The class transfer remained unresolved for an entire week. On Tuesday, Principal Fu was away on business. On Wednesday, attempting an indirect approach with the homeroom teacher yielded the response that the academic affairs office had to make the final decision. On Thursday, finally catching Principal Fu only resulted in being brushed off with “too busy organizing mock exams for seniors, let’s put your matter aside for now.” Of course, he could have stopped attending classes or simply moved a desk to another class in protest, but Song Cong didn’t want to make a fuss over his personal affairs – he had never been one to cause trouble for others.
Friday evening, just after entering home, Song’s mother unusually invited him to “come chat.”
His parents sat side by side on the sofa, with people in ancient costumes fighting intensely on TV.
Song’s father turned down the volume, but his freshly lit cigarette was shooed away by his wife. He cast a somewhat aggrieved look at his son, reluctantly opening the sliding door connecting the living room to the balcony, and stepping out halfheartedly as if unwilling to leave.
Something big was happening, Song Cong thought to himself.
He put down his schoolbag and sat beside his mother.
“Your school principal called me today, essentially saying it would be a shame for you to change classes,” his mother crossed her legs. “What do you think?”
He had mentioned this to his parents once before. The two elders had always let him make his own academic decisions, only advising him to think it through carefully. Song Cong hadn’t said a word about the subsequent complications, firstly because his parents were busy with work and he didn’t want them distracted on his account, and secondly because he believed he could handle the aftermath – after all, it wasn’t such a huge matter.
Song Cong was silent for a moment, “I still want to change.”
He was about to say more when his father’s upper body suddenly leaned in, “If you want to change, then change. Can’t he study without being in the Olympic class? Isn’t it supposed to be voluntary?”
His mother gave his father a light glance, then turned back to ask her son, “Just because you’re tired?”
Song Cong’s original reason was just one – tiredness. The past three years in the advanced class meant staying later than others, having more homework than others, and taking more tests than others. He said he was too tired. But in today’s phone call, the principal had thoroughly analyzed his entrance exam papers, concluding that Song Cong had used many simplified or even unconventional solutions – this wasn’t something a student worn out from studying could produce. Principal Fu even conceded – if later Song Cong felt some assignments were just busywork and unnecessary to complete, he would speak up, making an exception for Song Cong. All this suddenly made his mother worry that her son’s claimed tiredness didn’t hold up.
“Dad, Mom,” Song Cong sat up straight with a serious expression, “I actually just want to be like everyone else, with classmates who can joke around, attending and leaving school on time, having chances to participate in after-school activities.”
As for the dream of becoming a doctor, that could wait.
Both parents were startled. Their son, always first in his grade, had never been so frank about his feelings, because he had always managed everything impeccably. Teachers praised him and colleagues envied him, but they hadn’t known Song Cong had such a pure, even simple wish.
Song’s father extinguished his cigarette and sat back on the sofa, his expression somewhat apologetic, “Son, we didn’t know you were…”
Yes, not happy, not enjoying life.
After her initial surprise, his mother actually smiled – he was willing to speak up, but he still trusted them, what could be more reassuring than that?
“I’ll handle this!” his mother decided immediately, “Tomorrow I’ll call your principal, and if they won’t let you change, I’ll go to the school myself.”
What he thought would be a prolonged battle ended unexpectedly quickly.
With the big issue settled, Song Cong picked a bunch of grapes from the fruit basket and began eating leisurely.
His mother turned to complain, “You know, if you wanted to change classes, you could have held back on the test. Just answering fewer questions would have avoided all this trouble.”
“Principal Fu provoked me, I had to outmaneuver him,” Song Cong spit out grape skins, “Besides while answering that paper…”
“Dad understands, once you get into it you can’t stop,” his father nudged his wife, “Sometimes I even think my stitching is so beautiful, I almost want to add a few extra stitches.”
“Hey, never miss a chance to praise yourself.” His mother turned the TV volume back up, returning her attention to the screen, “Look at this Mu Nianci, doesn’t she look like Huan’er?”
Song Cong looked up. The girl on screen was as delicate as a landscape painting, when she smiled her mouth curved into her cheeks, with a large dimple on one side.
“She does look similar,” his father commented, “With Huan’er’s parents’ looks, she couldn’t go wrong either way.”
His mother teased, “All the junior nurses are pretty, right?”
His father caught the undertone and quickly backtracked, “It’s mainly because they’re angels, all our angels are beautiful.”
Song Cong ate the last grape and stood up, “You two keep watching, I’m going in.”
They were sweet.
Early the next morning, he was called to Principal Fu’s office, “Your mother called me, and with your family in agreement, the school has nothing more to say. But Song Cong…”
“Thank you, Principal!” Song Cong quickly interrupted.
Principal Fu waved his hand, “It’s up to you. But don’t slack off in regular class, tests are ranked across all classes, scores are the best proof.”
Song Cong nodded repeatedly, then after thinking, asked, “Principal, can I choose which class?”
“Which class do you want?”
“Class 5.”
Of course Class 5.
Principal Fu smiled, “So you’ve done your research privately? Alright, I’ll talk to Teacher Xu. Change during afternoon homeroom, get a desk from logistics.”
“Yes!” Song Cong bowed deeply. This was how the next three years should begin.
When he pushed the desk and chair through the back door into Class 5, the classroom erupted. The homeroom teacher Xu Chengze taught Chinese and now stood at the podium entering from the front door, tapping the blackboard, “Stop the commotion, you’re all more excited than when you see me.”
Jing Xiqi sat alone in the last row – this was Tianzhong’s unwritten rule, sports specialty students had afternoon training, and sitting in the back made it convenient to come and go. Song Cong went straight to place his desk beside him, winking at the two girls in front.
When arranging seats, Huan’er had calculated and switched multiple times at Jing Xiqi’s request to “coincidentally” sit in front of him. He wanted to sit behind Qi Qi but was too embarrassed to say it directly, naturally knowing the two girls must have worked together to come up with this strategy.
Thank heavens Chen Huan’er wasn’t short enough to need to sit in front.
“This period is designated for class meetings across all grades, there are a few things to discuss,” Teacher Xu never liked beating around the bush and went straight to the point. “First, let’s welcome our new student, no need for introductions, right?”
“No need!” everyone shouted in unison. Under a wave of applause and curious gazes, Song Cong stood up again, “Hello everyone.”
“Sit down.” Teacher Xu lowered his hand, and Song Cong secretly fist-bumped Jing Xiqi under the desk before sitting.
Teacher Xu continued, “I’ve always held this view – those who excel in studies should help other students within their capabilities, the collective has strength. I hope that after three years, what you gain isn’t just a beautiful transcript, but also precious qualities like cooperation, progress together, gratitude, and more – character determines destiny.”
Class 5 was famous because of Xu Chengze. Besides his classes consistently having high college admission rates, his daughter had entered Tsinghua from Tianzhong last year, becoming a legendary case of rising from upper-middle ranking at enrollment to the top of the grade at graduation.
Chen Huan’er looked around, taking in the unfamiliar sliding blackboard, the rolled-up projector screen, Teacher Xu whom she hadn’t yet had the chance to talk with deeply, some ponytailed or crew-cut backs of heads, and profile faces whose names she didn’t yet know. A fresh feeling welled up from deep in her heart.
How wonderful that she could finally look up at them openly without fear; how wonderful that at this moment, they were all at the same starting line.
The small-town girl was thrown into time, shedding that shell called inferiority, becoming Chen Huan’er who would fight alongside them and compete with them.
But suddenly she felt a bit sad. These people would be new classmates and new friends, while she and those companions from her small town who had once played and laughed together were gradually growing apart.
If we were to define a beginning for growing up, perhaps it’s that moment when we realize what we’re losing.
And what makes growing up cruel is that at that moment, we haven’t yet learned how to hold on.
The second agenda item for the class meeting was selecting class officers. Teacher Xu said frankly, “Many classes did this on the first day, but I don’t think that’s good. You’ve gathered here at Tianzhong from different schools, starting as strangers to each other. When people don’t know each other, they can only choose based on first impressions, and first impressions often don’t let you truly understand someone. Time will tell – although you might still not be familiar now, at least some small things can give you a judgment of a person. On this basis, the selection of class officers will be more rational.”
Someone below responded, “Teacher, we don’t need to vote for the study representative, right?”
Everyone laughed while looking at Song Cong. Teacher Xu also smiled, “Song Cong, can you serve the people?”
“I’ll try my best,” the boy curved his lips somewhat embarrassedly.
Teacher Xu continued, “Any objections?”
A unanimous chorus from below: “None!”
“Teacher Xu, we don’t need to vote for the sports representative either,” someone from the back pointed at Jing Xiqi. “Trust me, he’ll do well.”
Discussion broke out, mostly boys trying to convince uncertain girls, “He’s really good at soccer, yesterday he went one-against-four against Class 3 and destroyed them” “He’s a sports specialty student, how many do we even have in our grade?” “There’s no one else besides Jing Xiqi, raise your hands, raise your hands.”
The class’s only specialty student was thus unanimously elected as sports representative.
Huan’er nudged the desk behind her, “You’re something, gathering a bunch of followers in just a few days.”
Jing Xiqi poked her back, emphasizing each word, “That’s because your brother has charisma.”
The other positions were filled through nomination and volunteering, only the class monitor position had seven or eight candidates. Everyone took turns speaking at the podium, some funny, some serious, and finally through anonymous voting, a baby-faced girl with a bowl cut was elected. Huan’er had voted for her without even listening to her campaign speech, only because she shared a name with a former classmate – Liao Xinyan.
She didn’t know where Liao Xinyan from Sishui was now, casting this vote only hoping to bring that other her some luck in the cosmic scheme of things.
The final item was the school sports meet to be held in two weeks. Teacher Xu handed the registration form to the newly appointed sports representative, finally advising “Participate actively, safety first.” Those last four words made Chen Huan’er feel much closer to this famous teacher, so much like what her father would say, always adding “safety first” after encouraging exercise.
At this moment, she completely failed to notice Jing Xiqi’s burning gaze when he received the registration form.