Chapter 6

I took the bangle home, wrapped it in several layers of old clothes, and hid it under my bed.

That was the first sleepless night of my life.

I tossed and turned until morning, when I decided to go back to the market and wait for the woman.

I went for five days in a row. She never appeared.

I took it to Mr. Sun. I said only that my mother had left it and asked him to sell it for me.

He examined it for a long time and said it must be worth a great deal.

I told him to sell it, whatever the price.

In those days, a year’s tuition, school fees, and living expenses came to only a hundred or two yuan.

I had little understanding of money. Five hundred yuan for the bangle seemed an astronomical sum.

But Mr. Sun came back and gave me five thousand.

He looked embarrassed. Lighting a cigarette, he spoke sheepishly.

“I didn’t know what it should cost. The buyer held up five fingers. I thought he meant five hundred, and agreed at once.”

“Then he gave me five thousand and hurried off, as if he was afraid I’d change my mind.”

“Only then did it dawn on me. Five thousand was probably too little.”

I took out more than half and pressed it into his hands.

“I’m living in someone else’s house. Having so much money all at once might cause trouble.”

“I know Sun Heng’s mother has a brain tumor and needs surgery in Shanghai. I won’t use all this. Think of it as payment for your lessons.”

He tried repeatedly to refuse. When he saw I was determined, he clutched the money, covered his face, and wept.

I slipped away. Just outside the lane, Sun Heng caught up with me.

His eyes were red, and he stumbled through his thanks.

“Huisheng, thank you for saving my mother. I’ll repay you once I get into university!”

Then his face reddened too. “Where do you want to go to university?”

I said anywhere, as long as it took me out of this small county.

“Then I’ll go with you.”

He blurted it out and ran off.

I thought little of it.

Mr. Sun accompanied his wife to Shanghai for surgery and sent me package after package of exam papers used by students there.

The difference in teaching quality astonished me. My growing pride subsided.

Full marks at No. 1 didn’t mean I was exceptionally capable. The resources here were simply too limited.

The gap between me and pupils in the major cities was enormous.

I worked through the questions Mr. Sun sent again and again, teaching myself some basic higher mathematics and linear algebra as well.

I couldn’t judge my true ability. Whenever I met something I didn’t know, I tried to cram it into my head.

It was like washing clothes in the dark. Only when I handed in my college entrance papers would I know whether they were clean.

With money at last, I paid to board in my final year, saving the time I had spent walking every day.

Competition wasn’t fierce then. Most pupils only wanted a high school diploma.

Only a few of the best were determined to get into university.

Through countless quizzes and monthly exams, I held first place at No. 1. My mathematics, physics, and chemistry marks were almost perfect, often putting me dozens of points ahead of second place.

The teachers were astonished. They quietly protected me as if I were a giant panda.

Perhaps grateful that I had saved his mother, Sun Heng often brought me extra food too.

I chased the imaginary rivals in my head day and night, almost forgetting to eat and sleep.

Then my body began letting me down.

Perhaps it was all the time hunched over books and problems, with none of the three or four hours of walking I had done each day before boarding.

At first I felt dizzy and weak. I grew sleepy during lessons too.

I thought it was an ordinary cold.

Only after fainting twice in one week did I take it seriously.

Sun Heng looked more worried than I was. He insisted on taking me to the town’s new Western-medicine clinic.

The doctor examined me for ages but found nothing definite.

He said it was only malnutrition and low blood sugar, and told me to carry sweets.

The next day, Sun Heng brought a small metal tin filled with sweets of every color.

I kept it beside my bed, then took it home to Erya over the weekend.

Erya had low blood sugar too.

Several times during farm work, she had gone from full of life to pale-faced and unconscious in an instant.

Each time, my aunt was scared out of her wits.

Before we knew it was low blood sugar, she thought Erya was possessed.

She burned mugwort several times, then hired someone to perform a sham ritual dance to drive out the spirits.

Now we knew it was Erya’s blood sugar dropping.

I set the colorful sweets before her.

She looked as if I had given her a chest of treasures. She even held it while she slept.

Yet she only let herself taste one every ten days or so. She carefully smoothed and saved each shiny wrapper.

She borrowed one of my books to press them in, then happily showed them off to her friends.