Chapter 18

Seeing the amount, Mei Jianzhong was quite surprised. It wasn't that he had never seen so much money before; he just couldn't imagine that a few light pieces of paper from his grandson could be worth so much.

The postman, sipping his tea, asked, "This Feng Yiping, is he the son of your eldest daughter who married into the former Fushan Township?"

Mei Jianzhong, refilling his tea, replied, "He's my eldest grandson."

"I remember your grandson isn't very old, right?"

"Yes, he started junior high last month."

"Oh, I see. Then your grandson is really something, Uncle. In this town, over the years, only a few people have received royalties, and those were for news items published in the county daily, with the most being seven yuan. Your grandson, at such a young age, has published an article in a nationally renowned magazine, and the royalties are almost as much as our director's two years' salary. He definitely has a bright future ahead."

"Ha ha, thank you for your kind words. But there's one thing I need your help with. My grandson is still young, so it's best not to publicize this. Could you help keep it quiet?"

"Oh, I see, no problem. It makes sense; he's just started junior high, and his studies are important. Keeping it quiet is for the best. I promise not to tell anyone."

"Then let's go, Uncle, I'll take you to buy some cigarettes."

"No, no," the postman declined, but in the end, Mei Jianzhong bought him a pack of "Swimming" cigarettes, which cost 3.5 yuan each.

At that time, "Swimming" cigarettes, though not as expensive as the later rumored 18,000 yuan per pack, with each cigarette costing 90 yuan, equivalent to two packs of Zhonghua, were still considered good cigarettes. In the countryside, people smoked "Big Rooster," which they called "Big Rooster" because they called roosters "chickens." It cost 1.4 yuan per pack, and they used the 3.5 yuan "Swimming" cigarettes for guests.

The postman, happy to get a pack of cigarettes for free, accepted it, saying it would bring good luck.

A few days later, it was Saturday, and Mei Jianzhong thought he would wait until his grandson came on his day off to go to the post office together. Fortunately, today, his eldest son Guosheng's family was not at home, otherwise, he would have had to do a lot of explaining.

Two days later, when the 5 yuan royalty from the Storytelling Magazine arrived, neither Mei Jianzhong nor the postman were very surprised anymore.

Feng Yiping, however, was not too concerned about these matters. It was Wednesday, and the next day, they would have their first exam in junior high. This was one of the relatively easier aspects of the first year. While it was an exaggeration to say they had exams every day, having two or three exams a week was quite normal. In the second year, they had monthly exams, and the last one was at the end of last month.

Feng Yiping was not usually nervous, but when he went to see Teacher Zhu, Wang Yumin said, "Feng Yiping, you were third in the class when you entered. This time, I don't expect you to improve, but you must not drop, even to fourth place. If you do, you won't be allowed to come back."

Teacher Zhu also supported Wang Yumin, "I agree with what Teacher Wang said. You can learn from me, but it must not affect your regular studies. Otherwise, we can't justify it to your parents."

Feng Yiping felt terrible. In the first year, exams covered not just Chinese, Math, English, Physics, Chemistry, and Moral Education, but also History, Geography, and Biology. He hadn't spent much time on these three subjects and hadn't reviewed them in his mind before bed. He had planned to just pass these subjects and, at most, cram for a few days before the final exams to score over 80 points and satisfy the teachers.

In the two months since the start of the school year, even the underachievers were working hard, let alone the top students. Many were already aligning themselves with the third-year students, studying from early morning to late at night. It was unrealistic to expect the two students ahead of Feng Yiping to drop in performance.

Learning the basics of painting and music was crucial for Feng Yiping's future earnings, so he couldn't give up halfway. Therefore, he decided to cram for the next two days and told Teacher Zhu he wouldn't come for the next two days.

For the next two days, Feng Yiping worked harder than ever, studying from early morning to late at night, even reading books during meals. Xiao Zhijie and Wang Changning were puzzled, and Huang Jingping was surprised. Even in class, Feng Yiping followed his own plan, regardless of the subject, first memorizing Political Science, then History, then Geography, and finally Biology, which he found the most difficult. Fortunately, it had only been a month and a half since the start of the school year, and the amount of material was not overwhelming. With his good memory, he was confident that he could score over 80 points in these subjects after two days of cramming.

In the last two Chinese classes on Wednesday, Wang Yumin noticed Feng Yiping openly studying Biology. She decided to pretend not to see it, curious to see what results he would achieve after just two days of cramming.

These two days were also the most relaxed for Wang Yumin. During self-study, she no longer had to secretly check on the students. Even those who usually didn't study were now cramming, reviewing on their own.

When it comes to exams, after we leave school, what remains in our memory is mostly pressure, hard work, and tension. But now, experiencing it again, Feng Yiping had a different feeling.

Exams were definitely stressful and tiring, but many students also had a hidden sense of anticipation and desire. This was evident from the way they held their pens, eyes shining as they looked at the exam papers Wang Yumin was about to distribute.

After studying hard for so long, they wanted to test their progress. A good score was a form of self-affirmation and a boost to their confidence in their future. It also meant praise from teachers, admiration from classmates, and perhaps even a few envious glances. More directly, it meant a smile on their parents' faces, a few extra drinks for their fathers, and a more satisfying school bag, perhaps with a small can of peanuts or a few dried fish.

So, Feng Yiping concluded, he was somewhat contradictory. Exams were annoying and tiring, but without them, he felt uneasy and unsteady. It was like when he first started working, feeling tired from overtime and wanting to rest, but even when resting, he would unconsciously go to the office, also a contradiction.

Extending this idea, many students looked forward to monthly exams, much like later in life, they looked forward to monthly paychecks. Even though they had a rough idea of the amount on their bank statements and were rarely satisfied, they still held out hope.

So, does leaving school mean leaving exams behind? No, exams are everywhere, just in different forms and with different ways of announcing the results. Thus, life is life...

While his mind wandered, Feng Yiping answered the questions smoothly. The Chinese exam lasted an hour and a half, and he finished all the questions in half an hour. Finally, he looked at the essay topic, which was "My Ideal," with a requirement of at least 800 words.

What was his ideal? The future Feng Yiping couldn't remember and rarely thought about such lofty, abstract, and irrelevant questions.

Now, Feng Yiping tried to recall his past ideals. There were quite a few.

His earliest ideal was vivid. It came from a colored illustration in his elementary school Chinese textbook. The illustration showed green grass below and a blue sky above, with colorful parachutes descending. He was immediately captivated and thought, "When I grow up, I want to be a paratrooper and jump from planes."

Later, seeing the staff at the cooperative store, he wanted to be a salesperson.

Then, he wanted to be a scientist.

After learning about Mr. Lu Xun and hearing his teacher's introduction, he wanted to be a writer and a doctor.

The last time he considered this question was in technical school, where he decided he wanted to be an engineer. This was a bit naive, as he didn't really know what an engineer was or the gap between a technical school graduate and an engineer. More accurately, his last ideal should have been to be a technician.

Of course, it didn't matter much, as he never thought about his past ideals again, even in the middle of the night.

One thing was clear: from childhood to adulthood, he never once aspired to be a businessman or a small boss, but that's exactly what he became.

Not just his generation, but throughout human history, only a few people have had clear and consistent ideals and worked tirelessly toward them. Some succeeded, and some failed. Those who succeeded not only achieved their goals but also took control of their destinies.

For the vast majority of people, going with the flow is the norm. Who you are, where you come from, what you want to do, and what your ideal is—none of these matter and do not determine your future. As part of the masses, we have few choices; being chosen is already a blessing. If we are lucky enough to seize a few opportunities, have a steady income, or become a small boss, that's great.

As for ideals, do they matter? Can they put food on the table or pay the bills?

Of course, this was the insight or complaint of a man in his thirties, who thought he had seen through the essence of life. He couldn't write this in his essay.

However, this wasn't a problem. He changed his perspective and wrote about his ideal in a positive and optimistic way, full of positive energy. What he wrote was exactly what Wang Yumin wanted to see and might even exceed her expectations.

In two days, he completed exams in nine subjects and was satisfied with his performance. Originally, his main weaknesses were Chemistry and third-year Geometry. His Chemistry scores weren't bad; he often scored over 80 points by rote memorization, but rarely over 90. Now, as a thirty-something man repeating junior high, competing with twelve- or thirteen-year-olds, if he still found it difficult, it would be unacceptable.

On Saturday morning, the teachers continued their regular classes. After the tense exams, and with the holiday approaching, most students, including Huang Jingping, were relaxed. She even talked to her desk partner, Wang Jinju, a few times during class.

The last class was Chinese. The tallest student in the class was sleeping with his Chinese textbook propped up in front of him, but this didn't escape Wang Yumin's notice. "If the tiger doesn't show its claws, do you think I'm dying?" He was immediately called up to stand as punishment, but she gave him some face. In elementary school, standing as punishment usually meant standing outside the classroom, where you would be seen by other teachers and students, such as those in PE class. Now, it was better; he was made to stand next to his desk. Feng Yiping thought this might be because the student was in the last row. If he had been in the front, he might have been made to stand outside or at the back of the classroom.

After class, including Feng Yiping, over a dozen students were asked to stay behind. At first, Feng Yiping didn't understand why, but then he realized they were the ones who owed school fees.

Since chestnuts had been harvested and were being sold for cash, Wang Yumin reminded everyone to ask their parents to prioritize paying the school fees.

Feng Yiping felt a bit embarrassed being asked for money by the teacher. He thought about whether he should ask his parents to send the school fees when they called next.

Wang Yumin didn't say much else. From Feng Yiping's professional experience of calling clients to collect debts, Wang Yumin's approach to collecting school fees was inadequate. It was clear she wasn't very enthusiastic about this task, not even a tenth as enthusiastic as she was about the students' academic performance. This was what made teachers admirable at the time; they were solely focused on the students' education.

Of course, she knew no one would withhold money if they could afford it. As a teacher and an educated woman, she might not have been good at collecting money.

She reminded them to return to school on time the next afternoon, and the dozen or so students were dismissed. Wang Changning was waiting outside, and Feng Yiping walked with him along the road to his grandfather's house.

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