Chapter 2: 211

Weixiu Garden lies directly across from Peking University’s west gate, separated by Yiheyuan Road, once an imperial avenue.

The apartment buildings here were all newly constructed in the 1970s, five stories tall, with over a dozen units; rumors say Peking University plans to buy the neighboring Changchun Garden to build more.

The canals within the garden are lush with aquatic plants, and occasionally two or three wild ducks emerge from concrete culverts to forage, while several classical-style pavilions dot the riverbanks.

Wei Jiefang walked while sighing: “Impressive, right? This used to be an imperial garden, where the emperor lived—now your uncle lives here!”

Old Wei always liked to boast about his cousin to push Wei Ming and his sister to strive harder.

But cousin Wei Anping truly deserved the praise.

Though called cousins, Wei Jiefang and Wei Anping’s fathers were actually first cousins, making their relationship one step more distant.

Yet Wei Anping was a posthumous child; Wei Ming’s grandparents took great care of his widowed mother, and after Wei Ming’s grandfather passed away, the two widows, each raising a child, frequently helped each other—so close they were like one family.

Wei Jiefang and Wei Anping, close in age, grew up playing together, and since both families had thin social networks, they had become each other’s closest blood relatives.

But since childhood, the two brothers had vastly different personalities: Wei Jiefang was playful, Wei Anping was steady.

Wei Jiefang poked a wasp nest; Wei Anping got stung on the face.

Wei Jiefang stole watermelons; Wei Anping got caught.

Wei Jiefang dove into the river to catch fish; Wei Anping nearly drowned.

In short, during childhood, the two brothers were extremely close.

In the early 1960s, Wei Anping passed the entrance exam for Peking University, becoming the first person from Ping’an County since the founding of the nation, thus escaping rural life and rising to prominence.

The phrase “Ping’an County produced a Wei Anping” circulated locally for many years.

At that time, Wei Jiefang already had a son—the name given by Wei Anping himself.

“Call him Wei Ming. Peking University has a Weiming Lake; let Xiao Ming enter Peking University with me someday!”

Wei Jiefang still remembered those words. He held an envelope, followed the address inside, and found Building 13, third floor, in Weixiu Garden.

“Knock knock~”

“Who is it… Brother Jiefang?”

When the door to 301 opened, Wei Anping took a moment to recognize his cousin from home.

Since their mother’s (Wei Jiefang’s mother) death, they hadn’t seen each other in two years, only exchanging occasional letters.

In two years, Wei Jiefang, still under forty, had aged considerably.

“Xiao Ming came too? Look how tall he’s grown—come in, come in.” Wei Anping ushered him in and tidied the coffee table.

This was Wei Jiefang’s first visit to Wei Anping’s new home—far better than the old corridor-style dorms, but not as grand as he’d imagined.

The living room wasn’t large, but it was new and packed with value.

There was a sewing machine, a cassette player, a washing machine, and even a telephone!

Their Gouzitun village still didn’t have electricity.

Wait—that square thing is a television, right?

He’d only seen one twice at the commune, and it wasn’t this big!

“Is your wife not home?” Wei Jiefang asked, scanning the room, then opened his snake-skin sack and pulled out local specialties from home.

“She’s at work,” Wei Anping rubbed his face—he’d just woken up after a night shift.

“Perfect. Now we can talk freely, hehe. Let’s have some Hengzhou old white liquor and salted duck eggs from Heng Lake.”

Wei Jiefang unscrewed the bottle cap and let Wei Anping smell it.

As a boy, Wei Anping disliked alcohol, but after entering the workforce and climbing the bureaucratic ladder, he realized he had a natural talent for it—and became a true connoisseur.

He was still drowsy; the familiar scent of old white liquor made him want a sip to clear his head.

“Then let’s have just a little~”

There were some leftover dishes; as Wei Anping brought out braised tofu, sausage, peanuts, and salted duck eggs, Wei Jiefang had already refilled his cup and was about to kick off his shoes and cross his legs on the sofa—until Wei Ming stopped him in time.

Wei Anping studied the handsome Wei Ming: “Xiao Ming is about seventeen or eighteen, right?”

“Yes, Uncle, I’m eighteen this year.”

“Then you’re taking the college entrance exam? How’d you do?” Wei Ming shook his head sadly.

Wei Jiefang, handing the cup to Wei Anping, downed his own drink in one gulp, then sighed:

“Don’t mention it. This kid’s actually talented—teachers always praised his essays—but he had bad luck this year.”

“What do you mean ‘bad luck’? How many points?” Wei Anping pressed.

Wei Ming couldn’t remember, so he looked at Wei Jiefang.

“211 points,” he gritted his teeth.

Wei Ming: Whoa, that’s auspicious—just a bit below 985.

But when Wei Anping heard the number, the wine suddenly lost its flavor.

If he wasn’t mistaken, this score wouldn’t even qualify for a junior college!

This was the third year since the restoration of the college entrance exam; six subjects were tested.

Chinese, math, and politics were mandatory, each worth 100 points.

For science students: physics and chemistry; for arts students: history and geography—each worth 100 points.

!

Additionally, English was introduced as an exam subject for the first time, worth 100 points, but counted at only 10% (10 points), except for foreign language majors.

So the total score was 510; Wei Ming scored less than half.

Nationwide, one paper was used; around 300 points usually guaranteed admission, but 300 was as hard to reach as a cliff.

This year, 4.68 million candidates took the exam; only 280,000 were admitted—a success rate of just 5.98%, barely higher than in 1977.

Wei Anping comforted him: “It’s fine, Xiao Ming is still young. Try again next year.”

Wei Jiefang held up three fingers: “Three times! This is his third attempt! First time, he didn’t understand anything—didn’t pass, fine. Second time, he realized he wasn’t cut out for science—so he switched to arts. Then third time, a hailstorm hit the village—hailstones this big—lasted an hour—and he missed his strongest subject, Chinese! Ugh!”

Hearing he’d missed only one subject, Wei Anping breathed easier—it wasn’t hopeless.

“Brother Jiefang, I’ll get you some Beijing college entrance exam materials to take back. I think Xiao Ming still has a chance—don’t give up.”

Wei Jiefang got worked up, waving his hand: “No more exams! Connections matter more than scores. Last month I got your letter, heard you got promoted—I thought, why bother studying? You’re his uncle now! You’re a big shot at Peking University—can’t you just arrange something?”

Wei Anping's hand froze, gripping the cup, not daring to move.

“Brother Jiefang, how could I possibly arrange that?”

“How can’t you? You’re such a high-ranking official—even our county director bows half a head to you!” Wei Jiefang flattered him.

“That’s because he’s short!” Wei Anping laughed bitterly. “Besides, I’m just a division chief—not the president or the party secretary.”

Wei Anping regretted writing those details to him—his vanity had gotten the better of him.

Served you right! Showing off!

“Stop with all that empty flattery. I know we’re brothers—I treat you like family. Don’t you remember who saved you when you nearly drowned in the river as a kid?”

“If I hadn’t been helping you catch fish, would I have fallen in?”

Wei Jiefang snapped: “Hey, but you ate the fish, didn’t you? Most of it went to you!”

“They were burnt to a crisp and unsalted—you didn’t want to eat them,” Wei Anping retorted.

Wei Jiefang put down his glass and stood up, swaying:

“Just tell me—can you get your nephew into Peking University? He grew up listening to your stories, dreaming of entering Peking University. My mother and your sister-in-law are watching from heaven!” Wei Jiefang deployed “emotional blackmail.”

“I really can’t do that—Peking University isn’t my family’s business!” Wei Anping countered with “impartiality.”

His voice rose slightly—he was clearly angry. How could you even ask this?

A few years ago, during the worker-peasant-soldier student era, it might’ve been plausible—but the college entrance exam has been restored for three years now!

Wei Jiefang grew angrier, eyes reddening; he slapped his thighs hard:

“Why can’t you do it?! Before I came, I told everyone back home you’d fix it! Look at my boy—his height, his looks—could he at least work as a gatekeeper? Or chop vegetables in the cafeteria? Or even clean the latrines? If you can’t even get him a job, what kind of leader are you?”

Wei Anping froze: Wait—job? Not admission to Peking University?

Wei Ming also blinked: Wait—clean latrines? I can’t do that!

(End of Chapter)