“Doudou! Get up quickly!”
Woken by a rough shove, Chen Yuanming took a moment to realize someone had called his nickname. Cold wind rushed in through the open door, and he shivered, then got up from the bed.
He quickly put on still-damp underwear, then pulled on a thick woolen coat. Turning to look beside him, a small round table had already been set up in the middle of the room, with several bowls on it.
The rice porridge was so thin it could reflect a person’s image, and there were only three or four pieces of pickled radish, home-made. A man was hunched over the table, slurping porridge and chewing big mouthfuls of steamed bun.
Noticing Chen Yuanming’s gaze, he glared and shouted, “What are you dawdling for? Hurry up and wash your face and eat!”
“Go on.” The woman beside him also gave him a push, and casually placed a boiled egg on the table. “The egg will get cold soon.”
Chen Yuanming silently picked up a towel and walked out the door. Turning right outside, at the end of the corridor were the public toilet and sink.
By now the morning rush for the toilet had passed, so it didn’t take much effort for him to finish his personal hygiene. He turned on the rusty faucet and splashed a handful of water on his face.
The winter water was freezing cold. On the pitch-black pipe there were still burn marks, clearly it had frozen over again during the night, and someone had managed to thaw it.
Washing his face took only a few seconds, but his hands turned red from the cold, and the chilblains on his little finger and the back of his hand began to ache and itch. In the long, narrow corridor beside him, a mix of firewood smoke and food aromas assailed his nostrils.
Every household in the corridor was noisy. This was the employee dormitory of L City Bearing Factory, the largest state-owned enterprise in the city.
Eight households per floor, a three-story dormitory building, every morning was a scene of chaos. He had lived in this place for twenty-one years and was familiar with everything here.
But now… He wrung the towel hard, flexed his numb hands, and raised his head. But now, he was only 15 years old.
“Even washing your face takes so long, are you trying to be late again?”
When he walked into the room, a scolding hit him in the face. Chen Yuanming silently put down the towel and sat down at the table. A steamed bun was thrust into his hand.
“Eat quickly, it’s already 6:30!” Two hands deftly peeled the eggshell and tossed the tender boiled egg into the rice porridge, splashing a tiny drop. “Don’t be listless all day, it’s almost final exams, right?”
“One more week.” He bit into the steamed bun, the pungent alkaline taste stimulating his taste buds—home-made, always this flavor.
Using chopsticks to poke at the egg in the bowl, Chen Yuanming suddenly felt a sting in his eyes. “Mom, don’t boil eggs anymore, I’m already fine…”
“What nonsense are you talking about?” The woman deftly gathered the empty bowls into the pot to soak. “Our family isn’t short of this little money.”
This time the man said nothing, just gave a cold snort and strode out the door, slamming it with a loud bang.
Chen Yuanming’s chopsticks paused for a moment, then he picked up a piece of pickled radish and ate it with the rice porridge.
Watching the father and son still in a cold war, Wang Juan couldn’t help but sigh.
She put on her coat, slung her bag over her shoulder, and called to her son, “I’m going to work. You hurry up and finish eating and go to school. Remember to lock the door when you leave.”
Chewing his food vigorously, Chen Yuanming nodded. The door closed, but it couldn’t block the noise outside. Students arrive at school at 6:45, the factory starts work at 7:00 sharp.
These two times guaranteed the morning rush and bustle. Bicycles ringing their bells, children shouting and yelling, and some parents’ hoarse scoldings echoed in the narrow corridor, year after year, day after day.
Accompanied by these sounds, Chen Yuanming finished breakfast, put the bowl in the pot, picked up his schoolbag, and walked out the door.
***
In January the nights are long, and outside it was still pitch-black. The cold wind blew like a knife on his face, and even his woolen coat couldn’t block the biting chill. He sniffled, put his hands in his pockets, and walked quickly toward school.
After a few days of confusion, his memory now was like a mirror wiped clean of dust, gradually becoming clear. From home to school was a dirt road sloping gently downhill, uneven and bumpy, and when it rained it became so muddy that you couldn’t pull your shoes out.
There wasn’t even a single streetlight along the whole stretch. A few years earlier, some corn and vegetables had been planted by the roadside, but later they were completely squeezed out by illegally expanded private houses.
Some less fastidious people even threw their garbage directly by the road, making this small path give off a rotting stench all year round.
Yet Chen Yuanming walked this dirt road with its complex conditions without a single stumble. No other reason—he was too familiar with it.
From primary school to middle school, every day was a two-point line, a 15-minute walk, just heading down the slope.
At the corner at the bottom of the slope were the factory’s Axis No. 5 Primary School and Axis No. 3 Middle School. In these two schools, he had spent his entire youth.
As an early large state-owned enterprise, L City Bearing Factory had over 100,000 employees and dependents, with more than a dozen employee dormitory areas. Schools, hospitals, clubs, bathhouses, and other auxiliary facilities were all complete.
The Axis No. 3 Middle School he attended was a famous key middle school.
Since the implementation of 9-year compulsory education and the district-based nearby enrollment system, cross-district students who squeezed in by paying high enrollment fees had become a major sight at the school.
But this sight had become Chen Yuanming’s first childhood shadow.
When he stepped into the school gate, the first bell had already rung. Chen Yuanming didn’t quicken his pace, just glanced at the teachers’ office on the second floor, then turned and went upstairs.
Class 1 Grade 3 was at the westernmost end of the third floor of the new teaching building, right next to the corridor. When he pushed open the classroom door, dozens of pairs of eyes shot toward him in unison.
Curiosity, contempt, surprise, indifference… The boys and girls were far from the age of hiding their feelings, so this natural attitude was all the more glaring.
Chen Yuanming’s face was blank, he didn’t even raise an eyelid, and walked straight to the empty seat in the seventh row and sat down. The girl at the same desk slightly shifted her body, as if wanting to put some distance between them.
He stuffed his schoolbag into the desk drawer, took out his textbook, paper, and pen. Chen Yuanming glanced at the ponytailed girl beside him with a disdainful expression.
What was her name again? Wang Qian? Wang Ting? He couldn’t remember. Not to mention that his head was strangely muddled now, even when he hadn’t gone crazy before, he had little interaction with these classmates.
Just as he settled in, the crisp sound of high heels rang out in the corridor, and a middle-aged woman walked into the classroom.
High-heeled leather shoes, a black ankle-length woolen skirt, a bright red short down jacket—an outfit that could be called fashionable in the early 90s.
But her facial expression ruined everything. Her long hair was coiled high on the back of her head, and under silver-rimmed glasses were a pair of sharp, narrow triangular eyes.
A faint cold smile hung at the corner of her mouth, complementing the arrogant aura she exuded.
The class monitor sitting in the second row stood up with a swish. “Stand up!”
The sound of desks and chairs moving suddenly rang out, and the whole class stood up.
“Good morning, teacher!”
The voices were neat and loud, the standard pre-class ritual. The woman standing on the podium gave a reserved nod. “Good morning, students.”
There was another clatter of desks and chairs, but this time they quieted down quickly. The homeroom teacher of Class 1, Han Qian, was known throughout the school as a Nazi-style control freak. In an era when teachers decided everything, no one dared challenge her authority.
When the classroom quieted down again, looking at the students below who were as meek as quails, Teacher Han swept her squinted eyes over the back rows and spoke without politeness, “Final exams are coming soon. I won’t waste words on what to do, but some people should stop thinking they can be the rat dropping in the pot.I”
“f you don’t want to study, then get out. Goofing off, arriving late and leaving early, fighting and causing trouble, making the class a mess. If you don’t want to go to high school, fine, if you’re not that material no one is forcing you, but don’t hold others back!”
Several gazes secretly swept over. Chen Yuanming made no reaction and opened the English textbook in front of him.
Teacher Han gave a cold snort, threw the lesson plan in her hand onto the desk. “Now I’ll check homework. Recite the text from last class, Chen Yuanming!”
Hearing his name called, Chen Yuanming stood up. This classroom wasn’t large, with nine seats per row, a total of seven and a half rows, stuffed with a full sixty-five people like planting potatoes.
Because his family’s circumstances had been poor these past two years, Chen Yuanming’s height was still a bit below the class average, and he was somewhat unbalanced in subjects, though his grades were presentable.
But now he stood at the very back of the classroom, side by side with the slackers who were just getting by…
Clenching his fists, Chen Yuanming looked at the teacher on the podium with a blank expression.
“What, can’t recite it? Spent all your energy fighting and sleeping…” Teacher Han opened her mouth to scold, but was abruptly interrupted by a sentence in English. The youth began to recite.
His pronunciation wasn’t particularly standard, and he didn’t recite quickly, but there were no mistakes or omissions in the content. Word by word, clear and loud, as if mocking her groundless scolding.
The classroom instantly fell silent. Teacher Han’s face turned livid, glaring at the boy standing at the back of the classroom.
A text only had a few hundred words, and it soon came to an end. After finishing, Chen Yuanming didn’t sit down immediately, but glanced at someone in the front row.
“I’ve finished reciting. Shouldn’t the others who fought be treated equally? Teacher Han.”
The few people huddled in the front row immediately buried their heads in their textbooks, silent as cicadas in winter. Teacher Han’s mouth twitched, and she shouted, “Sit down! Class begins!”
A rustling sound of pages turning arose. Chen Yuanming revealed a self-mocking smile and sat back down. The wound on his head still throbbed with a jumping pain. He used his hand to smooth the curled corner of the book.
These past two days he had stitches on his head and had been living in a daze, but the extra things had changed him.
Now middle school textbooks were laughably simple for him, any subject, including English, his worst subject.
At the same time, the changes didn’t stop there. The questions that had once puzzled him and tormented him finally had answers.
Chen Yuanming raised his head and looked toward the front of the classroom. The first three rows, both left and right, were entirely occupied by the factory director’s daughter, the city leader’s son, and those top students who scored full marks in every subject, dividing up the excellent seats.
The middle rows were for the well-behaved children of teachers and ordinary high-fee students, with mediocre grades, sitting in mediocre positions.
The back two rows had become the truly incorrigible transfer students, spending money, using connections, yet their academics and character were a mess, all shoved into the corner, left to fend for themselves.
In this special little society, there were only four types of people: the rich, the powerful, the connected, and the truly outstanding top students. And he belonged to none of them. He was nothing but a rooster that had strayed into a group of monkeys.
What a simple answer, yet in that previously muddled memory, his younger self had never understood it. His family, the education he had received since childhood, were not enough for him to discover this secret that everyone knew.
His parents treated the teacher’s words as golden rules, only beating and scolding, utterly disappointed by his “naughtiness”…
The sound of neat recitation came to his ears. Chen Yuanming lowered his head and looked at the hands covered with chilblains resting on the desk.
Suddenly, the confusion and fear that had plagued him for days disappeared, replaced by something entirely different. He began to accept the older, more capable, yet already dead self in his mind. If this was a chance to start over, why not try?
Chen Yuanming laughed silently and clenched his fists.