Volume One, Chapter 7: After the Exam and Conflicting Tensions

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Gao Yuan had prepared thoroughly; he took this language exam very seriously. He had long planned his outline. "You write about the years as an educated youth, about how labor in the countryside transformed your mindset and how you became one with the poor and lower-middle peasants." Then he would write about how, over the past year, through study, he underwent a metamorphosis, his outlook on the times, and how young people could dedicate themselves wholeheartedly to the Four Modernizations.

His opening went like this: "Time flies like an arrow, the days and months rush by like a shuttle. Looking back over the past year, it has been a year filled with challenges and struggles, a year in which I forged ahead through countless difficulties and grew continuously. This year was like a battle without gunpowder, profoundly teaching me the power of perseverance and courage..."

His thoughts flowed like a spring, inspiration pouring forth endlessly, the words coming more smoothly with every line. After finishing the essay, Gao Yuan stretched his wrist. He dared not look around; if the proctor suspected cheating, the three previously completed exams would be wasted.

Gao Yuan kept his head down, took a brief breath, then continued answering the questions. The next question involved textual analysis: What is the backbone of China? The final question required translating classical Chinese into modern language. Gao Yuan completed these smoothly. Beyond that was an optional question, again classical to modern translation, which did not count toward the total score but was a reference for potential grade skipping after admission.

For Gao Yuan, this last question posed no difficulty; he answered it effortlessly. Of course, he had no intention of skipping a grade. He harbored a secret hope: by scoring well in language and gaining admission to the Renmin University Chinese Department, he could not only access the teachers’ resources but also perhaps engage in some work related to writing.

In recent days, Gao Yuan had thought things through clearly. In this era, to make money and live a life free from want, there were only a few paths:

The first choice was to become a writer. Writers held great status in this era, especially those who wrote "scar literature," who were highly revered. With the revival of major newspapers and magazines, coupled with a government directive reforming article remuneration, writers’ enthusiasm was instantly ignited.

The state had set this standard: 2 to 7 yuan per thousand characters for original manuscripts, 1 to 5 yuan per thousand characters for translations.

In his previous life, working in a library, Gao Yuan read constantly—Chinese and foreign literature, historical classics, biographies, natural science—anything in book form. First, because he had little else to do; second, because he truly enjoyed reading. Later, during the boom of online literature, he didn’t even overlook web novels.

He recalled a studio once recruiting writers for openings, paying 5 yuan per thousand words. He eagerly submitted a draft and, by luck, it passed. Writing 6,000 characters, he earned 30 yuan.

In this day and age, if one could earn remuneration through writing, it was not only respectable but also a legitimate, sustainable source of income.

Gao Yuan’s second choice was to become a screenwriter. This could be more lucrative than being a writer; if a film studio liked your story and purchased the rights, the sum would be substantial.

He also had a third option—becoming a “dealer” in the south—but it was risky, so he dismissed it for now.

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Lost in thought, the final bell of the day’s last exam rang.

The proctor repeated the usual: "Exams are over. Please put down your pens immediately, remain quiet, and await collection of your papers."

"That student at the back—yes, you—stop writing. If you continue, it will be considered cheating!" he sternly warned another student behind Gao Yuan.

Gao Yuan didn’t dare look back to see who the unlucky one was. He quietly sat, waiting for the proctor to come and collect the papers before exhaling.

The college entrance exam was finally over.

The proctor cast a long look at him. He was impressed; this young man had taken four exams over two days, handing in two papers early. Initially thought to be a mediocre student, the proctor’s curiosity got the better of him when collecting papers, and he noticed Gao Yuan’s neat handwriting and clear reasoning—he was in fact a hidden top student.

In later generations, such a student would be called a “scholar star.” Although that term didn’t exist then, Gao Yuan’s excellent performance made the proctor view him in a new light.

Two teachers privately agreed that this boy had the talent to be the top scorer.

After collecting all the exams and sealing them on site, the students were allowed to leave in an orderly fashion.

Gao Yuan was in a good mood. Passing by Qiao Shan, he caught her icy expression but paid it no mind, even smiling and nodding at her.

Qiao Shan hesitated—she wanted to ask how he had done but felt too proud to approach him first. Why should she initiate conversation?

Watching Gao Yuan walk away without a word of greeting, her heart was a tangle of emotions. Was she really so disliked?

Humming a tune, Gao Yuan thought of the teacher’s lesson on the twenty-four solar terms, realizing that understanding them was a sign of aging. Wearing headphones, listening to pop songs, his cassette tape wore thin on the pencil...

Suddenly, Gao Yue Ran appeared behind him, clapping his shoulder. "That’s a nice tune. What song is it? Who sings it?"

Startled, Gao Yuan chuckled. "My original. Sounds good, right?"

"You write songs too?"

"I can do a lot more than that. Writing songs is nothing."

"Tch, typical! You’re out of breath even though you’re fat."

Gao Yue Ran leaned sideways in the back seat, arm around Gao Yuan’s waist. "Come on, let’s go home."

Her lively expression showed she had done well.

Gao Yuan kicked off, and once again lightning and thunder rolled as they returned to the courtyard.

The afternoon was warmer, and the wind less biting.

Aunt Liu sat outside basking in the sun. Seeing the pair push their bicycles by, she didn’t move aside but sneered, "Oh, the future college student is back? How’d the exams go? Didn’t mess them up, did you? I told you, there’s never been any smoke rising from your family’s ancestral grave—why bother with college at all?"

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She had been quiet the past two days because the evening before the exams she had been gossiping with Li Fengzhi from the west room, saying that with the Gao kid’s lousy character, it would be a miracle if he got into college; no smoke ever rose from the Gao family grave.

Unluckily for her, Zhang Xuemei overheard every word.

Zhang Xuemei was not one to tolerate such bad habits and immediately retorted, "If you keep talking behind my little Yuan’s back, I dare tear that mouth of yours! And with the exam tomorrow, you’d better behave yourself. If you disturb the kid’s mood, I’ll drag you to the station myself!"

Seeing Zhang Xuemei’s furious and fierce demeanor, Aunt Liu kept quiet.

But only for two days. Today, she waited at the door, determined to vent her grudge once Gao Yuan returned.

Seeing this shrewish face, Gao Yuan knew she was deliberately provoking trouble. He nudged his bike in front of her and said, "How I did on the exams is none of your business. Instead of worrying about me, you should worry about your own son.

I heard your son’s having a divorce with his wife. Why again?

Oh, right—because he behaved badly, got involved with Wei Hongxia from the north room, got caught by his wife in bed, and now they’re fighting hard.

Why don’t you manage him?"

Aunt Liu jumped as if Gao Yuan had poked a sore spot and hissed, "You little bastard, stop lying! None of that’s true. Say one more word and I’ll scratch your face!"

She then lunged at him, claws bared.

Gao Yuan stepped back, pushing his bike.

Gao Yue Ran, ever perceptive and in sync with her nephew, stepped forward swiftly, grabbed Aunt Liu’s wrist, pushed her down by her sagging chest with her left hand, eyes blazing cold as ice. "Old hag, you’re not done yet? Want to scratch whose face? I’ll scratch yours first!"

Though she spoke fiercely, Gao Yue Ran didn’t actually scratch, but Aunt Liu released her right hand.

Staggering, Aunt Liu lost her balance and fell hard onto the ground.

This woman was relentless; she quickly sat up, slapped her thighs, and began wailing and throwing a tantrum: "Oh my heavens! I can’t live like this, being bullied by two young folks from the Gao family—where’s justice? Who’s going to stop this..."

Her cries alarmed the entire neighborhood.

The street was already crowded, and with curious neighbors coming out to watch, a large crowd gathered outside Gao Yuan’s home.

Seeing the crowd assembled, Gao Yuan immediately brightened, pointing at the shrew and loudly addressing everyone: "This crooked-mouthed hag has ill intentions. She fabricates lies behind my back, saying I won’t get into college and even speaks ill of our ancestral grave.

Today, she went further. Knowing my aunt and I had just finished exams, she waited here to mock and ridicule me.

Old Liu, didn’t you get warned by my mother for your idle gossip? Why do you harbor such hatred for my family?

You keep harping on about our ancestral grave—that’s openly promoting feudal superstition!

The New China has been established for so many years, and yet you still believe in demons and ghosts? What, do you want to restore the old Three Mountains oppression?

Do you want to keep riding roughshod over the common people?

Our family may be honest and simple, but we won’t let you bully us!"