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墨書 Inktalez
As a child, I often read chapter novels depicting wars, where prominent figures would use "the Eight Hundred Killing Sticks" to intimidate heroes who came seeking refuge or found themselves imprisoned. Reflecting on those moments now brings a mix of excitement and trepidation. Upon entering university, even before classes officially began, the school administration delivered three rounds of "killing sticks" to the new students of grades eight and nine.
The first round involved a week of cleaning duties. When we arrived for registration, the banners welcoming new students obscured many parts of the campus. Once they were lifted, it revealed an unsightly scene: beneath the low shrubs, various wild grasses thrived, having soaked up rainwater and sunlight during the long holiday, growing almost as tall as the greenery itself, some even peeking out mockingly at passing faculty and students. In the dirt area behind the dormitories, dead branches and fallen leaves were scattered everywhere, but more prevalent were the various pieces of trash thrown from windows—white paper, black plastic bags, colorful bottles and cans, and old clothes and shoes. Occasionally, one might even encounter a couple of piles emitting a foul odor, hardened and gray. Even the temporarily cleaned playgrounds and classrooms were still occupied by trash that required further attention from the new students.
It seemed that the school aimed to cultivate certain awareness in us freshmen by scheduling collective labor around ten in the morning when the sun was blazing. Each class was assigned a specific area to clean, with tools distributed to everyone. The student council would organize inspections at four in the afternoon; if standards were not met, we had to redo the work. What we finished today would be followed by more assignments tomorrow.
As a boy from a rural background, I found this light physical labor not exhausting. However, I had developed a habit of only doing significant work at home—while I excelled at planting rice or harvesting in the fields, I always shied away from cooking or cleaning chores. My younger siblings often protested against this unfairness, but my mother consistently sided with me, urging me to contribute more in the fields as compensation. This led to my lack of domestic skills; I could only cook for myself and considered sweeping merely drawing a few large strokes on the floor. Unfortunately for me, our homeroom teacher, Mr. Xiao Xigu, appointed me as the first labor committee member for our class. I became the reluctant leader of this sanitation effort, having to reassign cleaning areas while demonstrating techniques and checking on each group's progress.
I initially resisted this sudden push for cleanliness and thus was not strict with my classmates' efforts. Mr. Xiao was nearing middle age and did not engage as actively as younger homeroom teachers from other classes; he largely adopted a hands-off approach. Among the three classes in our department, our class often ranked last during inspections. Fortunately, this phase did not last long; while my classmates felt embarrassed about their appearance, they were relieved to spend less time under the sun and do fewer tasks.
The second round involved endless political education sessions. Perhaps influenced by earlier student protests earlier in the year, we freshmen were not targeted for retribution but could not escape ideological education from above. The school first gathered all 300-plus freshmen from grades eight and nine in the grand auditorium for a motivational speech by school leaders and political instructors; next, over 100 students from our department convened in the largest lecture hall for talks led by Teacher Zhao from the Youth League Committee and Counselor Teacher Lu. They discussed everything from "capitalism" in Eastern Europe to China's severe situation, from the causes of student protests to their consequences, covering various Western philosophical thoughts alongside foundational theories of Marxism through comparative analysis and empirical studies.
During those protests earlier in the year, most students were preoccupied with preparing for college entrance exams and paid little attention to what was happening around them; they only vaguely remembered events from 1986 and 1987 concerning opposition to bourgeois liberalization. Faced with complex theories and distant foreign realities, most students felt lost during these lectures; any reflections submitted to the school were often forced or copied from one another. Fortunately for us newcomers, it seemed that these political education sessions primarily targeted older students who had participated in earlier protests; as long as we spent enough time studying and met word count requirements for our reflections, we could largely avoid scrutiny.
The third round involved a ban on forming hometown associations. Upperclassmen told us that hometown associations were a major feature of university life; students from Shaoyang formed various associations based on their counties while those from outside would organize by regions. Perhaps due to anxiety stemming from earlier protests, school leaders surprisingly prohibited these traditional associations under the guise of preventing "illegal gatherings."
Historically speaking, hometown associations have existed since before the Ming and Qing dynasties in various towns and cities; particularly during the Republic era when "guilds" flourished across regions—these associations exemplified how locals helped each other out. Their impact has been mixed: positively by pooling resources for development or negatively by fostering cliques that opposed certain "authorities." Regardless of their merits or drawbacks, wherever there are people, hometown associations tend to emerge; enlightened rulers often utilized them as conduits for orders and ideas without anyone realizing their true intentions.
Having been "bitten by a snake once," school leaders implemented regulations against these associations; however, grassroots power proved resilient—while formal gatherings were forbidden on paper, upperclassmen still managed to connect informally. Among students from Dongkou attending Gongzhuan University, there were nearly eighty or so; about two weeks into school on a Saturday afternoon around three o'clock when classes had ended early, Yuan Peng from our mechanical engineering class discreetly informed us: “Let’s meet at Zhi River’s top spot after school!”
Since it was Saturday afternoon with no classes left for the day, I invited Yin Xian Nan from our civil engineering class (a high school classmate) to sneak out with me through campus gates. We crossed National Highway 320 and passed rows of houses until we reached Zhi River’s edge where several sandy islets appeared just ten meters offshore; we could see stones clearly beneath the water's surface. After taking off our shoes and stepping into the cool water that reached halfway up our calves, we quickened our pace toward one of these sandy islets.
Stepping onto grass lining its edge without bothering to put my shoes back on, I walked straight toward the largest "island," where over twenty fellow townsfolk had already gathered—some sitting while others stood chatting in small groups. In the center lay several colorful plastic sheets spread out with snacks like biscuits, candies, fruits, drinks, and soda laid out for everyone.
More townsfolk arrived until over sixty gathered together—the first official Dongkou hometown association meeting commenced! To maintain secrecy about this gathering's purpose was simple: organizers exchanged pleasantries before everyone introduced themselves; then it turned into an all-out feast without any clear designations like president or vice president being established. As someone new to this environment who no longer craved attention like during high school days, I met many upperclassmen while also forming bonds with future companions exploring university life together—Lin Gaoxiang from Class One of Chemical Engineering among them.
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