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墨書 Inktalez
Reading Makeup Class, the biggest difference from before was the freedom. In a class of over a hundred students, there was surprisingly no homeroom teacher. The boys living in the dorms filled two entire rooms, yet no one came to check if we were going to bed on time. Some classmates simply disappeared during the course, with most transferring to other schools, while a few either returned home to farm or enlisted in the military or took jobs. No one seemed to play "going off the grid" like today's junior high school students.
In this relaxed environment, some students chose not to stay in the dorms and instead rented houses near the school. My good friend Zeng Guangbai was one of them. Meanwhile, as my second brother went to university, my fifth brother transferred to another school, and my eldest and fourth brothers began drifting apart, the close-knit Six Brothers showed signs of disbanding during the early days of Makeup Class. This brought me and Zeng closer together, almost to the point of being inseparable.
Since we were good buddies, we wanted to be together during and after class. A few days into the semester, Guangbai invited me to his rented place after school. About a kilometer away from campus, I arrived at his room located on the second floor of a two-story building, roughly two hundred meters from the road leading from Gaosha to Dongkou. Surrounding the house were several tall trees; the autumn breeze rustled their leaves, creating a sound like children clapping. Occasionally, birds chirped, adding to the idyllic atmosphere.
In front of the small building was a twenty-square-meter cement area that was tidy and free of any farming tools or clutter. If one grew tired of staying indoors, they could open the doors and windows and step outside for a stroll, embodying Mr. Wen Yiduo's idea of "Why Not Go Downstairs for a While."
Such a tranquil and elegant environment perfectly matched my desire for peace amidst chaos. However, there was only one desk inside, insufficient for two people to study simultaneously. Determined to impress others through my studies, I prioritized learning above all else. Guangbai noticed my mood and said, "Now that we've found this place, you can come here after your Evening Study Session to relax. We can chat more and study for an extra hour or two."
The next day, Guangbai returned to his little sanctuary after finishing his seventh class as usual. I blended into the crowd leaving school when the bell rang for Evening Study Session (many students from Gaosha Town who didn’t live on campus also attended). I walked along a winding path through the fields towards Guangbai's rented building.
In the serene countryside, a small stream at the foot of the school wall babbled gently, occasionally producing soft splashes as it flowed over dry leaves or as a loach emerged from the moist mud. The late rice seedlings had been growing for over a month; under a light mist, their green leaves swayed together closely as if they were one entity. Occasionally, an advanced "Male Seedling" stood tall among them, proudly flaunting its stature that farmers would scoff at.
Suddenly, an unknown insect jumped out from the grass in front of me and leaped into the stream, creating irregular shapes in the calm water that shimmered with light and shadow. It turned out that half of a bright moon in the sky was guiding my way! Memories of my grandmother humming "The Moon is Curved" and my childhood joy in racing against the moon flooded back to me. I found myself lost in thought: just days ago, after failing my pre-examination, I had felt despondent; summer skies had lost their clarity, and nights had been devoid of moonlight. Today, however, accepting reality and picking up those bewildering textbooks again while taking this rare nighttime stroll through the fields made me realize that as I walked under the moonlight, my spirits lifted too.
My mood immersed in the peaceful fields and bright moonlight transformed what usually took less than ten minutes into nearly half an hour's walk. Pushing open Guangbai's door, he looked up from under a dim light as soon as I entered; he immediately set down his pen and cleared his desk for me while sitting on his bed to continue reading.
Sitting at the desk, I remained absorbed in my earlier thoughts as if there were still a moon traversing through clouds in my mind’s sky—sometimes revealing its smile and sometimes hiding behind its veil—captivating my gaze and steps. Unconsciously opening my book revealed not formulas or principles but rather several elegant lines of handwriting that stubbornly jumped out:
I now feel so small and pitiful; although I once did my utmost to carve out my future and realize my dreams, now those dreams seem unattainable fantasies—my efforts feel utterly futile. Previously filled with hope for my future, I now find myself increasingly saddened by thoughts that make me hesitate even to consider what else I might do. In today’s society, I feel utterly useless—merely at fate's mercy. I used to be so naive; today I finally understand how arduous life can be—the complexities of society—and all I can do is blame my parents for bringing me into this world and lament this unfair fate and society!
Indeed, it is true that just like the moon waxes and wanes—this seemingly perfect goddess of a moon also faces storms and rain. Suddenly struck by emotions reminiscent of “always keep it clean; don’t let dust settle,” I tossed aside my textbook and pulled out stationery and a pen from my bag. Allowing my thoughts to soar transformed into blue characters flowing onto paper—a melody shimmering with light…
It was rare not to have to think deeply; words flowed so smoothly that I was left astonished myself. In less than half an hour, nearly a thousand words filled with heartfelt sentiments were penned down.
Seeing me finally lift my head from the pile of papers with an understanding smile on my face, Guangbai said: “It’s already past eleven; let’s go wash up by the well.”
As he spoke, Guangbai picked up a small iron bucket and opened the partially closed door. I stood up from my chair without even tidying up my books and followed him outside.
Once again on a field path crossing four or five rice paddies, we arrived at a well situated in the center of the fields where several figures were moving about. Upon closer inspection, it was another group of classmates from Makeup Class. Some were scooping water from the well with ladles; others poured buckets over themselves while some scrubbed their bodies with towels. Perhaps due to it being late at night, there were no villagers around except for us students.
Guangbai and I quickly joined them—stripping off our outer clothes and long pants until we were left in shorts—bare-chested as we splashed well water over ourselves; its coolness seeped into our skin then flowed deep into our hearts—it felt wonderful! Familiar classmates playfully splashed water at each other while occasionally shouting things like “You’re so pale!” or “You’re really chubby!” A mischievous one would splash water on another while pointing at their soaked shorts saying “They’ve perked up!”
With everyone’s playful antics disrupting its usual calmness, ripples danced across the surface of the well water; thankfully everyone instinctively kept all dirty water away maintaining its cleanliness and purity. The moon hanging in the sky seemed drawn by us—it emerged from layers upon layers of clouds silently observing us as if frozen in place.
Suddenly it struck me: My heart would forever be intertwined with that seemingly distant moon.
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