Section 11: One Must Always Guard Against Others' Intentions

The girl sitting beside Sima was surnamed Lu, her name Lu Yuan. It was a rare surname; at Changzhou High School, she was the only one with that name, and throughout Changzhou City, there were very few. Though a girl, Lu Yuan excelled in the sciences, consistently ranking among the top three in her grade since the first year. She studied with great focus, never distracted by trivial matters, and was not one of those gentle, refined young ladies harboring a crush on Lin Zixuan. Her father was a civil servant working at the Transportation Bureau, well aware of the importance of connections. He had warned his daughter that once she entered university, she couldn’t just bury her head in books; she needed to meet more people and engage in diverse affairs. After all, an inconspicuous classmate today might become her boss, benefactor, or even savior someday.

Lu Yuan was admitted to Haidian University with the top score in the sciences and carried a certain pride deep within her bones. Yet, in Sima’s presence, that pride seemed to falter. She had a good relationship with her homeroom teacher, Mr. Qian, and during the summer break, she went back to visit him. Hearing about Sima’s transfer to the arts stream as a way to “control his scores,” Mr. Qian lamented that had Sima stayed in science, he might have been the top science student this year. Lu Yuan grew curious; she believed Sima shouldn’t gamble with his future and quietly asked him, “Why did you choose the arts stream when the sciences and arts were separated?”

Outside the train window, night had fully settled in. Sima crunched on a Snickers bar, feeling a little awkward at her question. He pondered for a moment, then pulled out another Snickers and handed it to her, mumbling, “Have you thought about what kind of career you want in the future?”

Lu Yuan accepted the Snickers instinctively and replied, “Computer programming, I suppose.” Her major was software engineering, involving software development, testing, maintenance, and optimization—a burgeoning field with a bright outlook.

Sima painted a different picture of the industry: code monkeys, the grueling 9-to-9, six days a week schedule known as “996,” late-night overtime, no position to return to after having children, and the grim reality of being laid off if one didn’t transition to management by age thirty. Lu Yuan understood some of it but was puzzled by terms like “code monkey,” “996,” and “being laid off if you don’t switch roles by thirty.” Sima explained patiently: “Code monkeys” are coders working like farmers; “996” means working from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week—72 hours total; and “being laid off at 30 if you don’t move to management” refers to the rapid churn in this industry where young, energetic newcomers with fewer family responsibilities replace older workers. The waves of the Yangtze River push the old ones onto the shore.

Lu Yuan was stunned by his description, almost questioning if she had chosen the wrong major. She pondered for a moment, feeling the bleak reality Sima described might actually come true, and her mood sank slightly. After a pause, she asked, “And what about you? Choosing the arts lets you work a neat nine-to-five, easy and relaxed...” She stopped mid-sentence, realizing this was exactly her father’s lifestyle.

Sima comforted her, “Actually, you made the right choice. Paul said that the most precious thing is life, and we only have one chance at it. Therefore, a person’s life should be lived so that when they look back, they have no regrets about wasted time nor shame over idleness...”

Lu Yuan frowned slightly, interrupting, “Are you mocking me?”

“No,” Sima replied earnestly, “I respect and admire your choice. The country needs talents like you. Don’t let me influence you. I’m actually just... just...”

“A refined egoist?” she finished for him.

Sima laughed and guessed, “Did Mr. Qian describe me that way?”

Lu Yuan smiled too, neither confirming nor denying. She unwrapped the Snickers and took a small bite, frowning slightly at the sweetness. Wrapping it back up, she asked, “Well... if—just hypothetically—to avoid 996, overtime, and being laid off at 30, what should one do?” She omitted the part about “no position after having children,” feeling too shy to say it.

Sima was silent for a moment, then earnestly suggested, “I think e-commerce has a promising future. You can work there for a while and, once familiar, transition quickly to a management role...”

Another unfamiliar term. Lu Yuan mentally noted his advice and resolved to consult her counselor after enrollment.

Changing the subject, Sima asked Lu Yuan if she knew about the Zhou family’s estate in Badaowan, Beizhi City, and told her old stories about the three Zhou brothers. Lu Yuan listened with great interest. Even Shen Yihe, sitting nearby, joined in, leaning on Lu Yuan’s shoulder to listen attentively. The two whispered and laughed together. Lu Yuan found their casual talk enjoyable and enlightening, so she took out her phone and added Sima as a contact, inviting him to visit Haidian University sometime. Shen Yihe followed suit, pulling out her phone to join the fun; she had been admitted to Beizhi University of Technology, less than fifty meters from Beizhi Foreign Language University—just a few minutes’ walk.

Sima told them about the nicknames of Beizhi City’s universities: Beizhi University was “Zhongguantun Applied Science and Arts College,” Haidian University was “Temporary Peace Vocational Technical College,” Beizhi Aerospace University was “Small Plane Practice Base,” Beizhi University of Technology was “Weiwu Village Auto Repair Service Station,” Nationalities University was “Weiwu Village Halal Culinary Training Center,” Agricultural University was “Haidian Breeding Pig Farm,” and Beizhi Normal University was “Jishi Pond Women’s Teachers College.” When attending university in Beizhi, one must not miss “Beida’s park, Haidian’s Hanzi, Beiwai’s beauties, and Min Da’s food.”

Lu Yuan and Shen Yihe laughed until their stomachs hurt, the fatigue of the journey melting away.

At 9:47 p.m., the train arrived punctually at Beizhi Station. After ticket checks and exiting, Lin Zixuan called for three taxis: he rode with Ding Jiayin and Du Xiaojing; Sima with Lu Yuan and Shen Yihe; and the other four boys squeezed into the third taxi, all heading straight for the Furen Guesthouse. Lin Zixuan’s arrangement was essentially entrusting Lu Yuan and Shen Yihe to Sima’s care. Although Beizhi was a big city, they were all unfamiliar with the area, and if anything went wrong, someone had to step up. Watching coldly from the sidelines, Lin Zixuan thought Sima was mature and composed enough to “entrust with such responsibility.”

Lin Zixuan’s caution was not unwarranted. The city’s nightlife was just beginning at 10 p.m., Beizhi shone brightly with its complex traffic. The three taxis quickly separated and could only stay in touch by phone. The driver of Sima’s taxi was a local, speaking fluent Mandarin, very talkative, chatting nonstop with the passengers. Lu Yuan and Shen Yihe remained cautious and silent, while Sima responded perfunctorily.

“Where are you from?”
“Jiangnan, a small city.”
“Coming to study in Beizhi?”
“Tourism, just looking around.”
“Planning to visit anywhere?”
“West District, Gongmenkou Three Lanes.”
“What’s there to see at Gongmenkou Three Lanes?”
“Lu Xun’s former residence, now a museum.”
“Not going to the Forbidden City or Badaling?”
“It’s too hot and crowded.”
“Staying at Furen Guesthouse?”
“A friend arranged it; convenient location.”

Indeed, Jiangnan was a small city, and they planned to explore Beizhi for a week, with Lu Xun’s residence on their itinerary. Every word was true. Vigilance is necessary; Sima did not let his guard down and, through his actions, gave Lu Yuan and Shen Yihe a lesson in caution.