New Beginnings

On the first day of September, as always, the sky was clear, and school began.

On the newly laid synthetic track of the secondary school’s sports ground, all the new first-year high school students were practicing military drill formations. In this new round of class assignments, Xiao Man, Xia Lei, Xiao Dan, Xiao Bai, Wang Dongdong, and Meng Ge were all placed in Class Two of the first year. The entire class wore camouflage uniforms, high-spirited and full of energy — only Xia Lei looked listless and out of sorts.

Xiao Man had his camouflage cap tilted askew, sipping on a salted soda as he consoled Xia Lei: “Wouldn’t you rather be a dragon’s head at Xi Tie Cheng than a phoenix’s tail at the Experimental High School? Being the dragon’s head is great — everyone looks up to you! Besides, it’s not as if you can’t get into a good university from our high school. Didn’t Principal Hou say every year someone gets into Beijing Institute of Technology?”

“Don’t listen to Principal Hou’s nonsense,” Xia Lei said, slapping the dust from his trouser legs. “That’s the explosives engineering program — nobody wants to go. They lower the admission threshold and still can’t fill the places.”

The homeroom teacher of Class Two, First Year, was Teacher Tong. Within ten minutes of receiving the class roster, she had already mapped out which students should aim for key universities, which for regular undergraduate or junior college programs, which could pursue designated enrollment or sports scholarships, and which — those with no realistic hope at all — could only put in three uneventful years and then wait to go to the vocational training school and become workers.

Teacher Tong’s opening remarks at the start of term were delivered with remarkable frankness: “Compulsory education only lasts through middle school graduation. From high school onwards, our goal is not fairness, but efficiency!”

Accordingly, the entire class was assigned seats according to the principle of efficiency. The more promising students sat in the front rows. Xia Lei’s seatmate was once again the insulator Xiao Bai.

Xia Lei asked him with bewilderment: “How have you become a piece of sticky taffy I can’t get rid of? You’ve followed me from middle school all the way to high school.”

“Do you think I want this?” Xiao Bai felt he was the true victim. “I’d much rather have a girl sitting next to me! It was definitely your mother who gave Teacher Tong a gift!”

Most likely Xiao Bai was right — his mother would certainly not have been idle. Realizing this, Xia Lei fell silent.

“Oh heavens! The balance of nature is destroyed!” Seeing Xia Lei concede the point, Xiao Bai pounded the desk in heartfelt anguish. “My finest years are being sacrificed for you!”

Xiao Man was placed in the very last row, but he didn’t mind. Getting into high school at all was something to be grateful for, no matter where one sat. As long as the children of Xi Tie Cheng made it to high school, the floor was guaranteed — they could go to the vocational training school and become full state-system workers with iron rice bowls. Those who couldn’t get into high school either went into the army or worked in the “collective sector” making ice cream and salted soda.

Yan Xiaodan’s father, Director Yan, was the chief engineer of the factory, and she was thus arranged in the front row, kept under close and caring supervision by the teachers, like a flower thriving in the sun.

Director Yan was from Suzhou, a college graduate from the “old fifth generation,” who had been assigned to Xi Tie Cheng upon graduation. Though he had been born and raised in the watery land of Wu, he harbored no dislike for the rugged mountains and rivers of the frontier defense factory. It was because the organization trusted him that they had sent him to work at this classified facility. As the saying went: “Only the best people and the finest horses go to the Third Front.”

His college classmates, the ones the organization hadn’t trusted, had been tossed to street-level welfare workshops in Suzhou, where they supervised disabled workers pasting cardboard boxes.

When Director Yan first entered the factory, he worked as a technician in the production workshop, and was caught up in the notorious big explosion. The blast wave lifted the massive iron lid of the reactor and neatly pinned him underneath it; a shower of bricks and iron fragments rained down afterward and piled half a meter thick on top of the lid. By the time the rescue team dug him out from under the lid, he was miraculously unharmed and sat up and drank two entire thermoses of plain boiling water. Those who survive great disasters are blessed with good fortune thereafter: the explosion shook him upward through the ranks from technician to workshop director to branch factory director, and finally to chief engineer of the entire factory.

Director Yan didn’t have his only daughter Yan Xiaodan until he was in his thirties. Xiao Dan had not inherited her father’s academic genes, but had inherited her mother’s genes for beauty, with every smile and glance bearing the gentle charm of the Jiangnan style. The gazes of the entire class of boys frequently converged on Xiao Dan’s silhouette at the front. Xiao Man, seated in the very last row with his view blocked by five rows of classmates, simply stood up to get a better look — which moved every subject teacher deeply, as they assumed he was straining to follow the lesson out of sheer determination not to give up.

During one lesson, Chinese teacher Dai called on Xiao Man, who had been standing to listen: “The allusion to ‘plum blossom wine’ — which two historical figures does it refer to?”

Xiao Man thought for a long while and said: “Lü Bu and Diaochan, I’d say.”

The whole class burst out laughing.

“Wrong! ‘Plum blossom wine’ is not about getting drunk and chasing women!” Teacher Dai said.

“I remembered it wrong,” Xiao Man corrected himself. “Lü Bu and Diaochan — that should be ‘childhood sweethearts.'”

“Nonsense! Who told you Lü Bu and Diaochan played together from childhood?” Teacher Dai shook his head, frowning. “Your education — you’d honestly be better off without it.”

“Then Teacher Dai, would you say Zhou Haimei and Zhang Wuji are childhood sweethearts?” Xiao Man shot back cheekily.

The whole class roared with laughter again. Everyone was reminded of Teacher Dai’s humiliating episode in TV Weekly. Teacher Dai immediately flushed crimson, bellowed: “You rogue! Unteachable!” and flung a patriotic chalk missile.

“Master, Master — I was wrong!” Xiao Man used his notebook to block the incoming projectile.

“Get out!” Teacher Dai was beside himself with fury. “The farther out, the better!”

Amid the entire class’s laughter, Xiao Man raised his notebook to shield his face and trotted out of the classroom. He went to the toilet for a quick release, then sneaked back in through the rear door and slipped into his seat. From that point on, everyone knew that Xiao Man’s mind was not on the blackboard but on Xiao Dan’s silhouette. The subject teachers collectively banned Xiao Man from standing up in class ever again.

Worse even than Xiao Man’s infatuation was Wang Dongdong’s. The one Wang Dongdong pined for was not Xiao Dan, but Sun Lulu from Class One next door. He wished the classroom wall would turn transparent so he could see his beloved at all times.

During a math class on trigonometric functions, Teacher Gu from Shanghai spoke in a soft and lilting accent, and Wang Dongdong couldn’t follow a single word. His mind was entirely occupied by Sun Lulu. In his daydream, he and Sun Lulu were entwined among flowers, and just as the romantic moment reached its peak and a kiss was about to happen, a sharp pain stabbed his nose bridge. “Ouch!” Wang Dongdong cried out in pain and snapped back into the classroom in an instant, to find the entire class laughing at him. Teacher Gu had seen through his physical and mental absence and fired a patriotic chalk to land squarely on his nose bridge.

“Dongbao, who are you thinking about?” Teacher Gu leaned on his pointer and asked.

“He’s thinking about Ge Ling!” the whole class shouted in unison.

Wang Dongdong was still disoriented, mumbling, uncertain what to say. At that moment, Xiao Man sprinted from the back row up to his desk and placed a Shuanghui pork sausage on it: “Wang Dongdong, stop dreaming! Let me introduce you to a new friend.”

The whole class dissolved into laughter again. Teacher Gu couldn’t keep from laughing either, wiping tears from behind his glasses as he scolded: “Xiao Man, you idiot — don’t go wandering around the classroom.”

Sun Lulu’s nickname was “Celluloid.” She had thick brows, large eyes, and protruding teeth; her physical development was precocious, and her temperament was highly combustible. Nobody could quite figure out what Wang Dongdong saw in her. During the long break, Xiao Man and Wang Dongdong crouched behind the flower bed sneaking a smoke. Xiao Man asked him: “Can you handle Celluloid’s fiery temper?”

“I want her, and that’s what counts!” Wang Dongdong said, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his upper arm. “I genuinely like her. If she doesn’t believe me, I’ll brand myself with a cigarette.”

“Don’t do anything reckless — they won’t take you for military conscription if you have burn marks,” Xiao Man cautioned.

“Right — you’ve got to help me with something. Pass her a letter!”

“You want to send a love letter through a middleman? Why not deliver it yourself?”

“I’m afraid if I bring it myself, she won’t even take it. Didn’t Teacher say in class — ‘fish and wild goose carrying letters’? You be the fish and wild goose.”

“Fine!” Xiao Man agreed. “But I have to read it first. I need to learn something from it.”

“No problem — help yourself!” Wang Dongdong was magnanimous about it. He pulled the folded love letter from inside his jacket. “It doesn’t matter — I copied it anyway.”

Xiao Man was genuinely unguarded about it. He unfolded the letter and had only read the first paragraph when he exclaimed in surprise: “Hey! These are lyrics from Lao Lang, aren’t they?”

“Yes! The Love of a Wandering Singer — and they’re my sentiments exactly!”

Xiao Man kept reading, then suddenly tore the letter apart: “Rewrite it! Rewrite it!”

“What’s wrong?” Wang Dongdong was startled.

“Put a little effort in!” Xiao Man pieced the scraps back together. “Look — I can only offer you a tiny little attic, a north-facing… bed? Your heartfelt sentiment is a bed?”

“Oh no! I copied it wrong!” Wang Dongdong smacked his head. “It’s not ‘bed’ — it’s ‘window’! Good thing we caught it early!”

At noon the next day after classes, Xiao Man tucked Wang Dongdong’s revised love letter inside his jacket and waited early in the bicycle shed.

Sun Lulu came walking over, dangling her bicycle key on a finger. Seeing Xiao Man sitting on her bicycle rack, she asked: “Handsome, who are you waiting for?”

“For you, of course! This is—” Xiao Man had just stood up and reached for the letter when a basketball came flying out of nowhere and thudded squarely onto his head. His temper flared instantly and he spun around and shouted toward the basketball court: “Who was that?! Can you even pass a ball?!”

While Xiao Man was arguing with the basketball players, Sun Lulu grabbed the envelope, tore it open, and found the letter inside folded into a heart shape. Her heart hammered wildly, her face flushing crimson in a single second. The first love letter of her life — and it came from the handsome Xiao Man! She hurriedly stuffed the letter into her bag and mounted her bicycle.

By the time Xiao Man finished his argument with the basketball players and turned around, Sun Lulu was already gone.

“She left so fast — I hadn’t even finished speaking.” Xiao Man rubbed the back of his head and muttered to himself as he walked out of the bicycle shed.

Meanwhile, Sun Lulu pedaled home floating on air, so excited she broke into a sweat all over. When she got home, she didn’t stop to eat. She shut herself in her room, unfolded the letter, and read softly: “I can only say again and again, make you believe me — the one who once loved you, that person is me.”

Oh! Romantic Xiao Man! In that moment, a million dopamine fireworks burst inside Sun Lulu’s mind; cerebrum, cerebellum, and brainstem alike were filled to the brim with happiness. So this was the feeling of falling in love? She thought tenderly, moving her eyes to the signature at the end of the letter — and suddenly saw the name “Wang Dongdong” written there.

“Ah!” Sun Lulu let out a shriek and sprang off the bed, furiously stamping her feet and beating her chest. In an instant, every flower of joy withered. She gnashed her teeth and roared: “Wang Dongdong! You ugly wretch, you thousand-cuts criminal! How dare you write a love letter to me?! Who do you think you are?!”

The following afternoon before class, Sun Lulu stormed into Class Two’s classroom. In front of the entire class, she snatched up the lyrics-love letter and flung it in Wang Dongdong’s face: “Take it back! Stop dreaming! Shameless!” With that, she turned and marched out — and walked smack into Xiao Man, who was just entering the classroom.

Xiao Man was holding a basketball. Seeing Sun Lulu crash into his arms, he assumed he’d walked into the wrong classroom and quickly asked: “Lulu? What are you doing in our class?”

Sun Lulu glared at Xiao Man with pure indignation, said not a word, gathered the full force of her entire core, swung her elbow sharply upward, and jabbed it into Xiao Man’s floating ribs.

“Ow…” Caught off guard by the ambush, Xiao Man doubled over, clutching his stomach. “What was that for? Celluloid — what was that for?”

“You shameless thug!” Sun Lulu walked away without looking back, cursing as she went. “Xiao Man, you shameless thug — false advertising!”

High School Life

After starting high school, Xia Lei became even more withdrawn and quiet. His parents, disappointed as they were, refrained from further reproach.

Time passed to the May Day holiday. That evening at dinner, his father was in such a good mood that he broke his usual habit and had a few glasses of baijiu. His mother announced that Father had just been promoted to fleet captain — a plum position with both authority and hidden perquisites, where vehicle maintenance, upkeep, and parts procurement were all decided by the captain alone.

“Does being a captain require a degree?” Xia Lei asked his father.

“If a driver’s license counts as a degree, then yes,” his father said with a hiccup.

“Wasn’t it because you bribed someone and went through the back door?” Xia Lei asked again.

“No back door, actually,” his father said. “There was a whole line of people who wanted the captain’s position. They gave the factory leaders gifts, but the leaders wouldn’t even accept them.”

“Your father’s promotion was raised by Director Yan himself,” his mother said, placing a piece of meat in Xia Lei’s bowl and revealing the answer to the riddle.

“Director Yan is a good leader — he handles both work and people the right way,” his father said, picking up the thread.

“And it’s a fair return!” his mother said, shooting his father a look. “If it weren’t for helping that Yan Xiaodan, Xia Lei wouldn’t be stuck at the run-down factory high school.”

“So that’s how things work — the adult world is so complicated!” said Xia Lei.

“Stop overthinking it and eat properly.” His mother tapped the rim of his bowl with her chopsticks. “When you’ve finished eating, go read your books. What’s done is done — we can’t afford to let the university exams be ruined too.”

Over the same May Day holiday, Xia Lei was at home bent over his textbooks; Xiao Man was minding the newsstand; and Xiao Dan had gone with her parents to Suzhou to visit relatives for three days of travel and leisure.

That year, The Small Joy Restaurant was being shown again. Guanqian Street’s eunuch alley was packed with tourists queuing for meals. And that same year, the Suzhou Paradise at the foot of Tiger Hill officially opened, its advertising slogan “Too far to go to Disneyland? Just go to Suzhou Paradise” drawing many primary school excursion groups in spring.

Xiao Dan loved both the lively bustle of Suzhou Paradise and the everyday liveliness of old Suzhou’s streets. On Guanqian Street, at the Xinhua Bookstore, she bought three small globes in one go. Her father asked why she bought so many, and Xiao Dan said she wanted to bring them back as gifts for Xiao Man and Xia Lei. Her father asked why she would give one to the poor student Xiao Man. Xiao Dan said Xiao Man always helped her with classroom cleaning duty. Her father shook his head and said she shouldn’t let him do that anymore — the two of them were simply not from the same world.

During the few days in Suzhou, Director Yan attended a series of gatherings with old university classmates. Classmates who had once been politically unreliable had since made remarkable reversals of fortune: some were now deputy presidents of joint-venture company groups, others had taken over factories and transformed themselves into private entrepreneurs. Suzhou was no longer simply the tourism foundation of its old city districts — two industrial parks had opened like a pair of outstretched wings, warmly embracing the new industrial model of processing trade.

Director Yan rushed from one dinner to the next, and in those gatherings he confirmed a trend: under a market economy, industry would inevitably concentrate where transportation was convenient, raw materials were accessible, and energy supplies were reliable. This explained the rise of the coastal industrial parks. As for factories like Xi Tie Cheng, buried deep in the mountains, with no aviation connections, no sea access, no coal or iron of their own, the day would come when they would exit the market economy’s stage.

On the first afternoon back after the holiday, Xiao Dan asked Xiao Man and Xia Lei to wait for her.

“No-Brain and Not-Happy,” Xiao Dan said, pulling two small boxes from her bag. “These are Suzhou gifts for you — one each.”

Xiao Man and Xia Lei opened the boxes to find two tiny aluminum-cased globes, each with a wooden base engraved with the words: “From Magellan, Class Two, First Year of High School.”

“Magellan?” Xiao Man asked. “Isn’t that the person who discovered the Americas?”

“No, that was Columbus,” Xia Lei corrected. “Magellan was the first person to circumnavigate the globe.”

“Right — Magellan’s was the first circumnavigation. When I grow up, I want to circumnavigate the world too,” said Xiao Dan.

“Then take us along — we’ll be your first and second mates,” said Xia Lei.

“Xia Lei is good at geography, so he can be first mate. I’m strong, so I’ll be second mate,” said Xiao Man.

“Even second mate isn’t simple — you have to be able to sail a ship and read nautical charts,” said Xia Lei.

“What’s hard about a nautical chart? It’s just knowing north, south, east, and west,” Xiao Man said, pointing in the cardinal directions. “I know them all — north is up, south is down, west is left, east is right. Xi Tie Cheng is to our east, Chifeng is to our west, Suzhou is to our south.”

“Right — Suzhou is fifteen hundred kilometers to the south,” said Xiao Dan.

“How long would it take by train to travel fifteen hundred kilometers?” asked Xia Lei. “At least a full day and night, surely.”

“We flew — took two hours,” Xiao Dan said.

“Wow, you flew on a plane!” Xia Lei and Xiao Man both exclaimed in admiration. “The two of us have only ever ridden the fairground tin airplane at kindergarten.”

The Fireworks Night

In nineteen ninety-seven, Hong Kong returned to China. The whole nation celebrated, and Xi Tie Cheng Factory was to organize a fireworks display.

One evening after dinner, Xiao Dan’s family was chatting about the upcoming fireworks display. Xiao Dan asked her father: “If our factory makes gunpowder, why don’t we just produce our own fireworks too?”

“Because the components and costs are entirely different!” Director Yan was delighted to be asked a technical question. “What we call gunpowder is a general term — in fact, gunpowder divides into two types: the ancient black powder and the modern smokeless powder. Black powder is one of the Four Great Inventions mentioned in history textbooks, and is composed of potassium nitrate, sulfur, and charcoal. The modern gunpowder we produce at this factory — also called smokeless powder — is a modern European invention, and its base components are nitric acid and cotton fiber.”

“I understand — fireworks use black powder.”

“Correct! Fireworks shells are black powder mixed with metallic salts. When these salts burn, they produce different colors — your chemistry textbook calls that the flame test reaction.”

“I know — sodium burns yellow, barium burns green.” Xiao Dan recalled the color plates in her chemistry text.

“Black powder was once used to load flintlock muskets, but had obvious drawbacks: low working force, liable to burst the barrel or misfire, and produced residue with every shot — so it was superseded. You’ve seen The Battle of Waterloo on television: British and French soldiers lining up face to face and firing, with a great burst of smoke and a bang, and having to use an iron rod to clean out the barrel after each shot — that was the black powder musket era.”

“Later Europe invented smokeless powder to replace black powder in loading bullets and artillery shells, and we entered the era of modern firearms. Smokeless powder performs reliably — no smoke, no residue, no waste — and is better in every respect, except that the manufacturing process is complex and costly, so it is only suited to military use.”

“I remember — the teacher said one artillery shell is the equivalent of one gold ring. Every time the cannon fires, it’s gold burning. War is simply money burning.”

“That’s right. And you asked about the difference between gunpowder and explosive — they are close relatives, but with different combustion-explosion speeds.” Director Yan fetched a sheet of paper and drew a diagram of a shell. “When a cannon fires, the sound at the back of the shell is from the gunpowder being ignited. Gunpowder has a relatively slow combustion speed, which produces sustained propulsive force to push the shell out of the barrel and into flight — which is why it’s also called propellant. When the shell lands and explodes, the great bang detonates the explosive in the warhead. Explosive has a far more violent combustion than gunpowder, generating an instantaneous shock wave that causes enormous destruction and casualties.”

“My classmates say that when the fireworks go off, the factory will bring out the big cannons from the firing range to launch them — is that true?”

“Nonsense — how would you launch fireworks from a cannon?” Director Yan flipped open an issue of Weapons Knowledge magazine for his daughter to look at. “The mortars our factory has — their shells travel in a parabolic trajectory. Using those to launch fireworks would be far too dangerous. For fireworks, you must use a specially designed vertical smooth-bore launch tube. Fireworks that go straight up are the safest.”

“What about an anti-aircraft gun — wouldn’t that be vertical?”

“In theory, an anti-aircraft gun could fire fireworks straight up, but using a sledgehammer to crack a nut — even the smallest caliber anti-aircraft gun has a minimum range that would send the fireworks three or four thousand meters high. Three or four thousand meters would be too high; from down below, the fireworks would look small and distant, and not at all beautiful to watch.”

“Three or four thousand meters — how magnificent!”

“Three or four thousand meters is only the minimum range. The maximum range of an anti-aircraft gun can approach twenty thousand meters.”

“Twenty thousand meters! That’s incredible! Papa, I want to study weapons engineering when I grow up.”

“Absolutely not!” Director Yan immediately stopped smiling and doused his daughter’s idea with cold water. “If it hadn’t been for the reactor lid shielding me that day, your father would have been blown to pieces. Military-industrial work is dangerous, exhausting, and isolated — always reeking of smoke and acid. Never pursue it.”

“But my classmates talk about being second or third generation military-industrial workers with such pride.”

“That’s the old story from long ago. Now only a fool would want to work in military industry,” Director Yan said. “When the opportunity comes, our family should move back to Suzhou. Aim for an economics or finance program — it’ll be useful when we return to Suzhou.”

On the evening of the fireworks celebration, Xiao Dan asked her parents’ permission early, saying she wanted to go outside to watch the fireworks with her classmates.

Her mother initially refused: from our balcony we can see everything perfectly well — what’s the point of going out? Director Yan, however, was understanding: children like excitement, and studying is hard work all year round — let her out this evening.

After dinner, Xiao Dan looked down from the balcony and saw Xiao Man, Xia Lei, Xiao Bai, and Wang Dongdong waiting below the building. She quietly made a gesture for them to be patient, then seized the moment when her parents went to the kitchen to wash up, slipped a bottle of Rémy Martin XO out of the cabinet and into her bag, and flew down the stairs.

Downstairs, Xiao Dan joined the group and they all walked merrily toward the school.

The teaching building was locked for the weekend, but this posed no difficulty to the group — the boys were all accomplished wall-climbers. Xiao Bai and Wang Dongdong climbed through a second-floor window first, then leaned out to grab Xiao Dan’s arms while Xiao Man and Xia Lei supported her feet from below. Four boys, two pulling from above and two pushing from below, hauled Xiao Dan up through the second-floor window.

The five young people entered the teaching building, pushed open the door to the rooftop terrace, and saw a full moon rising, the night sky exceptionally clear. Wang Dongdong raised his binoculars and trained them on the distant factory club. A dark mass of people had gathered there, all waiting for the fireworks to be launched.

“Strange — those spectators don’t look like they’re factory workers,” Wang Dongdong said.

“They must be villagers from the surrounding area,” Xiao Man analyzed. “They’ve never seen fireworks before, and probably think the closer the better.”

“The best viewing spot for fireworks is right here on our school rooftop. I worked that out using geometry long ago,” said Xia Lei.

The five laughed and chatted as they sat down on the rooftop. They spread out a cloth, set out walnuts, prawn crackers, and spicy pea snacks. Xiao Dan reached last into her bag and produced the amber-colored bottle of Rémy Martin XO.

“Rémy Martin!” the boys cried out together in excitement. Someone had given this bottle as a gift to Director Yan. When Xiao Man and Xia Lei had visited Xiao Dan’s home before, they had seen this bottle of Rémy Martin in the cabinet, and it had filled them with curiosity and longing.

“Looks truly sophisticated!” Xia Lei picked up the bottle and studied the label. “Pity — of all the words on it, the only one I recognize is ‘Martin.'”

Xiao Man took the bottle, examined it, and asked: “Is this creature supposed to be a person or a horse? How many chromosomes does it have?”

Wang Dongdong measured the centaur’s torso with his fingers and delivered a verdict: “It’s definitely a horse!”

Everyone asked why.

“Look at the arms on this centaur — they’re too short to wipe its own backside!” Wang Dongdong began elaborating nonsensically. “Anything that can’t wipe its own backside can’t count as a person!”

“Get out of here!” After a round of laughter, everyone realized that nobody had brought cups.

“My father says this liquor is best mixed with soda water,” Xiao Dan said.

“Mixing it with water would be a waste — the boys should just drink straight from the bottle,” Xiao Man said, then tilted his head back and took a large swig. He savored it for a long moment, his expression a complicated mixture of responses.

Xia Lei asked him how it was.

“Absolutely marvelous,” Xiao Man wiped his mouth and winked at Xia Lei.

Xia Lei took the bottle and drank a mouthful, understanding perfectly, but saying: “Truly a nectar of the gods.”

Xiao Bai drank a mouthful and said: “When I have money, I’ll drink Rémy Martin every day!”

The bottle was finally passed to Wang Dongdong. He took a great gulp — then spit half of it back out. “You three… are all frauds! This liquor… how is it the same as cooking wine?”

Everyone doubled over with laughter.

“For the sake of a fair drinking game, how about we play a drinking forfeit?” Xiao Dan proposed, seeing that it was still early.

Everyone agreed, and Xiao Bai even rolled up his sleeves. Xiao Dan asked what he was doing, and Xiao Bai said: “A drinking forfeit isn’t just for finger-guessing games, is it? Five fingers, six-six-six!”

“That won’t do at all — we want a cultured drinking game. Here’s how: everyone recite a line of poetry that contains the character for ‘flower.’ If you can’t think of one within ten seconds, you must drink a mouthful as forfeit,” Xiao Dan explained the rules and nodded toward Xia Lei. “This round — start with the great literary talent.”

“Ready! Ready!” Xia Lei said without hesitation: “In April, all flowers in the lowlands have faded; at the mountain temple, the peach blossoms are only just blooming.”

Wang Dongdong’s turn: he swayed his head and said: “My old friend has left the west at the Yellow Crane Tower; in the smoke and flowers of March, he sails down to Yangzhou.”

Then Xiao Bai: “This is simple — I learned it in primary school. Spring passes, and the flowers remain; people come, but the birds are not startled.”

Xiao Man also recalled his primary school texts: “The waters of the Peach Blossom Pool are a thousand feet deep, yet they cannot compare to Wang Lun’s feelings in seeing me off.”

Finally it came back to Xiao Dan: “Since we’re in high school, I’ll say — the river flowers at sunrise are redder than flame; in spring, the river water is as green as blue dye.”

The first round went through without anyone failing, and the group suddenly realized that when it came to reciting Tang poetry, no one could out-recite Xia Lei. So Xiao Dan suggested changing the game to singing — one person sings a lyric containing the character for “flower,” then announces the singer’s name.

“This won’t stop me either!” Xia Lei opened with a song: “The heart of a flower hides within its core; all its flowering season has been missed in vain. Your heart has forgotten the seasons; it never easily lets others understand. Zhou Huajian.”

Xiao Dan’s turn. She thought for a moment and sang: “These drifting fallen flowers — the deep affection of years past has long since dissolved. Tam Bing-man.”

Next was Xiao Man. He snuck a sidelong glance at Xiao Dan as he sang: “I want to secretly steal a glance at her, pretend to admire a vase of flowers. Lu Xiaofeng — ah, no — Xu Xiaofeng.”

Xiao Bai’s turn. He struggled to think for a long while, then finally found something: “How beautiful a flower, that beautiful jasmine flower. How beautiful a flower, that beautiful jasmine flower. Hmm — so many people have sung this one.”

Last was Wang Dongdong. He complained: “I was just going to sing Jasmine Flower, and Xiao Bai stole it.”

Xiao Bai said: “Nonsense — I went before you. How is it stealing?”

Wang Dongdong couldn’t wriggle out of it, and no matter how long he wracked his brain, he couldn’t squeeze out a single word.

“Six, five, four, three…” Everyone began counting down.

“Wait!” Wang Dongdong suddenly shouted. “Our motherland is a flower garden, and the flowers in the garden are bright and fresh! The singer is… our primary school Teacher Niu!”

Everyone bent double with laughter. Xiao Dan laughed hardest of all, and in her delight accidentally knocked over the bottle. The liquor spilled everywhere, making Xia Lei and Xiao Man leap up and shriek as they wiped their backsides.

While the five of them were still laughing and teasing, a thunderous boom shook the air: one fireworks shell was launched from the rooftop of the factory club, climbing into the night sky with a trailing plume of fire, then with one great crack burst open, and in an instant transformed into ten thousand colors. Before the echo had died, a second shell rose into the sky, spreading open a gargantuan silver disc, its fiery tendrils hanging downward in cascades of streamers, like a shower of stars falling upon the earth.

That night, the fire-trees and silver blossoms lit up half the sky above Xi Tie Cheng Factory. Xiao Dan sat between Xia Lei and Xiao Man, clapping and cheering without pause, as gleeful as a child. With every shell that rose into the sky, the five young people cheered and leaped to their feet. The great blooms of fire burst open again and again, illuminating their young faces in the brilliance of youth.

Fireworks and young people — the most beautiful verses of that summer in Xi Tie Cheng.