Chapter Fifty-Three: An Auspicious Start (Extra Chapter)

PS: A new week has begun, and on the very first day, thanks to everyone, the book has shot up to the top of the homepage rankings. There's nothing more to say—I'll keep adding extra chapters; that's all I can do to repay you. As Guo Degang once said: "If I become emperor one day, I'll make you all imperial consorts!"

“Why are you always such a handful? It's only your first day of school and you’ve already been punished to stand outside—this is outrageous! If it were another student, I might have thought it was accidental, but you, it must have been intentional. Tell me, why did you deliberately break the rules?” During the second period, Director Bai came back from a meeting. She was a little surprised to see Hong Tao standing outside the office, but soon composed herself. After all, she had known him for two years and had grown resilient to his antics.

“In fact, it wasn’t just me acting deliberately, Director Li did it on purpose too. The situation only arose because we both played our parts. He’s prejudiced against me, and I’m not fond of him either. If you hadn’t been protecting me, he wouldn’t even have allowed me to audit classes these past two years. As for why he behaves like this, I don’t need to explain, do I? That’s his mindset—no point guessing, even if I’m right, he’ll never admit it.” Hong Tao was quite at ease talking to Director Bai; aside from his uncle and Director Bai, they were the only two people he could communicate with. The rest he simply dealt with as needed.

“Hong Tao, you’re here to study, not to work. He’s your teacher and you must show basic respect. How do you plan to handle this?” In truth, Director Bai didn’t like Vice Director Li either—most of the teachers in the office and senior grades felt the same. But she couldn’t openly side with a student against a teacher; that was common sense.

“I’ll write a reflection and deeply examine my own actions. If necessary, I can even read it aloud in front of the whole school. I suppose that will satisfy Director Li, won’t it?” In his previous life, Hong Tao wrote more reflections than homework; he was well-versed in every format and depth. He felt that writing more reflections couldn’t hurt—if nothing else, it would improve his writing skills.

“Director Bai, being homeroom teacher for this class won’t be easy! Hong Tao, stop stirring up trouble and focus on your studies. I know you’ve already learned everything you’re supposed to, but you can’t disrupt the other kids. If everyone acted like you, us teachers would be exhausted!” The teacher sitting across from Director Bai, Mr. Sun, couldn’t help chiming in. For the past two years, he’d sat face-to-face with Hong Tao almost daily, often chatting about the news and even asking Hong Tao to read the paper to him—a supposed exercise in language skills. Though Hong Tao refused any tests, Sun more or less knew what level he was at, at least in Chinese.

“I’ll try to behave from now on, Mr. Sun. Maybe I should just go to high school with you, as long as I’m not in the same class as my aunt.” Hong Tao wasn’t afraid of Mr. Sun; he was cheerful and liked to joke.

“Don’t even think about it, I want to live a few more years! Thankfully your family only has you—if there were two more like you, your parents’ hair would be white before they turned fifty.” Mr. Sun waved his hands frantically; he knew just how troublesome Hong Tao could be, especially his mouth. Even statements that were obviously correct in the newspaper could be twisted into something wrong by him. And you’d best not argue—he’d have a whole barrage of words ready. At first, teachers tried to reason with him; later, they gave up. They all had work to do—who had time to argue with a child all afternoon?

“All right, enough joking. Sit here and finish your reflection; tomorrow morning, you’ll read it aloud at the school assembly. I’m giving you twenty minutes—finish before the third period starts.” Director Bai gave Hong Tao a light smack on the head, handed him a sheet of paper, and placed it in front of him.

Twenty minutes was more than enough for Hong Tao. Not only did he fill the first sheet, but he also turned it over and wrote more than half a page on a second sheet. When he finished, he read it quietly to Mr. Sun, just as the bell for the end of second period rang.

“This reflection is flawless—your insights are deep, your wording precise. But why does it still sound so odd to me?” Mr. Sun, distracted by Hong Tao, couldn’t even grade papers anymore. He could only sit there, holding his head, and listen.

“You really are the son of a university professor—this reflection is almost like a thesis. You mention mutual respect, equality of character... Why not just say Director Li bullies kids? Even your insults are so roundabout! Let me warn you: you are not to ghostwrite reflections for your aunt or uncle. If you do, I’ll call your parents every single day!” Another female teacher in the office couldn’t stand it anymore. She exposed Hong Tao’s little scheme and issued a warning. All the teachers knew Hong Tao’s one weakness—he was just a bit afraid of his parents being called in.

“Director Bai, I’ll go back to class now... Oh, by the way, I need to report something. There’s a student in my class, Zhang Dajiang—we went to the same daycare, the chubby pale one. He’s a bit simple-minded and timid; he was often bullied at daycare, so I imagine it’ll be the same here. I can’t stand seeing honest kids get bullied. My dad says I have a strong sense of justice. Maybe you could mention it to our homeroom teacher, so my uncle doesn’t have to step in later.” Hong Tao was just about to leave when he remembered something important—he had to give Director Bai a heads-up so he wouldn’t be blamed later if trouble arose.

“Looks like I’ll have to talk to your father tonight. This reflection of yours was a waste of effort!” Director Bai was just about to take the reflection when she heard Hong Tao threaten her, so she immediately pulled out her trump card.

At this point, readers might wonder: why doesn’t Hong Tao keep pushing back, fighting Director Li to the end? At the very least, he could avoid writing the reflection, and if he really got expelled, he wouldn’t have to go to elementary school at all!

But that wasn’t the case. Elementary schools in that era were very different from now, and even more so from daycare. Back then, there was a type of institution called a “work-study school.” Though such places still existed in later years, they had become so rare as to be almost negligible. But in the seventies and eighties, every district had at least one.

What was a work-study school? Put nicely, it was meant to redeem wayward youths; less charitably, it was a juvenile correctional facility. If the teachers deemed you a problem student that the school could no longer handle, and you were at least ten years old, you could be sent there. Usually, the parents’ consent would be sought, but whether they agreed or not made little difference. As long as the school submitted the application, the work-study school could forcibly take the child away.

Once a child entered a work-study school, it was like being thrown into the world’s cesspool. Everything you wouldn’t normally encounter could be found there. Petty theft was commonplace, fights broke out daily, and before long, you’d be forced to become a model delinquent, mastering every trick of deception and theft. If you didn’t adapt, you’d be an outcast, unable to survive.

The most frightening thing wasn’t just turning bad—it was being forever marked by society. At least in that era, that’s how it was. Kids who came out of work-study schools were officially allowed to return to their original schools, but by then, they could never fit in again. Other parents wouldn’t let their kids play with you; teachers would always look at you strangely. If anything went wrong in class, you’d be the first suspect.

In such an environment, it wasn’t just ten-year-olds—even adults wouldn’t last long. Even those who wanted to turn over a new leaf would find society unwilling to give them a chance. In the end, they could only reconnect with their old classmates from the work-study school, mixing with petty criminals—because only in that circle could they find recognition, friendship, and a sense of belonging, however fleeting or insincere. It was better than nothing.

Although Hong Tao wasn’t old enough yet, he would be one day. If he behaved too outrageously at school and everyone turned against him, not even Director Bai could shield him—other teachers wouldn’t just stand by. Back then, school leaders weren’t as powerful as they would later become; teachers could easily report a principal to the district or city, and it happened neither rarely nor frequently. If your subordinates had a problem with you, they’d go straight to the higher-ups. They weren’t afraid of retaliation; you couldn’t really do anything to them anyway. Everyone had tenure, wages were set by the state, housing was assigned by the education bureau—who was afraid of whom?

So, for now, Hong Tao could only endure. If he made a mistake, he had to admit it. If he needed to write a reflection, he wrote it. If he was punished to stand, he stood. If his parents were called in, he had to accept it—there was no escape. Besides, he didn’t really mind these punishments. Not attending class was a relief, and standing outside was better than sitting stiffly in a hard desk with his hands behind his back.

When the bell for the third period rang, the first graders saw the tall “bad kid” from their class—the one who’d been punished on his very first day—returning with a sly grin. He ignored all the looks his classmates gave him, walked straight to the teacher’s desk to grab his bag, and then headed over to Zhang Dajiang. Glancing around to see the teacher hadn’t arrived, he patted Zhang’s shoulder and addressed the whole class:

“Listen up! Anyone who bullies him—I’ll deal with you myself! Don’t think I won’t dare just because there are teachers here. If you’ve got the guts, try picking on him outside the school gates.”

With that, he strolled to the back of the classroom, found the last empty desk, but didn’t sit down. Instead, he returned to the front, took a rag from the podium, dipped it in the washbasin, then went back and wiped down both the chair and desk. Only then did he finally settle in.