What was the price of growing up?
Answer: Wetting the bed as a child was shameful, but wetting the bed as an adult somehow felt like an achievement. That was the price of growing up.
The teacher pointed at this section of my essay on the test paper. "Jiang Linyuan, did you write this seriously?"
"I copied it."
"Copied it from where?"
"I copied Huang Taoyan's."
"I've read hers. She didn't write this part."
"Teacher, don't you think I'm right?"
The teacher laughed. "Read your essay aloud in front of the whole class during Chinese class next period."
"Don't worry, Teacher. I've got experience giving speeches. I won't let you down."
The teacher sighed. "You're beyond saving. Go back."
I walked out of the office and returned to the classroom.
"I can't take it anymore! Another round of test papers! I don't want to prepare for exams anymore! It's only the first semester of senior year! What am I supposed to do next semester? I might as well prepare for pregnancy!"
A miserable, ghostly wail came from the back row.
"Stop trying to make people laugh, Huang Taoyan. You want to prepare for pregnancy? If you went to a temple to pray for a child and drew an unlucky lot, even the master would tell you to turn sideways and call you a maggot."
I turned around and said it casually.
"Fuck!"
Huang Taoyan raised both middle fingers in greeting, and I returned the gesture without hesitation.
"Yaoyao, look at him!"
Huang Taoyan whined coquettishly to her deskmate.
"Two idiots."
Jiang Zhiyao shook her head, then looked at me again.
"What did the teacher call you to the office for?"
I thought about it.
"He wants me to present my essay tomorrow morning for everyone to appreciate."
"Am I going