorities had not yet determined when we could fill out our applications. Everyone was told to go home and wait patiently.
On July 19 at noon, I returned home with a mix of excitement and anxiety. In the dirt yard to the right of our house, four bamboo mats were spread out; three of them were covered with a layer of golden rice grains, indicating that the double harvest season had begun. My parents and siblings were not home. I took off my long pants and shoes and walked barefoot towards the fields where I was already accustomed to working during this time.
Once in the fields, I tried to calmly inform my parents about my estimated scores. My father's face broke into a smile, while my mother stopped me from heading back into the fields and cheerfully said, "Biao Song, you don't need to go back; let's go home and prepare dinner instead. It's okay if we harvest a little less; let's celebrate by killing a chicken." My younger brother dropped his sickle and jumped up dramatically, shouting, "Brother is going to college!"
Seeing my parents and siblings so happy brought a shadow over my heart. After all, I hadn’t performed at my best in this exam, and there might be some discrepancies in my estimated scores. What if I didn’t get accepted? Thankfully, my parents didn’t boast about it in front of relatives or neighbors; they simply concealed their joy behind their brows.
After enjoying a sumptuous lunch together, we quickly returned to our busy harvest work. As we worked hard under the sun, I repeatedly pondered what path lay ahead: how should I fill out my application?
On August 1st, while the double harvest season was still ongoing, word spread that the college entrance exam scores had been released. I put down my farming tasks and rushed back to school.
Many classmates were there. When She Songsong saw me, he came over and asked, "I scored 542 points; how about you?" Upon learning that I hadn’t checked mine yet, he added, "Teacher Liu has everyone's scores; you should go take a look."
When I found Teacher Liu, he picked up a roster from his desk and flipped to my name. He revealed a series of characters and numbers: Chinese 103, Math 76, Physics 68, Chemistry 62, Biology 57, English 73, Politics 76; total score: 515.
I stood there stunned for a moment before realizing that this score placed me in the lower-middle range among all transfer students—definitely not ideal. Lacking the courage to discuss it further with my classmates or ask Teacher Liu more questions about filling out applications since we still couldn’t do so yet, I distanced myself from everyone and left school.
Back home, I shared my final score with my family. Since the cutoff scores hadn’t been announced yet and we couldn’t fill out applications yet either, everyone felt as low as I did. Fortunately, as the double harvest season neared its end, we continued our work in the fields amidst an atmosphere of anxious anticipation.
On the evening of August 6th, after finishing work early and sitting in front of the television at home waiting for news about the college admission cutoff scores: for science-focused key undergraduate programs it was set at 540 points; general undergraduate programs at 528 points; provincial colleges at 521 points; local colleges at 512 points; vocational schools at 507 points; self-funded students could have their scores lowered by 20-50 points.
As I silently sighed with relief upon hearing this news, my heart sank again: how could this year’s cutoff scores be so high? With my current score not only could I not get into an undergraduate program but also not even into provincial colleges—I would only qualify for local vocational schools or perhaps choose a decent vocational school.
Seeing this news made my mother’s expression change slightly as if she wanted to say something. My father quickly spoke up: "Now that we have the cutoff scores out—Biao Song will soon become our village's first college student! We should think about which school to apply for."
What schools could I apply for? The Hunan Medical College that I'd always dreamed of was definitely out of reach this time; there were quite a few local vocational schools that accepted students with lower scores than mine but only by three points—what if applying for a better one didn’t work out?
My father had many acquaintances in education and planned to head to Dongkou tomorrow to inquire about options; if he could connect with someone from a school that would be great. My mother suggested that I also reach out to those who had already gotten into universities from San Zhong to see if they could offer any guidance.
The next day early in the morning my father set off. After having breakfast at home and thinking it over—I realized there were only about ten students from San Zhong who had gotten into universities; after two years of studying hard I'd only managed such low scores—I really didn’t have the face to approach them for help. Fortunately, last year’s successful applicant from Shanghai Maritime University was Peng Zequan—he's a good brother so I'll just go ask him.
From Xizhong Township's Zhushan Bay to Hejia Village in Meitian Township is only about twelve or thirteen miles away; it took me less than an hour to reach Zequan's house. He had many sisters who had already finished their harvest work; when Zequan saw me while reading inside his house he was very happy. After learning about my score he said regretfully: "It seems like this year's academic turmoil affected admissions; otherwise you would have at least qualified for an undergraduate program! If you're looking at vocational schools though—Shaoyang Gongzhuan is not bad; our neighbor Peng Zehua is studying there now—I've heard their graduates are highly sought after by employers in Shaoyang's big factories—many have even become department heads or factory managers."
Then he took me outside his house where we met up with Zehua before heading back home together for lunch. The three of us chatted while eating and even drank some light alcohol together. As someone who was drinking for the first time while trying to suppress my tipsy feelings—I found myself unexpectedly feeling lighter despite being upset about not scoring high enough.
Time flew by in the rhythm of my father's bustling activities. After about a week, I finally received the notification from the organization regarding the online application for college admissions.
Arriving at school, I stepped into the familiar classroom of Class 45, where Teacher Liu distributed the enrollment guidelines and some forms. He explained a few important points and required everyone to complete their applications and submit them by the afternoon of August 12.
After collecting the materials, I chatted with a few classmates who had transferred in about which schools they were planning to apply to (it seemed that none of my close friends from this year were on track to enroll). I then left school and went to Fourth Uncle's house to discuss how to fill out my application with my father.
My father carefully examined the materials I brought back and said, “For your first choice in a vocational college, you should apply to Shaoyang Gongzhuan. I spoke with Teacher Sun Quan, who contacted his brother-in-law, Principal Zhou. He assured me that as long as you apply, you’ll be accepted; the other choices are up to you.”
I nodded and began to isolate myself in a corner, using a fountain pen to jot down my choices on a blank sheet of paper. Eventually, realizing there was little hope, I haphazardly filled in my other choices. However, there were two initial aspirations I was reluctant to give up. The first was my dream of studying medicine; without fully understanding the enrollment policies at the time, I noticed that undergraduate directed admissions allowed for a 20-point reduction in scores. There happened to be an opening for five students from Hunan at Suzhou Medical College, so I filled that in with hope. The second was a stubborn refusal to attend a teacher training college despite my father being a high school principal; in every section asking if I would accept adjustments or assignments, I uniformly wrote “except for teacher training colleges.”
Once I completed my application and submitted it to the teacher, I returned home and began to enjoy a leisurely semi-agricultural lifestyle.
More than twenty days passed. Although I had not yet received any news about my admission letter, word had spread around the courtyard that I had been accepted into college. Whether it was uncles and aunts from the lower yard or distant relatives from the upper yard, everyone seemed to wear an expression of pride. My younger siblings looked at me with admiration, making me feel somewhat embarrassed.
On a gradually cooling evening, villagers no longer busy with farming gathered in front of my grandfather's house to relax. Someone had brought in a blind fortune teller, and several aunts hurriedly asked him to read their children's fortunes—perhaps hoping to see if any of them would have the luck of getting into college like me. However, after much deliberation, the fortune teller’s predictions were similar to those made by previous "masters" who either leaned on canes or wore sunglasses; none predicted great wealth or high status. It seemed that most people in a small village like Zhushan Bay didn’t have destinies for great fortune.
Seeing that I wasn’t participating, Second Aunt suddenly took my hand and placed it in the fortune teller's grasp, saying, “Master, see if this one has any prospects…”
The fortune teller extended his bony fingers and repeatedly examined my palm and wrist before coughing a few times and saying, “Nope, this one is even worse off than the others; however, he’s quite good at farm work…”
I pulled my hand away from him, nearly ready to slap him when Second Aunt exclaimed loudly, “You should go back and study for a few more years before coming here! This is our village’s first college student; we’re just waiting for the admission letter!”
Second Aunt's words turned out to be prophetic; the university admission letter did not seem to understand our anxious feelings as it took over ten more days without any news.
The anxious wait finally came to an end on the morning of September 22 when the rural postman unexpectedly arrived at our courtyard (usually he only delivered letters to the village secretary’s house by the roadside). This time it was mandated by higher authorities that university admission letters must be delivered directly to applicants’ homes.
As I opened the envelope and pulled out the notification letter, it was no surprise that I had been accepted into Shaoyang Industrial Vocational College for Chemical Engineering; reporting dates were set for October 8th and 9th. My mother joyfully invited the postman into our home for a while and offered him peanuts and candy. Before he left, she even gave him a red envelope with ten yuan inside.
As soon as the postman left, my mother urged me to go immediately to the garden and inform my father of this news so we could discuss how to celebrate. At school in Garden Middle School, many familiar teachers asked me which university I had been accepted into. Blushing, I answered each one but secretly felt embarrassed about attending such an unremarkable institution. One teacher remarked: “Biao Song, now that you’re a college student, you need to pay attention to your appearance; otherwise looking like a farmer will make it hard for you to find a partner.” Almost fleeing from school in shame, I hurried away.
That evening, my parents and I discussed how we would celebrate. In my opinion, having been accepted into such an inconspicuous university made it embarrassing for me to host a celebration; however, my parents insisted it was necessary since relatives and neighbors were watching us closely. They also emphasized that we needed to show gratitude towards our teachers—after all, I was the first college student from our village—and hosting a celebration would bring honor.
Unable to resist my parents' insistence, I agreed to host a gathering but refused adamantly to invite teachers from Third Middle School because I felt ashamed of attending such an unprestigious institution. Seeing me stubbornly resist, my father decided he would go himself while asking me to invite teachers from First Middle School along with Fourth Uncle and Uncle.
When I nervously handed an invitation card to Teacher Changlin Liu, he didn’t hesitate at all and said: “You did well on your exams! Especially your Chinese score is among the top ten in the county. Some students from Class 45 at Shijiang invited me but I didn’t go; however, I will definitely come for your family’s celebration.”
On October 1st during our family banquet, firecrackers rang out incessantly in Zhushan Bay. Over twenty tables were set up on our old courtyard’s dirt floor; all village officials from Chang Le Village attended along with families from both Zhushan Bay and Shi Bao Chong—many from Chang Tang Chong and Maoli Mountain also came; relatives including my grandmother, uncles, aunties—all gathered together—even two grand-uncles (my grandmother’s older brother and my grandmother’s younger brother) showed up; two tables were filled with teachers from Garden Middle School while one table hosted teachers from Third Middle School along with several from First Middle School.
Finally on this day, I healed from the aftermath of college entrance exams—the rest would be an entirely new chapter of life ahead.
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