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墨書 Inktalez
After the college entrance examination, my classmates gathered in groups of three or five to discuss their experiences. I felt anxious due to the circumstances I encountered during the exam, compounded by the conflicting emotions of pride and inferiority as a transfer student, making it hard for me to fit into this circle. On the morning of July 10th, I left school and went home.
On July 17th, the fifteenth day of the sixth lunar month, it was my grandmother's seventieth birthday. A large number of relatives came over, and no matter who it was, the first question they asked upon seeing me was, "How did you do this year? Which university can you get into?"
What could I say? I fumbled for words and finally replied, "It was okay."
The next day, I woke up early and took a bus to school. My classmates were estimating their scores based on the answer sheets provided by the teachers. Comparing them with my recorded answers, I realized that I had completely messed up in mathematics; out of a possible 120 points, I could only expect around 85, which was far from the 100 points I usually scored in practice exams. Fortunately, my English had improved a bit. Overall, I estimated my total score to be around 520 points. Although it fell short of my initial expectation of 550 points, based on the cutoff scores from the past two years, I should be able to get into an ordinary undergraduate program. I finally felt a sense of relief.
After estimating our scores, everyone was waiting to fill out their application forms. We waited and waited until the afternoon when the school announced that the higher authorities had not yet determined when we could fill out our applications, so everyone should go home and wait patiently.
On July 19th at noon, I returned home with a mix of excitement and anxiety. In the dirt yard on the right side of our house, four bamboo mats were spread out; three of them were covered with a layer of golden rice grains. It seemed that the double harvest season had begun. My parents and siblings were not home. I took off my long pants and shoes and walked barefoot towards the fields where I was accustomed to working during this busy season.
Once in the fields, I tried to calmly inform my parents about my estimated scores. My father's face broke into a smile while my mother stopped me from heading back into the fields and cheerfully said, "Biao Song, you don’t need to go back down; let’s go home and prepare dinner. It’s okay if we harvest a little less; let’s celebrate by killing a chicken." My younger brother dropped his sickle and jumped up dramatically, shouting, "Brother is going to college!"
Seeing my parents and siblings so happy brought a shadow over my heart. After all, I hadn’t performed at my best in this exam, and there might be some discrepancies in my estimated scores; what if I didn’t get accepted? Thankfully, my parents didn’t boast about it in front of relatives or neighbors; they kept their joy hidden.
After enjoying a hearty lunch together, we quickly returned to our busy harvest work. As we worked hard under the sun, I repeatedly pondered about my future: how should I fill out my application?
On August 1st, while the double harvest season was still ongoing, I heard that the exam scores had been released. I put down my farm work and rushed to school.
Many classmates were there. She Songsong saw me and came over to ask, "I scored 542 points; how about you?" When he learned that I hadn’t checked yet, he told me, "Teacher Liu has everyone’s scores; you should go take a look."
When I met Teacher Liu, he picked up a roster from his desk and flipped to my name. He revealed a series of characters and numbers: Chinese 103, Mathematics 76, Physics 68, Chemistry 62, Biology 57, English 73, Politics 76; total score 515.
I stood there stunned for a moment before realizing that this score placed me below average among all transfer students—definitely not ideal. Lacking the courage to discuss it further with my classmates, I distanced myself from them and left school.
Back home, I shared my final score with my family. Since the cutoff scores hadn’t been announced yet and applications weren’t being filled out either, everyone shared a low mood similar to mine. Fortunately, as the double harvest season neared its end, we continued our farm work amidst an atmosphere of anxious anticipation.
On the evening of August 6th, after finishing work early and sitting in front of the television at home, I finally received news about the college admission cutoff scores: for science majors at key universities it was set at 540 points; general undergraduate programs required 528 points; provincial colleges needed 521 points; local colleges required 512 points; vocational schools needed at least 507 points; self-funded students could have their scores lowered by 20-50 points.
While silently sighing in relief at first glance at these numbers, my heart sank again: how could this year’s cutoff be so high? With my current score not only could I not get into an undergraduate program but even provincial colleges were out of reach; I'd have to settle for local vocational schools or choose a decent secondary vocational school instead.
Upon hearing this news, my mother’s expression changed slightly as if she wanted to say something. My father quickly spoke up: "Now that we have the cutoff scores out, Biao Song will soon become our village's first college student! We should think about which school to apply for."
What schools could I apply for? The university I've always dreamed of attending—Hunan Medical University—was definitely out of reach this time; there were quite a few local vocational schools recruiting students each year but with just three points above their cutoff score—what if I applied somewhere better but didn’t get accepted?
My father had many acquaintances in education and planned to head out early tomorrow morning to inquire about options in Dongkou. If he could connect with someone from a certain school that would be great! My mother suggested that I also reach out to those who graduated from Third Middle School last year to see if they could offer any leads.
The next day early in the morning my father set off. After having breakfast at home and thinking it over repeatedly—I realized there were only about ten or so students from Third Middle School who got into college last year—and since I'd only managed such low scores after two years back in school—I really didn’t have the face to approach them for help. Fortunately, one of my good friends who got into Shanghai Maritime University last year was Peng Zequan; maybe I could ask him for advice.
From Xizhong Township's Zhushan Bay to Hejia Village in Meitian Township was only twelve or thirteen miles away—I reached Zequan's house in less than an hour. His family had many sisters who had already finished harvesting rice earlier; Zequan was happily studying indoors when he saw me arrive. Upon learning about my score he expressed his regret saying: "It seems like this year's academic turmoil affected admissions; otherwise you would have surely gotten into an undergraduate program! If you’re considering vocational schools though—Shaoyang Polytechnic is quite good! Our friend Peng Zehua is studying there now; I've heard graduates are highly sought after by big companies in Shaoyang—many have even become department heads or factory managers."
Then he led me outside his house where we met up with Zehua for lunch together. As we ate and chatted while sipping on some light drinks—I found myself feeling lighter despite being initially downcast over my unsatisfactory scores as thoughts of future college life began to fill me with excitement instead.
Time flew by in the rhythm of my father's busy movements. After about a week, I finally received the notification from the organization regarding the enrollment for candidates to fill out their college applications.
Arriving at school, I stepped into the familiar classroom of Class 45. Teacher Liu distributed the enrollment brochure and some forms, explaining a few important points. He instructed everyone to complete their applications and submit them sealed by the afternoon of August 12.
I collected the materials and asked a few classmates who had transferred what schools they were planning to apply to. It seemed that none of my close friends from this year's cohort had made it online. After leaving school, I went to Fourth Uncle's house to discuss how to fill out my application with my father.
My father carefully examined the materials I brought back and said, "For your first choice, fill in Shaoyang Polytechnic. I spoke with Teacher Sun Quan, who contacted his brother-in-law, Principal Zhou. He promised that as long as you apply there, you'll be admitted. The other choices are up to you."
I nodded and moved aside, using a fountain pen to jot down my thoughts on a blank sheet of paper. Eventually, realizing there was little hope left, I randomly filled in the other choices but held onto two initial aspirations that I was reluctant to abandon. The first was my dream of studying medicine; without fully understanding the admission policies at the time, I noticed that there was a program at Suzhou Medical College that accepted five students from Hunan with a 20-point reduction for directed admissions. Hopeful, I filled it in. The second was a stubborn refusal to attend a teacher training college despite my father being a high school principal; in every section asking whether I would accept adjustments or assignments, I uniformly wrote "except for teacher training programs."
After completing my application and submitting it to the teacher, I returned home and began to settle into a leisurely semi-farming life.
More than twenty days passed. Although I had yet to see any sign of the long-awaited admission notice, news of my acceptance into college spread throughout the courtyard. Whether it was my uncles and aunts in the lower yard or distant relatives in the upper yard, everyone seemed to wear an expression of honor on their faces. My younger siblings looked at me with admiration, making me feel somewhat embarrassed.
As the evening grew cooler, villagers no longer busy with farming gathered in front of my grandfather's house to relax on the dirt ground. Someone had brought in a blind fortune teller; several aunts eagerly asked him to read their children's fortunes, perhaps hoping to see if any of them had the fate to attend college like me. However, after much calculation, the fortune teller's predictions were similar to those from previous "masters" who used crutches or wore sunglasses—none would become wealthy or noble; it seemed that most people in a small mountain village like Zhushan Bay were unlikely to have such fortunes.
Seeing that I showed no interest in participating, Second Aunt suddenly took my hand and placed it in the fortune teller's grasp, saying, "Master, see if this one has any prospects..."
The fortune teller extended his bony fingers and repeatedly examined my palm and wrist before coughing a few times and saying, "Nope, this one is even worse off than the previous ones; he's just good for doing farm work..."
I pulled my hand away from his grip and nearly slapped him when Second Aunt exclaimed loudly, "You should go back and study for a few more years before coming here! This is our village's first college student; we’re just waiting for the admission notice!"
Second Aunt's words turned out to be prophetic; the university admission letter did not seem to understand my family's anxious feelings and continued to keep us waiting for over ten more days without any news.
The anxious wait eventually came to an end on the morning of September 22 when the rural postman unexpectedly arrived at our courtyard (usually he only delivered letters to Village Secretary Long Huiyuan's house by the roadside). This time it was mandated that university admission letters must be delivered directly to each candidate's home.
I opened the envelope and took out the admission letter. As expected, I had been accepted by Shaoyang Institute of Technology for Chemical Engineering; reporting dates were set for October 8th and 9th. My mother joyfully invited the postman inside for a while, offering him peanuts and candies. Before he left, she even gave him a ten-yuan red envelope.
As soon as the postman left, my mother urged me to go to the garden and inform my father about this news and discuss plans for celebrating. At Garden Middle School, many familiar teachers asked me which university I had been accepted into. Blushing, I answered each one while secretly lamenting that I felt embarrassed about attending such an inconspicuous university. One teacher remarked, "Biao Song, now that you're a college student, you need to pay attention to your appearance; otherwise, looking like a farmer will make it hard for you to find a partner." Almost fleeing from school in embarrassment ensued.
That evening, my parents and I discussed plans for celebrating. In my opinion, having been accepted into such an unremarkable university made me feel too ashamed to host any celebration; however, my parents insisted it was necessary since relatives and neighbors were watching. Moreover, they emphasized that it was important to show gratitude towards teachers who had guided me along the way—after all, I was the first college student from our village; hosting a celebration would be something honorable.
Unable to resist my parents' insistence on hosting a celebration, I agreed but remained unwilling to invite my former teachers from Third Middle School because I felt embarrassed about attending such an unprestigious school. Seeing me stubbornly refuse, my father decided he would go himself and invited teachers from First High School along with Fourth Uncle and Uncle.
When I nervously handed an invitation card to Teacher Changlin Liu, he didn’t hesitate at all; instead he said: "You did well on your exams! Especially your Chinese score—you're among the top ten in the county! Some students from Class 45 over at Shijiang invited me but I didn't go; I'll definitely come for your family."
On October 1st during our family banquet, firecrackers rang out continuously in Zhushan Bay. Over twenty tables were set up on our old courtyard's dirt ground; all village officials from Chang Le Village attended along with families from both Zhushan Bay and Shi Bao Chong; many relatives including Grandma’s brothers (my great-uncles) also came; two tables were filled with teachers from Garden Middle School while one table hosted teachers from Third Middle School along with several teachers from First High School.
Finally on this day, I healed from my post-exam anxieties; what lay ahead was an entirely new chapter of life.
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