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墨書 Inktalez
The wind outside continued to howl, but it would eventually fade away; the warmth of home was gradually enveloping me, especially with the impending college entrance examination, as I carried the hopes of many on my shoulders.
Throughout this academic year, my parents had put in tremendous effort for me. At the beginning of the school year, they repeatedly approached others with a humble demeanor to secure my admission into the prestigious First High School, and I was fortunate enough to be placed in the current class. As for the farm work at home, I was often sidelined, leaving my younger siblings to shoulder more of the burden. Although school offered a day off each week, my parents preferred that I stayed at school to make the most of that precious time, even if it meant reading just one more page.
In the two or three months leading up to the exam, my parents’ indulgence and care reached their peak. Since the subjects I was studying exceeded their understanding, they could only focus on supporting me in daily life.
I’m not sure when it happened, but my parents came across a letter from Peng Zequan addressed to me. In it, he wrote: “While you are studying hard, don’t forget to pay attention to your nutrition. If necessary, consider taking some supplements to help your body. You may not know this, but someone in your class took Deer Antler Injection every day before last year's exam to enhance his revision. However, due to his poor foundation, he still didn’t pass. Think about it: is it better to end your high school life and step into a new chapter with a few boxes of supplements or to suffer through another year of classes just to save a bit of money on them?”
Perhaps because they didn’t have many options for purchasing those “supplements,” the best my parents could provide for my nutrition were eggs from our farm. In the late 1980s, during a time of rapid rural economic development and before feed contamination became an issue, my mother raised dozens of hens with great care, ready to supply me with fresh eggs. The challenge was that I lived at school and had no way to cook them; moreover, she wanted me to spend all my limited time studying—so much so that I couldn’t frequently return home for fresh eggs.
These issues didn’t deter my ambitious parents. To ensure I had fresh eggs daily, my father made weekly trips to the county town specifically to deliver around twenty eggs each time. Not having a place to cook them wasn’t a problem; I had a hearty appetite and could eat anything. Upon hearing that raw eggs were even more nutritious, my mother suggested I eat them raw instead. Considering how crowded the dormitory was and how awkward it would be for me to eat eggs alone, my father spoke with our homeroom teacher Liu Changlin and arranged for me to store the eggs at his house so I could have one or two each morning and evening.
After half a month of this routine, as the weekend approached, I instinctively looked towards the school gate and saw two familiar figures: my father carrying a small basket and my mother bent over with her hands on her stomach, pale-faced from motion sickness as she followed behind him. I rushed over to help my dizzy mother and asked my father, “Why did Mom come too?”
“Your mom learned how to eat raw eggs from someone else and came along just in case I couldn’t explain it properly!”
Sitting on a cement bench by the playground, my mother took a deep breath and asked Dad for an egg. She held it in her left hand while pulling out a sewing needle from her pocket with her right hand. With a quick jab at the pointed end of the egg, she made a small hole and wiped it clean before handing it over to me. “Biao Song, try sucking from this little hole.”
I took the warm egg and leaned in eagerly; as I sucked hard, the slightly fishy liquid flowed into my stomach while tears welled up in my eyes…
In addition to ensuring I ate two or three eggs daily, whenever Dad brought eggs from the county town, Mom would prepare a delicious meal ahead of time and pack it into jars for me to enjoy over two or three meals.
By early June, as we entered the final stretch before exams, Mom heard from Dad about recent student protests at universities and martial law in many cities. Fearing that I might join protests or sit-ins or collapse under academic pressure, they decided to raise my “protection level.” They reached out to Fourth Uncle and Uncle who worked in town and ultimately decided that I should no longer stay at school overnight; instead, after classes each day, I would go to Fourth Uncle’s house for dinner while also reviewing an extra hour of lessons.
In early July, Mom set aside her farm work and came with Dad to town where they prepared special meals for me at Fourth Uncle’s house. On the first night there, I invited Liu Zuzhong to join us for dinner. Although Mom felt sick from motion sickness that day, she insisted on cooking several dishes. However, unfamiliar with Fourth Uncle’s spice cabinet, she mistakenly used laundry powder instead of salt in her tofu dish. We found it tasted quite strange but seeing Mom’s warm and hopeful eyes made Zuzhong and me eat until we were full before putting down our chopsticks.
Though somewhat oblivious at that time regarding their silent sacrifices for me, I still took advantage of this “privilege” by spending more time enjoying outings at Xuefeng Mountain or playing Go on paper; yet during this period, my body gradually grew from being a “little kid” into what could be considered a standard “five-foot man.”
Of course, I was never heartless; during this time I often pushed myself forward in their name and lamented about how much parents sacrifice for their children. On June 25th, 1989, I wrote in my diary:
“Pitying all parents’ hearts—what I've seen these past few days connects with experiences from previous years and makes me feel increasingly that this saying is true. To be honest, I ought to spend some ink on this universally acknowledged truth.”
The papers for transitioning from junior high school to vocational school had already been graded and sent off to Shaoyang. At Fourth Uncle's home—a regular office worker at the education committee—four or five parents arrived one after another without exception wanting to arrange something for their children's futures or gain some advantage themselves. Relatives who were more like acquaintances flocked towards this clean government office; among them were many genuine farmers who painted a vivid picture of society…
Having discussed others’ situations made me reflect on myself as well; taking this opportunity allowed me to seriously reconsider my past experiences.
I knew that anyone with clear vision should understand how much effort my parents had invested in securing a future for their son; just thinking about it made me uneasy. Unfortunately, I often couldn’t control myself and disappointed them twice already; now they bore yet another heavy expectation.
To be honest, during my year at First High School I did make some progress—not just academically compared to what I had achieved at Third High School but also in life experience which deepened my understanding further. By all accounts this year should have posed little trouble getting into college; however life is often filled with disappointments—sometimes fate plays tricks on those who work hard—and I still struggled with impatience at times.
I hope this year can fulfill my parents' wishes!
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