On the second day of the Lunar New Year, Qin Yeyun informed Lin Yingtao that a customer who came to buy cigarettes at her house mentioned that Jiang Qiaoxi’s parents might be getting divorced.
“Why?” Lin Yingtao asked.
“His mother went to Hong Kong to find him but couldn’t locate him,” Qin Yeyun explained.
Confused, Lin Yingtao inquired, “What do you mean she couldn’t find him?”
Qin Yeyun hesitated, “I’m not sure… Should I try to gather more information?”
Jiang Qiaoxi’s last text message was still from a month ago. Back then, he suffered from insomnia and a persistent cold. Lin Yingtao repeatedly urged him to sleep, but he wouldn’t listen. It seemed his greatest joy in life was simply hearing Lin Yingtao speak a few more words.
This winter felt longer than any winter in Lin Yingtao’s memory. Snowstorms ravaged half of China, while third-year high school students studied silently in their classrooms. A sign counting down 120 days until the college entrance exam loomed on the blackboard. The air was suffocating, filled with tension and pressure.
Lin Qile, however, inadvertently diluted this pressure due to her concern for Jiang Qiaoxi.
In the final semester, the school organized motivational assemblies for each third-year class. Teacher Chen, the homeroom teacher, delivered an impassioned speech from the podium. Afterward, he instructed everyone to write down their future aspirations on paper and submit them.
Fei Linge aspired to win one or more Nobel Prizes.
Huang Zhanjie’s dream was to write China’s Harry Potter and have more people read his novels.
Cai Fangyuan’s goal was to create China’s next major web portal and earn 100 million yuan.
Yu Qiao’s wish was for his family’s safety and to fly an airplane soon.
Lin Qile’s aspiration was for everyone to be happy.
Upon hearing the teacher read this aloud, Cai Fangyuan chuckled, “Everyone to be happy?”
However, class monitor Feng Letian’s ambition was the most astonishing.
“To be elected as the President of China before turning fifty.”
Students from every corner of the classroom involuntarily raised their heads. After a brief silence, they burst into applause, paying tribute to this grand aspiration.
Lin Qile texted Jiang Qiaoxi about this incident. In the past, this would have been one of the stories she’d tell him when he couldn’t sleep.
Jiang Qiaoxi once joked, “Yingtao, I feel like a kindergartener.”
At first, Lin Qile didn’t understand his meaning, thinking he found her stories childish or silly.
Jiang Qiaoxi explained, “The happiest times in my life were when I attended kindergarten in Hong Kong and later when I moved and met you.”
Lin Qile eagerly asked him about his Hong Kong kindergarten experience.
Over the phone, Jiang Qiaoxi slowly reminisced about his childhood in Hong Kong, a golden period. Because his parents were still immersed in the pain of losing their eldest son and hadn’t fully accepted him yet, Jiang Qiaoxi seemed to have received a stroke of luck that slipped through heaven’s fingers. He recalled his cousin, a little dog named Lassie, and the Filipino maid who cared for his daily needs.
Since going to Hong Kong, Jiang Qiaoxi and Lin Qile’s daily lives had little overlap. Lin Qile couldn’t comprehend things like AP exams, so Jiang Qiaoxi rarely mentioned them. They often talked about childhood memories, events before they met, or what happened during their brief separations.
Lin Qile sent a message about Feng Letian’s presidential ambitions. She waited for several minutes until her phone screen dimmed, but Jiang Qiaoxi didn’t respond. She set her phone aside and continued working on the college entrance exam mock questions.
The physical examination for pilot recruitment, including the initial and cross-examinations, reportedly had an 80% elimination rate. They would examine a person from head to toe, and even a minor scar on the skin could be grounds for disqualification.
So when Yu Qiao received his medical report confirming he had passed, Cai Fangyuan, sitting next to Lin Qile on the bus, kept marveling, saying if he were a girl, he’d climb into Yu Qiao’s bed today to experience what a pilot’s standard physique felt like.
“You don’t have to be a girl to do that,” Lin Qile commented from beside him.
Cai Fangyuan rolled up his sleeve, “No way! There’s a basic sexual orientation line I can’t cross. Hey, Du Shang, have you slept with Yu Qiao? Share your specific experience!”
Du Shang, sitting in front, was happily chatting with his girlfriend. Hearing this, he turned around, his face turning green.
Lin Qile and Cai Fangyuan lowered their heads, laughing together.
Du Shang hurriedly explained to his girlfriend: “No, no, my mom… When I was in my first year of high school, my mom went back to her hometown to take care of my grandmother! I just stayed at Yu Qiao’s house for a while. I didn’t sleep with him! I slept in his younger brother’s room! His brother… his brother was just a little kid, this small!”
Cai Fangyuan had intended to mock Du Shang further with Lin Qile, noting how easily Du Shang got nervous when his girlfriend was present.
However, when he turned his head, he saw Lin Qile had taken out her phone and started texting again. As usual, the recipient was “Jiang Qiaoxi,” with daily updates like writing a diary.
The bus reached its stop, and Cai Fangyuan got off. He told Lin Qile, “I guess Jiang Qiaoxi’s mom might be using his cousin’s incident as an opportunity to call him back. Jiang Qiaoxi probably doesn’t want to return, and things might be chaotic in Hong Kong, so he might be too preoccupied to contact us for now.”
Lin Qile’s hand holding the phone dropped. Her loosely tied ponytail had slipped down to her school uniform collar.
The bus drove away behind them.
“After all, he was quite close to his brother,” Cai Fangyuan looked at her.
“Do you know what exactly happened in his family?” Lin Qile asked.
Cai Fangyuan shook his head, “My dad doesn’t know either. But Jiang Qiaoxi is bound to go to Berkeley eventually. He’ll have a full scholarship, so don’t worry. We might hear from him in a few days.”
After this winter break, was it because of the $20,000 earned from selling the website? Lin Qile felt that Cai Fangyuan seemed to have grown up, whether in the confidence of his speech, his gestures, or even a slight glance.
The Shanghai Composite Index continued to plummet, dropping from 5,000 points at the beginning of the year to below 3,000 points. People’s expectations were repeatedly shattered, leading to constant lamentations. 2008, which was supposed to be a year of hope for the Chinese people, was instead filled with disasters.
But perhaps this is what life is like. Lin Qile recalled when she was nine, Jiang Qiaoxi told her in a small, old house among low mountains that he wanted to go to America when he grew up. Jiang Qiaoxi kept a plane ticket, his cousin’s ticket from Hong Kong to Boston, hidden in the innermost pocket of his school bag. He carried it every day as if carrying the only hope in his life.
He had persevered so much, worked so hard, and given up so much. Carrying his dream, he was about to reach the finish line.
Lin Qile suddenly remembered a song she had heard on a cassette tape by her father’s bedside when she was little.
There has never been any savior.
To create happiness, we must rely on ourselves.
Although Jiang Qiaoxi hadn’t been to school for almost a year, Lin Qile often saw “him” in unexpected places. In early May, the entire third-year class took their final mock exam. Lin Qile followed her exam number to a second-year Class 9 classroom. On the desk assigned to her, she saw “Jiang Qiaoxi” carved by an unknown junior female student’s small knife, the handwriting delicate.
Even when doing chores, as Lin Qile rolled up her sleeves and put the mop in the public utility room, she saw an entire wall densely covered with names on the grayish, damp-smelling powder wall: Takuya Kimura, Mayday, Kim Jaejoong… Lin Qile examined them one by one, stroke by stroke.
Soon, she found it. She took out the utility room key from her pocket and deepened the strokes of “Jiang Qiaoxi” carved by an unknown person, ensuring no one could blur it.
Sometimes, people related to Jiang Qiaoxi would suddenly appear before Lin Qile.
Qi Le, a junior from Class 13 of the second year, appeared at Lin Qile’s classroom door for the fourth time in a month. He said he wanted to see if Senior Jiang had come to school, hoping to ask him some questions.
Lin Qile walked out of the classroom and said, “If he comes, I’ll text you.”
Qi Le was delighted and exchanged phone numbers with Lin Qile. He said, “Senior Rongrong, Senior Jiang still has several math lecture notes in the Little White Building. I saw them today and they were almost thrown away when people were cleaning up. Do you want to go with me at noon to get them?”
Lin Qile quickly agreed and then asked, “What did you call me?”
Qi Le insisted on calling Lin Qile “Senior Rongrong.” In the corridor of the Little White Building, he talked about how his classmates had teased him by calling him “Rongrong” since he was young. Although he didn’t like it, he thought “Rongrong” wasn’t an unpleasant name, just more suitable for girls. “When I first learned your name, I thought these two characters suited you perfectly!”
Lin Qile listened to this speech, feeling something was odd. She walked to the desk where Qi Le said Jiang Qiaoxi used to study, crouched down, and took out the workbooks, math competition lecture notes, and scratch paper that were almost thrown away.
It had been nearly two years since anyone touched these things, even Jiang Qiaoxi himself had forgotten them, and a layer of dust covered the paper surfaces. Lin Qile casually flipped through them; Jiang Qiaoxi’s name was indeed signed in all the books. She placed the stack of books on the chair, turned around, and bent over to cough.
Qi Le stood nearby, watching her tidy up without offering help.
Lin Qile went to the bathroom to wash her hands. She took out some tissue paper, dampened it slightly, and began wiping the dust off the book covers. She picked up the stack of books, not minding if they dirtied her school uniform, along with a few pens from the drawer that might or might not still have ink, intending to take them back to her classroom.
Suddenly, Qi Le spoke from behind, “Um, Senior Rongrong.”
Lin Qile turned back, frowning, “Please don’t call me that anymore, it’s so strange.”
Qi Le raised his hand, somewhat helplessly scratching his head, then lowered it, trying to look cool by putting it in his pocket.
“You know Senior Jiang wants to go to America, right?” he suddenly looked up and said to her.
Lin Qile turned to look at him.
The study room was empty except for them, with only dust particles swirling in the light, seemingly lifeless.
What was guiding them?
“Do you know where Jiang Qiaoxi went?” Lin Qile asked.
Qi Le was taken aback for a moment.
“I don’t know,” he said, “but I know he went to America. With Senior Jiang’s abilities, he might not come back for eight or nine years, and if he stays to do research—”
“What are you trying to say?” Lin Qile asked.
Qi Le looked at her seriously, “Senior, what do you think of me?”
Lin Qile’s mind didn’t immediately grasp his meaning, frozen in place, her round eyes widening.
“I… I also do math competitions!” Qi Le hurriedly said, “Although I’m not as good as a genius, I’m still considered a top student… I’m not bad either! And, I won’t go to America, you won’t have to wait for me, and I’m even younger than Senior Jiang, a whole year younger!”
Seeing Lin Qile’s prolonged silence, Qi Le continued, “Before, when Senior Jiang was here, I didn’t dare say it, but from the first time I saw you, I thought you were really cute, looking a bit silly, but very caring. Rather than waiting in China for Senior Jiang for eight or nine years, why not—”
Before he could finish, the chair beside him suddenly slid across the floor. The ground of the Little White Building unexpectedly shook a few times, and the portrait of Archimedes, the “God of Mathematics,” hanging on the wall suddenly fell with a “bang.”
Qi Le stood there dumbfounded, his face pale, as if he had disturbed some deity.
Lin Qile ran out of the Little White Building breathlessly, frowning as she looked around, realizing that many students had come out of their classrooms. It seemed that the dizzy feeling wasn’t just her imagination.
The next day, near the end of school, Lin Qile held Qin Yeyun’s hand and squeezed in the crowd. They stood in front of the TV hanging in the school’s small supermarket, watching news about the rescue efforts in Sichuan. Du Shang’s eyes were red; he always seemed to feel more pain than others. Lin Qile turned back to look at him, giving him the last tissue.
People with more scars tend to be more sensitive, with an empathy far beyond the ordinary. Lin Qile sat on the bus home, giving up her seat to an elderly man who had just boarded. The old man’s hands were shaking, and after sitting down, he took out a phone and tried hard to make a call, but couldn’t manage it after several attempts. He suddenly looked up, “Young lady, help me make a call, please help me make a call.”
His voice had an uncontrollable sob as if he couldn’t catch his breath. Lin Qile, who had been quite calm before, took the phone and suddenly felt very distressed. Disasters were so close to ordinary people.
The number couldn’t be connected, and Lin Qile kept trying, wanting to appear hopeful, but still couldn’t get through. The old man, with his hand on the back of the seat in front, began to cry silently under the gaze of surrounding passengers, covering his face with his hands.
“Grandpa…” Lin Qile’s voice trembled with fear.
A middle-aged man in his thirties standing nearby, holding onto a handrail, lowered his head and said, “Don’t worry, sir. I heard that the signal in Sichuan is down, the base stations have collapsed, so calls can’t get through now!”
“They’re still working on repairs!”
“That’s right, grandpa,” a middle-aged woman standing behind Lin Qile also said, “What if your family is fine, and you end up worrying yourself sick!” The woman choked up.
The bus driver stopped the vehicle and walked over, perhaps thinking an elderly passenger was having a heart attack. The driver bent down, peering at the old man’s face through the crowd, and put a hand on his shoulder, his eyes reddening, “Are you alright, sir?”
Lin Qile returned the old man’s phone. Before getting off the bus, she wanted to say something more, but Yu Qiao pulled her off, letting the bus driver quickly close the doors and leave.
The school organized a donation drive, and Feng Letian was busy running around. Because there were fewer people in the class and revision was intense, Feng Letian had to ask Lin Qile for help. For several days, Lin Qile didn’t have time to look at the stack of Olympic math books Jiang Qiaoxi had left behind. She put them in her bedside cabinet, along with the shoebox containing the red high heels.
At night, while revising, Lin Qile flipped through her math notebook and found a notice for a summer camp at a prestigious school from her second year of high school.
On the back of the notice was Jiang Qiaoxi’s messy handwriting. He had written three problems for her to solve, to help her better understand the concepts.
Lin Qile propped her head with her hand, suddenly feeling sad, wondering why she hadn’t thought to cherish those moments back then.
One day in late May, Lin Qile came home from school and opened the door to find Uncle Jiang Zheng sitting on their sofa, smoking and talking with her father.
“Yingtao,” Uncle Jiang turned to her as soon as she came in, asking, “Has Jiang Qiaoxi called you recently?”
Lin Qile shook her head, standing at the doorway.
Uncle Jiang lowered his head, biting half a cigarette into his mouth and taking a deep drag.
On the eve of the college entrance exam, Lin Qile finished reading the last of the essay prediction topics. Lying on her side in bed, she still sent a text message to Jiang Qiaoxi.
“Are you still in Hong Kong,” Lin Qile’s face was illuminated by the phone screen, “Where did you go, Jiang Qiaoxi, can I come to visit you after my college entrance exam?”
“Did you go to Berkeley? Or did you run off somewhere? Say something to me.”
Lin Qile, Cai Fangyuan, and Xin Tingting were assigned to the same exam location. Early in the morning as they left, firecrackers were set off at the entrance of the Electric Power Construction Corporation headquarters, wishing this generation of the corporation’s children success in the college entrance exam.
Xin Tingting sat in Manager Cai’s car, trembling all the way, seeming not to have slept well. Lin Qile held her cold hand from the side, and Xin Tingting, with a pale face, said, “Qile, are we about to be liberated?”
Lin Qile didn’t know; her heart was filled only with uncertainty, confusion, and increasing bewilderment. What would be waiting for them at the next stage of life? No one could answer.
Lin Qile performed exceptionally well in the college entrance exam, and for some reason, her mood remained calm throughout, without a hint of nervousness.
She began her essay for the exam with My hometown is a place with three water towers. I spent a very happy childhood there, and only as I grew up did I realize that this small city was built upon disaster and ruins.
After the college entrance exam, Manager Cai arranged for several families from Qunshan to gather for a meal to celebrate the children’s completion of the exam. But Lin Qile wasn’t in the mood; she had shut herself in her bedroom since finishing the exam, typing away on the computer and chatting.
Her parents had gone to attend Uncle Cai’s dinner party. They were very considerate of Lin Qile’s mood, leaving some food on the dining table for her without forcing her to do anything. The house was particularly quiet. Lin Qile went out to open the refrigerator and took a can of chilled soda to drink. She was wearing a nightgown, and the summer night wind blew in through the window. The wind was warm, but it felt cool blowing against her.
The cat lay on the sofa cushion, facing the fan directly.
The webpage was still showing the search results for “Jiang Qiaoxi.” Cai Fangyuan’s ID showed he was online on mobile QQ, asking Lin Qile if she had done poorly on the exam, as she didn’t even feel like eating: “We ordered sweet and sour pork ribs, aren’t you coming to eat?”
Qi Le’s QQ window kept popping up, saying, “Senior, I want to tell you something.”
Lin Qile’s slender fingers moved quickly across the keyboard.
“You’re about to start your third year of high school, you should focus on studying,” she thought about deleting him.
Qi Le said, “No, don’t worry, I… I won’t mention what I said before. I wanted to tell you…”
“…At that time, Senior Jiang and I were in Fuzhou for a winter math camp. My dad was the team leader. On the day the exam ended, he wanted to take Senior Jiang sightseeing around Fuzhou.”
“But Senior Jiang, after finishing the exam, went back to the hotel and fell asleep immediately. I felt he seemed extremely tired because while other examinees had their parents with them, he came alone and didn’t care what others were doing. He slept until after 6 PM, and the first thing he did when he woke up was call you. He wanted you to pick him up at the station to go home.”
Lin Qile hugged her knees, sitting on the chair, staring blankly at the lines of small text popping up on the computer screen.
“So I think if he comes back, he’ll contact you first,” Qi Le comforted her.
The doorbell rang outside. Lin Qile turned her head belatedly, realizing her parents weren’t home. She pushed back the keyboard, put on her slippers, walked outside, and picked up the intercom: “Hello?”
“Yingtao, it’s me,” he said.
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Our Generation – Chapter Notes:
The 2008 Southern China snow disaster refers to the large-scale low temperatures, snow, and freezing natural disasters that occurred in China starting January 3, 2008. As of February 24, 129 people had died due to the disaster, 4 were missing, 1.66 million were urgently relocated, and over 100 million people were affected.
“The song heard on the cassette tape by dad’s bedside”: “The Internationale,” from the Tang Dynasty band’s album “Beijing Music and Road,” released on October 30, 2001.
At 14:28:04 on May 12, 2008, an 8.0 magnitude earthquake struck Wenchuan, Sichuan. The earthquake caused 69,227 deaths, 374,643 injuries, and 17,923 missing persons. It was the most destructive earthquake since the founding of the People’s Republic of China and the deadliest since the Tangshan earthquake.