Chapter 17

They slowly woke up, did their usual morning necessities, then slowly walked out of the dormitory; outside the playground was packed with people. At a glance Feng Yan understood: today's morning assembly, apparently the principal had something to say.

Feng Yan slowly found his seat in class, slowly made his way over, and ended up beside Chen Hao.

The people beside were holding books, reading; Chen Hao asked him, 'You didn't bring anything?' 'En.' Feng Yan answered, and Chen Hao handed him a book, saying directly, 'Use it for now—otherwise everyone else has a book and you have nothing; won't the homeroom teacher scold you?' Feng Yan reached out to take the book, slowly flipped through it, looked at it, while the people beside him slowly recited; the class monitor of the neighboring class shouted, 'Speak louder! Our voices need to be heard by the teachers over there!' 'Teachers? So it's all just for the teachers to see, merely for show?' Feng Yan thought. 'Everyone quiet!' As the teacher's voice from the podium rang out, everyone fell silent; as the national anthem played, everyone sang the anthem solemnly and respectfully; the five‑star red flag slowly rose; everyone watched the flag slowly climb the flagpole, knowing the anthem had ended.

The principal announced, 'We have an announcement: our school's vacation will be extended by two days!' As soon as the words fell, cheers erupted below; the teacher waved his hands, and everyone instantly quieted. The teacher continued, 'We want to strengthen the environmental construction around our school. Our school has a long lane that now has many small vendors. If you don't buy from them, we'll give you an extra two days of vacation.' Everyone fell silent again; they knew most of them had bought food from those stalls, so nobody dared speak. There was no movement above, the teacher felt embarrassed, and said, 'Now please have the students of Class 219 come on stage to display their class culture.' Thus the Class 219 students slowly stepped out from their area, walking neatly and uniformly all the way to the principal's front. From the class came a boy and a girl, each holding a microphone, and said, 'Respected teachers, dear fellow students, hello everyone. I am the main person for today's class culture presentation—I am … (as for who he is, that's irrelevant, so I won't say it; you can fill in the blank~)', followed by a standard opening, then introductions of teachers, homeroom teachers, etc., praising all the teachers, and finally they said, 'Now please enjoy our class song, dear teachers.' The song began; the students above sang enthusiastically, while those below muttered, 'With teachers like this, they truly are good teachers now.'

After the song ended, they returned to their ranks; the principal and teachers wore smiles, unsure whether it was because of the song or because they felt proud of their second method for dealing with the small vendors on the school road, believing that granting an extra two days of vacation would incite students to resist the problem existing in the middle of the school road.

Then a voice rang out: 'May I ask the principal, when will our vacation be realized?' The crowd below stirred, whispering, 'Yeah, when will it happen? I remember he said the same to the previous year's students.' The teachers on stage grabbed their microphones and shouted, 'Quiet! As long as you behave well, the vacation will definitely come!' That person stepped forward, asked the teacher, 'So what counts as behaving well? Is it a double standard?' The teachers and principal looked at the boy before them—his hair slightly curled, yellowish, looking at first glance as if dyed, his complexion sallow like someone just recovered from a serious illness, yet his eyes were bright. He walked toward the teacher, stopped in front of her, and continued, 'We believe the principal won't give us a blank check; he will surely make good on it, right, our beloved Principal Lixiaozhang?' The teacher looked at his hair and asked, 'Did you dye your hair?' 'During my youth, a few boys' hair turned white—you call that premature whitening. I, however, have no white hair; mine turned yellow. If you don't believe me, pull out a strand and you'll see the top is yellow, the root white.' The boy answered. Chen Hao said, 'Who is this? Feng Yan, do you know him?' He glanced around—no one was left. 'Mom! That's him up there!' Chen Hao shouted. Chen Hao looked over and sighed, 'Gee, this makes it hard for the principal to come down from the stage, okay?'

The principal looked at the student before him and thought, 'This student has some individuality, which is good, but exam scores aren't earned by personality alone.' So he announced to everyone, 'Rest assured, the vacation will definitely happen—if you cooperate with the school's actions and eliminate all the small vendors on campus roads, you will get your vacation.' 'Alright, now please have our Shitangfuzheren speak.' The man wore a suit, his face greasy, his hair parted three‑to‑seven, took the microphone from the principal's hand and said, 'You may not know me well; I am the head of this school's cafeteria, also the boss here. The school has you eat in the cafeteria for your dietary safety—our flour, rice, and ingredients are all supplied by our company headquarters, so you can eat with peace of mind.' 'Then, the spoiled side dishes used for evening fried rice are also what you call safe to eat, and the steel wires you can find in morning rice are also what you call safe. I don't know whether your so‑called peace of mind just means feeding us students like dogs to make you happy!' Feng Yan shouted loudly, 'You've long lost your original intentions; you only care about money, speaking fine words while doing dirty deeds—this is what those in power are really like!' The crowd below joined in, yelling, 'Black‑heart cafeteria!' Those above didn't know what to do, so the principal said, 'Everyone, go back to class.' As the crowd slowly returned to their classrooms, the principal finally relaxed and said to that student, 'You, come to the principal's office for a moment.'

After arriving at the office, the principal sat in his sofa chair and asked, 'What's your name?' 'Feng Yan,' the student replied. 'Do you now know what you did wrong?' 'I didn't do anything wrong!' Feng Yan shouted, 'For myself—what's wrong with wanting to eat better at school? The cafeteria can make huge profits in a day, so why not prepare the food properly? Why pass off bad stuff as good? Is their conscience eaten by dogs? After nearly ten hours of study each day, isn't it right to eat well?' The principal was silent, then after a long pause said, 'I'm not saying it's wrong, but shouldn't students endure hardship?' Feng Yan asked, 'Then may I ask what you ate every day in high school?' The principal said nothing more, waved his hand to dismiss him. Feng Yan left the principal's office, gently closed the door, slowly returned to the classroom, slowly went back to his seat. Everyone looked at him differently and asked, 'What's wrong?' 'Nothing, I'm just a bit tired,' Feng Yan replied. 'I'll lie down for a while; if the teacher comes, call me.' Chen Hao nodded, and Feng Yan lay down.

When the teacher arrived, Chen Hao called him to rise. The teacher looked at Feng Yan, who was puzzled; he read his book, slowly reciting the texts until the end of class. After class they whispered, 'Who's so daring as to defy even the principal?' 'It's Feng Yan from our class.' 'No doubt the homeroom will want to talk to him tonight.' 'But why? Why did he act like that?' 'Maybe he was rejected by the girl he likes.' They kept talking, while the instigator stayed silent, letting them speak. Feng Yan knew that if he walked by they'd stop, but he just didn't want to, thinking, 'Never mind, let them talk—what else can I do?'

This continued until evening self‑study. The homeroom teacher entered, went to the podium, said a few words, then called out, 'Feng Yan—come out!' Feng Yan answered and stepped outside the classroom door. As soon as he left, the class erupted: 'What's going on?' 'Looks like it's about what Feng Yan did this morning.' 'In that case, Feng Yan is finished this time.' 'Quiet!' Class monitor Zhang Xiaobo shouted, and the noise gradually died down. Outside, the homeroom teacher and Feng Yan stood on the balcony. The teacher asked, 'Do you know what you did wrong?' 'I didn't do anything wrong—if speaking the truth is wrong, then I'm wrong!' Feng Yan replied. The teacher, somewhat angry, said, 'You're not wrong? Then I must be? You don't know how badly the principal scolded me in his office?' 'I don't, of course I don't. The teachers told us to speak the truth; now I have spoken the truth, yet you come to reprimand me—why? Is it just because the principal yelled at you, and you're taking it out on me?' Feng Yan gritted his teeth, his face fierce, and said harshly. The teacher lost his momentum, lowered his voice, and said gently, 'Talk is talk, but we should also consider the occasion.' Feng Yan replied to the teacher, 'Since childhood you've taught us to speak the truth; now you want us to lie? Is this just something you've forced on us? As students we're supposed to listen to you—right? If you make me say things you don't want to see and then punish me, it shows students are still the same, but teachers are no longer what they used to be.' The teacher's face flushed red, and a silence fell below.

Feng Yan continued, 'I only said a few unpleasant things, and you treat me like this? The principal, the homeroom teacher—it seems the virtues you teach in classical literature were supposed to be learned together. I always thought teachers were great, and still do, but apparently I overestimated them; society's pace has quickened, people have started to change, and teachers have changed too. No harm, it's understandable—aren't we students changing as well?' The homeroom teacher replied, 'Those are just for making a living; we're members of society, while you are students, and we do this for your food safety.' 'Oh, food safety—do you mean the steel wires in the rice or the raw meat in the bowl?' Feng Yan asked. The teacher was speechless. Feng Yan said, 'This is not forgetting one's original intention. Or are these things you teachers and we students should learn together, or does it prove the old saying: righteousness often falls to butchers, while betrayal is common among scholars?' They fell silent again; after a while Feng Yan said, 'Nothing much—I'm heading back to class.' The homeroom teacher watched him return to the classroom, stood outside for a moment, thought it over, and then went back in.

Feng Yan opened his notebook and wrote: 'I don't know whether what I'm doing is right or wrong, nor do I understand the adults' authority, the outcome of these events, our fate, or what comes next. All I can grasp is the present—seeing certain things, trying to imitate the adults' ways, which I simply cannot do; it doesn't feel like following my true heart. I want to keep walking according to my own conscience, even if the eventual outcome is bad—I would have no regrets.'

After school, Chen Hao asked Feng Yan, 'What did the homeroom teacher want you to do?' 'Nothing much—just things that go against our true feelings. Let's hurry back to the dorm; the game is starting.'