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墨書 Inktalez
In the days leading up to the exam, time seemed to stretch like a taut string, each second filled with tension and anticipation. In Teacher Zhuang's home, the lights burned brightly throughout the night. Teacher Zhuang sat across from Lin Wufeng, the table strewn with various university admission brochures, their edges worn from repeated handling.
Teacher Zhuang adjusted his glasses and tapped his finger on the page introducing the History program at Fudan University, his gaze intense. "Fudan has a profound history in this field, with a rich academic atmosphere and abundant research resources. For you, Zhuang Tunan, who loves delving into history, it's an excellent choice." Lin Wufeng nodded slightly and opened the brochure for Tongji University, looking at the images and descriptions of the Architecture program with evident agreement. "Tongji's Architecture is top-notch in the country, with plenty of practical opportunities. If you can get in, it would be promising."
Just then, Zhuang Tunan entered the room. Although fatigue was evident on his face, it couldn't hide his excitement. "Dad, Teacher Zhuang, I want to apply for Fudan's History and Tongji's Architecture. I love exploring stories from the past and am fascinated by the charm of design and construction." Teacher Zhuang stood up and patted him on the shoulder, his tone firm and encouraging. "Good boy, you have ambition! Both schools and programs are outstanding. Just focus on your studies and push forward!" Surrounded by supportive voices, Zhuang Tunan felt a surge of determination.
During the preparation period, their home transformed into a quiet sanctuary. Any slight noise would prompt Song Ying to act like a vigilant guard, swiftly quieting things down. The children's laughter in the hallway and the honking cars outside were deftly managed by her soothing whispers and tightly closed doors and windows, all to ensure Zhuang Tunan could study without distractions.
On the day of results announcement, the sun blazed down uncomfortably as Zhuang Tunan nervously checked for updates. The scores on the wall caught his eye—high marks that far exceeded Tongji University's admission threshold! The family erupted in joy; cheers filled the house as Teacher Zhuang stood tall with pride while Lin Wufeng patted Zhuang Tunan's back enthusiastically with praises.
But this joy was short-lived; an abrupt phone call shattered everything. As Zhuang Tunan answered, his face gradually paled, his hand holding the receiver dropping weakly as he spoke with trembling disbelief: "The teacher said I have mild color blindness." In an instant, the atmosphere in the room plunged into icy silence; joy was replaced by gloom as everyone exchanged shocked and worried glances.
Teacher Zhuang was the first to regain composure. Frowning yet trying to remain calm, he pulled a dazed Zhuang Tunan close. "Let's go to Tongji University's Admissions Office and ask about it. There might still be a chance to negotiate or transfer to a suitable program." They hurried along, their hearts heavy with anxiety as they gazed out at the fleeting scenery through the car window. The prestigious institution loomed ahead, yet they dared not dwell on their fate; all they could do was clench their fists and prepare to fight for any glimmer of hope.
Upon arriving at Tongji University campus, Teacher Zhuang led Zhuang Tunan to the Admissions Office. He politely yet urgently explained their situation while presenting transcripts and medical reports, his words earnest and filled with hope: "Teacher, my child has worked hard and truly loves learning. We just hope for an opportunity at Tongji University. Although this color blindness may pose challenges, he excels in other areas. Could you please consider giving him a chance? Even if it's transferring to a program with good job prospects?" The admissions officer took the materials and reviewed them carefully, furrowing her brow in thought before responding gently yet ambiguously—whether her response offered hope or despair hung heavily over them as they awaited judgment.
That night, darkness enveloped Huang Ling's room like thick ink; outside, moonlight coldly spilled through the window as if trying to pry into her troubled heart but was swallowed by relentless solitude. On her bed, Huang Ling stared blankly at the ceiling with hollow eyes; her mind replayed Zhuang Tunan's dejected expression and the admissions officer's pessimistic tone like a broken projector. She tossed and turned throughout the night; her blanket became tangled while tears mixed with sweat soaked her pillow. She felt trapped in quicksand—struggling only made her sink deeper—her mental state plummeting until morning arrived with her feeling dazed and haggard like a frostbitten flower.
As dawn broke outside her window, Huang Ling felt heavy-headed as if lead had been poured into her body. She forced herself out of bed, mechanically going through her morning routine—washing up and getting dressed—but when she glanced in the mirror, she was startled by her reflection: sunken eyes surrounded by dark circles that looked as if stained by ink; her complexion was waxy pale without any color; hair tousled wildly around her face. But she couldn't afford to dwell on these thoughts; after a quick tidy-up, she dragged her exhausted body toward Cotton Spinning Factory.
Inside Cotton Spinning Factory, machines roared loudly as massive textile machines whirred rapidly; threads danced between them like busy shadows. The workshop was stiflingly hot with cotton fluff swirling in the air that clung to Huang Ling's hair and clothes. Her coworkers busily moved between machines; noise blended into a chaotic symphony of labor. At first, no one noticed Huang Ling's unusual demeanor until someone casually glanced up and saw her pale face and dazed expression; they gasped in surprise and quickly gathered around her with concern: "Huang Ling! Why do you look so unwell? Are you feeling sick? Shouldn't you take a day off to rest?" Huang Ling forced out a weak smile and waved her hand dismissively: "I'm fine; I just didn't sleep well last night. It's nothing serious—I still need to keep working." She turned toward her workstation to grab her tools but found her hands uncooperative; she nearly made mistakes several times as beads of sweat rolled down her forehead—she couldn't tell if it was from heat or anxiety deep within.
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