chapter 4
The boy who was sponsored by Uncle De and got into Tsinghua University.
In the evening, I went to the cafeteria for dinner and ran into him again.
In his meal tray, there was only a serving of shredded potatoes and four taels of rice.
After finishing my meal, I chatted with the cafeteria auntie for a bit.
Then I went to Class One to find Zhang Jie and got straight to the point: “I just asked the cafeteria owner. She hires part-timers. If you help out for half an hour during lunch and dinner, you get free meals and a hundred yuan a month.”
“Do you want to give it a try?”
Zhang Jie’s thin hand clenched into a fist, his face flushed: “Do I have to stand in front and serve food?”
“I, I…”
After all, he was still just a fifteen or sixteen-year-old kid, unable to swallow his pride.
I sighed softly: “How about this, I’ll talk to Teacher Wang at the library and see if you can be transferred there…”
He was stunned.
I had already walked quite a distance when he caught up to me and asked, “Why are you helping me?”
Because I took away what should have been yours.
It must have been Uncle De who split the sponsorship that was originally meant for him and gave half to me, which is why he’s in such a difficult situation.
“Maybe because we’re both poor,” I said.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he asked softly, “Aren’t you afraid of being gossiped about by classmates?”
I looked up at him.
The setting sun danced on his black hair, and the boy’s face was filled with both shame and confusion.
I said, word by word, “What’s truly frightening isn’t poverty, but the inferiority and timidity, the sensitivity and shortsightedness that grow out of it.”
“Because we’re poor, we hesitate, fear failure, and don’t dare to work hard, ultimately missing out on opportunities.”
“But if you earn money through your own labor, why should you be afraid of others’ strange looks?”
“If you were the cafeteria owner’s son, would you be afraid of what others say if you stood there serving food to your classmates?”
Zhang Jie’s pupils trembled, the veins on the back of his hand slightly bulging, and he said in a low voice, “Before junior high, my family was well-off. I always…”
I laughed.
He stared at me wide-eyed: “Why are you laughing?”
“I’m laughing because even top students aren’t perfect.”
I reached out my hand to him: “Nice to meet you, ordinary top student. My name is Song Zhaozhao.”
His damp palm met mine: “I’m Zhang Jie.”
He made up his mind: “You stay at the library. I’ll go ask the cafeteria owner myself later.”
The next day, I saw him in the cafeteria.
His face was as red as a shrimp, he didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone, and his movements were clumsy and flustered as he served food.
When it was my turn, I said loudly, “Classmate, I want a serving of celery with shredded pork-give me more meat!”
He looked up at me sharply, a fleeting smile in his eyes.
Then he gave me a heaping spoonful of food.
See, there’s someone I know in the cafeteria now.
Feels pretty good.
Of course, I had other reasons for helping him.
The learning atmosphere and academic performance in the parallel class were far inferior to those in the key class.
Even the teachers weren’t as attentive.
I wanted someone to guide me, but no one else had the patience.
But Zhang Jie did.
No matter when I went to ask him questions, he would always help me, explaining again and again until I understood.
My results in the midterm exam were disappointing-I ranked over four hundredth in the grade.
Zhang Jie comforted me: “Your foundation is weak. Right now, the most important thing is to build a solid base. Don’t get discouraged or give up.”
Of course I wouldn’t.
I’ve endured hardships a hundred times tougher than this-why would I care about this?
Gradually, rumors started circulating in the grade.
They said I liked Zhang Jie and was pestering him under the pretense of studying.
Whenever I walked with Zhang Jie, some busybody would whistle.
One day during lunch break, I was called to the office. Teacher Liu, the homeroom teacher of Class One, was there too.