The Golden Dragon bus had been on the highway for over four hours.
The extreme excitement and intense mental exertion of the past two days, combined with the ordeal of the award ceremony, had completely drained the teenagers’ energy.
Wang Yang was leaning against the window.
As the bus jolted, his head repeatedly bumped against the glass. His mouth was slightly agape, and he was sound asleep.
He was still clutching the bag containing the certificates.
In the back row, Zhao Chen’s head was tilted back. He snored thunderously, drool trickling down from the corner of his mouth and soaking the collar of his school uniform.
The two girls were leaning against each other, an jacket draped over them, their eyes closed.
Chen Zhuo sat in an aisle seat in the third-to-last row.
He wasn’t asleep.
He just had his eyes closed, leaning back against the wide seat, listening to the clanking sound of the tires rolling over speed bumps.
The bus exited the highway toll station.
The sky outside had already darkened. Streetlights began to switch on one after another, and their dim yellow light flashed through the bus cabin.
The bus wasn’t heading toward City No.1 Middle School.
Old Zhao stood up from his seat in the front row, walked over to the driver, and pointed at the intersection ahead, saying something.
The bus flipped on its turn signal and veered onto a relatively narrow street.
The pneumatic door opened.
Old Zhao walked to the back and patted Liu Kai’s shoulder.
"Wake up, grab your bag."
Liu Kai jolted awake, wiped his mouth haphazardly, and looked at Old Zhao with a dazed expression.
"Huh? Are we there?"
"We’re at Construction Road. Get off here and walk home."
Old Zhao kept his voice low, afraid of waking the others.
Liu Kai picked up the travel bag from the floor and staggered toward the door.
The door opened.
"Go home and take a shower. The principal approved a three-day break. Come back to school on Thursday morning," Old Zhao added.
"Oh... okay. Goodbye, Teacher Zhao. Goodbye, Teacher Zhou."
Liu Kai got off with his bag on his back.
The evening wind made him shiver. He stood under a streetlight and waved at the bus.
The door closed, and the bus drove on.
At the next intersection.
"Wang Yang, wake up. Time to get off."
At the intersection after that.
"Nan Xiaoyun, grab your water bottle. Don’t leave it on the bus. You have a three-day break, be back at school on Thursday."
The bus continued on, stopping and starting.
Wang Yang got off.
Li Hao and Zhang Wei got off.
Nan Xiaoyun and Lin Xiao also got off together.
The bus cabin grew empty.
Finally, the bus stopped at the entrance of an old residential compound.
By the side of the road stood a large locust tree, and beneath it was a cart selling roasted sweet potatoes. The dim red glow of charcoal embers could be seen in the stove.
Chen Zhuo opened his eyes and picked up the school bag by his feet.
He walked to the front of the bus.
Old Zhao was sitting in his seat, watching him.
Old Zhao, who usually maintained a stern teacherly demeanor, had a very relaxed expression on his face.
"You’re home," Old Zhao said.
Chen Zhuo nodded.
"Go home and get a good night’s sleep. Don’t think about anything."
Old Zhao looked at him and paused for a moment.
"The principal approved a three-day break. Be on time for class Thursday morning."
There was no ceremony.
No long-winded praise.
Just a simple, ordinary instruction.
"Understood," Chen Zhuo replied.
"Goodbye, Teacher Zhao. Goodbye, Teacher Zhou."
The door opened with a HISS.
Chen Zhuo walked down the steps.
A gust of wind blew by, causing a few leaves to fall from the old locust tree at the alley entrance.
The bus’s exhaust pipe spewed a puff of black smoke as it started up again and slowly drove away.
Chen Zhuo stood on the curb and glanced at the roasted sweet potato stall.
The old man with the cart was using a pair of iron tongs to turn the sweet potatoes in the stove, and the aroma of roasted sweet potatoes wafted over.
He averted his gaze, shoved his hands into his uniform pockets, and, following the shadow of the locust tree, slowly walked through the iron gates of the residential compound.
The streetlight stretched his shadow long behind him.
It was quiet all around, with only the occasional faint ringing of a bicycle bell in the distance.
「City No.1 Middle School.」
The school campus was silent.
The day students had already gone home. Only a few third-year classrooms were still lit, where the boarding students were having their evening self-study session.
The light in the principal’s office was on.
Principal Zhang stood behind his desk.
He had half a cigarette between his fingers, its ash hanging long and precariously.
On his desk sat a teacup. The water inside was completely cold, the tea leaves settled at the bottom.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway.
KNOCK KNOCK.
"Come in."
The door was pushed open.
Old Zhao and Old Zhou walked in.
Their clothes were wrinkled, their pant legs were dusty, and their hair was disheveled from the bus’s air conditioning.
The room was filled with the thick smell of smoke.
No one spoke.
Old Zhao walked up to the large desk.
He placed his briefcase on the desktop.
The sound of the zipper opening was jarring in the quiet office.
Old Zhao reached into the bag.
He took out a summary report bearing the red seal of the Provincial Education Commission and laid it flat on the desk.
On the official document, City No.1 Middle School’s name was ranked at the very top.
For physics, and for math.
First prize, second prize, third prize.
There were no voices, only the faint rustle of the summary report sliding across the desk.
Principal Zhang’s gaze fell upon the thin, official document.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
He had already received a call from Old Zhao and knew the results.
But he had been waiting in this office all along, waiting to see them with his own eyes.
Old Zhao’s hand reached again into the innermost pocket of his briefcase.
He took out two sheets of paper.
Very thin paper.
"Notice Regarding the Formation of the Provincial Team for the 2002 National Junior High Applied Physics Knowledge Competition (Finals) Training Camp."
"Notice Regarding the Formation of the Provincial Team for the 2002 National Junior High Math League (Finals) Training Camp."
Two notices.
The same name was written at the top of both.
Chen Zhuo.
Followed by a line of small text.
(City No.1 Middle School, First Year. Perfect score in both subjects, first in the province.)
In the bottom right corner was the bright red embossed seal of the Provincial Education Commission and the Provincial Competition Committee.
Old Zhao placed these two sheets of paper gently in the very center of the red-lettered document.
Old Zhao took half a step back.
Principal Zhang lowered his head.
He looked at the two official documents.
The only sound in the office was the ticking of the wall clock’s second hand.
The long column of ash finally broke off.
It fell onto the desk, scattering into a small pile of grayish-white powder.
Principal Zhang didn’t brush the ash away.
He reached out his right hand.
His index finger was slightly bent.
The pad of his finger landed on the red embossed seal in the bottom right corner of the paper.
He rubbed it, gently.
The texture of the paper and the slight bump of the ink transmitted through his fingertip.
’It’s real.’
’This isn’t a dream.’
Principal Zhang pulled his hand back.
He pressed the remaining cigarette butt in his hand into the ashtray, grinding it forcefully.
He turned, took a tin tea caddy from the cabinet behind him, grabbed a pinch of tea leaves, and threw them into the cold cup. Then he picked up the thermos next to him and poured in hot water.
Steam began to rise.
"You’ve both worked hard these past few days."
Principal Zhang’s voice was hoarse from smoking so much.
"Are the children all sent home?"
"They’re home," Old Zhao replied.
"The ride was too bumpy. The kid slept the whole way on the bus. I told him to go home and keep sleeping."
"Good," Principal Zhang nodded.
"He should sleep. For the next three days, no one is to disturb him. Not even his homeroom teacher."
Principal Zhang turned around.
He walked to the window.
He looked down at the empty schoolyard below.
"Old Zhao."
"Yes?"
"Go to the Xintian Graphics and Copy shop across the street."
Principal Zhang’s voice had returned to a calm tone, but his pace of speech had quickened.
"Have them make a banner. The biggest one they have. Bright red background, bright yellow letters, bolded."
"What should it say?" Old Zhao asked.
"Just write: ’Warmest congratulations to the eight students from our school for all winning awards in the Provincial Math and Physics Competition!’"
Principal Zhang turned his head and looked at the notices on the desk.
"And add another line: ’Special congratulations to student Chen Zhuo for achieving a perfect score in both subjects, winning first place!’"
"Got it."
Old Zhao picked up his now-empty briefcase.
"Once it’s printed, hang it up immediately. It must be hung directly above the main school gate, right in the center," Principal Zhang added.
"The school will pay for it."
Principal Zhang lifted his teacup and blew on the floating leaves.
"Thank you both for your hard work."
Old Zhao and Old Zhou nodded.
They turned, walked out of the office, and closed the door behind them.

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