Chapter Forty-Four: The Arrival of New Students

Although it was already mid-September, there was not the slightest sign of cooler weather. The school required all new preparatory students to complete their registration by the morning of the fourteenth. To avoid missing the deadline, my mother dragged me out of bed at the tragic hour of five in the morning. As I opened my eyes and looked at the six neatly arranged bags of luggage on the floor beside the bed, it suddenly dawned on me that I would soon be leaving this familiar home.

I had never been away from my parents before, and now I was about to live in an unfamiliar city. This made both my father and mother somewhat anxiously nervous. Listening to their incessant chatter, my previously good mood was inevitably clouded with irritation.

Disquiet? Joy? Reluctance? Perhaps a little of each. Faced with a table full of breakfast, I found myself utterly without appetite.

There was simply too much to bring; taking a bus was out of the question. Fortunately, my uncle had volunteered days before to drive me to the school, sparing us much unnecessary trouble. Around six o’clock, my uncle called to say he was already downstairs. My parents and I each grabbed two large bags in a hurry and rushed downstairs. We must have looked like refugees fleeing to Africa.

Grandma wanted to see the school environment as well, and since there was a car, she decided to come along. The whole family, together with six large bags, packed the small sedan to the brim.

I sat quietly in the back seat by the window. The car started moving, but my thoughts were already soaring outside the glass.

I hadn’t expected to leave so soon—heading to a remote, desolate place where not even dogs or birds would go, and to a school with strict rules forbidding romance, no internet cafés, and daily power restrictions, where I would be stuck for five years! I dared not imagine how monotonous and dreary life there would be.

My mind twisted in knots—was this really the life I had always wanted? I’d always dreamed of breaking free from the family’s constraints, but now that the day had come, facing an unfamiliar city, unfamiliar surroundings, unfamiliar people, I found myself wavering. Once at school, everything would start anew. I suddenly regretted my earlier choice, which now seemed so childish and laughable!

The other night, Xiaoyi mentioned that Lele had only managed to get into an ordinary software college in the city. In my memory, Lele’s grades had always been quite good; with her abilities, I thought she could at least reach the second tier. Although we had broken up long ago, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for Lele.

Fate’s twists and turns, perhaps. The one who always said she would stay has left, and the one who said he would leave has stayed.

Watching the scenery outside the window leap and recede, my thoughts drifted back to the past.

Before the college entrance exams, because of Lele, I nearly gave up everything, and then got tangled up with Meizi. Perhaps I have never been a responsible person! I persist at the start, but always choose to escape in the end.

Forgive me for my selfishness; just let me leave here alone, carrying all the beautiful memories and a trace of melancholy...

The air in the car, cooled by the air conditioner, was far from fresh. Though I wasn’t prone to carsickness, I still felt dizzy.

After two full hours on the highway, the car finally eased out of the toll station. According to the map on the back of my admission letter, after leaving the highway, we turned onto a winding mountain road.

Heavens! What kind of university was this—was it built on a mountaintop? These past few days, my mother had been preaching about how wonderful the new school was: nestled among mountains and waters, picturesque and nurturing—a perfect place for study and growth. But in my mind, mountaintop structures were reserved for temples and monasteries.

The barren wilderness before my eyes could hardly be reconciled with my mother’s words. Oh, Mother! I could only hope, as you said, that beyond this mountain lies paradise. I had to comfort myself in a very self-deceiving way.

After nearly an hour of bumping along the mountain road, we finally arrived at our destination. At first sight of the school, all the beautiful images I had built up in my heart over the past few days collapsed in an instant.

The car slowly rolled along the campus roads. Referring to the campus map sent with the admission letter, I was surprised to discover that the so-called greenbelts marked on the map were merely patches of wild, overgrown wasteland.

Cars filled both sides of the road, all bringing new students to register. Just finding a parking spot wasted nearly half an hour. After getting out, we followed the signs and the stream of people to finally locate the grand hall for new student registration.

Though it was still early, the hall and its surrounds were already packed and bustling. The school forbade parents from entering the hall; my mother handed all the registration materials to me in a rush and then whispered a few anxious reminders in my ear.

It was so noisy that I couldn’t catch what she said, but I nodded mechanically all the same.

Pushing through the crowd, I finally squeezed to the entrance of the hall, only to be stopped by a teacher at the door. “Admission letter!” The teacher said, expressionless.

Flustered, I rummaged through the pile of documents to find my admission letter, waving it vigorously before the teacher. He glanced at it, nodded, and stepped aside to let me in.

After wandering around the hall several times, I managed to complete the registration. When I emerged from the back door, carrying a newly-issued sheet, straw mat, pillow, and a huge bundle of toilet paper, my disheveled appearance was reminiscent of a defeated soldier from the Civil War.

Seeing me, my father hurried forward to take the things from my hands. The whole family, working together, hauled our mountain of bags and bundles toward the dormitory.

There was still a considerable distance to the boys’ dormitory, but even from afar I spotted several student council officers standing by the security booth at the entrance, while many freshmen gathered around the dormitory bulletin board, whispering about something.

Curious, I went over to take a look. It turned out to be a newly issued school regulation: female parents may not enter the boys’ dormitory, male parents may not enter the girls’ dormitory.

Regulations, regulations—yet more regulations! I was so frustrated I nearly fainted on the spot. What kind of rule was this? Why shouldn’t parents be allowed to help their children move into the dormitories? Complaints aside, rules had to be obeyed. Thank goodness I’d had the foresight to bring my uncle, otherwise I wouldn’t have known how to haul all this stuff inside.

Pushing open the wooden dormitory door, I was surprised to discover I was the first one to arrive. I immediately chose an upper bunk by the window and set down my things.

In my mind, a university dormitory should at least have a private bathroom, four-person rooms with a bed above and desk below. Yet what lay before me was nothing but three iron bunks from the eighties, a six-door wooden wardrobe, and a long marble-topped table. Nothing else. The conditions were even worse than those of our high school military training camp.

I was vastly disappointed.

(Revision completed August 25, 2010)