Section 4: Tales of Old Changzhou

The campus of Beizhi University was vast, and it would be a while before Chen Lian could emerge after receiving the call. Sima stood by a telephone booth, waiting, watching the bustling traffic on the street, his heart surging with waves of emotion. No one simply springs forth from a fissure in a rock; the past in Changzhou, like a faded old film, surfaced before his eyes one frame at a time.

Sima, whose surname was "Si" and given name "Ma," was born and raised in Changzhou, having never left until the age of eighteen. His father, Si Daoyan, born with a deficiency of fire in his Five Elements, was an ambitious man. He had originally intended to have five children, naming them in sequence: Sima, Sikong, Situ, Sikou, and Sinong. However, his wife did not cooperate, and after the first, she firmly insisted on a tubal ligation. No amount of persuasion worked, leaving the Si family with but a single heir, who was doted upon excessively. Sima’s mother, Xia Ting, had little formal education and a strong-willed temperament. Her patience toward her son was matched only by her impatience toward her husband.

The family of three lived in Room 601, Building 55 of the Chaoyang Residential Quarter. After more than a dozen years of friction, Si Daoyan’s temper had been worn away, while Xia Ting’s had only grown more volatile. In her youth, she would use veiled insults, but later she became like a bristling cat, pointing at his nose and berating him incessantly. Strictly speaking, it was not the kind of abuse that insulted one’s character, but it could be summarized into three "crimes": Si Daoyan did nothing at home, Si Daoyan could do nothing right at home, and all of Si Daoyan’s relatives were ingrates.

Past forty, the day is like the afternoon; by the time Sima was in high school, Si Daoyan was already forty-six or forty-seven. His health began to decline—his hair thinned, his teeth loosened, and his energy waned. He snored so loudly that his wife preferred to sleep on the sofa rather than be near him, and life became profoundly stifling. Existence felt like a dull knife slicing through flesh, devoid of any joy. Si Daoyan was melancholy and aged rapidly. He could even perceive an indescribable scent on himself—the "smell of an old man." He felt despondent; life was sand held in the palm of one's hand, and there was little time left.

His only hope was pinned on his son.

Sima was precocious and intellectually gifted. From childhood, he never required his parents to worry about his studies; his grades were always among the best. After finishing his homework, he would immerse himself in his own world, finding contentment in solitude. He was not picky about food or clothing; his only hobby was reading. In Si Daoyan’s memory, his son’s reading journey started at a high point, skipping "children’s books" entirely and diving straight into the "Four Great Classical Novels." He had even flipped through the family’s copies of *Selected Works of Mao Zedong*, *Selected Works of Deng Xiaoping*, and *History of the Party*. Si Daoyan thought him "pretentious" and "overreaching," and even made a few sarcastic remarks. Xia Ting, protective of her son, would have a massive row with her husband and then turn around to buy Sima a complete set of "Popular Editions of World Literary Classics," many of which Si Daoyan deemed "unsuitable for minors."

Whether it was forced growth or the desire for his son to become someone of note, it was undeniable that Sima did not let down Xia Ting’s "nurturing." He easily tested into the best high school in Changzhou, earning enough face for his parents and gaining breathing room for himself. Chaoyang Residential Quarter was a relocation housing area, far from Changzhou High School. Commuting by bus was exhausting and time-consuming. Xia Ting, feeling for her son, considered renting a place near the school to accompany him during his studies, but Sima dissuaded her, saying the school had dormitories and that living on campus would save money for his future university education. Xia Ting was deeply gratified; without consulting her husband, she took it upon herself to apply for a dormitory spot for her son.

The key high school kept a tight grip on academics, encouraging students to stay for self-study on weekends to save every second. Sima naturally "went with the flow." Xia Ting approved of this as well. To let her son study in peace, every Sunday she would bring him clean clothes, taking three buses to visit him at school. The two would eat a meal together outside and chat idly. Xia Ting felt immense comfort, her heart finding a resting place, and she stopped being so critical of everything, which even allowed Si Daoyan three years of peaceful living.

Finally free from the constraints of his original family, Sima thrived at Changzhou High School. He frequented the school library, reading the complete *Works of Lu Xun* and the complete *Essays of Zhou Zuoren*. He also developed a profound interest in history and politics, devouring one after another of the "Famous Translated Classics" published by The Commercial Press. While his classmates were "tying their hair to the beam and pricking their thighs with awls" in agony, he had energy to spare, spending no extra effort on academics beyond the required assignments.

Changzhou High School was filled with strong competitors. Although Sima was not "one of the top two" as he had been in middle school, he generally remained near the top of the grade, occasionally winning a scholarship and gaining recognition before the teachers and students. His homeroom teacher, who taught physics and had only been at the school for a few years, was passionate and "her blood still ran hot." She always believed Sima was not showing his full potential and kept a close eye on him for a while. Sima, finding her intrusive, told her bluntly that he intended to study liberal arts and hinted that he might consider "entering politics" in the future. Facing such a precocious student, the teacher was at a loss; she felt Sima was a "refined egoist" and that it was not worth wasting time on him.

Sima had "floated the idea" of studying liberal arts to his family. Si Daoyan opposed it, feeling that the sciences held more promise, but he did not have the final say on "major family matters." Sima wore his mother down, and in the second semester of his second year, he successfully transferred into the liberal arts stream. Changzhou High School only had two liberal arts classes, which were mostly female—a garden of flowers, visually pleasing to say the least. But Sima had no interest in "dating." In those days, the "social customs" in Changzhou were conservative; to him, holding hands or kissing was "scratching an itch through a boot"—entirely meaningless. The pleasures of the sexes could wait until after he got into college.

Sima was good at math, which gave him an advantage in liberal arts. To avoid being constantly asked for help by classmates, he deliberately "suppressed his scores" from the start, creating the illusion of "fading momentum." His ranking hovered around 20th in the liberal arts class—not conspicuous, and certainly not enough to alarm his parents. At Changzhou High School, the prevailing belief from top to bottom was that only those who couldn't handle science chose liberal arts. Thus, Sima hid in a "forgotten corner," becoming an "invisible person" no one cared about, "building a fortress with books," waiting for the college entrance examination to arrive.

The following year and a half was calm, perhaps even "not worth mentioning." The excitement belonged to others; nothing of note happened to Sima. A gentleman does not stand under a tottering wall, and a wise man does not fall into a collapsed nest. He carefully and cautiously played his part, silently enduring kindergarten, primary school, and middle school. He was "highly experienced" in this, navigating it with ease without leaving any traces. As the days passed, before June even arrived, Xia Ting became restless, even a bit neurotic. Twelve years of bitter study all came down to this one moment. Anxiety stems from over-caring; while she had confidence in her son, exams always had an element of chance, and she feared he might perform poorly and fall short at the final hurdle.

For Sima, the three days of June 7th, 8th, and 9th were not a "first experience" in life. Once familiar, the second time is easy. He finished the final politics exam calmly and walked out of the exam hall with the crowd. The sunset shone upon his young face, and the long scroll of his destiny slowly unfurled, stained with a resplendent hue.