My era, 1979!

Chapter 7 Rumors
The June wind, carrying heat, rustled the green fence.

Xu Chengjun held Liu's note in his hand.

The note contained only three lines: "Students recommended before 78 can postpone their enrollment until 79. Only three universities in the country have this policy, and Fudan University is the best. Make a decision quickly."

The ink was still a little damp, as if it had just been written and delivered.

Behind this note lies Officer Liu's calculations throughout the night.

Last night, under the kerosene lamp at the cultural center, he flipped through Xu Chengjun's manuscripts and thought of Xu Zhiguo.

He remembered that stubbornness for five years.

However, what moved him even more was Xu Chengjun's writing.

"He's a good prospect," Officer Liu murmured to himself as he looked at the manuscript.

“This kid needs to get out there,” he wrote heavily on the note, “Fudan is the best. Shanghai has a vibrant atmosphere, and Fudan has a broad platform, so he deserves this kind of writing.”

"Fudan University?" Qian Ming leaned closer, munching on a hard cornbread, his glasses slipping down to the tip of his nose. "Are you really going to Shanghai?"

"Hmm." Xu Chengjun folded the note into a square and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

Qian Ming scratched his head: "Isn't Anhui University pretty good? It's close to home, and I've heard there are quite a few senior professors in the Chinese Department."

"Didn't you say you wanted to give it a try?"

Xu Chengjun replied with a smile.

In his previous life, when he was organizing archives at the district government, he saw a lot of materials about the reform and opening up.

Shanghai's foreign trade accounts for 30% of the national total. Individual vendors have started setting up stalls on Nanjing Road, and even the customs building on the Bund has begun to display banners welcoming foreign investment.

These things cannot be seen in the wheat fields of Fengyang, nor can they be smelled in the county towns of Anhui, and they may not even be heard in Hefei, the provincial capital.

At that time, Shanghai was also a hub of information technology.

The editorials of the Liberation Daily were more outspoken than elsewhere, the documents of the Foreign Trade Bureau contained policy trends, and even the old ladies in the alley could talk about the "Special Economic Zones".

For someone like him, who carries the memories of the future, Shanghai is like an open information repository, where every news item may hold opportunities.

In particular, his writings are perhaps more "avant-garde" than those of this era.

Being "avant-garde" is both an opportunity and a risk.

He needs to find a shelter.

"Look at this."

Xu Chengjun pulled out a copy of "Reference News" from under his pillow. It was something Qian Ming had asked someone to find at a scrap yard in the county town. It contained a short article: "Shanghai will pilot export processing zones."

He pointed to the words "Export Processing Zone": "In the future, we will have to deal with foreigners here. We need to understand economics, foreign languages, and how to connect with the world."

Qian Ming's eyes lit up: "It's related to foreign languages? Then I'll apply to Beijing Foreign Studies University, and maybe I can work at the Shanghai Foreign Trade Bureau in the future!"

"maybe."

Xu Chengjun smiled.

In a few years, Shanghai's foreign trade system will absorb talent like a sponge, and Qian Ming's English skills might really come in handy there.

His choice of Shanghai was partly due to Fudan University.

But it's not just about getting a diploma from Fudan University; it's also about keeping pace with the reforms.

When I went to the brigade headquarters to get the stamp in the evening, Xu Laoshi was squatting on the stone mill doing accounts.

"Go to university in Shanghai?"

The old captain tapped his pipe against the sole of his shoe, then patted the recommendation form with his calloused hands. "That place is very fashionable. Can you get used to it?"

“Go learn some skills.” Xu Chengjun handed over the inkpad box. “Learn how to sell the wheat in the fields at a good price, and how to get our village’s local products out of Anhui.”

He genuinely hoped to help those simple, warm-hearted people live a better life.
It's true that we can eat white flour steamed buns every meal!
These words clearly struck a chord with Xu Laoshi.

The old man sighed and pressed his red handprint on the recommendation form: "I don't understand any grand principles, but I know you're a good judge of things."

He paused, then shoved a handful of roasted soybeans into Xu Chengjun's hand: "The commune clerk said that the recommendation quotas from 78 have expired and are invalid, and only Fudan University can make an exception. But the approval process has to go through layers of higher levels, from the commune to the county education bureau, and then to the provincial education department. Can it be done in two months?"

This is also what Xu Chengjun is anxious about!

Fudan University starts on September 1st, so we need to get the recommendation deadline set earlier.

If any link in the chain gets stuck, this one and only opportunity may be missed.

"Give it a try." He gripped the recommendation form tightly, his expression impassive. "Officer Liu said he knows people in the Provincial Department of Education and can help expedite things."

Xu Laoshi nodded, gazing absently at the distant wheat field: "Shanghai is great, a big port. I went there once when I was young, working on a ship. Those buildings were taller than the chimneys in our county. When you go, don't forget what the wheat from our Xujiatun tastes like."
-
On the way back, I bumped into Xinghua washing sweet potatoes by the river.

The sweet potatoes in the wooden basin were round and plump, freshly dug out of the cellar. Seeing him come over, she hurriedly put the sweet potatoes into the basket, not even noticing the water splashing onto her trouser legs.

"Brother Chengjun, is it stamped?" she asked, her head lowered, her voice barely audible.

"Okay." Xu Chengjun squatted down next to her and helped pick up the sweet potatoes that had rolled down. "We'll go to the county town to complete the formalities tomorrow."

He looked at her focused profile, then suddenly remembered something and asked softly, "You always talk about county towns and Shanghai, haven't you ever thought about going out to see the world?"

Xinghua abruptly stopped, and the sweet potato in her hand fell into the wooden basin with a "thud".

She looked up, her dark face flushed red, as if she had been stumped by the question, or as if she found the question strange.

"What would I do if I went out?" She shook her head quickly, the red ribbon in her braid swaying violently. "I have parents at home, wheat in the fields, and my brother is in the army. Who will take care of all this if I go out?"

She lowered her head and continued washing the sweet potatoes, the water splashing as if trying to hide something: "Besides, no matter how good it is outside, it can't compare to the fragrance of wheat from our village. If you want to go to Shanghai, that's because you're very capable, but I'm just suited to stay here and guard this land."

Xu Chengjun didn't say anything more.

He watched as she wiped each sweet potato clean, her movements swift and steady.

The apricot blossoms are like the wheat growing in this yellow earth, with deep roots.

"My mother steamed some sweet cakes and packed two pieces for you." Xinghua pulled a cloth bag from the bottom of the basket and stuffed it into his hand. "Eat them when you're hungry."

The cloth bag was made from her brother's old military uniform, with dense stitches.

Xu Chengjun held the warm sugar cake, a feeling he couldn't quite describe welling up inside him.
-
The lights at the educated youth's station stayed on until late at night.

Qian Ming was working on math problems, his scratch paper covered with auxiliary lines, while Xu Chengjun was making a list on his paper:
June 30: Go to the county education bureau to find Section Chief Wang, and bring the recommendation form, production team certificate, and Liu's note.

Before July 5th: Obtain approval from the county education bureau and then proceed to the provincial education department.

Before August 1st: Urge the provincial department to approve the application, and at the same time contact the Chinese Department of Fudan University.

Each one was followed by a question mark.

"One checkpoint after another."

Comrade GM has not yet succeeded; we still need to work hard!
Qian Ming rubbed his sore eyes and leaned closer: "So tight? What if something goes wrong in the middle?"

"If you're too slow, you'll miss the deadline."

Xu Chengjun folded the list, and the moonlight from the window shone on his face, making it half bright and half dark.

"This year is the last year of the worker-peasant-soldier student policy. Fudan University's special quota is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

In October 1979, the Ministry of Education issued a document to completely abolish the worker-peasant-soldier recommendation system.

In other words, this is his last chance to enter a higher education institution without taking the college entrance examination.

Qian Ming suddenly said, "Tomorrow I'll go to the Xinhua Bookstore in the county town to buy a math reference book and ask Officer Liu for you again."

Xu Chengjun felt a warmth in his heart.

In the past six months, Qian Ming has changed the tape on his glasses three times, filled two vocabulary notebooks, and now is the crucial moment of the college entrance examination.

But at this moment, he is willing to spare the energy to help me.

Even a hero needs three helpers!

"Thanks."

"Thank you."

Qian Ming smiled, revealing two small tiger teeth, "When you get to Shanghai and I get to Beijing, we'll write letters in English. I know you're good at English, so help me practice."

Xu Chengjun smiled too.

"no problem!"

"However, I plan to go to the test center early, so I probably won't be able to go with you."

Qian Ming pulled out the "Letter of Introduction for Fengyang Educated Youth to Take the College Entrance Examination in Bengbu," which clearly stated that the examination center was "Bengbu No. 2 Middle School."

The flame of the oil lamp flickered gently, casting the shadows of the two people on the earthen wall, sometimes long, sometimes short.

In the distance came the barking of dogs in the threshing ground and the rustling of wind blowing through the haystacks.

Shanghai, there are no wheat fields, no mud houses, but there is what he has been searching for in both his lives.

A place where words and ideals can both take root.

There are 63 days left until September 1st.

He needs to run faster.

(End of this chapter)