Section 5: Tumult and Turmoil

After the college entrance examination, it would take half a month to receive the results. Sima was alone at home, organizing his personal belongings in preparation for university. His application preferences had long been set: his first choice was Northern Capital Foreign Languages University, and his second choice was Northern Capital Normal University—neat and pleasing to the eye. The second choice was merely to appease his parents; applying solely to Northern Capital Foreign Languages University seemed too ambitious. In reality, if his first choice was rejected, it was unlikely the second would accept him unless some programs at Northern Capital Normal University had unfilled spots to be picked up. His homeroom teacher believed that, given Sima’s consistent academic record, admission to Northern Capital Foreign Languages University was assured. Still, wary of uncertainties, the teacher suggested applying to a second-tier university as a safety net, but Sima declined.

Sima understood well the transient nature of life; he was always ready to leave home and embark alone. He had already sold his textbooks and exam papers; the only things left at home were books, most of which he had read—pristine and unmarked. After much hesitation, he decided to keep them all. As for daily necessities, Sima practiced “minimalism” rigorously, owning very little—so little that even a single suitcase couldn’t be filled. He was resolute and hardened; he felt little attachment to his parents. He understood the harshness of the future—the collapse of rites and music, upheaval of the world—and knew he would have to muster every ounce of strength just to survive humbly.

The anticipated call came as promised. It was from Lu Yu, the former class monitor from Sima’s first year of high school. The student council was organizing a study trip to two towns in Bawan Province: Qixia and Xichuan, to visit ancient architectural clusters and nearby scenic spots. The plan was for three days and two nights, accompanied throughout by their homeroom teacher, Mr. Qian, who asked if Sima was available to join. Although Sima was no longer in the same class, very few of their former classmates had moved to the arts track, so Lu Yu, adhering to a “no one left behind” principle, included him. Sima’s feelings were complicated, yet he accepted gladly, relieved and even eager. Over the phone, Lu Yu detected no unusual tone; he noted Sima’s ID and phone number, telling him to watch for text messages in the coming days and to arrive early at school for departure. The coach bus would leave promptly—no delays tolerated.

Sima pulled out a traffic and tourism map of Bawan Province and turned to Qixia Town: South Lake Spring Dawn, Academy Recitations, Moon Pond Lotus Breeze, Ox Intestine Water Channels, Twin Streams Reflecting Jade, Ancient Trees Before the Pavilion, Thunder Ridge Sunset… Seeing these once-familiar scenes stirred an uncontrollable excitement within him. Destiny was about to turn; he resolved to face challenges head-on, without any thought of retreat. Sure, stepping back to attend Northern Capital University or Haidian University, then securing a well-paying job and joining the ranks of society’s elite to live a quiet life avoiding risks—such a path was good, but not what Sima desired. Wherever he fell, he would rise from there. “Return what you took from me, spit out what you ate from me.” Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth—he was never a man of magnanimity.

That evening, Sima told his parents about the trip. Dao Yan and Xia Ting were supportive; they had long thought their son somewhat solitary and reluctant to join group activities, fearing he might struggle to integrate into society later. This was a good opportunity for him to grow.

Lu Yu proved highly capable, negotiating the contract with the travel company under the blazing sun. To ensure everything was airtight, he enlisted an elder relative to endorse the arrangement. The Lu family was a prominent clan in Changzhou City, deeply rooted and influential. In recent years, they had gradually shifted their business to Northern Capital City, sending their best and brightest north in batches, leaving behind idle “second-generation heirs.” Despite this, a nod to the travel company was no issue—Lu Yu, as the eldest son of the main branch, was poised to inherit the family business, and everyone was willing to show him some respect.

Soon, Sima received a text message detailing the trip’s departure time. The round-trip fare and accommodations came to a prepayment of 1,000 yuan per person, with adjustments made later for any excess or shortfall. On the night before departure, Sima packed his toiletries and a change of clothes, then stood before his bookshelf for a long time. He finally pulled out a copy of the Xinhua Dictionary and slipped it into his backpack. The journey would be dull; flipping through the dictionary and learning a few new words would help pass the time.

The next morning, Sima rose early, ate breakfast, slung his travel bag over his shoulder, and took a taxi to Changzhou High School to join the group. Lu Yu, acting as a “half-leader,” stood with the tour guide by the bus, taking attendance. Spotting Sima from afar, he waved energetically. Sima smiled and shook his hand like an adult, exchanged a few words, then boarded the bus.

Inside, the bus buzzed with chatter. Homeroom teacher Mr. Qian sat alone in the front row, casting a complex gaze at Sima. He remembered this student, who once said he was considering a political career in the arts track. Curious, the teacher had reviewed Sima’s application: first choice Northern Capital Foreign Languages University, second Northern Capital Normal University—a perfunctory list. It puzzled him. If politics was the goal, Sima should have applied to Haidian University’s Public Administration College or Northern Capital University’s Government Management College. At worst, he might have tried Political Science University, Public Security University, or the Foreign Affairs Institute. Yet Sima’s choices were all in language and literature, utterly unrelated to politics.

Sima greeted the teacher politely, then slid to the back row to sit. Old classmates were mere acquaintances; there was no need to join their noisy camaraderie or feign closeness. To him, these eighteen- or nineteen-year-olds were childish and laughable, babbling and whispering about video games, pop stars, actors, their tentative romantic feelings, too shy to meet the gaze of their crushes. “Life is like a madman’s dream, full of noise and turmoil but ultimately meaningless.” Youth was even more so. Interesting, but meaningless; flowers bloom briefly without fruit, like a drunken stupor in confusion. Sima refused to waste time or energy on these “children.” He placed his bag beside him to claim the seat, a wall of vigilance keeping others at bay. Even as the bus doors closed and it began moving, no one voluntarily sat near him.

The journey from Changzhou City to Bawan Province took about six or seven hours. Lu Yu’s schedule was relaxed: departure at 7:30 a.m., a quick lunch at a highway service area, a half-hour break to stretch and explore, arriving at Yishan by 3 p.m., where they checked into the Crowne Plaza Hotel at the mountain’s base. Originally, Yishan was to be the highlight of the trip, but the homeroom teacher vetoed the plan, citing steep, treacherous mountain roads and safety concerns. Instead, the itinerary focused on Qixia and Xichuan towns. Yishan was Bawan Province’s most famous tourist spot, with high-end hotels and comprehensive leisure facilities. After a long day on the highway, everyone was tired, so Lu Yu arranged free time with no further group activities.

The travel company had booked twin rooms, mostly concentrated on the fifth floor of Building 3. When checking in, Sima deliberately lagged behind. After the group had left the lobby chatting, he privately spoke with the guide, offering to pay extra to have a room to himself. Since there was an odd number of male students, the guide readily agreed and arranged for him to stay alone on the sixth floor, which mostly housed independent travelers. Conveniently, one large double room remained vacant.