Chapter 19: The One Who Cares for Me Most

These two short wooden sticks were very important to me; I had planned to use them to hit Molly Ping, to let her taste what it felt like to be beaten. But now they were gone. How could I exact my revenge now?

I lay on the bed, turned off the light, and thought for a long time but couldn’t come up with an answer. People say that the world is full of wonders; these two sticks seemed to perfectly embody that saying.

Unconsciously, I fell asleep. Suddenly, I felt my body shake. In a daze, I opened my eyes and saw my wife had returned. She stared at me without a word, then climbed onto me, tears streaming uncontrollably. After crying for a while, she said, “Zheng Tai, Dad doesn’t want us anymore! How will we live from now on?”

I had no tears and did not truly understand her. I spoke whatever came to mind: “Is it impossible to live without him? You can find work; so can I!”

She lay on me, wiped her tears, and said, “Hurry up and pack your schoolbag, we’re going to be late!”

I scrambled out of bed, opened the pencil case—no key inside. I emptied all the books, still no key.

Growing impatient, she asked, “What are you looking for?”

I packed the books while searching for the key. On the last notebook, I saw “Class 3, Grade 8, Teacher Wang” written. This discovery solved the major problem.

She was more anxious than I was, slinging on her backpack and running downstairs. The electric bike was parked there; I sat behind her, keeping my distance...

The street was bustling with people and all kinds of vehicles. We stopped briefly by the gate of Middle School No. 5; she waved at me and rode off...

My mind was blank, directionless, and I walked inside...

The guard noticed me and shouted loudly, “Hey, come here!”

I wanted to ask where Class 3, Grade 8 was, but it turned out the guard who had fought me before was looking for trouble. Without thinking much, I approached and asked, “What’s the matter?”

He scrutinized me, then asked, “What grade are you in?”

I wanted to say, “None of your business,” but since he was the guard, it was his duty, so I replied, “Grade 8, Class 3.”

He gestured angrily and pulled a stern face. “Where’s your school uniform? Why aren’t you wearing it?”

A crowd of students entering the school gathered around, watching the commotion...

He kept making trouble and shouted, “Don’t block the gate! Go to class! There’s nothing to see here!”

I tried to leave, but he called me back: “No uniform, no class! Either you get your homeroom teacher or you don’t go in!”

I had never met the teacher before, so where would I find him? Irritated, I snapped, “Cut the nonsense! We’re about to be late!”

“Zheng Tai, come on! Don’t mind him, it’s annoying!” a girl’s voice came.

I turned around and saw a fifteen-year-old girl in uniform, with a ponytail, an average-looking classmate, pointing at the guard and said, “He’s not letting me in!”

The girl rushed up and loudly argued with the guard, “Why not let me attend class? Are you responsible for delaying lessons? You cause all the trouble—why don’t others do this?”

Her shouting rallied many students against the guard. The crowd raised their hands, cheering, “Hit him! Give him a good beating, then he’ll behave!”

I always liked to fight; my father was still in the hospital because of me, after all. Given the situation, I could only endure...

The guard was flustered, unwilling to back down, stubbornly refusing to let me go. The girl kept yelling at him incessantly...

A male teacher pushed through the crowd to check the situation and said, “I’m Xin Zheng Tai’s homeroom teacher. If you have any issues, tell me!”

After all the noise, the guard only complained about the uniform, nothing else...

Teacher Wang didn’t want so many students blocking the gate, so he said, “Forget it this morning. Don’t delay class. Come back in the afternoon with your uniform on.”

The guard knew I was the one who fought him and wanted revenge but couldn’t get the chance. He just waved it off.

Teacher Wang walked with me, saying as we went, “Wearing the uniform is school policy; it’s not directed at anyone in particular. You used to wear it just fine—what happened?”

I felt deeply wronged and couldn’t help but cry, “Maybe you don’t know? My dad’s in the hospital, I stayed up there overnight, and the uniform was left at home!”

After understanding, Teacher Wang said goodbye and went to his office...

The girl who helped me came up and called, “Zheng Tai, class is about to start. Let’s go!”

I followed her up to the second floor and entered Class 3, Grade 8. The classroom was spacious, able to hold over sixty students. On the large blackboard were messy writings and a teacher’s desk. The back wall was plastered with neatly arranged letters on sheets of paper, but I couldn’t make out what was written.

Music played outside—a grown woman’s voice said, “Students, the bell has rung. Quickly return to your classrooms. I hope you gain something from this lesson!”

I didn’t know where to sit, looking around...

The girl who helped me was already seated and waved vigorously, “Come over! Are you dumb or what?”

I hesitated, uncertain, and shyly sat beside her, not knowing if other students would chase me away.

A tall boy ran to the blackboard, erased it messily with a small brush, threw it down, and ran back to his seat.

Teacher Wang entered from the door, stood before the desk, put down his book, took out a sheet of paper, and said, “Let’s take attendance!”

I looked carefully and listened closely; I didn’t recognize a single face, even the girl beside me—I had no idea what her name was.

Teacher Wang called out loudly, “Xin Zheng Tai, are you here?”

I snapped back to reality and, confused, replied, “Present!”

Teacher Wang was a man in his thirties, not much younger than my father, with an ordinary hairstyle, a square face without facial hair, average looks, wearing a teacher’s suit and fake leather shoes—quite a natural appearance.

He had something to say: “When I take attendance, pay attention, especially during class!”

Then he called out again, “Jiang Meili.”

The girl beside me responded, and I learned her name.

This class was very important; being the first day, I didn’t yet realize its significance.

Teacher Wang wrote two large characters on the blackboard—“Chinese Language”—then turned to point around and fixed his gaze on me, shouting, “You stand up and answer!”

I was bewildered, not knowing what to say.

Jiang Meili whispered, “He wants you to explain the two characters for ‘Chinese language.’”

Teacher Wang barked from the front, “No talking! Stand up and answer the question!”

I was extremely nervous. Except for this newly met girl, everyone else was a stranger. I reluctantly stood, cold sweat breaking out on my back, and stammered, “Chinese language means spoken and written words!” After speaking, I looked around. A boy gave me a thumbs-up, and other students raised their hands, wanting to answer.

Teacher Wang looked left and right, then fixed his gaze on Jiang Meili. “You, add something!”

Jiang Meili had been waiting eagerly, sprang up, and said to Teacher Wang, “The character for ‘language’ means speaking; ‘language’ as a whole refers to recorded symbols.”

Teacher Wang waved for us to sit down. Many other students raised their hands. He checked his watch and said, “Both of you are correct! We study Chinese because it’s vital in social activities. When people communicate, do they speak or not? When writing letters, do they use words? Every profession relies on Chinese! Today, the topic is Chinese language. I’m assigning an essay titled ‘My First Chinese Class.’ Submit it tomorrow.”

The bell rang. The woman’s gentle voice sounded, “Students, don’t stay in the classroom during recess. Go out and move around; it’s good for your health!”

Jiang Meili held my hand tightly as we left the classroom. She was a head shorter than me; in this class, I was even taller than the tall boy.

I whispered into her ear, “Are there any ‘pretend married men’ at this school?”

“There shouldn’t be. ‘Pretend married men’ are people from society. They wouldn’t come to school. The guards are strict, and teachers often say students shouldn’t associate with bad men from outside, nor bring bad influences into school.”

“What about ‘peacock men’?”

“‘Peacock men’ are those who dress flashy and put on makeup even better than women. Such people can’t be in school. They’re social degenerates, neither man nor woman.”

No need to ask about ‘boyish girls’; Molly Ping already proved that. So the men Zheng Tai encounters—are they all social scoundrels and degenerates? No wonder there were such things in his pencil case... Maybe Zheng Tai never really was...

Now, Zheng Tai is me. I wanted to meet these people at school, but it turns out there are none. I don’t know how far Zheng Tai’s relationships with them had developed. When I get the chance, I will find them all. But I can’t tell Jiang Meili, whom I just met—I must keep this to myself.