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墨書 Inktalez
The college entrance examination loomed ahead like a hungry tiger, and I wished I could split every minute in half. The intense studying felt like it was going to burst my brain, and I longed for a break, a chance to go home.
The opportunity came on June 17 and 18, the days of the junior high graduation exams, which would occupy the school classrooms. I finally had a reason to return home.
On the 17th, after having lunch at school, I rushed out of the dormitory and sprinted to the bus station. A bus heading from Dongkou to Suining was just about to depart, and I squeezed my way onto it with great effort.
Upon arriving at Youlan, I still had over twenty miles to go home. I got off the bus and noticed that it was still early. There were very few buses going towards Li Family Ferry (in my four years at the third middle school, I had only taken a bus once, which was driven by Fourth Uncle from our yard). Not wanting to wait for a ride, I decided to walk.
Not far past Sihhe Middle School, a small truck came roaring up behind me. I instinctively glanced back and saw what seemed to be a distant cousin from my grandmother's courtyard in the driver's seat. Just as I was about to wave him down, the truck's wheels splashed through a puddle on the roadside, splattering mud all over my face. By the time I wiped the mud from my mouth and eyes, all I could see was its retreating figure.
With no ride in sight, I continued walking. The thought of delicious food waiting for me at home filled me with energy. Whether it was the road ahead or the mountain paths and muddy Terrace Edge that followed, they quickly fell beneath my feet.
Around four in the afternoon, I arrived home. Normally, my mother would be busy in the fields at this hour, but she was surprisingly at home. Someone in my grandmother's courtyard had caught fish in the reservoir; Grandma bought two of them because she heard that eating fish could make one smarter and specially brought one over for her three grandsons to enjoy.
My mother and siblings tried their best to persuade Grandma to stay for the night, but she was anxious about the chickens and ducks back home and hurriedly left again.
After eating fish, I sat at the entrance watching as night gradually deepened. Feeling the warmth brought by my mother, grandmother, and younger siblings, I suddenly realized how beautiful this little mountain village was; it truly had a poetic charm. After failing my pre-exam two years ago, I had spoken to classmates about preparing for a life of indifference buried in yellow earth; at that time, I didn’t realize how picturesque this village could be—more often than not, it was just a fleeting whim. Now that I no longer wished to quietly waste my life in that yellow earth, yet found myself captivated by such enchanting scenery—it felt somewhat ironic. Unfortunately, I couldn't reach the state of "a person who manages worldly affairs yet forgets themselves in contemplation," so I continued to wander aimlessly by the roadside.
On the 18th at noon, it started raining. After eating three large bowls of rice, I shouldered my backpack, opened an umbrella, and stepped out with a basket of eggs. When I arrived at Li Family Ferry, two men were looking around at the intersection. Having walked until my legs felt weak from not waiting for a ride yesterday, I paused to try my luck.
I waited for over an hour without seeing any vehicle; only when those two men boarded a tractor did I realize that my hour had been wasted. With no other choice, I continued on foot along the muddy and gravelly mountain road from Li Family Ferry to Youlan Town.
It seemed that even heaven couldn't bear to watch; just as I hurriedly reached the main road near Mupojia Dam, a bus heading from Huayuan to Dongkou appeared. I waved my hand tentatively and managed to catch this bus.
As soon as it stopped, I jumped down and opened my umbrella as I walked slowly forward. After taking just three or four steps, I suddenly heard someone calling "Long Biao Song." Just when I thought I'd misheard it, another voice called out "Laozi," which was my nickname from middle school—someone really was calling me! Turning around, on the fourth floor of the Health Bureau building stood my good friend Peng Zequan; we approached each other and met at the bottom of the stairs.
After exchanging pleasantries, I learned he had returned home a day before Dragon Boat Festival because things were chaotic at school. He planned to wait until classes resumed before going back; however, his parents were worried about potential changes at school and insisted he check things out first. They had already bought him a bus ticket for tomorrow morning to Changsha with plans for him to take a train from Changsha to Shanghai two days later. He didn't intend to meet other classmates but seemed quite interested when I mentioned Zeng Guangchun interning at a commercial building and invited me along saying: "He hasn't written me in ages; there are some things I'd like to ask him." Since I'd heard Guangchun wanted to help set up something between Zequan and a female classmate—and going to the commercial building happened to be on our way—I readily agreed.
On our way there, Zequan shared some news about university students protesting in Shanghai and other places and advised me not to get involved casually.
"Guangchun, look who’s here!" Using a textbook-like phrase, I led Zequan into Guangchun's dormitory. There weren't enough chairs available so we all sat together on the edge of beds chatting.
Guangchun asked Zequan what he had been doing recently and what his plans were now. Zequan replied that he intended to return to school but would stay one night in Changsha; however he wasn't sure if any classmates studying there would be around since they might not be back yet. Guangchun mentioned Zeng Jianhua and Zeng Zhengrong among others; Zequan said he wasn't too familiar with them but knew Liu Tieshan from Class 104 quite well—though he mentioned Liu wouldn’t be in Changsha these days either. As we talked on, Peng Zequan looked at me with a smile and said: "Your sister will definitely be able to find you," prompting me to quickly respond: "What would she want with me..."
Continuing with Zequan's lead-in, Guangchun said: "Long Biao Song didn’t you say something? I've heard she cried several times because of your letter..." Suddenly my face turned slightly red as I awkwardly replied: "I do love making jokes."
Seeing that the atmosphere had cooled down a bit, Zequan shifted topics discussing possible changes in this year's college entrance exam but reassured us that as long as we studied well during these last two weeks for good results we wouldn't have anything to fear regardless of any changes that might occur. He suggested applying to East China Normal University or Shanghai Maritime University so we could be companions; then he asked what plans I had. In truth I'd thought about these things many times before—even drafted many ideas in my diary—but since nothing was set in stone yet how could I bring it up in front of two classmates who had already left farming behind?
In between conversations, all the candy and peanuts I'd brought from home quickly disappeared; Guangchun then invited us all down for dinner at the cafeteria before we returned to their dormitory where we played several rounds of card games while sharing some unrelated jokes.
By now it was nearly eight o'clock; we prepared ourselves to head back to Fourth Uncle's house for another two weeks of intense study while they planned on taking a stroll before checking out their old classmates from middle school again. As we descended the stairs Guangchun asked Zequan if he was dating anyone yet; Zequan replied there wasn't anyone he felt particularly suited him. Seeing Guangchun almost ask “What about you and so-and-so?” but swallow his words instead made me quicken my pace ahead.
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