Chapter 48: Chapter 32: Preparing to Depart
「The next day.」
「5:50 in the morning.」
Chen Zhuo woke up.
He didn’t need an alarm. His internal clock roused him from sleep right on time.
He sat up in bed and turned to look out the window.
The sky hadn’t brightened yet. Outside was a blanket of hazy gray.
There was no sound of rain.
The downpour that had been brewing all last night never came. Instead, it had transformed into a thick, pervasive fog.
The apartment building across the way had vanished completely, leaving only a few blurry lights suspended in midair.
Of the large tree downstairs, only the black trunk was visible; its crown had melted entirely into the mist.
Droplets of condensation had formed on the windowpane, trickling down the glass and carving meandering trails.
Chen Zhuo got dressed and left his room.
The living room was brightly lit.
Chen Jianguo and Liu Xiuying were already up. They might not have slept soundly at all.
Chen Jianguo was wearing the jacket he usually saved for special occasions. He was giving the mesh bag one last check, making sure the tea eggs inside weren’t broken.
Liu Xiuying was busy in the kitchen. She came out carrying a steaming bowl of noodles with a fried egg.
"Hurry and eat. One sausage and two eggs, for a perfect 100 on your exam."
Liu Xiuying set down the bowl and chopsticks, urging Chen Zhuo on.
Chen Zhuo sat down and ate his noodles in silence.
The noodles were scalding hot and fragrant with sesame oil.
Chen Jianguo paced back and forth nearby, muttering:
"The fog is so thick. Will the bus even be able to go? The highway won’t be closed, will it? How about I bike you to the station?"
"Oh, give it a rest. Biking in this fog is even more dangerous."
Liu Xiuying shot him a glare.
"The coach bus has fog lights. What’s there to worry about?"
「6:20.」
The family of three left the house right on time.
Chen Jianguo insisted on carrying Chen Zhuo’s backpack, while his other hand held the ridiculously heavy mesh bag.
Liu Xiuying held a large black umbrella. It wasn’t raining, but the mist was damp enough to soak your hair.
The street was silent, save for the occasional taxi gliding past like a phantom, its yellow lights glowing.
The air was damp and cold, a chill that seeped into your bones.
At the bottom of the steps in front of the City No.1 Middle School administration building.
The huge, champagne-colored King Long bus was already parked there.
Its headlights cut two intensely powerful beams through the thick fog, like a pair of lightsabers stabbing down onto the wet ground.
The engine was idling, emitting a low rumble.
Beside the bus, a few figures were faintly visible in the mist.
It was the school’s leadership.
Principal Zhang Dajun, Dean of Students Li Tie, and two vice principals.
They were all there.
And from the looks of it, they had been waiting for some time.
A layer of glistening water droplets already coated their suit jackets.
But none of them were holding umbrellas, nor were they taking shelter on the bus. (The truth was, Old Zhou and the others had guaranteed that Chen Zhuo would bring back a national award.)
They just stood there ramrod straight in the fog, their expressions solemn, their eyes sharp.
This didn’t look like an ordinary send-off for an exam.
It was more like a pre-battle pep rally, or a tragic farewell.
Old Zhao was dressed in a gray Zhongshan suit.
Old Zhou, for a change, wasn’t wearing his usual slippers. He had on a pair of gleaming black leather shoes and a slightly oversized suit jacket, its sleeves so long they covered half his hands.
Chen Zhuo walked over with his parents.
He glanced at the school leaders.
Then he glanced at Wang Yang and Li Hao, who were standing nearby, shivering and hunching their necks against the cold.
Wang Yang’s face looked ghastly pale in the fog, his lips trembling slightly.
It was hard to tell if it was from the cold or from being intimidated by the whole spectacle.
Chen Zhuo pushed up his glasses.
’For a key high school in a third-tier city, one that hadn’t produced a single provincial first-prize winner in years... this was a pretty big deal.’
And they, the six students, were the chips on which the school had bet its entire fortune.
"You’re here?"
Seeing Chen Zhuo’s family, Principal Zhang strode forward to greet them.
"Ah, Master Chen, you’ve gone to great trouble."
Principal Zhang gripped Chen Jianguo’s hand and shook it vigorously.
Chen Jianguo, flustered and flattered, quickly offered him the mesh bag.
"Principal, this... just some tea eggs, for the teachers to have a snack on the road..."
"Excellent! Excellent! How thoughtful!"
Principal Zhang didn’t refuse; he even patted the mesh bag.
"This is the logistical support of our City No.1 Middle School!"
After the pleasantries, Principal Zhang turned around, his gaze sweeping over the six students standing in a line before him.
His expression became incredibly grave.
"Students."
"I know that with all this fog, you might be feeling a little uncertain."
"But!"
Principal Zhang raised his voice, piercing through the fog.
"This is the path for us, the people of City No.1 Middle School! Even if we can’t see clearly, even if there’s fog, we must force our way through!"
"Those people at the provincial level, they’ve always seen us as some backwater school! They think all we can do is study by rote! This time, you are going to make a name for City No.1 Middle School!"
"Bring that trophy back for me!"
"Come, come, everyone gather ’round."
The Dean of Students, Li Tie, stepped forward at the right moment.
From a cardboard box at his feet, he began pulling out gleaming golden cans, handing them out like ammunition.
Red Bull.
The short, gold-colored cans of Red Bull.
In the morning mist, the gold was especially glaring.
"One can per person! Take it!"
Li Tie shoved a can of Red Bull into each student’s hand, his movements forceful and leaving no room for refusal.
"This is your special-issue supply from the school!"
"Drink it! It’ll sharpen your mind and wake you up! The spirit of City No.1 Middle School cannot be defeated!"
"Drink!"
Wang Yang clutched the cold can of Red Bull, his hands trembling even more violently.
He felt like this wasn’t a beverage.
It felt like some kind of contract, some kind of military pledge.
Drink it, and you must win an award.
Drink it, and you cannot lose.
For a ninth-grader who was already stressed to the breaking point, whose stomach was already starting to cramp, this kind of intensely utilitarian psychological suggestion was simply fatal.
"Thank you, Dean..."
Wang Yang’s voice was faint, as if he were about to cry.
But he didn’t dare refuse to drink it.
He subconsciously pulled the tab.
He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and GULP, GULP, GULP, chugged half the can in one go, as if he were drinking bitter medicine.
On an empty stomach, the cold, carbonated drink, with its high concentration of caffeine and taurine, rushed instantly into his already fragile stomach.
Standing at the end of the line, Chen Zhuo also had a can thrust into his hand.
He looked down at the Red Bull in his hand.
Then he looked at Wang Yang ahead of him, whose face was already turning ashen as he forced himself to swallow.
Chen Zhuo didn’t drink it.
He silently tucked the Red Bull into the side mesh pocket of his backpack, right next to his black CD player.
He sighed inwardly.
’Good intentions, terrible execution.’
’Pumping a group of stressed-out kids full of strong stimulants on a high-pressure, potentially oxygen-deprived foggy day like this... This isn’t a pick-me-up. It’s a vomit-inducer.’
"Alright, time’s up! Get on the bus!"
Principal Zhang gave a grand wave of his hand, issuing the command to depart.
"Remember! Stay calm and collected! No matter who you’re up against, they’ve all got one head on two shoulders, just like you! What’s there to be scared of!"
"Move out!"
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