Chapter 58: Yanda, A New Beginning!

The registration for students at Yan University took place in the main dining hall—a place that not only served as the students’ cafeteria, but also doubled as the school’s auditorium and cinema. From the outside, it looked like a large tiled house. By the entrance, a pile of firewood was stacked, and the walls bore the blackened marks left by smoke and flames.

Inside, heavy wooden beams supported the roof, and the hall was already crowded with people. Liu Yimin and Liu Zhenyun found the registration desk for the Chinese Department. They took out their admission letters, proof of grain ration transfers, and various other documents, handing them to the teacher in charge of registrations. After the information was checked and they signed their names, their registration was complete.

“Hey, fellow townsman, do you have five yuan? Lend it to me for now—I’ll pay you back when we get to the dorm!” Liu Zhenyun said to Liu Yimin with an embarrassed grin. Each student had to pay a five-yuan deposit to receive a wooden stool, which could be used both in the dormitory and in the dining hall when movies were shown.

Liu Yimin nodded, pulling a large banknote from his pocket. “Teacher, this is for the two of us.”

After paying, a thin, dark-skinned senior handed each of them a stool and instructed, “You must take good care of this stool—if you lose it, you won’t get your deposit back! I’m Chen Jiangong, your senior in the Chinese Department. If you need anything, you can come to me.”

Liu Zhenyun pulled Liu Yimin aside and whispered, “That’s Senior Chen Jiangong—I’ve read his stories in magazines. He was already a writer before he even started university.”

“Oh!” was Liu Yimin’s only response.

Thinking Liu Yimin didn’t realize how impressive this was, Liu Zhenyun was about to say more when Chen Jiangong, who was still handing out stools, overheard them.

With an easy air, he turned his head toward Liu Zhenyun. “Junior, you can say it out loud—it’s true, I am Chen Jiangong. I wouldn’t dare call myself a writer, but I have published a few articles.”

Since the reinstatement of the college entrance exams last year, quite a few students entering the Chinese Department had already made names for themselves. Before coming to university, Chen Jiangong, like his elder brother Liu Yiguo, had worked in the coal mines. Now twenty-nine, during his coal mining days, he had trouble arranging blind dates, so he would introduce himself as working at the “Institute of Black Metallurgical Powders.”

After greeting Chen Jiangong, the two of them turned to join the line for meal tickets. At Yan University, the minimum monthly stipend was fourteen and a half yuan, with twelve yuan for meals and two and a half as pocket money.

Those who had already worked for several years prior to attending university continued to receive their regular salaries—making them the aristocrats among students.

Male students received thirty-six catties of staple food tickets per month, along with some vegetable tickets. With thirty-six catties of basic rations, one still had to find ways to truly satisfy their appetite. Tickets in hand, the two of them set out to find their dormitory, discovering they had been assigned to the same room.

The male dormitory was located on the north shore of Weiming Lake. Collectively known as “Hall of Virtue and Talent,” it was a classical architectural complex inspired by the Ming and Qing dynasties, consisting of seven courtyards. Built from brick and concrete, its style was bold and vigorous, exuding a strong masculine energy.

With green tiles, white walls, red pillars, pavilions, and corridors, the doors, windows, and all manner of carvings inherited the traditions of the courtyard house, yet bore obvious traces of Western influence.

“Wow, this place looks like a palace,” Liu Zhenyun marveled, balancing his shoulder pole and politely stepping aside for passersby.

They were assigned to room 308 on the third floor of the Hall of Virtue and Talent. When they entered, there were already people inside. The dormitory accommodated six, but two of the beds were missing their wooden planks.

“Hello, my name is Li Xueqin. I’m from Zhejiang Province. I was once a production team leader. In the entrance exam, I scored 373, the top liberal arts score in our district.”

“Hello, I’m Chen Dazhi. My exam results weren’t great. I used to be a carpenter!” Chen Dazhi had thick lips and spoke with a powerful voice, though his accent was strong—he sounded like he was from Jincheng.

“I’m Liu Zhenyun. I scored 397, from Henan Province, and I’ve served in the army!”

Noticing they were about to say more, Liu Zhenyun hurriedly added, “I’m not the top scorer—he is!”

“397 isn’t the highest in your area?” Li Xueqin was incredulous. Since the migration of scholars to the south, southern students had generally outperformed those from the north. His 373 was already the district’s highest—how could 397 not be?

“He scored 451!” Liu Zhenyun replied.

He felt that such a score was almost superhuman. He had scored 89 in mathematics, which was already remarkable—most had managed only thirty or forty. His math score had set him apart from the others. When he asked Liu Yimin about his math score, the answer was 91!

Silence fell—a deathly hush in the dormitory. The two from Henan had first thrown out a “2,” then followed it with a pair of unbeatable cards, leaving everyone stunned. After that, no one even bothered to ask Liu Yimin’s name or his individual subject scores.

After a while, the four had become somewhat acquainted. Li Xueqin, smoking as he spoke, bitterly told them that as a production team leader, he was eligible to be admitted as a worker-peasant-soldier student and had ranked first in his commune in the cultural exams, but someone else had taken his spot. He had thought his chances were gone, but with the restoration of the entrance exams, he finally got his chance at university.

After his introduction, Chen Dazhi fell silent. Only later did Liu Yimin learn that the dialect of Jincheng was only spoken to fellow townsmen.

Worker-peasant-soldier students were admitted through recommendation, but still had to pass a cultural exam, though the academic score was of little consequence in the selection. Yan University still had students from the 1976 intake, who, taught by the Chinese Department faculty, had to start with basic grammar.

The cohort admitted through the 1977 entrance exam was somewhat better, but many still had weak academic foundations. At the beginning of term, in a classroom test, there were some who didn’t know who Han Yu was.

After making his bed, Liu Yimin lay down on the top bunk to try it out and found it satisfactory. Glancing over, he saw Liu Zhenyun on the adjacent top bunk rummaging in a bird’s nest. After a while, under Liu Yimin’s disapproving gaze, he pulled out a crumpled five-yuan note and handed it over. The money was filthy, the sweat from his hands had soaked into the bill, giving it a pungent, “monetary” odor.

“Fellow townsman, you should learn from me. Money kept in a shoulder bag is easily lost—do you know why I keep it here?” Liu Zhenyun dipped his finger in spit, counted the money in his pocket, made sure it was all there, then tucked it back in the bird’s nest.

“Because it’s sensitive!”

“Exactly. If someone so much as touches it, I can feel it immediately. That’s something I learned from my time in the army, coming home.”

With their beds made, Liu Yimin prepared to buy a few things. He called Liu Zhenyun to join him. Liu Zhenyun didn’t need to buy much, but since they were the only two from the same hometown in the dorm, he wanted to build a good relationship.

At the Yan University supply store, to Liu Zhenyun’s amazement, Liu Yimin bought soap, a mirror, a kettle, a thermos, toothpaste, and a towel—daily necessities of all kinds.

He owed the abundance of coupons, in part, to Comrade Old Zou.

“Comrade, another box of Seagull shampoo, please.” Liu Yimin never felt quite comfortable using soap to wash his hair.

He bought two boxes of Snowflake cream, giving one to Liu Zhenyun, who tried to refuse it, but Liu Yimin insisted. He wasn’t sure what the rules were for dormitories in the 1970s, but in the boys’ dorms of the twenty-first century, your toiletries were not just your own—they belonged to everyone.

Liu Yimin didn’t want to share a single box of Snowflake cream with others, and besides, he genuinely liked Liu Zhenyun.

“Fellow townsman, you must be rich—why buy so many things? Wouldn’t it be better to spend that money on a few magazines?”

Liu Yimin glanced back at him, laughing even more cheerfully. Magazines—well, rounding up or down, Liu Zhenyun practically counted as his customer.

Liu Zhenyun felt that his first lesson at university had come from Liu Yimin. Watching the female students nearby constantly chewing on something, he stared at them, his small eyes full of big questions.

He hurried to catch up with Liu Yimin and asked, “Why do the girls in Yanjing always seem to be chewing, like the oxen back in the production team?”

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