Chapter 70: I Can Give Him an Injection (Please Keep Reading)

Zhu Lin’s bed was on the upper bunk. She had deliberately pressed the letter into the innermost corner of her bed, and after retrieving it, she relaxed upon seeing the familiar handwriting. Reluctantly, she handed the letter down to the seven eager faces below.

At that moment, they were like goldfish in a pond, eyes following the letter’s movement, waiting to be fed. Their admiration for writers now was no different from how fans would chase after celebrities in later generations.

If a fan were to receive a celebrity’s handwritten signature, she would surely react just as Zhu Lin did.

The letter in Zhu Lin’s hand was snatched up by Chu Hong, and the others crowded around to read it. Zhu Lin warned them not to be too rough and not to tear the letter.

“Liu Yimin’s handwriting is quite good. I’ve heard people say that a writer’s handwriting reflects their mood when they write, and sometimes even their character,” one of Zhu Lin’s roommates chattered below, and at last they reached a conclusion: Liu Yimin’s character was just as solid as his books! The only flaw was that he hadn’t replied to their letters.

Sitting on the upper bunk, Zhu Lin propped her pillow against the wall and listened to their chatter, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Whether or not he was solid, she couldn’t say, but she was sure this person was undoubtedly interesting.

She had read this letter several times already, and every time she reached the last line—“Comrade, what do you think?”—she couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

“What kind of person is Liu Yimin, really? He seems quite amusing!” Zhu Lin felt it was necessary to continue discussing the ending of “College Entrance Exam 1977” with him.

This time, Zhu Lin had also received a manuscript fee from People’s Literature and Art—two yuan per thousand characters. For a letter not even two thousand characters long, she received four yuan.

“I heard that the May Fourth Literature Society at Yanjing University often holds poetry gatherings. Next time, let’s go together and see if we might meet Liu Yimin!” After reading the letter, Chu Hong and the others, still reluctant to part with it, tucked it back into its envelope and made the suggestion. The May Fourth Literature Society’s poetry gatherings were not limited to Yanjing University students; students from surrounding colleges and even poets from society could attend.

“I want to go too!” the others chimed in, raising their hands in agreement.

“If you’re all going, then I’ll go too!” Zhu Lin nodded.

They began discussing the contents of Zhu Lin’s letter again, praising her for bringing honor to them, the worker-peasant-soldier students. They were not some kind of street rats—why should everyone be against them?

“Comrade Liu Yimin put it well—no matter if you’re a worker-peasant-soldier student or one admitted through the college entrance exam, you’re both the backbone of the Four Modernizations!” Chu Hong, magazine in hand, paced the middle of the dormitory, reciting with dramatic flair as if giving a speech.

“Comrade Liu Yimin put it well…”

As their conversation wound down, the topic shifted to what they could do for Comrade Liu Yimin if they actually met him.

“I can make pastries. I’ll go home and bake some, and when we go to Yanjing University, we can give them to Comrade Liu Yimin to try.”

When it was Zhu Lin’s turn, she sat on the bed, her hands nervously twisting together, and stammered, “If he ever falls ill, I can give him injections. You all know… my injection skills are the best in our dormitory.”

…

At Yanjing University, Liu Yimin had just come out of the mailroom with a letter from Li Lanyong. In the letter, Lanyong told him that conscription work had begun in Ruxian County, and this year’s quota was higher than in previous years—four spots just for Maiji Brigade. As the party secretary’s son, he naturally took up one of the four.

“Yimin, you can’t imagine how happy I was when I put on this green uniform. My father patted my shoulder and, for the first time, I felt he truly saw me as an adult.

The four of us from Maiji Brigade will likely be in the same unit. Even our old rival, Han Deqiang, is here too. Don’t worry—once I’m in the army, I’ll write to you if I get the chance. You should write to me more about life in Yanjing. I’ve secretly enclosed five yuan for you—consider it my treat before enlisting.

Go find a restaurant and eat with your roommates. Tell them you have a friend in Maiji Brigade—Li Lanyong is treating. Conscription here started early this year, and the officers say training will be tough, but I’m not afraid.

And one more thing—my father really did get shot in the backside, and it aches if he sits too long. Don’t tell anyone! I have to go—the train’s arriving.”

After reading, Liu Yimin folded the letter and carefully fished around under the envelope flap, finding, as expected, a five-yuan note.

That guy—already enlisted, and he’s still thinking about treating me to a meal. Liu Yimin returned to the dorm to write back to Li Lanyong, telling him to train well: “The more you sweat in peacetime, the less you bleed in war.”

That afternoon, the Yanjing University International Student Office announced that a tea gathering would be held with the international students, and a few students from the university would be selected to attend. The most important criterion: political reliability.

Since the end of the ten years, Yanjing’s international student population had gradually recovered. The majority now came from brotherly Third World countries, followed by students from Asia, Japan, and Korea.

Now that Japan’s relations with China were entering a honeymoon period, many Japanese students were coming to study—some would later join the Foreign Ministry to deal with China, while others were company employees sent to learn Chinese in preparation for breaking into the Chinese market.

There were a few European and American students as well, but their numbers were much lower.

“Just don’t pick me!” Liu Zhenyun sat on the edge of his bed, praying. At this time, dealing with international students was no easy task—getting too close could invite investigation. Students from the Chinese Department were chosen most often, since the international students came to learn Chinese, not other subjects, and Chinese majors were best suited.

There were also Chinese student companions assigned to the international students, but now it was same-gender only. Whoever was chosen would inevitably wail in protest.

“Don’t worry. Most of those picked are locals from Yanjing, like Senior Sister Zha Jianying from the Chinese Department—she has to be a companion. People from Yanjing have clear accents, while the rest of us have some regional twang. Especially Old Chen—his Jincheng dialect is impossible for international students to understand.

Better not let them pick up Jincheng dialect and take it home,” Li Xueqin said, imitating Chen Dazhi’s accent.

Chen Dazhi shot them a disdainful look, then pulled a magazine from his satchel. “Instead of worrying about all that, why not look at Yimin’s latest published poem? We all live in the same dorm. Honestly, Yimin, every time you publish something, I feel so inferior.”

“Another publication?” Liu Zhenyun asked.

Chen Dazhi shook the latest issue of Poetry Magazine. “No one could possibly mistake those three characters—Liu Yimin!”

“All the poetic spirit of the Chinese Department is being sucked away by Yimin!”

“Mind what you say, the three of you—I still live here! Poetic spirit? If you suck up any more dampness, I’ll develop rheumatism!” Liu Yimin quipped from the upper bunk.

“Are you really in our dorm? We can hardly tell,” Li Xueqin muttered, glancing at the poem “Transcending Oneself” published in the November issue. “Ideal” and “Hachiko” would have to wait until December.

Thank you for your support. Please, I beg for your double votes!