Chapter 42 – All or Nothing

236

The senior year had so few classes that Xiang Lei went to that elementary school almost every day.

Before each visit, Xiang Lei would prepare something—either school supplies as prizes or fruits and snacks. Later, realizing the school still didn’t have an official name, he brought a can of red paint and a brush. Standing in front of the brick gate, he thought for a long time before painting the words “Yucai Elementary School” on it.

Children always loved young teachers, and Xiang Lei remembered feeling the same way when he was little. At first, out of affection for the kids, Xiang Lei remained gentle and kind, which led to them running wild and making noise. Later, when he started to be strict during lessons, they actually obeyed him.

Xiang Lei printed out a few test papers with general knowledge questions, such as: “Write the full name of our country, the name of the capital, the lyrics of the national anthem; draw our national flag; what date is National Day; how many gold medals did the Chinese delegation win at the recent Athens Olympics; what is the name of the 110-meter hurdles champion; where will the next Olympics be held,” and so on. Unfortunately, not a single child answered all of them correctly.

There was a little boy named Xiao Guang¹This Xiao Guang’s name is written differently from the previously mentioned Xiao Guang (the youngest brother in Li Zeng’s brotherhood), so this isn’t a re-used name. who left a blank space after the question about the national anthem lyrics. When Xiang Lei asked if he could sing it but not write it, the boy shook his head and said he didn’t know how to sing it at all. But when Xiang Lei asked the other children to sing it, Xiao Guang suddenly realized, “Ah! I know this one! I can sing it!”

The highest-scoring student was a little girl named Hui Jia, whom Xiang Lei rewarded with a pencil case. When the other children looked at her enviously, Xiang Lei told them that everyone had a chance to earn prizes—as long as they did something meaningful.

Another little girl, Tong Tong, was the only one who drew the national flag as if it were fluttering in the wind. Xiang Lei made a note in his notebook: “Watercolors, crayons, drawing books—Tong Tong.”

Among these six children, two were particularly quiet. One was a boy named Huang Bin, who, though not talkative, had a terrible temper and would often fight with his deskmate, Xiao Guang. The other was a girl named Xiu Xiu, whom everyone mocked for being slow, including the always-giggling Xiao Wu.

Xiu Xiu always kept her head down, her messy hair falling over her ears and forehead, covering her big eyes. She seemed incapable of anything—or maybe just too afraid to try. No matter how much Xiang Lei encouraged her, she never responded, not even to say whether she understood something or not.

From Teacher Zhang and the other children, Xiang Lei learned: Xiu Xiu suffered constant verbal abuse at home; Huang Bin had started school late and was three or four years older than the other kids; Xiao Guang was extremely clever but restless, rebellious, and uninterested in studying; Tong Tong was the smartest and prettiest among the girls, like a proud little princess; the quiet Hui Jia loved studying, but she had two mischievous younger brothers, and her father had repeatedly said she would only be allowed to study until middle school graduation at most.

And then there was Xiao Wu. When he was bullied by his peers and stopped giggling to cry instead, Xiang Lei had no idea how to teach him. Should he scold him the way his own parents had when he was little?—”Where are your hands? Holding tofu?”

Xiang Lei spent almost every day thinking about how to teach them. For six children, perhaps he needed six different approaches. He didn’t want to take this too lightly because the more innocent their smiles seemed, the heavier something in his heart became.

237

Xiang Lei left early and returned late every day, which made He Fei somewhat uncomfortable. He Fei had been thinking about going with Xiang Lei to the elementary school someday, and after a few days, he finally adjusted his sleep schedule, got up early, and followed along.

Xiang Lei wasn’t exactly thrilled to bring He Fei along. He felt He Fei was just going for fun, and Teacher Zhang probably wouldn’t welcome him either.

The night before, before bed, He Fei had acted like a clingy little kid, tugging at Xiang Lei’s hand and whining for a while. The initially serious Xiang Lei couldn’t help but laugh, so He Fei took that as permission.

The next morning, when He Fei followed, Xiang Lei didn’t stop him.

238

He Fei told us in the dorm about Yucai Elementary School, and the rest of us brothers went to check it out one after another.

To us, it seemed like He Fei was more popular with the kids than Xiang Lei—maybe because he seemed more like a big brother in their eyes, never as stern as “Teacher Xiang.”

Every time He Fei came, he would mess up the lesson plans Xiang Lei had carefully prepared because He Fei always insisted on taking the kids out for P.E.

P.E. class was for all three grades together, and when a bunch of kids got rowdy, it was quite the scene. Their only sports equipment was a jump rope, reportedly brought by a newspaper reporter. He Fei brought a basketball, so the kids got to have basketball lessons. He taught them dribbling, passing, and shooting on the open space by the wall, running the class like a proper coach.

Of course, they couldn’t have P.E. all day.

When Xiang Lei taught English to the third graders, He Fei squeezed into the back row between Xiao Guang and Huang Bin, constantly raising his hand to answer questions. Xiang Lei refused to even look at him.

Finally, He Fei just called out, “Teacher Xiang, there’s a word I don’t know!” Xiang Lei reluctantly asked which one, and He Fei held up a piece of paper with the word “gay” written on it.

Xiang Lei glared at him and snapped, “Student He Fei, please leave!”

He Fei stuck out his tongue at Xiang Lei, then sauntered out of the classroom with his chin up while the kids pointed at him, laughing hysterically.

When school was over, the kids still didn’t want to go home.

Under the sunset, He Fei and Xiang Lei led them in playing games—old-fashioned ones, like “Eagle Catches Chicks.”

He Fei, of course, played the eagle, while the kids lined up behind Xiang Lei, clutching his clothes. He Fei swooped left and right with exaggerated gestures, while Xiang Lei stretched out his arms to shield them. The kids, trailing behind Xiang Lei in a wobbly line, shrieked with laughter.

The sight made you smile involuntarily, though it was frustrating that my outdated phone couldn’t take pictures. I also regretted not bringing Liu Chong’s camera to capture the moment.

Right then, a thought crossed my mind: Even if these two really did end up together, they’d look pretty well-matched.

I genuinely liked these kids, so I decided to volunteer as a substitute teacher. Teacher Zhang was grateful, and Xiang Lei welcomed the idea.

The kids asked about “Teacher He’s” basketball class almost every day, but He Fei never came back.

When I asked Xiang Lei why He Fei stopped coming, he said He Fei had gotten addicted to video games lately and couldn’t be bothered. He also admitted he didn’t want He Fei to come anymore—the guy was nothing but trouble.

But when I asked He Fei in the dorm, the answer was different.

He Fei said that after their last trip back, Xiang Lei had seriously told him, “Don’t come again!”

For He Fei, going or not wasn’t a big deal, but he still asked why.

Xiang Lei said, “You’re too unserious! Too disruptive! You’re making those kids rowdier, and they’ll be even harder to manage later!”

He Fei retorted unhappily, “So you think I only go there to fool around?”

Xiang Lei didn’t hold back: “At least you’re self-aware!”

Both of their answers indirectly confirmed to me that they were living together now.

I actually wanted to defend He Fei in front of Xiang Lei, but after thinking it over, I didn’t say anything.

239

During a break, Xiang Lei imitated the tone of his childhood teachers and asked Xiao Guang what he wanted to be when he grew up. Without hesitation, Xiao Guang said, “Make tofu.” Xiang Lei pressed, “And?” Xiao Guang thought for a moment and added, “Sell tofu.” When Xiang Lei asked if he’d ever thought about going to college, Xiao Guang looked at him like he was crazy and said, “That costs so much money! How long would it take to earn that back? My parents want me to start making money as soon as possible.”

Later, Teacher Zhang told us that Xiao Guang’s parents ran a tofu shop nearby. They said if their son didn’t get into middle school, they wouldn’t spend a single extra cent on his education. The shop was always short on hands, and in a few years, Xiao Guang would be old enough to take over the family business.

A few days later, Xiang Lei discussed with Teacher Zhang and called a parents’ meeting.

The small courtyard was packed with uneasy parents. Before Xiang Lei spoke, they chatted casually among themselves. Xiang Lei later told us that might have been the most emotional speech of his life. The usually shy Xiang Lei stood among the parents and passionately recounted his own decade-long journey through education. When he talked about his parents’ hardships and how his fourth uncle’s son—who ranked second in the township’s middle school entrance exams—ended up at a vocational school, tears welled up in his eyes.

When the meeting ended, the parents left as if a play had finished, chatting and laughing among themselves without discussing a single thing about the meeting.

Only the children moved us every day.

Every evening at sunset, when Xiang Lei and I headed back to school, we’d turn around to see a row of little heads peeking out from the school gate. As soon as we waved, childish voices would ring out, “Goodbye, teacher!” Once wasn’t enough, twice wasn’t enough—they’d keep calling until we turned a corner and disappeared from their sight.

240

That afternoon, students from a sister university came to Yucai Elementary School, bringing snacks and donated clothes for the kids. When asked, we learned they were members of a Love & Care Society from their school. Chatting with their club president, I found out this junior was actually from Henan, like me, and we instantly felt like we’d met too late.

My fellow Henanese said he’d founded the club in his sophomore year. In just a year, they’d visited over 50 similar elementary schools and had long-term volunteer teaching programs in 20 of them. They’d originally planned to send volunteers to Yucai Elementary but discovered Xiang Lei and I were already there.

Both Xiang Lei and I questioned the numbers he mentioned—was his club really active outside the city? The guy chuckled and told us that in Haidian District alone, there were over 100 migrant-worker elementary schools, big and small, most in terrible condition. Seeing our stunned expressions, he added that the data came from two sociology graduate students at his school. It was part of their official research project, and they’d spent a whole year conducting thorough surveys.

“See, it’s still us college students who care most about people’s livelihoods! Forget whether our abilities are limited—at least in this materialistic modern society, the ones with the most passion and sense of social responsibility are still us college students, because we’re young and still innocent enough!” my fellow Henanese concluded.

Two people’s efforts were ultimately just a drop in the bucket. He suggested we try to rally more people to join in, just like they had—to organize a Love & Care group on our own campus, passing the torch of goodwill. After all, no one could guarantee their current passion would last forever.

My first reaction was: We’re too old for this. It’s unrealistic. We’re already fucking seniors—no chance to show off like this. But Xiang Lei was different. His enthusiasm was stoked even higher by my fellow Henanese’s words.

On the way back, Xiang Lei spent the entire time discussing it with me.

When I mentioned we’d soon be leaving campus, Xiang Lei thought for a moment and said, “We can put out a call, then find willing sophomores or juniors to take the lead and apply.”

We kept discussing it all the way back to school. After dinner, instead of returning to his off-campus place as usual, Xiang Lei stayed in the dorm, still talking to me about it. He got a call, said he was still at school, and twenty minutes later, He Fei also returned to the dorm.

When the others in the dorm heard Xiang Lei’s idea, they all laughed in unison.

He Fei strongly disapproved, but Xiang Lei insisted.

Frowning, He Fei asked Xiang Lei, “Tell me, do you even have the time and energy to manage this?”

Xiang Lei frowned back. “I already said we’d find sophomores or juniors to take charge!”

“Can you even find someone like that?” He Fei pressed.

“How would I know if I don’t try?” Xiang Lei shot back.

“If you can find someone, fine. But don’t go showing off yourself!” He Fei warned.

“Stop worrying about it!” Xiang Lei snapped impatiently.

He Fei glared at Xiang Lei, clearly displeased, then left the dorm alone.

241

In the end, Xiang Lei didn’t find any willing sophomores or juniors.

That same night, Xiang Lei posted on the campus BBS. The response was overwhelmingly positive, but no one actually stepped forward. The next day, he put up flyers on every notice board, leaving his phone number. A whole day passed without a single call.

On the second day, a classmate who held a minor position in the Student Association Union told Xiang Lei that the Union was holding its first meeting of the semester that night, where they’d definitely discuss recruitment plans for the clubs after National Day.

I said to Xiang Lei, “Just forget it.”

Xiang Lei replied firmly, “No! Let’s get the club started first. I refuse to believe no one will join! And if people join, someone will definitely step up to take charge!”

That night, Xiang Lei dragged me along to sneak into the Student Association Union’s meeting.

After the meeting, Xiang Lei approached the Union president to ask about the process for creating a new club. The president shook his head and said, “It’s too late. New clubs have to submit their application forms and bylaws by tomorrow morning.”

Xiang Lei pleaded for a while, and finally, the president gave him the application form and a sample club constitution.

Early the next morning, Xiang Lei woke me up in the dorm, saying he’d stayed up until dawn to finish the application and draft bylaws and now needed to hurry to get them stamped.

The department’s student affairs teacher skimmed Xiang Lei’s documents, gave a wry smile, and asked, “What exactly will this club do? Will you even have the energy to manage it?” Xiang Lei launched into the perfect plan he’d been envisioning daily. The teacher shook his head, hesitated, but ultimately stamped the form.

The dean’s office director asked the same question, and Xiang Lei gave the same answer. Before stamping, the director emphasized, “Remember, clubs involved in external activities must uphold the school’s image!” Xiang Lei immediately smiled and nodded in agreement.

The Youth League²The Communist Youth League of China teacher cut straight to the point: “One issue—this kind of club requires a steady stream of funding to sustain itself. Where will that money come from? Will members pay a one-time fee, or will they have to keep paying? If it’s the latter, won’t that undermine the club’s charitable nature?”

Xiang Lei quickly replied, “The club plans to charge no membership fees. Participation in activities is entirely voluntary, and any related expenses will be up to the participating members to decide.”

The Youth League teacher immediately vetoed him. “That won’t do. If the club has no funds, how will it pay the Student Association Union’s management fees?”

Only then did we learn that student clubs had to be uniformly managed by the Youth League-affiliated Student Association Union—and they had to pay management fees.

Xiang Lei argued that a Love & Care club was a public service organization and that external activities would enhance the school’s image, so could they apply for a fee waiver? The Youth League teacher shot back, “No. There’s no precedent.”

In the end, the Youth League didn’t stamp Xiang Lei’s application. Instead, they told him to revise the bylaws regarding the no-fee policy and resubmit for approval.

242

Before the National Day holiday, the Student Association Union president called Xiang Lei to say the Love & Care Society had been approved. He told Xiang Lei to submit the semester’s activity plan before the holiday and start preparing for post-holiday recruitment.

And so, we witnessed the most radiant version of Xiang Lei in all four years of university.

Guys from our department came to our dorm one after another, curiously asking about the club. Xiang Lei sought everyone’s opinions, and even for a simple flyer, a group of us huddled around a computer for two full days, weighing every word before printing. As a result, Xiang Lei spent the entire seven-day holiday in the dorm, preparing for post-holiday recruitment.

By the end of the break, using his newly received scholarship money, Xiang Lei had flyers, posters, and banners ready. But everyone around him echoed the same sentiment: “I doubt you’ll get many sign-ups.”

Yet at this point, even if no one believed in it, Xiang Lei was determined to go all in, even if he had to do it alone.

On the first day of recruitment, He Fei was the first to sign up, paying the 10-yuan membership fee. Seeing this, the brothers from our department who’d come to help also stepped up to support. I handled fee collection, He Fei handled member registration, and Xiang Lei—who’d always been awkward in public—stood behind a desk, eloquently explaining the club to every inquiring student.

After two days, the Love & Care Society’s recruitment results ranked second among all the clubs on campus!

This shocked everyone, including Xiang Lei.

The club quickly organized a general meeting. Xiang Lei invited all the brothers who’d helped with recruitment to attend, voting on new members’ campaign speeches. That night, the club’s student leadership was finalized. Afterward, Xiang Lei met almost daily with those passionate student leaders, discussing activity plans, drafting guidelines, and scheduling volunteer teaching shifts. Within a week, the club was running smoothly and vibrantly.

These sophomores and juniors could only spare at most two half-days a week for volunteer teaching. Even so, Yucai Elementary alone couldn’t accommodate them all, so the club expanded to over a dozen similar migrant-worker elementary schools. At Yucai, besides Xiang Lei and me, several new members took turns volunteering.

At another migrant-worker school, Xiang Lei ran into my fellow Henanese again. When Xiang Lei told him about the new club’s progress, the guy couldn’t stop marveling. His own club, after two years, had only half as many members as Xiang Lei’s newly founded one.

This was probably thanks to Xiang Lei’s recruitment speeches.

But honestly, Xiang Lei wasn’t a natural public speaker. The two impassioned speeches we’d witnessed from him probably hadn’t been calculated for effect—they were just his raw, unfiltered self.

• 1
  This Xiao Guang’s name is written differently from the previously mentioned Xiao Guang (the youngest brother in Li Zeng’s brotherhood), so this isn’t a re-used name.
• 2
  The Communist Youth League of China