Chapter Eight: Examination Admission Ticket
Morning light painted the thatched roofs of the youth settlement in golden red. Xu Chengjun was crouched in front of the stove, frying corn cakes.
The iron pot crackled, blending with Zhao Gang’s snoring.
Xu Chengjun smiled helplessly; by now, he had come to regard this as the youth settlement’s reveille.
...
“Chengjun, can you check if anything’s missing from this letter of introduction?”
Qian Ming’s voice came from the doorway, a little tense.
It was nothing unusual; in six days, the college entrance exam would arrive. Who wouldn’t be nervous at nineteen?
“Did you get the commune’s official seal? What about the overlapping county Bureau of Culture and Education stamp?” Xu Chengjun flipped the corn cake.
“All stamped, all stamped!”
Qian Ming handed over the letter, specifically pointing to the words “Permitted to attend the college entrance exam in Bengbu.”
“Yesterday I made three trips to the commune. The clerk said youth applicants need an extra ‘proof of residence delay.’ I got the team leader to issue it, look—”
A palm-sized note was affixed to the paper, marked with the red stamp of the “Xu Family Village Production Brigade,” the ink still fresh.
Xu Chengjun glanced at the date, June 29th, perfectly timed for the final deadline.
In the early years of the reinstated college entrance exam, conditions were loose, but in this era, proof of residence and school records were all paper documents, and management was chaotic compared to later times. Missing any stamp could bar you from the exam hall.
“What are you taking to Bengbu?”
He stuffed the cooked corn cake into a cloth bag, the oil paper sizzling from the heat.
“Zhao Gang said the early bus leaves at five-thirty, takes two hours to Bengbu. We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
Qian Ming took a tin lunch box from his canvas bag, filled with finely chopped dried radish. “My mom sent this along, said we should eat it with the cakes on the road. Half for each of us.”
Xu Chengjun pulled out a corn cake and handed it to him. “Try it, I used extra sesame.”
“You really aren’t going to try?”
Qian Ming mumbled with his mouth full.
“Six days left, cramming is better than nothing.”
Xu Chengjun tucked the recommendation form into his bag, then smiled suddenly. “What’s the point now? It’s too late!”
“We’ll see.” He glanced at the battered coverless “Nine Hundred Sentences of English” in Qian Ming’s hand. “I never planned to take the exam anyway.”
Without waiting for Qian Ming to reply, he cut him off.
“Wouldn’t make it in any case.”
“The worker-peasant-soldier recommendation route—my materials were already submitted. If I take the college entrance exam now, I’ll end up with nothing.”
Qian Ming didn’t try to persuade him further.
“This is a fountain pen my brother sent from the army, iridium tip, good for filling out recommendation forms.”
The pen in the cloth bag was still warm, its cap engraved “Serve the People.” The barrel shone from being handled.
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The wooden door of the settlement creaked open. Zhao Gang entered with a hoe over his shoulder, his trouser legs damp with dew, clutching a freshly picked cucumber.
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“Qian Ming, your mother wants you to fetch the eggs! She boiled ten for the trip!”
He glanced at Xu Chengjun’s cloth bag. “Chengjun’s leaving too?”
“He’s going to the county to handle paperwork.”
Qian Ming stuffed “High School Mathematics” into his canvas bag, its pages dog-eared. “I’m going to Bengbu.”
“Perfect. I got leave from the team leader to take you both to the commune bus station.”
Zhao Gang shoved a corn cake into his mouth, speaking indistinctly. “Yesterday, Li Erwa said there are people reselling digital watches at Bengbu station. Don’t follow his nonsense.”
“That kid tried to trade two jin of ration tickets for a watch the day before. Spent the tickets, but never saw the watch. The team leader caught him and punished him with warehouse duty. He’s probably still tallying ‘正’ marks in the account book to pay his penance.”
Xu Chengjun couldn’t help but laugh.
Li Erwa’s little cleverness never served him well, but it showed a survival instinct rooted in the working class.
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On the road to the commune.
Qian Ming suddenly pointed to a distant dirt slope. “Remember that old locust tree?”
Xu Chengjun’s steps faltered.
Last autumn, the weather had already turned cold.
The incident with Wang Kui’s private plot had happened.
Back then, the original owner had shrunk into the crowd.
Returned home to write in his diary, “Never want to be involved in anything ‘conspicuous’ again.”
He didn’t take the college entrance exam out of fear from that scene.
“This year is different.”
Qian Ming’s voice was soft. “Liu, the cadre, talked to you about Wang Kui’s matter.”
He pulled a crumpled copy of the People’s Daily from his bag. “Look at this editorial.”
Xu Chengjun took the newspaper, the headline “Respect Knowledge, Respect Talent” printed in vivid ink.
The wind lifted a corner, revealing Qian Ming’s handwritten note in the margin: “1979.6.15, 22 days until the college entrance exam.”
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The blue-brick wall of the commune post and telecommunications office was baking hot.
Qian Ming was quietly asking the postman about inns in Bengbu, lowering his voice so no one would overhear the words “college entrance exam.”
In these times, studying and taking exams still had to be hidden.
Xu Chengjun leaned over the counter, filling out the introduction letter for the county.
The fountain pen moved slowly across the paper, pausing at the “reason” section.
Should he write “handling admission recommendation paperwork,” or “personal business”?
In the end, he chose a more ambiguous phrase: “Going to the county for work discussions.”
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Was meeting Section Chief Zhang not considered work discussions?
Don’t underestimate a section chief!
Cadre!
“Chengjun, I’m off!” Qian Ming ran toward the bus station with his canvas bag, then stopped to shout back, “When I finish the exam, I’ll come find you in Hefei!”
Xu Chengjun waved, “Go on, go on!”
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Leaving the post office, Zhao Gang was crouched on a stone mill, smoking. The pipe clattered against the ground. “You’re really not taking the exam with Qian Ming? Heard the universities are expanding enrollment this year. If a youth passes, they can switch to city residence.”
“Everyone has their own path.”
“You’d rather I carried the hoe than you.”
Xu Chengjun walked toward the county, steps light, somewhat irritable.
Enough already, any more talk and I’ll be annoyed!
Zhao Gang wasn’t offended, laughing. “If you both make it, we’ll have two college students here. The youth settlement will finally shine.”
In the roadside cornfield, Li Erwa was spraying pesticides, the tank swinging wildly and soaking his trouser legs.
He spotted Xu Chengjun and shouted from afar, “Chengjun, if you go to Shanghai, bring me a bar of soap! The Shanghai brand!”
“Hand over the wheat you hid yesterday, then we’ll talk.”
Xu Chengjun answered with a smile.
Last night, he’d helped Old Xu inventory the warehouse and found two jin of new wheat missing from the bottom. Anyone could guess who was responsible.
Li Erwa’s face flushed, his neck stiff but he didn’t dare retort, only muttering, “My mom needs brown sugar for her lung illness. The team’s ration isn’t enough…”
Xu Chengjun was moved.
He remembered what Xinghua had whispered to him yesterday: “Erwa isn’t bad, just desperate to treat his mother.”
Last year, when Old Wang was criticized, he’d secretly brought sweet potatoes to Wang’s house.
So this slippery-looking youth had a soft spot in his heart.
People in these times are like the crops in the fields—disordered above ground, but their roots all share the warmth of the earth.
He pulled out a corn cake from his bag and handed it over. “Eat this.”
...
The wind rustled through the corn leaves.
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