The grand auditorium of Provincial Experimental Middle School.
It was a Soviet-style building that had seen some years, with a red brick facade, tall pillars, and a red five-pointed star hanging high above.
By now, a large crowd had gathered in the plaza in front of the auditorium.
Competing teams from all over the province, their supervising teachers, students’ parents, and reporters had clogged the entrance, making it completely impassable.
A complex mix of emotions hung in the air.
Excitement, disappointment, anxiety, and envy.
The teachers from the schools that had won awards held their heads high and chests out, shouting for their students to line up, their voices loud enough to carry for miles.
Meanwhile, the teams from the schools that had bombed the competition were a disorganized mess. The students hung their heads in dejection, while their teachers hid in corners, chain-smoking and avoiding eye contact with any acquaintances.
It was at this moment that the team from City No.1 Middle School appeared.
They wore matching dark blue school uniforms, marched in neat formation, and radiated an irrepressible air of jubilation.
This was especially true of Old Zhao and Old Zhou, who led the group.
The way they walked with such a swagger, you’d think they were high-ranking officials on an inspection tour.
"Well, well, if it isn’t Old Zhao?"
A raspy voice, like a broken gong, suddenly boomed from the crowd, laced with a distinct tone of mockery and provocation.
Old Zhao stopped in his tracks.
The smile vanished from his face in an instant.
He even managed to switch, with incredible naturalness, to an expression of profound suffering.
He turned his head to look.
Two men were pushing their way out of the crowd not far away.
The one in the lead was burly with a fleshy face, squeezed into a tight-fitting gray suit whose buttons looked ready to pop at any moment.
He was pinching a half-smoked cigarette, his voice loud, and his expression a smirk that was neither a smile nor a frown.
This was Old Sun.
The dean of studies from the neighboring City No. 3 Middle School, nicknamed Canon Sun.
He was an old "friend" of Old Zhao’s.
The two schools weren’t far apart and drew from a similar pool of students, so every year, whether it was for the high school entrance exams or academic competitions, they were always at each other’s throats.
In previous years, No. 3 Middle School had always managed to come out just ahead of No. 1.
In last year’s math competition, No. 3 had won a provincial second-place prize, while No. 1 only got third-place prizes. Old Sun had paraded that certificate in front of Old Zhao for a whole year, bringing it up with snide remarks at every meeting.
Beside Old Sun was a tall, skinny old man.
He wore glasses as thick as the bottom of a beer bottle, carried a thermos, and held his chin so high he was practically looking down his nose at everyone.
Old Wu.
The head of the math department at Yucai Middle School, a key junior high in the province.
He had the typical arrogance of an intellectual, usually not even deigning to give schools from prefecture-level cities a second glance, considering them country bumpkins in the big city just for show.
These two, together. Tsk, tsk. You didn’t need a brain to know they were up to no good.
"Ah, Old Sun!"
Old Zhao let out a long sigh, his brows instantly knitting together. He looked as if he’d just lost five million.
"What’s the matter, Old Zhao? Look at you... tsk, tsk. Didn’t sleep well last night?"
Old Sun walked over, his booming voice making everyone nearby turn to look.
He sized up the team from City No.1 Middle School, his eyes filled with his usual sense of superiority.
"How’d you do this year? I heard the questions were ridiculously hard this time. A lot of the top provincial schools stumbled.
Our No. 3 didn’t do so well either, just two provincial second-place prizes and one third. Ai, we’ve fallen behind, fallen behind."
Old Sun tossed his cigarette butt on the ground, crushed it under his shoe, and put on a look of false concern.
"If you guys didn’t do well, don’t get worked up. It’s normal, everyone’s in the same boat.
After all, the questions were way off the beaten path this time. For schools like ours, it’s good enough just to be here.
It’s the taking part that counts!"
Old Wu, standing beside him, also pushed up his thick glasses and interjected slowly, his tone dripping with condescension:
"That’s right, Teacher Zhao.
That geometry problem on the second math test was definitely beyond the curriculum.
Even at our Yucai Middle School, where the students have a strong foundation, only a few of our top performers managed to solve it.
For a grassroots school like yours, it’s perfectly normal not to be able to solve it. Don’t feel bad about it. There’s a gap in educational resources, after all."
That was even nastier.
’What did he mean by ’grassroots school’? What did he mean, ’it’s normal not to be able to solve it’?’
In any other year, Old Zhao would have been red in the face with anger by now, or he would have simply turned and walked away.
But today, not only was Old Zhao not angry, he sighed again.
It was a sigh full of a thousand twists and turns, a hundred knots of sorrow.
Old Zhao shook his head and patted the briefcase in his hand.
"Don’t even mention it, Old Sun, Old Wu. I’m truly worried sick."
Old Sun’s face lit up when he heard that.
’They really did bomb it.’
His sense of superiority was instantly gratified, and he even felt a sliver of pity for his old rival.
He reached out, about to pat Old Zhao’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort.
"There, there, Old Zhao. Victory and defeat are common in war.
If not this year, there’s always next year. If not next year, the year after... As long as you don’t lose heart, there are always more solutions than problems! Haha!"
Old Zhao subtly sidestepped, dodging Old Sun’s hand, which reeked of smoke.
He looked up at Old Sun and Old Wu, an innocent expression on his face.
"It’s not about bombing the test."
Old Zhao pouted, wearing an expression that said, ’You just don’t understand my suffering.’
"It’s about the... the provincial team training camp."
"What?"
Old Sun’s laughter died abruptly, as if an invisible hand had seized him by the throat.
"What training camp?"
Old Wu froze as well, his hand, holding the thermos, stopping in mid-air.
Old Zhao unzipped his briefcase and yanked out two official-looking documents stamped with large red seals.
He handled them roughly, shaking the two precious provincial team training camp invitations so they rustled loudly.
"You two be the judge."
Old Zhao pointed at the two papers, his voice filled with the anxiety of a world-class humblebrag:
"Just now, Professor Wang insisted on shoving these two provincial team training camp invitations into my hands."
"He said that kid, Chen Zhuo, got perfect scores in both subjects this time, and ranked first in the entire province."
Silence.
The two of them fell instantly quiet.
Old Sun’s hand, which had been reaching for a cigarette, froze in mid-air. His mouth hung open wide enough to stuff an egg in.
’Perfect scores in both subjects?’
’First in the province?’
Old Zhao didn’t give them any time to react, continuing his performance:
"Getting into the provincial team should be a good thing, but just look at this schedule!"
Old Zhao pointed at the text on the documents, his face a mask of distress:
"The physics training camp is at Shida Affiliated Middle School, two weeks of closed-off management. The math training camp is at Provincial Experimental, another half a month."
"Then he has to go to Shanghai and the Capital City for the national competition."
"He’s only ten years old!"
Old Zhao slapped his thigh, looking utterly heartbroken.
"He’s only in his first year of middle school!"
"He doesn’t even know how to wash his own clothes at home (Chen Zhuo: I do), and he kicks off his blankets when he sleeps (Chen Zhuo: I don’t)."
"If he goes to the training camp and lives with a bunch of older, third-year middle schoolers, what if he gets bullied?
What if he gets homesick at night and starts crying?
Is the food in the cafeteria nutritious enough?
Will he be able to use his meal card properly?"
The more Old Zhao spoke, the more worked up he got, his eyes even turning red (from holding back laughter):
"Tell me, isn’t the Provincial Education Commission just messing around? Forcing a ten-year-old elementary schooler... oh, no, a first-year middle schooler, to go up against the top students in the whole province."
"It would be one thing if he just won the competition, but they’re insisting he join the provincial team."
"As his teacher, I have to manage his studies and act as his nanny. Do you have any idea how hard my life is?"
Old Zhao turned to look at the completely petrified Old Sun and Old Wu.
"Old Sun, you’re experienced. Tell me, do you think I can apply to the provincial authorities to let him bring a nanny to the training camp?"
"Or maybe... we should just give up this spot on the provincial team? After all, the kid is still growing. Lack of sleep will stunt his growth."
The wind died down.
Only the leaves on the roadside trees continued to rustle awkwardly.
Old Sun looked at Chen Zhuo, who was standing calmly beside Old Zhao.
Ten years old.
Perfect scores in both subjects.
First in the province.
This wasn’t a child prodigy.
This was a goddamn monster!
The treasured thermos in Old Wu’s hand slipped, falling to the ground with a CRASH and shattering into pieces.
Scalding hot tea splashed all over his pant leg, but he didn’t even notice.
"P-Perfect scores in both?"
Old Wu’s voice trembled, and his thick glasses nearly slid off his nose.
"How is that possible? That geometry problem... that rice cooker..."
As an expert, he understood the difficulty of this exam better than Old Sun.
Those were questions made for gods.
’Someone actually got a perfect score? In both subjects?’
’And from this grassroots school that he’d always looked down on?’
At this moment, Old Zhou ambled over.
With his hands behind his back, he glanced at the shattered thermos on the ground and tutted twice.
"Oh dear, Old Wu, how careless of you. That thermos wasn’t cheap, was it?"
Old Zhou shook his head, his face a picture of sympathy.
"But I can’t blame you. The news is pretty shocking. I was taken aback myself when I first saw the score sheet."
"Kids these days, I tell you, they just don’t know how to hold back.
It’s one thing to get first place, but did he have to get a perfect score? Now the head of the grading committee wants to photocopy the exam paper to use as a model and insists on discussing teaching methods with us."
"The pressure this puts on us teachers is immense! How are we supposed to teach him from now on? Doesn’t this just expose our own limitations?"
As he spoke, Old Zhou pulled a pack of Hongtashan cigarettes from his pocket.
It was a good brand, one he usually couldn’t bear to smoke himself.
He pulled one out and offered it to the still-dazed Old Sun.
"Here, Old Sun, have a smoke to calm your nerves."
"Your No. 3 got two provincial second-place prizes? Not bad, not bad at all. That’s a great result.
Much better than us. Aside from that first place in the province, we only have a few unimpressive rankings like eighteenth and something in the twenties."
Old Sun mechanically took the cigarette, his fingers trembling.
He looked at Old Zhao and Old Zhou’s faces as they performed their little duet.
That wasn’t a look of worry.
They might as well have had the word ’smug’ carved onto their foreheads!
So infuriating!
It was a knife to the heart!
But he couldn’t utter a single word in response.
First place with perfect scores in both subjects.
A result like that was enough for City No.1 Middle School to walk sideways through any school in the province for the next three years.
"Alright, alright, we can’t chat with you any longer."
Old Zhao figured he’d pushed his luck far enough. If he kept up the act, he was liable to get punched.
He readjusted his overstuffed briefcase under his arm and glanced at his watch.
"The awards ceremony is about to start. We have to take Chen Zhuo backstage to wait. The Grand Prize is presented on the main stage, so he has to rehearse his positioning. Such a hassle."
Old Zhao waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away flies.
"Talk to you later, Old Sun, Old Wu. Come visit our No. 1 Middle School to exchange experiences sometime! Although we don’t have any experience to share, really. We just got lucky, just lucky."
With that said, Old Zhao and Old Zhou turned around.
Their backs were ramrod straight, their heads held high.
Leading the team from City No.1 Middle School, they swaggered through the auditorium doors.
Leaving only Old Sun and Old Wu standing there, utterly dumbfounded in the wind.

Comments

Loading...