Section 14: Sleepiness Brings the Pillow

Sima was the last to leave. He temporarily stored his suitcase at the Furen Guesthouse and went to register at Beizhi Foreign Languages University empty-handed. Familiar with the process, he quickly completed the enrollment procedures. Instead of heading to the dormitory, he sought out his counselor, Zhang Chengxi. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he explained his intention to commute and requested permission to rent a place off-campus.

Zhang Chengxi had reviewed the new students’ files and was quite impressed by Sima. His name was unique and abruptly ended, leading Zhang to wonder if it was incomplete. Moreover, Sima was from Changzhou with excellent college entrance examination results—more than qualified for Beizhi University itself—yet he chose Beizhi Foreign Languages University. Transferring from dormitory living to commuting was not unheard of, but typically occurred in junior or senior years due to relationships or work. For a freshman to live off campus right away, thereby escaping school management, seemed improper.

Zhang was about to advise Sima against it when Sima mentioned that he had already paid for the dormitory bed, which would remain unused, and that Zhang could manage the arrangement flexibly. After a moment’s hesitation, Zhang agreed and asked him to submit a formal application promptly.

Sima thanked the counselor, exchanged contact information with him, and took his leave.

Beizhi Foreign Languages University had more female than male students, making male dormitory beds especially scarce. Zhang’s willingness to approve Sima’s request had another motive. A close relative of his, who had taken a year off in sophomore year due to illness, returned to find his dorm bed occupied with nowhere to stay. Zhang inquired discreetly and discovered the bed was taken by a nephew of an English department professor—a local Beizhi native who lived near campus and had originally been a commuter. Apparently, after a fierce argument with his parents, the young man moved into the dormitory, intending to sever ties. In a place as diverse as Beizhi, such stories were not unusual.

Zhang, a recent graduate still quite inexperienced and without much sway in dorm affairs, was troubled by this relative’s predicament. Sima’s offer to relinquish his bed was like a blessing, solving a thorny problem.

After leaving the administration building, Sima wandered around campus and found a club recruitment booth shaded by trees. Upperclassmen and seniors enthusiastically handed out materials, their brows damp with sweat. In those days, people were earnest, treating clubs as serious endeavors rather than mere distractions or profit-seeking ventures, which felt somewhat unfamiliar to Sima.

He strolled along until he reached the track and field team’s booth. After consulting an upperclassman, he obtained an application form to fill in his personal information. Under the events section, he listed the 100 meters, 200 meters, and 400 meters, leaving the dormitory section blank. The upperclassman glanced over the form and observed that it was common to combine the 100 meters with long jump or the 100 meters with 200 meters, or even the 200 meters with 400 meters, but listing all three sprint distances was unusual. It suggested Sima lacked specialized training and was merely confident in his physical condition, recklessly signing up for everything.

He eyed Sima’s lean build—long legs and short torso, appearing solid and well-suited for track—and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. When he asked why Sima hadn’t filled in a dorm number, Sima explained that he was a commuter and could be reached by phone.

The upperclassman circled Sima’s contact number and advised him to prepare well and conserve his energy, as a trial would be held in a few days. Only those who passed could join the official team.

Unlike other clubs, the track and field team offered substantial allowances and rewards, attracting many freshmen. Seeing the upperclassman busy, Sima greeted him briefly and made his exit. The upperclassman glanced after him with a hint of disappointment, thinking the new student lacked social awareness—shouldn’t he stay to help out? Still, he remembered Sima’s name.

That evening, the English department held a freshman meet-and-greet. Sima left campus to find a clean eatery nearby and had some stewed pork and crispy flatbread to stave off hunger. Then he hurried to contact real estate agents to view apartments. After inspecting several, he chose an old, cramped unit a bit farther from campus but close to a market, fully equipped with kitchen and bathroom appliances, convenient exits, and a bus stop right at the complex entrance.

He signed the lease with the agency, prepaid the rent, retrieved his suitcase from the guesthouse, and only finished his errands as dusk fell. He skipped dinner in his rush to attend the freshman gathering at school.

Counselor Zhang Chengxi was conscientious, calling roll to ensure all new students were present. He introduced himself, appointed class officers, and outlined the opening ceremony and military training with precision and thoroughness. Afterwards, time was given for class officers to say a few words, while others volunteered to speak briefly to help everyone get acquainted.

Since Sima was a commuter, all faces around him were strangers; he didn’t know a single person. He had no intention of “integrating into the group” or “blending in,” choosing instead to remain a “wallflower.” Everyone had their own small circles—comfortable zones where old and new friends chatted and laughed, oblivious to others. No one paid him any notice.

After some lively moments, Zhang announced the meeting adjourned. Groups of three or five headed back to their dorms, while Sima walked alone toward off-campus housing. Under the night sky, Beizhi City glittered with countless lights, streets bustling with traffic and alive with the scent of urban life. Sima grabbed a quick bite, then returned to his rental, tidied up, and settled in. His standards for living were modest; the old, cramped apartment suited him well—a simple place for eating and sleeping. He saw no need for luxury at this stage.

Before sleep, Sima carefully planned his future. Given his technical limitations, he couldn’t build a persona as a “big eater,” so joining the track team was the best option. According to the Beizhi Foreign Languages University High-Level Athlete Management Regulations, athletes had considerable leave flexibility, received stipends for training and competitions, and could use their athletic achievements to offset or earn academic credits. Most importantly, the school had a small cafeteria providing free meals to athletes, ensuring their nutritional needs were met without cost.

Sima wasn’t interested in the small perks; the main benefit was that freshman year was heavy with general courses. Rehashing old material was dull, so rather than waste time, he preferred to train his body and give a little extra nourishment to the “spirit charm” he carried.

Of course, all these plans depended on one key prerequisite: passing the track team’s trial and becoming an official member.

The next morning was the opening ceremony. All freshmen gathered in the grand auditorium for four agenda items: the principal’s address, the vice principal cum dean of student affairs’ speech, the armed forces department head’s briefing on military training, and a speech by a military leader. The two-hour meeting left everyone’s heads buzzing. After lunch and a brief rest in the cafeteria, military training commenced that afternoon.

The training focused on tidying up personal quarters—folding blankets into neat “tofu blocks”—and drill exercises such as attention, stand at ease, and marching in step. The sun blazed fiercely, leaving everyone slick with sweat. Several delicate young girls fainted within a short time, carried to the shade for water and cooling. The school nurse quickly intervened, confirmed heatstroke, and halted training to escort the girls to the infirmary.

Standing beside Sima was a heavyset boy muttering under his breath, “Wonder if faking fainting could get us out of this?” Another sneered, “She’s a refined beauty; you’re just a dumb oaf. Do you think the nurse’s job is just to stand around?”

Their tone was flippant and their words sharp. Sima turned to glance at them. They were the sports monitor, Zuo Lin, who, during the class officers’ introductions the previous night, had stressed the correct character of his name: the “Lin” as in “unicorn,” not the “Lin” as in fish scales or the “Lin” in red or white phosphorus. The fat boy had a good temper and just laughed it off, pretending not to understand.