A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

When Lin Shubai and his group came out of the teaching building, the sun was shining brightly.

The school gate was in complete chaos. Students were gathered in twos and threes, some excitedly comparing answers, some walking expressionlessly towards the bus, and a few squatting by the flower bed, holding their heads, looking like they had just experienced a mental overload.

Old Chen was standing under the locust tree at the school gate, holding a thermos, chatting with a teacher he didn't recognize. He saw Lin Shubai come out, said something to the person, and then walked over. Chen Xiaobei and Lin Wanqing also went to find their respective teachers.

"Finished the exam?"

"The exam is over."

"What's the question?"

"juvenile."

Old Chen paused for a moment, then nodded: "Good topic. Broad, yet profound. How did you write it?"

Lin Shubai thought for a moment: "I wrote an essay... I'd say it's an argumentative essay. The core idea is—when the youth are strong, the nation is strong."

Old Chen paused, glancing at Lin Shubai without speaking. After a few seconds of silence, he said, "Quite the boast."

"The question provided an opportunity."

Old Chen glanced at him again, this time with a hint of something in his eyes. "Let's go back to the hotel. Are you hungry?"

"good."

"Are you hungry or not?"

"It's alright. Not too hungry, but not not hungry either."

Old Chen paused, turned to look at him, his expression somewhat complicated: "What exactly do you mean by 'not bad'?"

"It's... somewhere between hungry and not hungry."

Old Chen took a deep breath, probably repeating "Don't get angry with the students" to himself three times, and then quickened his pace and walked away.

Lin Shubai followed, and when they reached the school gate, Chen Xiaobei and Lin Wanqing caught up from behind. They could hear Chen Xiaobei's voice from some distance away.

"What did you write? You mentioned 'Youth and the Times' before, how exactly did you write it? Did you use any memorable quotes? Let me tell you, I wrote a particularly good one—'Youth are not those who wait for the storm to pass, youth are those who dance in the storm.' What do you think? Isn't it very philosophical?"

Lin Wanqing paused for a second, then said, "That sentence is from the internet."

Chen Xiaobei was taken aback: "Really? Where did I see that? I thought I made it up myself."

"That means you've seen it but forgotten it."

"That's not easy either. Being able to remember is a skill. Many people forget what they've seen, but I can remember it and use it, which shows that I have a good memory."

Lin Wanqing didn't reply, and instead sped up her walk towards Lin Shubai.

Chen Xiaobei caught up from behind and said to Lin Shubai, "Does she have a problem with me? I think what I said makes a lot of sense."

"She doesn't have a problem with you. She just thinks you talk too much."

"So what if I talk a lot? Talking a lot is a good thing. It shows that I have an active mind—"

"You already said that."

"I can say it again if I've already said it. I'll say it three times because it's important. Keep your mind active, keep your mind active, keep your mind active. Okay, three times."

Lin Shubai felt his ears were protesting.

It was already noon when the three of them walked back to the hotel. Old Chen turned to Lin Shubai and said, "Just grab something quick for lunch, we have an event tonight."

"What activity?"

"The organizing committee arranged for all the participants and their team leaders to have dinner together, which served as a closing banquet. There's a restaurant in Wangfujing that's supposedly quite famous."

Upon hearing the word "eat," Chen Xiaobei's eyes lit up like two searchlights: "What restaurant? What do we eat? Peking duck? Hot pot? Noodles with soybean paste?"

Old Chen glanced at him: "I don't know. You'll find out when you get there."

"No matter what we eat, it's better than the school cafeteria." Chen Xiaobei turned to Lin Shubai and said, "Let me tell you, I wanted to eat roast duck yesterday, but I couldn't find a place. If we eat roast duck today, I can eat a whole one."

"You're eating a whole one by yourself?"

"I can still eat half a duck carcass. I can make three bowls of soup with duck carcass and rice."

Lin Wanqing walked by and said expressionlessly, "Don't cry when you weigh yourself tomorrow."

"I never weigh myself. My life motto is—as long as I don't step on the scale, I'm not fat."

The afternoon passed slowly. Lin Shubai lay in his room for a while, then checked his phone and sent Wang Xiulan a text message: "Exams are over."

Wang Xiulan replied instantly: "How is it?"

"I just performed as expected. The questions weren't difficult."

"That's good. What are we having for dinner?"

"The meal was arranged by the organizing committee."

"Don't eat random things."

"understood."

He sent Su Wan another message: "Exams are over."

Su Wan replied quickly: "What was the topic? How did you write it? Are you confident of winning the prize?"

Three questions, fired off in rapid succession; her speaking speed was palpable even through the screen. Lin Shubai answered them one by one: "Young man. I'd say it's an argumentative essay. I don't know."

"How come you don't know anything?"

"Because the results aren't out yet."

"So how do you feel? Do you feel good?"

"I feel alright."

"When you said 'not bad' last time, you won first prize in the citywide competition. This time, 'not bad' should also be a good omen."

Lin Shubai looked at the text message and smiled. Su Wan's logic was sometimes strange, but in a way that was comforting.

At six o'clock in the evening, Old Chen knocked on the door.

"Lin Shubai, let's go. The car is waiting downstairs."

Lin Shubai opened the door, and Old Chen stood there, wearing a clean coat and with his hair freshly combed, looking much more energetic than usual. Lin Shubai thought to himself, this must be the sense of ceremony of the "closing banquet"—even someone as unkempt as Old Chen started to tidy himself up.

The two went downstairs. The lobby was already quite crowded, filled with contestants and their teachers, gathered in small groups. Chen Xiaobei stood at the elevator entrance, wearing a brand-new dark blue hoodie with a cartoon tiger printed on the front. The tiger's expression was fierce, but paired with Chen Xiaobei's grinning face, it seemed utterly intimidating.

Lin Wanqing stepped out of the elevator. She had changed into a white down jacket, and her hair was down, draped over her shoulders. As she walked over, Chen Xiaobei glanced at her, paused for a moment, and then said, "You look a little different today."

Lin Wanqing looked at him: "How is it different?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it. It's just... a little different. Maybe it's because my hair is down? Or maybe the color of my clothes has changed? Anyway, it's different from during the day."

"That's because you've been talking all day and haven't had time to look at me."

Chen Xiaobei was taken aback for a moment, then scratched his head: "That's true."

The bus was waiting in front of the hotel. The group boarded and found seats towards the back. Chen Xiaobei sat next to Lin Shubai, Lin Wanqing sat on the other side of the aisle, and Old Chen sat in front.

The car started moving. Night falls early in Beijing; it gets dark around six o'clock. Streetlights came on one by one, their orange glow flickering on the car windows.

After about forty minutes, the car stopped in front of an antique-style building. A plaque hung at the entrance with four large characters written on it: "Quanjude".

Upon seeing the plaque, Chen Xiaobei jumped up from his seat: "Roast duck! I knew it! I knew we'd have roast duck today! My intuition has never been wrong!"

Old Chen turned around from the front row and glared at him: "Sit down. We haven't arrived at our stop yet."

Chen Xiaobei obediently sat down, but his bottom seemed to be on a spring, bouncing back and forth in the seat.

The bus came to a stop. A group of people filed out. The restaurant was large, with a lobby on the first floor, mahogany tables and chairs, and old black and white photos hanging on the walls, all looking quite old. The air was filled with the aroma of roast duck, mixed with the smell of scallions and sweet bean sauce. Chen Xiaobei took a deep breath, his expression one of blissful intoxication, as if he were smelling some luxury item.

"That's the taste! Let me tell you, the aroma of roast duck is different from other meats. Other meats are just fragrant, but roast duck is—how should I put it—the kind of fragrance that makes you unable to move away."

The organizing committee had booked the entire second floor. There were over a dozen large round tables, each seating ten people, and cold dishes were already laid out on the tables—smashed cucumber, braised beef, lotus root with osmanthus, and mustard greens. As soon as Chen Xiaobei sat down, he began studying the menu, his expression as serious as if he were working on the last major math problem of the college entrance exam.

"Six cold dishes, eight hot dishes, and Peking duck as the main course, one serving per person. Desserts are donkey rolls and pea flour cakes. This is quite a set menu." He closed the menu, turned to Lin Shubai, and said, "Let me tell you, if I don't eat my fill tonight, I'll have wasted this trip to Beijing."

Old Chen was sitting on Lin Shubai's other side, chatting with a teacher next to him. Lin Shubai picked up the chopsticks on the table out of boredom, looked at them, and then put them down.

Almost everyone had arrived. A host in a suit walked onto the stage, picked up the microphone, and began his speech. The content was nothing more than platitudes like "Welcome everyone," "Thank you everyone," and "I hope everyone achieves good results." Chen Xiaobei whispered a translation: "After saying so much, he basically summed it up in one sentence—Enjoy your meal and drinks."

After the host finished speaking, an even fatter leader went on stage to continue. Chen Xiaobei began translating again: "What this person means is—the roast duck will be here soon, everyone please be patient a little longer."

Lin Wanqing rarely chimed in with a comment like, "Your translation sounds better than his spoken version."

"Of course. I call it removing the dross and keeping the essence."

The leader finally finished speaking. The waiter began serving the dishes. The first dish was a hot dish—Kung Pao Chicken. Chen Xiaobei's chopsticks moved faster than anyone else's. He picked up a piece of chicken, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and his eyes lit up: "Delicious! A million times better than our school cafeteria!"

One dish after another was served. Stir-fried shrimp, braised sea cucumber with scallions, deep-fried meatballs, and squirrel-shaped mandarin fish—the table was overflowing with food. Chen Xiaobei commented on each dish, from "the shrimp is very bouncy" to "the scallion flavor of this sea cucumber isn't strong enough," just like a food show host, except his only audience was Lin Shubai, and Lin Shubai wasn't really listening.

Finally, the main course arrived.

Two waiters pushed a cart over, on which sat a roasted duck, golden brown and glistening with oil, its skin crispy and gleaming enticingly under the light.

The duck carver approached, a sharp knife in his hand. His movements were swift and precise; with a single stroke, the duck skin split open, revealing the tender white meat beneath. Each slice, thin and even, was arranged on the plate like a work of art.

Chen Xiaobei finally spoke, his voice slightly unsteady: "This duck deserved to die."

Lin Wanqing glanced at him: "Can't you speak normally?"

"What I said is perfectly normal. For a duck to be sliced ​​up like this and then eaten, that's the pinnacle of its duck life."

Chen Xiaobei's chopsticks shot out like lightning, picking up two slices of duck meat, placing them on a thin pancake, adding shredded scallions, cucumber strips, and sweet bean sauce, rolling it up, and stuffing it into his mouth in one bite. His cheeks puffed out like a hamster's, and after chewing a few times, he closed his eyes, his expression as serene as if he were meditating.

Lin Shubai also picked up a slice of duck meat. The duck skin was crispy, the duck meat was tender, and it was indeed delicious with sweet bean sauce and scallions. He had eaten roast duck in his previous life, but this one, probably because he ate it in the capital, felt particularly authentic.

【Trigger Keywords】

[Beijing + Peking Duck]

[Four Generations Under One Roof (Lao She)]

Xiaoyangquan Hutong, the Qi family: Ruixuan, Ruifeng, Ruiquan, Qian Moyin, Guan Xiaohe, and Da Chibao. After the fall of Beiping, ordinary families struggled to survive in the war. Some resisted, some lived in ignominy, some sold their souls, and some died in silence. Old Man Qi's dream of four generations living together shattered bit by bit under the crushing weight of war.

A full one hundred chapters, nearly a million words.

Those characters, those stories, those Beijing citizens brought to life by Lao She's pen—all flooded into Lin Shubai's mind at that moment. Every detail was crystal clear, every dialogue vivid in his memory. Qi Ruixuan's hesitation in front of Tiananmen Square, Qian Moyin's resilience in prison, Yunmei's tenacity in adversity, and the humanity exposed during the war—the ugly, the great, the humble, the sublime—were all crystal clear.

Lin Shubai's fingers trembled slightly, then steadied themselves.

He picked up his teacup and took another sip, temporarily suppressing the images in his mind.

Lin Wanqing ate slowly and deliberately, chewing each bite for a long time. She picked up a slice of duck meat, ate it directly without wrapping it in a pancake or dipping it in sauce. Chen Xiaobei saw this and looked at her incredulously: "You just eat it like that? Without anything?"

"This way you can taste the natural flavor of the duck meat."

"That's so boring. Eating Peking duck is all about wrapping it in a pancake, adding scallions and sauce, and stuffing it in one bite. Do you understand that feeling of satisfaction?"

"I understand. But I don't need it."

Chen Xiaobei shook his head, rolled up another one, and stuffed it into his mouth.

It was almost nine o'clock when they finished eating. A group of people came out of the restaurant, and a cold wind hit them. Lin Shubai pulled his scarf up and huddled into his clothes.

Chen Xiaobei let out a burp and patted his stomach: "I've never eaten so much in my life. I feel like there's a whole duck living inside me right now."

"You just ate three pancakes, two duck legs, half a plate of duck meat, and drank two bowls of duck bone soup," Lin Shubai counted on his fingers.

"Could you remember this for me?"

"Because it's too scary."

Lin Wanqing walked ahead and suddenly asked, "How are you going to get back tomorrow?"

"Train. Afternoon ticket."

"Me too. Shall we walk together after the awards ceremony tomorrow?"

Chen Xiaobei's eyes lit up: "Great idea! The three of us can sit together and chat on the way."

Lin Wanqing glanced at him: "You were still chatting on the way? Aren't you tired of talking?"

"Not tired. My mouth is a perpetual motion machine."

Lin Wanqing didn't reply and turned to walk towards the bus.