Chapter 36: People

February 11, 1987.

Just after Start of Spring, Shaoshan’s sky remained shrouded in gloom, bitterly cold.

At precisely 6:20 a.m., when the second hand hit the mark, the school’s wake-up bell rang on time.

“Beeep! Beeep! Beeep!…”

Immediately followed by three sharp, piercing whistles.

How the hell did Teacher Zhao develop such a skill?

The moment his damn iron whistle blew, even the most stubborn sleepers had their souls blown clean out of bed.

After the whistle, the school’s loudspeakers blasted full volume—the revolutionary song “Waves of Honghu Lake.”

The waters of Honghu

Waves, waves upon waves

By the banks of Honghu

Is home, is home

…

It had been ages since he’d heard this song; now, in this youthful, naive phase of school, Li Heng was momentarily lost in the melody, humming along softly without realizing it.

It felt good.

As he sang like a happy little bird, Liu Li, who had just finished washing up, wore a gloomy expression:

“Li Heng, I think today’s the day I’ll be paraded.”

“Paraded” meant being taken to the podium.

It was when a student was dragged to the front during morning exercises or a school assembly to be humiliated like a clown.

In this deeply conservative era, being paraded was an extreme disgrace—most students couldn’t recover mentally for weeks.

Zhang Zhiyong chimed in with a smug grin: “At least you get to be paraded—I don’t even have the qualification to be.”

“Chen Lijun wouldn’t look at a loser like me. You should be happy—it’s an honor! Proves you’re a man!”

Li Heng spat out his mouthwash, put away his toothbrush, and laughed: “See? You’re already better than Old Yong—he doesn’t even have the guts to like Chen Lijun.”

Hearing this, Liu Li grew even more troubled, slumping: “Do I really seem that pathetic to you? You compare me to someone like Zhang Zhiyong?”

“Fuck! You’re asking for a beating, you little shit!” Zhang Zhiyong roared, chasing Liu Li all the way to the playground.

When all the senior class students gathered on the small playground for morning exercises, the deputy principal pushed through the crowd, grabbed each ear of Liu Yejiang and Zou Ai, and dragged them both to the podium.

Liu Li narrowly escaped, but was still punished—his homeroom teacher Wang Qi yanked him to the front of the class to lead the exercises.

Wang Qi slapped his shoulder hard, face blank: “Do it right. If you mess up, you’ll stay here all morning.”

Then, in front of nearby classes, he kicked Liu Li’s thigh and muttered: “Can’t learn anything good, only bad habits. Your parents are too far away to care—I’ll do it for them.”

Liu Li didn’t dare utter a word, face flushed, head drooping, mechanically following the broadcast’s “One, two, three, four…”

But he had no sense of rhythm—this task was torture for him. Add the pressure of everyone watching, and his wiggling hips and thrusting chest made nearby classes burst into laughter.

Yang, the homeroom teacher of Class 205, also chuckled, teasing Wang Qi:

“Old Wang, is your class out of people? You picked a praying mantis to lead exercises?”

Wang Qi was harsh on his own students but fiercely protective of them: “So what if he’s a praying mantis? He’s still better-looking than yours.”

Yang, standing nearly 180 cm tall, had to tilt his head up to glare: “You’re lying. Liu Li’s barely fifty kilos—he’s a walking skeleton. Where’s the beauty?”

Yang crossed his arms: “Two packs of Baisha cigarettes. Each class picks three to parade. Winner takes all. Dare you?”

Yang, though homeroom teacher of Class 205, was also the political teacher of Class 204—he narrowed his eyes reluctantly:

“Old Wang, you’re short but ruthless. You’re cheating outright. Exclude Song Yu, Mai Sui, and Li Heng from your class, and I’ll bet you five packs.”

Luo, homeroom teacher of Class 206 to the left, joined in: “Excluding three is too harsh. Two’s fair—I’ll join too.”

Wang Qi said: “Fine. Exclude Mai Sui and Li Heng. Keep Song Yu.”

Yang said: “Song Yu must be excluded.”

Luo agreed: “Agreed!”

Wang Qi bristled, waving his hands: “If you can’t lose, get out. Don’t embarrass yourself here.”

Though they bickered, they were longtime colleagues—one taught history, one politics, one math.

These three old fools always joked together; everyone was used to it.

During morning self-study, Wang Qi stood grim-faced at the podium, rearranged Zou Ai’s seat to the first row, and paired him with a girl next to Chen Lijun.

Afterward, he glanced at Li Heng and Song Yu—but held back, deciding to wait and see their mock exam scores first.

Morning self-study was usually English. After Wang Qi left, Wang Runwen entered the corridor, strolled around, then slipped silently to Li Heng’s side.

She bent down and whispered: “At 12:30 p.m., the magazine ‘Harvest’ will call. Be sure to answer. Don’t forget.”

Li Heng replied: “Got it.”

After giving her instructions, Wang Runwen glanced at Song Yu, then at Li Heng, and left for the office.

As soon as she entered, she smiled: “Old Wang, why didn’t you separate them?”

Wang Qi sipped hot tea: “Do you really think there’s something between them?”

Wang Runwen sat down: “I don’t know about Song Yu, but Li Heng? He’s a weasel paying respects to a chicken—no good intentions.”

Wang Qi asked curiously: “Aren’t you the one who said Li Heng was dating Chen Zijin?”

Wang Runwen crossed her legs: “The Chen family is powerful—you’ve heard. Do you think they stand a chance?”

Wang Qi paused, then asked: “Are you saying he realized that? And found someone else?”

Wang Runwen shook her head.

Seeing this, Wang Qi pulled a stack of letters from his drawer and handed them over.

Wang Runwen took them: “What’s this? Whose?”

Wang Qi said: “All love letters from girls in other classes to Li Heng. I’ve intercepted eleven over the past two years.”

Wang Runwen gasped: “So that’s why you’re always the first in the classroom every morning—you’ve been doing this?”

Wang Qi nodded, then shook his head, laughing: “I have to. Those three are too trouble-prone.”

Hearing this, Wang Runwen suddenly understood why Wang Qi hadn’t moved their seats—he was probably hoping Li Heng and Song Yu would become each other’s shields.

…

Beijing, People’s Literature Publishing House.

A four-story red-brick building. Chen Xiaomi locked her pink pigeon bicycle, then joined the morning crowd heading upstairs to the second floor.

Like most offices of the time, the layout ran north-south with offices on either side, a central corridor, walls painted white with a 20-centimeter dark green baseboard.

“Good morning, Uncle Dai.”

“Good morning, Xiao Chen.”

“Good morning, Sister Liao.”

“Oh, Xiaomi, your outfit looks great—where’d you get it?”

“A friend gave it to me.”

Liao asked: “Boyfriend?”

Chen Xiaomi smiled and shook her head.

…

…

“Hey, Xiaomi, you’re here? Didn’t you say you were taking the day off?”

Chen Xiaomi was in good spirits, greeting colleagues with a smile—but as she reached the office door, her friend and colleague Zhou Chunlan called out from inside.

She laughed: “The appointment got canceled. I got bored at home, so I came in.”

Zhou Chunlan waved her over loudly: “Perfect timing—we’ve got a ton of new submissions, and we won’t finish reviewing them. We were just worrying about overtime.”

“Come help us. Here—this pile’s yours.”

“Alright.” As an editor, reviewing submissions was part of her job. She dropped her bag and walked over.

PS: I posted over 4,800 words this morning and forgot to mention it was a double update. Now the big shots are still nagging—count it as invalid. I’ll have to post another chapter in March. Sorry.

Also, the absurd conversation among the three homeroom teachers? I actually heard it in high school. Don’t blame me for making it up.

(End of Chapter)