Chapter Sixty-Five: Arrows Are a Bit Expensive (Bonus Chapter)

To his great surprise, the story had climbed to the very top of the Newcomers and New Books chart. Even if it only stayed there for a single day, it was an immense encouragement. No more words—time to add another chapter!

Dragged along by Hong Tao, the troublesome young woman had no choice but to join the crowd of onlookers. The three boys on the ground still hadn’t gotten up—the six attackers had been merciless. One of the students already had blood streaming from his head, likely from a steel buckle on a military belt ripping open his scalp. The other two, though not bleeding, looked even more pitiful; their faces were covered in bruises, almost unrecognizable, and their backs—visible where their shirts had ridden up—were streaked with purplish welts.

Just then, several teachers rushed out from the school to organize the students and help the three boys up. The one with the bleeding head was carried to a tricycle, presumably to be taken to the hospital. The other two were still dazed from the recent onslaught, mechanically answering the teachers’ questions.

“Sigh… Let’s go home. You saw what happened. Don’t go picking fights anymore. There’s no need to go looking for trouble, but you shouldn’t be afraid if trouble finds you, either. Getting beaten up for nothing—what’s the point?” In the end, Hong Tao’s thirty yuan had not been fully utilized; the two boys on the ground were so out of it their eyes lost all focus, and they were helped back to school by teachers and classmates, without ever realizing who had orchestrated the event. There was no sign of the young uncle or the troublesome girl. Resigned, Hong Tao took the opportunity to lecture his young uncle, hoping he’d think twice before running off with those kids to cause trouble at other schools. After witnessing a real fight, perhaps the boy would be a little more cautious. Whether he would actually change his ways, however, was beyond Hong Tao’s control.

“These are the people you found? Where did you find them?” The young uncle, not the sharpest tool in the shed, asked blankly.

“Hey, don’t accuse me! Where would I meet such people? Even if I wanted to, would they give me the time of day? Isn’t that right, girl?” Of course, Hong Tao couldn’t admit anything—not in front of the troublesome girl, not even if only his young uncle was present.

The troublesome girl kept her head down in silence, but her silence didn’t make her any less astute than those who spoke. Hong Tao knew she understood far more than his young uncle did.

On the way back, the troublesome girl held tightly to her brother’s sleeve, determined not to walk alongside Hong Tao, and she didn’t dare look at him directly. She only glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, quickly looking away whenever their gazes met.

Regardless of the girl’s thoughts, Hong Tao’s objectives were largely achieved: first, avenging his young uncle and helping him save face in front of his girlfriend; second, testing the troublesome girl’s role in all this and subtly warning her that, though his young uncle might be a simpleton, his nephew was not so foolish—she would do well to reconsider any future schemes; and third, to warn those boys to restrain themselves and not harass his young uncle again.

“A triple success, though, damn, that arrow was a bit pricey—ten yuan each, enough for a meal at Donglaishun.” Hong Tao was satisfied with his plan, though he did feel a twinge of regret about the money spent.

He also came to regard Han Xue’s abilities a bit more highly. Previously, he’d thought she was just a petty delinquent, relying on her looks and audacity to hang around with that little gangster, putting on airs but lacking any real skill. But now he saw she did, in fact, have some cleverness. Whether it was due to her beauty or her shamelessness, she had handled the matter deftly enough, and that was a talent in itself.

Spring brought blooming flowers and outings, and it was also the season for school excursions in Beijing’s primary and secondary schools. Every year, from late April to early May, parks, museums, and historic sites throughout the city would be filled with lines of children in white shirts, blue pants, white sneakers, and red scarves—holding hands, singing songs, and arriving wave after wave.

As a first grader, Hong Tao was naturally part of these ranks. This year, the school’s outing was to Beihai Park. Originally, Hong Tao hadn’t planned to go—he would have asked his father to report him sick. He’d been to that park so many times in his past life, and his father had taken him several times in this one, too; he was thoroughly tired of it. But at Jin Yue’s repeated insistence, he reluctantly agreed to go.

For children of that era, a school outing was a major event. Many could only visit parks a few times a year—some because their parents were too busy or had too many children to manage, others because of financial hardship, and still others because both parents worked and weekends were spent on chores. For these families, providing enough to eat, wear, and ensuring their children could attend school was already fulfilling their responsibilities. Spiritual or cultural enrichment simply wasn’t a priority.

Compared to later generations, these excursions were remarkably modest. The essential gear was a green military canteen, slung across the chest to dangle behind, bouncing with every step. There was also a small satchel, usually an army-green crossbody bag, its strap crossing the canteen’s, and hanging on the opposite side—just like the guerrilla fighters in old movies, with a “Mauser” on each hip.

The canteen contained nothing more than plain boiled water—no cola, no juice. The bag held no pastries, cakes, or vacuum-packed snacks, only steamed buns, pickles, eggs, and bread. The more fortunate might have a bit of sausage or a small apple. No one had bank cards or wads of cash; three cents in one’s pocket was already something, enough to buy an ice pop if it got hot. No parents drove them to the park—no taxis, either. Instead, everyone had to gather at school, line up by class, walk to the Second Ring Road, and wait for buses labeled with their school and grade to arrive and pick them up.

The night before the outing, many children were too excited to sleep, tossing and turning as they dreamt of the fun to come. Hong Tao had been the same way in his previous life, but not anymore. Even if he were going to the United Nations tomorrow, he would go to sleep on time and not waste a minute.

Hong Tao wasn’t entirely indifferent, though. He understood what an outing meant to children. If they had a good time, they would talk about it for a month; if not, it would leave them crestfallen for weeks. He could take it or leave it, but Jin Yue was different. To ensure her well-being—both physical and emotional—he took her shopping the afternoon before the trip, visiting Dongfeng Market and the Department Store to stock up on supplies.

The top choice for outing food was canned goods—meat, fish, fruit. Hong Tao didn’t really want to feed himself or Jin Yue canned food, considering the preservatives, especially for children. But there were no vacuum-packed snacks available yet, and fresh meat wouldn’t keep without insulated or refrigerated bags; it would spoil by midday.

Next came candy. This time, Hong Tao was generous: twenty packs of long bubblegum at fifteen cents each, plus a pound each of White Rabbit milk candies, little figurine crisps, and sorghum taffy. Two big apples each. As for drinks, plain water wouldn’t do; he planned to fill their canteens with orange soda from the corner shop early the next morning.

Beyond food and drink, Hong Tao took Jin Yue to the Neiliansheng shoe shop in Dashilan, buying each of them a pair of traditional cloth shoes with layered soles and double “cloud” toes—his in black wool, hers in green satin. Jin Yue, with her rustic tastes, loved bright colors, and though Hong Tao thought her shoes resembled mourning attire and were quite inauspicious, she found them beautiful.

These shoes were ideal for long walks; rickshaw drivers wore them in the old days, with leather patches sewn on for extra durability. Their greatest advantage was absorbing sweat. White sneakers might look nice, but after a day’s wear, kids’ feet would be stifling and smelly. Hong Tao also prepared a secret weapon for himself: a pair of round-lensed tortoiseshell sunglasses he’d bought from a commission shop. He’d wanted to buy a pair for Jin Yue as well, but she refused, saying they made her look like a movie villain.

“Villain or not, it doesn’t matter. With your big eyes, you don’t need them. But with my small eyes, if the sun catches me and I squint, I might as well not have eyes at all!” Hong Tao didn’t mind being seen as a villain. He believed a handsome villain was more likable than an ugly hero. With the sunglasses covering his eyes, he’d be nearly perfect: tall, well-built, his buzz cut neat and flat. Except for his slightly dark complexion, there was nothing to fault.

There’s little to say of the trip to Beihai Park itself: entering from the rear gate, seeing the Nine Dragon Screen, the Five Dragon Pavilion, taking the ferry to Jade Island, crossing the steep bridge, passing Haopu Pavilion, and looping back along the east bank to the rear gate. Lunch was eaten beside the famous “Spring Shade on Jade Island,” one of the Eight Great Sights of Yanjing. Below lay the renowned Fangshan Restaurant, which at the time was still reserved for foreign guests and state leaders, not open to the public.

As at school, Hong Tao remained an outcast during the excursion. On the bus, he and Da Jiang took a double seat, with Jin Yue sitting on his lap. Other students, when given a choice, stayed as far from him as possible, as if he carried some contagious disease. During the walk, he and Da Jiang trailed at the end of the line, ignored by both classmates and teachers.

After six months of training with Hong Tao, Zhang Da Jiang was no longer the pushover he once was. With newfound confidence, he dared to stand up for himself and glare at others, though he still hesitated to initiate conflict. But Hong Tao was sure that with another year or two of his instruction, Da Jiang would become a force to be reckoned with in the grade. With his size alone, he could easily handle one or two ordinary kids.