Early August was the hottest time of the year in Zeyang City.
At two-thirty in the afternoon, the sun hung dazzlingly in the sky, so bright it was hard to keep your eyes open.
The leaves on the roadside trees were curled at the edges, and the cicadas in the trees shrieked endlessly.
The noise was grating.
Chen Zhuo walked along the tree-lined path.
He carried a bag containing a few notebooks with slightly worn covers.
His pace was unhurried. He ambled along in the shade as if taking a stroll.
Reaching the small convenience store on the corner, he paused.
He bought a fifty-cent old-fashioned popsicle.
He turned the corner, biting into his popsicle.
The main gate of City No.1 Middle School came into view.
It was summer vacation, so the school’s main gate was shut tight, with only a small iron side gate to the side.
The window of the guardhouse was open, and from inside came the WHIRRING of an old-fashioned fan.
Chen Zhuo stopped.
He looked up, his gaze falling on the space directly above the school gate.
A banner was hanging there.
Red background, yellow text.
The banner was new, its red silk cloth glinting in the sun.
It was almost absurdly large, stretching nearly the entire width of the gate.
It read:
"Warmest congratulations to our student, Chen Zhuo of Class 1, Grade 7, for winning the overall championship in both the National Junior High Mathematics and Physics Competitions! He has been granted early admission to Huake University’s Special Class for the Gifted!"
The text filled the banner completely.
A breeze blew past, making the red silk cloth sway slightly.
There were no beating gongs or drums, no exploding firecrackers, and no students in red scarves presenting flowers.
There was only this brand-new banner and the empty school gate.
Chen Zhuo looked at the banner and popped the remaining half of the popsicle into his mouth.
He tossed the wooden stick into a nearby trash can.
He walked to the guardhouse window.
The guard, Old Wang, was dozing in his chair, a pingshu storytelling by Shan Tianfang playing on the radio.
Chen Zhuo tapped on the windowpane.
"Uncle Wang."
Old Wang jerked awake and opened his eyes.
Seeing it was Chen Zhuo, he quickly stood up and turned down the radio.
"Ah, Chen Zhuo. Here on school business?"
Old Wang asked with a smile, his eyes involuntarily glancing up at the banner.
"Yeah, I’m here to get my student file from Teacher Zhao," Chen Zhuo said.
"Go on in, the small gate’s unlocked," Old Wang said, pointing to the side.
Chen Zhuo pushed open the small iron gate, which made a dry, scraping sound.
A wave of heat washed over him as he stepped onto the campus.
The usually crowded and noisy athletic field was now completely empty.
The basketball hoops stood forlornly under the sun, the white paint on the backboards glaring slightly. The weeds along both sides of the running track had grown quite a bit taller.
Chen Zhuo followed the concrete path toward the academic building.
It was so quiet he could hear his own footsteps.
An occasional gust of wind swept up a few fallen leaves from the ground.
He didn’t go directly to the first-year junior high office, but instead headed for the science department faculty room.
The entire third-floor hallway was deserted.
He walked to the last office at the end of the hall.
The door was ajar, and voices could be heard from inside.
Chen Zhuo reached out and pushed the door open.
Inside the office, the curtains were half-drawn, blocking the harsh sunlight from outside.
The ceiling fan overhead was on its highest setting, spinning like a helicopter rotor with a loud BUZZ.
Two men were sitting behind a desk.
Old Zhao and Old Zhou.
Old Zhao wore a gray short-sleeved shirt with the top two buttons undone.
Old Zhou wore a white undershirt, yellowed from washing, and held a large cattail-leaf fan.
The two of them were smoking, looking at a document on the desk.
The smoke swirled around the room, caught in the draft from the fan.
Hearing the door open, Old Zhao and Old Zhou looked up at the same time.
"You’re here."
Old Zhou put down his fan and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
"Teacher Zhao, Teacher Zhou."
Chen Zhuo walked in and gently closed the door.
Old Zhao stood up, walked over to the water cooler, and grabbed a disposable paper cup.
He filled it with cool water.
He walked back and placed it on the coffee table in front of Chen Zhuo.
"It’s thirty-eight degrees out there. Did you walk all the way?" Old Zhou asked.
"I took my time, so it wasn’t too hot."
Chen Zhuo picked up the paper cup and took a sip of water.
Old Zhao pointed to a nearby chair.
"Sit."
Chen Zhuo pulled out the chair, sat down, and placed the bag on his lap.
Old Zhao pushed a large envelope from his desk toward Chen Zhuo.
Red text was printed on the envelope.
"Hua Country Science and Technology University".
"Your file transfer letter."
Old Zhao’s voice was calm.
"It arrived yesterday afternoon along with Huake University’s file transfer request. The principal has signed off on it. I’ve already had the records office pull your physical file and seal it."
Old Zhao patted the envelope.
"Your entire junior high academic record is sealed in here. Don’t, under any circumstances, open it on your way there. If you break the seal, it becomes void. Take this and go register directly in Huizhou."
Chen Zhuo glanced at the envelope but didn’t rush to take it.
"Sorry to trouble you, Teacher Zhao. Making you both come all the way to school in this heat," Chen Zhuo said.
Old Zhao picked up Old Zhou’s cattail-leaf fan and fanned himself a couple of times.
He cursed jokingly.
"Cut the crap."
"I didn’t even get my afternoon nap today just to sort out this damn paperwork for you. Rode my rickety old bike all the way here, sweating buckets."
Old Zhao pointed at Chen Zhuo.
"You, on the other hand, you just finished your exams, dusted off your hands, and left us to suffer in this furnace."
Old Zhou laughed beside him.
He picked up his enamel mug and took a sip of strong, dark tea.
"You should be grateful," Old Zhou said, looking at Old Zhao.
"This is a file transfer for Huake University’s Special Class for the Gifted. You, Old Zhao, you’ve been teaching your whole life. Getting to handle this kind of paperwork personally is something you can brag about until you retire."
Old Zhao didn’t argue.

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