Our Generation –  Chapter 3

Lin Qile sat in front of the mirror early in the morning, listening to music through her Walkman headphones. However, the adults’ conversation from last night kept echoing in her mind.

“Look at this child, already nine years old and so promising, yet neither parent pays attention…”

Mom searched for a hair tie to style Lin Qile’s hair. She asked her husband, “What’s all that commotion outside so early?”

Lin Diangong, fastening his work badge around his neck, replied, “Manager Jiang’s driver, is here to take his kid to school.”

“Why drive? It’s so close, the child could just walk.”

“They just transferred here,” Dad said, looking up at the mirror. “Cherry.”

“Huh?” Lin Qile removed her headphones.

“Today is Uncle Jiang’s child’s first day at school. If he has trouble adjusting, you should look out for him, understand?”

“I got it…” Lin Qile drawled.

She turned off her Walkman and tucked the “Revolution and Rotation” cassette into her school bag.

Mom caught Lin Qile’s eye in the mirror, giving her a teasing look. She chuckled at Dad’s unnecessary reminder: “As if she needed to be told?”

Yu Qiao and his three buddies walked his young cousin, Yu Jin, to kindergarten early that morning.

Unlike the tall and strapping Yu Zhenfeng and Yu Qiao, Yu Jin was small and frail, with thin, soft hair. He spoke as if his mouth were full of mochi, his words muffled and unclear. Standing at the kindergarten gate, Lin Qile wondered several times how this child could share the Yu surname.

“My dad told me to walk to school with Jiang Qiaoxi,” Yu Qiao said, a milk carton dangling from his mouth as he walked. “But when I went to his house, he was getting into a car!”

Du Shang asked Lin Qile, “Did you show him your rabbit?”

“Yeah, I did,” Lin Qile replied, sipping her boxed milk through a straw.

Du Shang’s face crumpled in hurt, the bandage on his forehead nearly peeling off. “Yu Qiao, Cai Fangyuan, and I haven’t even seen it yet!”

Yu Qiao tossed his empty milk carton and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Don’t drag me into this.”

Cai Fangyuan, drinking Ovaltine from his thermos, added, “Leave me out of it too. What’s so great about a rabbit anyway?”

Du Shang sulked silently.

During morning reading, the homeroom teacher led a transfer student into Class 4-1.

Lin Qile had been fiercely quarreling with Qin Yeyun, the girl sitting behind her. Qin Yeyun had a firm grip on both of Lin Qile’s pigtails, yanking them back hard. They both froze when the transfer student entered.

The new boy was quite handsome, tall with excellent posture. He dressed differently from the typical Qunshan kids.

An unusual silence fell over the class. The teacher beamed, “Our new classmate has transferred from the Provincial Experimental Elementary School. He’s very accomplished. Come on, introduce yourself.”

The new student stood at the podium and wordlessly wrote his name on the blackboard. It had many strokes and wasn’t easy to write. Under everyone’s gaze, he set down the chalk and said, “My name is Jiang Qiaoxi.”

Lin Qile hastily smoothed her two braids and sat up straight at her desk, hands folded like a model student. Qin Yeyun, sitting behind her, excitedly boasted to the other power plant kids, “He’s from our Qunshan project!”

“Qin Yeyun, you know him?”

“Of course,” Qin Yeyun examined her secretly painted nails. “His dad’s driver came to my family’s shop to buy cigarettes yesterday.”

Sitting in front, Lin Qile couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Du Shang, her deskmate, also rolled his eyes.

“Jiang Qiaoxi…” Du Shang grumbled, resting his chin on his hand. “Why does he get such a special name?”

That morning, everyone at the Central Energy Power Plant Elementary School was talking about Jiang Qiaoxi. Word spread that a transfer student from the provincial capital had joined Class 4-1. Rumor had it he was a math prodigy, yet he’d only scored 10 points on the entrance exam.

Girls from all grades tiptoed past the fourth-grade classroom again and again. Even during math class, Lin Qile found herself fighting the urge to look back.

The teacher had placed Jiang Qiaoxi by the window, next to Yu Qiao, the PE representative.

“Lin Qile,” the math teacher called from the podium, “What are you keep looking back at? Eyes on the board!”

Lin Qile shrank her neck amid the laughter.

Jiang Qiaoxi sat in the back, flipping through an advanced math book. He glanced up at the blackboard, seemingly oblivious to the nearby laughter and stares.

As soon as math class ended, Lin Qile darted to Yu Qiao’s side, securing a prime spot.

Du Shang, annoyed, had no choice but to follow.

Cai Fangyuan, sitting right in front of Jiang Qiaoxi, turned around. The moment class ended, he pulled out a big roll of candy and offered some to Jiang Qiaoxi.

“I’m Yu Qiao,” Yu Qiao leaned back in his chair, showing Jiang Qiaoxi the cover of his math book. “My dad loves Jin Yong novels. It’s the ‘Qiao’ from ‘fishing, woodcutting, farming, and studying.'”

Cai Fangyuan introduced himself next. He traced the shape of a coin with his finger, explaining to Jiang Qiaoxi, “Fang Yuan, like a coin.”

Du Shang quickly jumped in before Lin Qile could speak: “I-I-I’m Du Shang!”

He hesitated, then added, “My mom named me after some painter she likes… It’s not great, feels like a throwaway name.”

Lin Qile carefully enunciated to Jiang Qiaoxi: “I’m Lin Qile. ‘Qile’ as in ‘joyous harmony.’ You probably already—”

Yu Qiao cut her off, telling Jiang Qiaoxi, “She used to be called Lin Yingtao. Want to know why?”

Jiang Qiaoxi hadn’t spoken a word since class ended, bombarded by introductions. “Why?” he asked.

It wasn’t clear if he genuinely cared about Lin Qile’s name or was just following the conversation.

“When Auntie Juanzi was pregnant with her, she was anemic. Uncle Lin got her a big bowl of cherries to eat,” Yu Qiao explained softly. “Auntie Juanzi thought they were delicious, and cherries were expensive, so she named her Lin Yingtao.”

Cai Fangyuan chimed in from the front, “Good thing Auntie didn’t crave something else while pregnant, or she might’ve been named Lin Kugua, Lin Qincai, or Lin Dasuan—”

Before he could finish, Lin Qile lunged at him. Cai Fangyuan quickly shielded himself with his math book. “She’s gone crazy!”

Du Shang seized the opportunity to warn Jiang Qiaoxi, “Lin Qile’s a real shrew. You’d better stay away from her!”

Yu Qiao then asked Jiang Qiaoxi, “What does your name mean?”

Lin Qile was still grappling with Cai Fangyuan, their red scarves tangled around their necks, both choking. Jiang Qiaoxi glanced at them, noticing how Lin Qile’s round face had turned red from the effort, truly resembling a cherry. He told Yu Qiao and Du Shang, “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Yu Qiao was taken aback.

Du Shang sat down, intrigued. “Wow, your name is so cool! And it doesn’t mean anything?”

Manager Jiang declined various dinner invitations from the project department when he got off work that evening. Everyone on the national construction site knew about his family situation, so no one would criticize him for skipping social engagements.

However, he still couldn’t get used to the food at the Qunshan worksite cafeteria. As a single man who wasn’t much of a cook, he had no choice but to take his son next door to Lin Diangong’s place for a makeshift meal.

At the dinner table, Lin Qile looked up and asked, “Uncle Jiang, what does ‘Qiaoxi’ mean?”

Manager Jiang accepted a bowl of savory porridge from Lin Diangong and gazed at Lin Qile kindly.

“I don’t know what ‘Qiaoxi’ means,” Manager Jiang shook his head, glancing at Lin Diangong. “What does it mean?”

Lin’s Dad ladled a bowl of porridge for Lin’s Mom, chuckling, “You’ve forgotten the meaning of the name you chose yourself?”

Manager Jiang explained, “He was born so suddenly, neither Liang Hongfei nor I were prepared.”

Lin Qile noticed from the corner of her eye that Jiang Qiaoxi was eating with his long lashes lowered.

“When we had to register his name on the birth certificate, I really couldn’t think of anything,” Manager Jiang smiled. “I happened to see a line of poetry in the newspaper that day, something like ‘Ten thousand homes, a thousand doors, Jiang Qiaoxi.'”

After dinner, Jiang Qiaoxi shouldered his backpack and took the keys, ready to go home. Lin Qile rushed to the kitchen, asking her mom, who was washing dishes, for a ten-yuan advance on her allowance. She then ran out the door.

“Jiang Qiaoxi!” she called out.

The worksite dormitories were long rows of single-story houses. Each row housed ten families, with only two or three meters between each door.

Jiang Qiaoxi had already climbed the steps to his door and was unlocking it.

Lin Qile approached in her little red shoes, rubbing her hands together. She looked up at him and asked, “Do you want a Coca-Cola?”

When Jiang Qiaoxi didn’t respond, she continued guessing, “How about Jianlibao? Or Sunrise iced tea?”

Lin Qile said, “Whatever you want to drink, I’ll go buy it. Want to come play with me?”

Jiang Qiaoxi turned around, looking down at Lin Qile. “Don’t you need to study?”

Lin Qile’s round eyes widened.

“Doesn’t just studying make you tired?” Lin Qile asked softly.

“I saw you doing advanced math problems all day,” Lin Qile didn’t hide her observation of Jiang Qiaoxi at all. “Don’t you get a headache?”

Jiang Qiaoxi stood still, seemingly unable to comprehend Lin Qile’s words.

Neither her watching him study all day, nor the idea of studying being tiring or causing headaches.

“I don’t get headaches,” Jiang Qiaoxi told her.

“But there’s no exam, and the teacher won’t check or grade the work,” Lin Qile tilted her head curiously. “Who are you doing it for?”

At eight o’clock in the evening, Foreman Yu arrived at Lin Diangong’s home with a lunch box of cucumber and pig’s head meat salad. He was smoking and accompanied by young dispatcher Driver Shao and others from the motor pool. They came to play cards with Lin Diangong.

Meanwhile, Lin’s mom took off her apron and, carrying a basket of yarn, went to Yu’s house with Du Shang’s mother. They planned to watch TV dramas with Yu Qiao’s mom and grandmother while learning to knit sweaters.

Lin Qile walked ahead. “Why are you so slow?” she asked, tugging Jiang Qiaoxi’s hand and pulling him forward.

Jiang Qiaoxi’s reactions were always a few beats behind hers.

“There’s no exam, and the teacher won’t check…” Her voice seemed to still echo in his ears, asking, “Who are you doing it for?”

The house was dark and empty. No one cared whether Jiang Qiaoxi was studying or not. No cousin’s family, no grandparents, no tutor. As Jiang Qiaoxi walked on the cement roads of the Qunshan worksite, only Lin Qile chirped around him, constantly urging him on.

“This is the first row!” Lin Qile, holding Jiang Qiaoxi’s hand, stood in front of the single workers’ dormitory. She pointed, explaining, “From this first row to the fifteenth row in the back, they’re all single workers’ dorms!”

Even in the provincial capital, Jiang Qiaoxi had never encountered such a forward girl. He’d been at the Qunshan worksite for only two days. Having always lived in apartment buildings, he’d never stayed in single-story houses, let alone these low brick structures with seven to ten units in a row.

The single dormitories housed almost exclusively men, temporary workers who had come alone to the Qunshan site. In early September, it was still hot. Many young men sat shirtless around the street corners playing poker.

In the provincial capital, even as a boy, Jiang Qiaoxi had been taught by teachers to avoid such areas where poor people gathered.

Yet Lin Qile, wearing a little dress, wandered about without a trace of fear. When passing the young men’s card games, she would even stop to watch for a while.

Jiang Qiaoxi realized that by his former teachers’ standards, where Lin Qile lived would also be considered a slum, and Lin Qile herself would likely be deemed poor.

“Cherry,” a young man at the card game looked up and asked, “Do you understand?”

Lin Qile shook her head. “Nope!”

“If you don’t understand, ask Lin Gong to teach you!” Another young man scratched at mosquito bites on his leg as he threw down three cards. “Foreman Yu’s son can already guess cards.”

“That Yu Qiao kid,” someone else chimed in, “He can play pool now! I bet he’ll be wild when he grows up!”

— So they all know each other, Jiang Qiaoxi thought. Everyone on this entire worksite knows each other.

Lin Qile, oblivious to Jiang Qiaoxi’s thoughts, continued introducing the people and happenings of their Qunshan worksite as they walked. In her young mind, these details of daily life seemed even clearer than the multiplication table.

“Du Shang’s family lives in the eleventh row, in the single dorms. He lives with his mom. Du Shang’s dad was transferred to the Pucheng worksite.”

“Next door to Du Shang is Qin Yeyun’s family. Qin Yeyun is also in our class. She lives with her dad. Have you met her dad? Uncle Qin who runs the small shop.”

They passed through over a dozen rows of single dormitories, through sunflower and strawberry patches planted by workers in their spare time, past the brightly lit Workers’ Club and Workers’ Library.

“Qin Yeyun’s dad was injured at work before. One of his legs doesn’t work anymore,” Lin Qile told Jiang Qiaoxi softly. “Cai Fangyuan’s dad let him stay and run the small shop at the worksite. Uncle Qin is amazing. He practices qigong every day to heal his leg!”

The two children stopped in front of the leadership quarters of the Qunshan worksite.

Though called leadership quarters, these were still brick single-story houses, only slightly larger than regular double-worker dormitories with an extra bedroom. Such modest living conditions were hardly proportional to the generous salaries of state enterprise workers.

Lin Qile explained, “This is the thirty-second row. The first unit is where Yu Qiao lives, your deskmate. He lives with his dad, mom, grandmother, and his little cousin Yu Jin. Yu Jin’s mom is sick, so they sent him to live with them. Yu Qiao’s house is cramped, but Uncle Yu is a model worker and a senior figure at the site, so he agrees to everything.”

“The second unit is where Grandma Zhang lives. She’s the director of our worksite kindergarten. She’s very kind to us and even gave me a little rabbit, but her husband passed away a few years ago, so she lives alone now.”

“The third unit is where Cai Fangyuan lives with his parents, though I don’t often see his mom—”

Jiang Qiaoxi listened as Lin Qile quietly described everything around them. It seemed that every brick and tile, every blade of grass and tree, every person and animal, even a dusty beehive under the eaves or an abandoned bird’s nest in the treetops, was deeply etched in Lin Qile’s young mind.

The streetlights of the worksite came on, illuminating this residential area nestled within the factory grounds on the outskirts of Qunshan City. Many children gathered at the end of the road, sitting on the black insulation-wrapped heating pipes, playing a game of pretending to be Maoshan Taoist priests.

“But there are bad people on the site too,” Lin Qile turned to Jiang Qiaoxi, telling him seriously. “Wei Yong, who lives in the fourteenth row, is a hooligan and a scoundrel. He likes to spit everywhere. Don’t talk to him if you see him.”

Jiang Qiaoxi had already absorbed more than enough information this evening, though he wasn’t sure what use it would be.

“He looks like an uglier version of Andy Lau,” Lin Qile added. “You’ll recognize him right away when you see him!”

Jiang Qiaoxi could only nod.

Lin Qile was still holding his hand. Since they left home and walked until now, Jiang Qiaoxi could feel the sweat on his palm, though he wasn’t sure if it was Lin Qile’s sweat or his own.

In the darkness, Lin Qile’s hand was the only tactile sensation. Unlike his father’s rough hands, his mother’s withered ones, or his grandmother’s wrinkled palms.

Lin Qile’s hand felt like a little rabbit’s ear, soft against the back of Jiang Qiaoxi’s hand.

“Let’s all walk to school together tomorrow!” Lin Qile suddenly said to Jiang Qiaoxi under the streetlight.

Jiang Qiaoxi was still wearing his square backpack.

“You all know the way?” he asked.

“Of course.” Lin Qile’s eyes were wide open. She suddenly raised one hand, pointing to the dark western sky.

Twinkling lights, like stars, indicated ongoing night construction work.

“Where you see three cooling towers,” Lin Qile said, “that’s our home!”

Our Generation –  Chapter Notes:

• “Gongzhuan Zizhuan” (Public and Private Revolutions): A popular music album released by Chinese singer Wang Leehom in 1998.
• “Gaolegao”: In 1990, Tianjin Nudelice Co., Ltd. was established and began producing and selling Gaolegao. The brand successfully entered the Chinese market.
• “Dada Candy”: A type of candy introduced by the JiaoKou Group in the Chinese market in 1993.
• “Yuqiao Gengdu”: A character combination from Jin Yong’s martial arts novel “The Legend of the Condor Heroes.”
• “Duchamp”: Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968), a French artist.
• “Jianlibao”: A domestically produced carbonated drink that once enjoyed nationwide popularity. By 1999, Jianlibao was beginning to decline.
• “Sunrise Ice Tea”: A domestic ice tea beverage launched by Sunrise Group in 1994, which gained national popularity but ceased distribution in 2002.
• “Maoshan Taoist”: A character from the 1995 Hong Kong TVB supernatural martial arts drama “Mr. Vampire,” starring Lam Ching-ying.
• “Cooling Tower”: A natural ventilation cooling tower used for circulating water in thermal power plants.