Chapter 12: The Math Test Papers Were Handed Out

Old Yang had a peculiar hobby: he liked to arrange test papers from the lowest score to the highest. The sheet on top always belonged to the student with the lowest grade in the class.

But that wasn’t the worst of it—the key was, he insisted on handing out the papers himself. This meant that the dozen or so names at the top of the pile became the focus of his sharpest criticism, while the rest would have to wait an interminable amount of time for their own papers.

Can you picture it? A teenager, at the age when pride is everything, having to stand on the podium and be berated by the teacher for having the lowest score? What troubles could a young person possibly have? Nothing more than these little things. Yet for them, at this moment, it felt like the end of the world.

Everyone knew about Old Yang’s habits, so they sat in tense silence, all eyes fixed on the stack of papers on the podium.

“Chen Songqing, 3,” Old Yang began to distribute the tests.

Those whose names were called let out groans of despair; those who weren’t, breathed a sigh of relief: thank goodness, as long as I’m not among those at the top, anywhere in the middle is fine.

Old Yang began his customary lecture. “What am I supposed to say to you? Your parents named you Songqing hoping you’d be evergreen like the pine and cypress, resilient and unyielding against the harshest winter. Your name is Songqing, not Qingsong. At this rate, you might as well change it to Qingsong, meaning relaxed and careless. Enjoy your youth while you can, living so carelessly…”

And so on, and so forth, for another five hundred words.

Lin Xia listened to Old Yang’s familiar admonitions and glanced at Chen Songqing, head drooped in shame. She felt both amused and strangely comforted.

Teachers at this age were still responsible, students still innocent. By the second year of middle school, however, the class had become old hands at this—thick-skinned and unafraid of these well-worn teachers. In high school, the teachers Lin Xia encountered were even more pragmatic.

High school was harsher than middle school. The students’ college admission rates directly affected the teachers’ salaries and bonuses, so unless you were especially troublesome, teachers paid little attention to those who struggled academically.

In their eyes, only the top students truly existed.

Lin Xia had always belonged to the most awkward group: neither a star student nor bold enough to fall in with the troublemakers, just an anonymous face among the average.

Watching Old Yang earnestly trying to encourage his students, Lin Xia was filled with mixed emotions.

But in the end, she was only an ordinary person, with no lofty ambitions—she just wanted to live her own quiet life. The wave of nostalgia soon passed; after all, she was no longer a naive girl of ten. After surviving the gauntlet of college entrance exams and interviews, a minor math test was hardly worth her concern.

So she paid no mind to the rest of the happenings in the classroom and lowered her head to continue working on the extra materials her mother had bought for her from the county bookstore. With Old Yang still in the room, she stuck to practicing math problems.

China’s tactic of endless drills has stood the test of time, enduring for thousands of years, unique to this land and unmatched elsewhere.

Having finished all the exercises she’d just reviewed, Lin Xia saw that Old Yang was still handing out papers and scolding the students at the top of the pile. She picked up her math textbook again to read ahead.

By the time she’d finished another section and completed the corresponding exercises, she finally noticed that only a small stack of papers remained on the podium.

Suddenly, Ren Jie kicked the leg of her desk from behind, and then she felt a finger scratch her back lightly. A small ball of paper landed on her desk.

Passing notes—Lin Xia found it unexpectedly novel. She’d grown used to texting and chatting on QQ; this sudden return to such primitive ways made her feel nostalgic.

Thinking this, she grabbed the note and unfolded it. It read: “Xia Xia, did you really study ahead? I’ve never had a math test where, even after half the papers were handed out, mine still wasn’t among them.”

Lin Xia curled her lips into a smile, drew a smiley face on the note, and wrote: “Of course. When have I ever lied to you?”

The note was tossed to the back. Soon after, Lin Xia heard the sound of a pen scribbling furiously. When the sound stopped, the note reappeared on her desk: “Nonsense, you lie to me all the time. Last time you even tricked me out of a piece of candy!” Below was an angry doodle. “Still, since you helped me out this time, I’ll let it slide.”

Lin Xia replied: “Nonsense yourself! I don’t even eat candy. If it were chocolate, I might consider it. If you make it into the top three in the class this time, treat me to some chocolate.”

Ren Jie: “No problem, five gold coins’ worth.”

Lin Xia drew a little stick figure with black lines of exasperation. “Only five gold coins? You’re really stingy, just like Grandet.”

Ren Jie: “I’m stingy? I only get one yuan for breakfast, and I give you half of it. By the way, who’s Grandet?”

Lin Xia was at a loss. She’d forgotten that Grandet was a character they’d only learn about in high school. So she explained that Grandet was one of the world’s most famous misers.

This time, the reply took a while. As soon as Ren Jie opened the note, Old Yang called her name: “Ren Jie, 102 points.”