Chapter 39: Is It Still Possible to Take the College Entrance Exam Now?

On August 30th, Liu Yimin received an acceptance letter from Poetry Journal. When the mailman handed him the letter, Liu Yimin didn’t make a scene or let the entire cultural center know about it. However, the invitation that followed left him deep in thought.

After discussing their idea, Zou Huofan from Poetry Journal and Cui Daoyi from People’s Literature immediately agreed and co-wrote a letter to Liu Yimin. They inquired whether he was interested in attending a training workshop organized by the two major magazines, mentioning that living stipends and food coupons would be provided, and that writers from all around would gather for mutual exchange.

If he agreed to attend, they would coordinate with his workplace and send a transfer notice. The letter was earnest and heartfelt; both men sincerely hoped Liu Yimin could make a trip to Yanjing.

Institutions like the Literary Training Institute, which cultivated writers outside the university system, had existed since the founding of the New China. The most renowned was the one held by the Writers’ Association, but with its dissolution, the institute also stopped operating. It was only restored in 1980 and later renamed the Lu Xun Literary Academy.

Next in prominence was the workshop hosted by Yanjing University. At that time, many writers came from humble backgrounds; those who had attended university were few and far between. The workshop at Yanjing University helped solve the dilemma of academic credentials.

Yu Hua, a student who failed the college entrance exam, obtained his master’s degree in literature by attending the creative writing seminars at the Lu Xun Academy and Beijing Normal University, thus resolving his academic issues.

Currently, the training institute had not yet been restored. Major magazines, in order to foster new talent and secure excellent manuscripts, had begun organizing various workshops, though these were mainly for exchange; how much one learned depended on oneself.

In the past, Liu Yimin would have certainly attended. But now, with his admission to the Chinese Department of Yanjing University a foregone conclusion, what could possibly be more prestigious or authoritative? So many literary figures in China had come from Yanjing’s Chinese Department—even Cui Daoyi from People’s Literature was technically Liu Yimin’s senior.

As for the university’s political review, there was no way it would be an obstacle for Liu Yimin.

Three generations of poor peasants: his father a bandit-suppression militiaman, his uncle a martyr. Could anyone be more “red” than him?

Liu Yimin thought, of course there were, but among the candidates, not many. He was sure his review would go smoothly.

After reading the letter, Liu Yimin picked up his pen and wrote separate replies to both men, stating that he would go to Yanjing, but not immediately—he would wait until the university term began. After writing, he affixed the stamps and dropped the letters into the mailbox.

Next, Liu Yimin turned to his speech draft. The speech was divided into three parts: the first recounted his own tragic struggle for education, the second described the highlights of his success, and the third was a bowl of chicken soup for the soul.

Drink this bowl of chicken soup, and from now on, we’ll all be revolutionary comrades!

After reviewing the speech, Liu Yimin found no issues; in fact, he could deliver parts of it without notes—he’d heard it all before!

Liu Yunsheng from the creative group shuffled over, teacup in hand, and sidled up to Liu Yimin’s desk to read the speech.

“Old Liu, if you want to read it, just take it!” Liu Yimin said with a smile.

Liu Yunsheng chuckled awkwardly. “Let me review it for you first, then!”

As soon as he picked up the draft, everyone else crowded around, jostling to read the speech, muttering and debating noisily. Old Li was squeezed so far to the back that his neck nearly stretched like a giraffe!

The joys and sorrows of humanity are not shared; I simply found their clamor irritating.

Liu Yimin left his seat, wandered over to Old Zhang’s little vegetable patch, and picked a few figs and some small white melons. The old-fashioned white melons, unaltered by modern technology, were refreshingly sweet but not cloying, with a strong melon fragrance.

After eating his fill, he brushed the dust from his trousers, patted his belly, and headed back to the office. As soon as he entered, he saw several people with red eyes, tears still glistening.

“What happened? Did you fight?” Liu Yimin asked in confusion.

“Yimin, your words make us all want to take the college entrance exam! Every line cuts straight to the heart at our age—wasted years, wasted years!” Old Li sighed.

Liu Yunsheng joked, “Is it too late for us to sit the college exam now?”

“Haha, Yimin, it’s not our fault; your speech is just too stirring!”

The county cinema stopped selling tickets a day in advance to prepare the venue for the report. The cinema’s entrance was adorned with a banner written in large black brushstrokes on red paper: “Experience Sharing Session of Comrade Liu Yimin, First Place in Liberal Arts.”

There were also slogans like, “Learn from Comrade Liu Yimin, Contribute to the Four Modernizations of Our Motherland!”

Little red flags stood beside the cinema, and Liu Yimin’s exam results were posted in large characters on the wall, with the names of all passing candidates from Ruxian County listed below.

The county cinema was much larger than those of later years, doubling as a conference hall and accommodating major official meetings. With news spreading on the radio about Liu Yimin’s report, it was rumored that candidates from neighboring counties would come as well.

As a result, loudspeakers were hastily set up outside the cinema to ensure even those who couldn’t get in could listen. The broadcast would also be relayed through the county’s radio network to every production brigade.

That night, the county authorities specifically instructed Liu Yimin to arrive at the venue a little after five in the morning—even though the event wouldn’t start until nine.

Liu Yimin was about to ask why, when the reply came: they were worried he wouldn’t be able to get in if he arrived later!

The next day, Liu Yimin was woken up at half past four and brought to the cinema. Even then, there were already a scattering of people in the seats below. His seat was on the stage, but as the event hadn’t begun, he sat among the audience.

He soon overheard people discussing what kind of person could score 451 points on the college entrance exam.

“Comrade, are you from Ruxian? I’m from the next county over. Do you know Liu Yimin, the one who scored 451?” someone tapped Liu Yimin on the shoulder.

“Four hundred and fifty-one—it’s all right, not that high,” Liu Yimin answered casually.

“My, what an attitude! He’s liable to bring the house down!” someone behind him jeered. The man who’d questioned Liu Yimin curled his lip and turned away, refusing to speak further.

Truth be told, Liu Yimin didn’t think his score was that high. He remembered making no mistakes on the math section, yet only scored ninety-one.

When the stage was finally set, Yang Yushan looked down from his seat and saw Liu Yimin dozing in a corner. He called into the microphone, “Comrade Liu Yimin, please come up to the stage!”

Liu Yimin glanced helplessly at his watch—it wasn’t even six o’clock!

People were craning their necks and looking about; all the aisles, left, right, and center, but no sign of Liu Yimin.

“Comrade, move your legs, please—I need to get on stage,” Liu Yimin said softly.

Under the incredulous gaze of those nearby, he walked up to the stage, illuminated by the bright lights.

So this is the man who scored 451? To think he’d been right beside them! Those who had mocked him just moments before felt their cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Halfway up, Liu Yimin turned and flashed them a grin.

“Yimin, are you sleepy?” Yang Yushan asked with concern.

“What do you think?”

“We old folks can tough it out; you’re still young, comrade, just bear with it a little longer. Let me introduce you—this is Comrade Yang Chenglin, director of the Mining Bureau!”

At those words, Liu Yimin’s eyes lit up. The Mining Bureau—this was the parent organization of the coal mine where his elder brother worked!