I am not Ximen Qing.

When he turned eight, it was time to enroll him in school. School was terrifying! The teachers were so strict; if he didn't study well, he'd be criticized, and most importantly, he'd get a cane. If he didn't study properly, the teacher would whip him with the cane. Studying was so dreadful! Every day he'd sit in the classroom like a wooden puppet, quietly listening to lectures, writing, reading, memorizing texts, and learning math—all of which were like hieroglyphics! He didn't admire anyone who was good at studying; what did that have to do with him? During the period leading up to school, his mother tried her best to persuade him, preparing piles and piles of delicious food. His mother knew this stubborn boy; he was naturally oblivious to the sound of reading, his brain was like mush, he was good for playing, and he knew nothing about memorizing or studying. She was worried sick. Before, scaring him would make him obedient, but when it came to school, he was a real tough nut to crack. She told him stories of how filial sons often came from humble backgrounds, and how ancient people studied diligently, even hanging themselves by their hair to stay awake. But his mother had no idea that she had met a stubborn rock, completely clueless. Tian Sha's knowledge was practically going to kill him. It was as if learning itself was an enemy to him, something he hated and found like a bolt from the blue.

"I don't study, so I won't go." Zhang Sheng

"Go ahead, you'll make more good friends at school, and you can also learn art and music." —Teacher Song

"I don't want to learn anything." Zhang Sheng

"Are you going or not?" Mom tore off her mask of kindness.

"I won't go... I won't go..." Zhang Sheng

"I told you not to go, I told you not to go!" Mom grabbed Zhang Sheng and started whipping his bottom hard with a broom.

"Stop hitting her, ma'am, let me try to talk her out." Teacher Song

"Don't even mention it! This child is just like that other one—stubborn, won't listen to either soft or hard approaches. What's wrong with this little rascal?" Mom said.

"I won't go... I won't go..." She ran into the warehouse and cried.

"Teacher Song, what should we do?" Mom asked.

"Sister, let me try to persuade him," said Teacher Song.

"Stop crying. All your friends have gone to school. If you don't go, who will play with you?"

"And Da Chun, Jianguo, and Tiger" - Zhang Sheng

"Dachun will go next year, the year after the founding of the People's Republic of China, and Tiger will go the year after that. Everyone else will be going to university, and you want to be a contractor," Mom said.

"I'm not going to be a subcontractor!" Zhang Sheng

"Go ahead, I'll become a primary school teacher too, teaching first grade." —Teacher Song

"Really? You're not teaching kindergarten anymore?" Zhang Sheng

"Don't lie to me. If you want to be our teacher, I'll go to school." Zhang Sheng

"Teacher Song, isn't this child strange? Even when he goes for his injections, he insists on choosing Dr. Zhu. Dr. Xin is such a kind person, but he insists he's like Bao Zheng (a legendary upright official in Chinese history)," the mother complained.

"Sister, children like kind-hearted people." Teacher Song

“Teacher Song, you are kind in his eyes, but he’s afraid of teachers being strict. I noticed that a long time ago; he’s terrified that the teacher will criticize or discipline him because of his studies.” —Mom

"Sister, hitting her won't help with her personality; some children mature late." —Teacher Song

"Like his father, he matured late. He never wants to stay home for long, and we often argue about it." - Mom

"Sister, the men all like to chat outside." —Teacher Song

"Teacher Song, his dad is unusually reluctant to stay at home; he often goes to his second sister's house very late." (Mom)

"Be close to your sister," said Teacher Song.

"I'm not close to my wife," Mom said.

"What are you two talking about? Stop crying in the storeroom. Come on, I'll take you to register." —Teacher Song

"Teacher Song, could you please take care of him then?" Mom said.

Zhang Sheng particularly likes Teacher Song. She has been married for many years but has never had children. Her husband's surname is Zhao Fengchun. The couple both love children. They are not following the family planning policy, but rather they are eager for a child. The couple has a very good relationship and has never had a quarrel in their lives.

Zhang Sheng gazed at Teacher Song's rosy, kind face, noticing the mole under her chin, her double eyelids, and her fair complexion. He believed Teacher Song's promise. With her as his teacher, he could roam freely in the yard like he did in kindergarten—what was there to fear? Most importantly, the youngest boy, Xin Jun, had also enrolled. The two were best friends; in the spring, they often played marbles in the alley. Teacher Song was always the little boy's favorite. Why? Because she was gentle and always smiling, never getting angry at the children's mischief. The children felt no pressure from her. Children's hearts, though seemingly innocent and twinkling like stars in the sky, are never wrong in their perception of people. He was completely at ease. Learning with the least authoritative teacher in his mind meant he didn't have to worry about his older sister. His second sister often complained at home about how someone hadn't done well on a test, hadn't paid attention in class, or hadn't finished their homework. The student not only got criticized but also scolded, and most importantly, their parents were called in.

Zhang Sheng's understanding of school life was terrifying; for him, reading and learning were simply a pipe dream. How could he possibly read? It was impossible. He could manage to imagine flying swallows and sparrows, or the cawing of crows in the woods, but reading was far too difficult. His mother had tried to teach him a few characters. She herself had completed sixth grade, considered quite accomplished, but she discovered her precious son was simply not cut out for studying. He was completely unresponsive, so she lost patience and left the task of learning to the strict teachers. His father's reassurance, "60 points is enough!" completely put Zhang Sheng at ease. Even before the exams, Zhang Sheng knew he could never achieve the perfect score like his second sister. For such an unattainable goal, he could only try to swim across the raging river during the flood season—it was an impossible endeavor. His father always trusted his son implicitly, letting him drift aimlessly, even indifferent to what he studied or how he fared at school. His father was worried about putting pressure on him, which suited Zhang Sheng perfectly. Father and son are of one mind, and this made him love his father even more. However, his mother was, after all, a woman. When his parents argued, he saw himself as a grown man and felt his father's attitude towards his mother was unkind and lacked gentlemanly manners. He believed a man should at least show care and concern for a woman. He envied his aunt and uncle's loving relationship; they seemed to never argue, and his uncle always gave in to his aunt. His mother often said how lucky his aunt was to have such a considerate husband. But when his father heard these sarcastic remarks, he only became more hostile towards his mother.

My maternal grandfather is now living with my second aunt. He's retired and has a high pension, over 100 yuan a month, which makes his siblings resentful. My youngest and fourth aunts are still unmarried and live in their old house across the river from the production team. My eldest uncle barely speaks to my grandfather anymore, thinking he's too greedy. My youngest uncle is married and lives his own life in the Bailongjiang Forest Farm, 200 kilometers away. He doesn't participate much in his sisters' or brothers' lives, which is quite peaceful for him.

Zhang Sheng, a first-grader, doesn't know how he got through the lessons. He can't even remember paying attention in class; he just sat in the last row, his back straight, eyes fixed on the blackboard, his mind blank. He often gazed out the window at the blue sky and white clouds, listening to the birds chirping incessantly in the trees, lost in thought, not paying any attention in class. He was fortunate to have Teacher Song's guidance; Teacher Song taught first-grade math.

Music class began with singing. Ms. Bai was multi-talented; she could play the piano and the accordion. She sang while playing the piano, sometimes accompanying with the accordion, sometimes with the piano. She was beautiful and elegant, tall and slender, truly deserving of the name "Ms. Bai." Her skin was whiter than face cream. Back then, there was no perfume, but in the summer, when the classroom windows were open, a summer breeze would blow in and fill the classroom with the scent of her perfume. For him, it was the first time in his life he had smelled such a pleasant fragrance. His mother also wore perfume, and his sister did too. Zhang Sheng thought Ms. Bai's perfume smelled the best. Her face was as white as a female lead in a traditional opera. Although she had just given birth, she exuded an artistic flair. He wished she were as gentle as Ms. Song.

His voice was as beautiful as a singer on the radio. What songs did he sing? "I Love Beijing Tiananmen," "Little Grass," "The East Is Red," "A Great River," and "Azalea." But for some reason, he couldn't sing a single song completely. He was terrified of memorizing lyrics, but Teacher Bai required all students not only to sing but also to memorize the lyrics. Singing together was no problem. However, Teacher Bai often required each student to sing individually, so he hated music class. During class, he just longed for the bell to ring, which sounded like the railway tracks hanging under a crossbeam, with the workers striking them as punctually as clocks, but not like church bells, ding-dong-dong-dong-dong. It all felt like class was dragging on forever! Sitting in the classroom felt like time had stopped; he never heard the ding-dong-dong-dong-dong. Luckily, a few classmates were punished with the cane; he was terrified it would be his turn! The midterm exams were over—what a close call! Passing was the best he could hope for! Everything was a 60, and I felt that Chinese was so difficult. It was like listening to a storybook. I couldn't memorize any of the texts that were supposed to be memorized.

The class monitor, sports monitor, class leader, and group leader have all been assigned ranks. Although they all wear pretty red scarves, my second sister has five or four stripes on her right arm. Liu Lianyun in our class has five stripes, but those are symbols of rank. The more stripes, the better you are at studying. I don't have any stripes at all, and I really envy the classmates who have several stripes on their right arms.

He finally passed the final exams, a perfect 60 points! Dad even praised him for doing well, saying he was much better than those who made mistakes or got zeros. He was finally relieved and eagerly awaited the winter and summer vacations. He hated the homework the most—two thick booklets with incredibly difficult questions he couldn't answer. But the teachers checked the homework just as carefully and strictly as they graded regular homework, marking it with red pen checkmarks and wrong marks. Poorly completed work would result in criticism. He envied his second sister so much; she seemed to understand everything in class, surrounded by praise and exclamation marks. Perhaps God had inherited all her wisdom. As for writing, it seemed Zhang Sheng's hands and brain were in two separate worlds. He couldn't write well, and his handwriting was crooked, messy, and covered in black eraser marks and handprints from digging in the mud on the playground.

How did I finish my homework? Sometimes I'd copy my deskmate's homework. I was too honest; the mistakes were exactly the same, even the numbers and punctuation. And if the difficulty level increased, I wouldn't even know how to copy. I always thought about recess and PE class, especially dreading windy, rainy, or snowy days, because those times would turn into Chinese or math class. Standing on the playground doing PE together with the whole school—how wonderful! Sometimes I'd hear the roar of airplanes in the sky, flying too high, sometimes leaving thin trails of white smoke. I dreamed of becoming a pilot someday. I often heard my parents say that pilots are one in a million, and they can't have a single scar, so I checked my own body for scars.

Li Dudu's son was the best student in his class, but Zhang Sheng and he never got along. They started fighting in first grade, and Zhang Sheng was a complete loser in the fight. Li Dudu's son was like a cat, and in no time, Zhang Sheng's face was covered in scratches. When he looked in the mirror at night, he lamented that he had no chance of becoming a pilot because of the scars, and he was in pain for a long time because of it.

The happy days were brought to an end by school. He worried all day about the teacher grading his homework, doing his homework, and the random questions the teacher would ask in class. The phantom of worry and sorrow haunted his mind. It seemed that school was the most troublesome time of his life. For the first time, he felt like he was stupid. In fact, even without Li Dudu's son Jinzhu's cat kung fu, the large, painful burn scar on his right hand would have already cost him the chance to become a pilot.

Li Jinzhu was the class darling, always getting perfect scores on tests and frequently receiving praise from the teacher for his answers. He was the obvious choice for class monitor, excelling in both academics and extracurricular activities. Even Zhang Sheng couldn't beat Jinzhu in a fight or academics. Of course, having one strength can overshadow all weaknesses. What mattered at school wasn't being good at sports, music, or art. Their catchphrase at the time was quite progressive: "Studying determines everything; it's better to have a good dad than to be good at math, physics, and chemistry." The prevailing academic atmosphere at the time favored science over humanities; math teachers were more popular than language arts teachers. "Master math, physics, and chemistry, and you can go anywhere in the world."

At that time, Hua Luogeng was a role model for all schools. Dad often said that mathematics was the foundation of everything, but he never mentioned that Chinese was also important. However, for Zhang Sheng, math—addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, decimal, metric conversions—was like a brain filled with lead. He resorted to the most inefficient methods, and even counting on his fingers often resulted in confusion. What could he do? With this level of intelligence, it was natural that he couldn't gain any advantage in conflicts with the class monitor. The class monitor was not only good at bluffing, but also had a silver tongue, like a storyteller performing a fast-paced clapper talk, his verbal sparring as eloquent as the Tang and Song emperors. Sometimes Zhang Sheng wanted to avoid him, but he was the class monitor, and the teacher always assigned the homework collection to his favorite student. It was a headache; he had to deal with both the teacher and the class monitor. They were always exchanging knowing glances, and the concepts of "good student" and "bad student" finally took hold in their minds. Jin Di, Le Chen, Xin Jun, Xiao Yu, and Zhang Sheng were nicknamed "Naughty Buns." At first, they were a little embarrassed, but over time they got used to this great title. Fortunately, the common ideal in life is to pass the exam with a score of 60, which leads to factions and cliques. Naturally, top students refuse to play with underachieving students.