Since it was the weekend, the campus was quite lively.
Groups of people could be seen gathered everywhere, holding animated little get-togethers.
As they walked past one group, Zhou Cheng knew they were poetry enthusiasts just from listening at a distance, without Zhuang Tunan needing to introduce them.
In the campus culture of the eighties, poetry and poetry societies stood at the forefront.
The enthusiasm for poetry had already been intense in secondary school. At university, where the environment was more open, it naturally only grew stronger.
Leaving everyone else aside, almost all six of his dormmates had poetry collections or handwritten copies of works by famous poets such as Bei Dao and Gu Cheng on their desks or beside their beds.
Honestly, he found it a little unbearable to listen to a bunch of grown men reciting verse in singsong voices every day.
All these factors combined had given him the idea of finding a place off campus early and moving out when he had the chance.
Besides that, he also planned to buy himself some means of getting around.
Having to walk practically everywhere really wasted his time.
By the time they finished their tour, roughly an hour had passed.
Zhuang Tunan offered to take him to eat at Tongji's cafeteria.
Zhou Cheng readily agreed.
Tongji's cafeteria was considerably more famous than Fudan's.
Among Shanghai's universities in the eighties, there was a saying: "For fun, go to Fudan; for food, go to Tongji."
Fudan's relaxed management and liberal rules made it better suited to "fun."
Tongji, meanwhile, benefited from its location: the campus received supplies according to urban standards, which meant better food and higher allowances.
Tongji's old president practically ran the cafeteria like an academic discipline, even deliberately sending its cooks to several major hotels for further