The chemistry teacher, Zhuang Musheng, was a tall, extremely serious man who held his students to the strictest standards. At the slightest provocation, he punished them by making them copy the periodic table or striking their palms and backs with a bamboo ruler.
In those days, there was no talk of banning corporal punishment. Even if parents never said, "Feel free to beat my boy," after a teacher did just that, they would only give him another good thrashing at home.
So even the repeaters were a little on edge when chemistry class came around.
Today, however, Zhuang Musheng had been all smiles from the moment he walked in. He amiably lit a cigarette and chatted with a few students in the front row before saying in heavily accented Mandarin, "Well, then, let's hand out the papers."
The students sat bolt upright. A few smokers near the lectern took deep breaths of the drifting smoke.
The scene could not have been more harmonious.
Zhuang Musheng slowly untied the string around the papers, then unfolded them just as slowly. Only then did he pick out the first sheet and examine it carefully before saying, "Yang Rui, 100 points. Give him a hand, everyone."
Scattered applause accompanied a variety of incredulous looks.
Zhuang Musheng could not have cared less what the students thought. He chuckled at the front of the room and said, "I'll keep Yang Rui's paper here for now. Class monitor, hand out everyone else's."
Only after watching Liu Shan take all the papers away did Zhuang Musheng pick up a piece of chalk, his cigarette between his lips. "Let's start with the last question on the chemistry paper. There's actually a slight problem with the question itself. I only noticed after reading Yang Rui's answer. Come on up, Yang Rui, and explain it to everyone..."
"It's really just a few chemical formulas that don't quite match. Ammonia isn't needed here. A small adjustment will make it work." Mentally, Yang Rui was almost thirty, and he could not be bothered to dwell on the chemistry teacher's oversight. He glossed over the faulty question in a couple of sentences, then discussed only the answer, not the errors.
The cleverer students only had to compare what he said against the question to realize that the problem with the final question was not that simple. Without the correction, it could not be solved at all.
What did that mean? It meant Yang Rui had genuinely worked out the answer himself.
Otherwise, copying the standard answer would have meant copying an incorrect answer, wouldn't it?
After handing out the papers, class monitor Liu Shan sat in her seat in a daze, silently calculating. Perfect scores in math, physics, and chemistry make 320 points. Add his 87 in English, and the scores announced so far already total 407. That's enough to scrape into a first-tier university. If we add Chinese, which hasn't been announced, and politics and biology, which we haven't taken yet, wouldn't he be able to go to any university he wanted?
Many things did not stand up to calculation.
At first, she had merely thought his perfect scores were outrageous. But doing the sums revealed the very real prospects ahead of him.
A first-tier university?
Liu Shan occasionally dreamed of it, but she had never seen anyone around her actually manage it.
Hu Yanshan's fragile heart had shattered as well, and his mouth was too dry to speak. Saying that Yang Rui was only good at math and physics had already been self-deception. Now he could not even fool himself, leaving him filled with envy, jealousy, and resentment toward Yang Rui.
At the front of the classroom.
Yang Rui finished explaining the final question in a few words, then smiled as usual. "Anyone who wants to join the study group can submit a written application to Wang Guohua. You'll be notified of the assessment results within a week."
Zhuang Musheng seemed quite pleased by what he heard at the front of the classroom. He nodded. "Sharing good study methods with your classmates is a good thing. Mm, you should also put more effort into studying chemistry from now on."
Only then did he begin going through the questions from the first one.
None of the students were in any mood to listen. They were all talking quietly about Yang Rui.
The change had come almost overnight. Everyone saw it, and everyone envied him.
Yang Rui quietly returned to his seat. He paid little attention to the lesson, copying and writing in his notebook instead.
Puzzled, Wang Guohua asked quietly, "What are you doing?"
"Scraping together some money for meat." Yang Rui sighed, looking desolate.
"How?"
"Well, the assessment exams are over now, and recruiting for the study group will take a week or two, right? I'm planning to spend these next couple of days writing articles to submit to magazines. Once I get paid, we'll have some meat together." Yang Rui sounded languid, but his hand did not slow in the slightest.
His head contained not only papers he had read during graduate school, but also articles he had read in middle school and elementary school. Apart from reprinted digest pieces, these were naturally all fresh material that had yet to be published in the present day.
Literary pieces presented the problem of writing style, but popular science and study-related articles were much simpler. For example, with a little organizing, the mnemonic rhymes and hexagon memory method he had taught Wang Guohua earlier could be published in a magazine such as Middle School Mathematics.
If he explained things in a little more detail, it would not be hard to stretch each article to several hundred or a thousand words.
Magazines sold very well in the eighties. Even a randomly chosen, relatively obscure publication could sell a hundred or two hundred thousand copies. Famous literary magazines sold several million, more than newspapers would sell in later years.
The resulting fees were quite generous too. Rates ranging from ten yuan to a hundred yuan per thousand words were commonplace. Meanwhile, an ordinary worker earned only around forty yuan a month, and wages at the township level were even lower, often just thirty yuan.
That meant publishing one article could earn roughly a month's wages. Having meat at every meal would still be a little difficult, but eating it regularly would be easy.
Besides, Yang Rui was merely copying articles already in his head. Publishing a few more would be no burden.
Only half understanding, Wang Guohua asked, "If you send them to magazines, can you really get published? What are you writing?"
"Some special applications of middle school math formulas. For example, distinguishing odd from even, and how to make more accurate judgments..." Seeing that he did not understand, Yang Rui changed tack. "And mnemonic rhymes and things like that..."
"Oh, mnemonic rhymes. Those are useful. But weren't the ones you taught me left behind by an old teacher?" Wang Guohua still remembered that detail.
"He taught me some back then, and I learned to make up my own too," Yang Rui said vaguely.
"Then can the ones you make up get published?"
"We'll see. It's fine if they can't."
"That's true." His curiosity satisfied, Wang Guohua turned back to the lesson.
Yang Rui continued copying his articles. Since this would be his first submission as a newcomer, he did not dare copy anything too long or too much. He chose material of moderate difficulty wherever possible, just at a level a middle school student could produce.
Of course, the tricks involved did require a little inspiration.
When chemistry class ended, Zhuang Musheng packed up his things and left.
For a moment, the classroom fell silent.
A few seconds later, Xu Jing was the first to stand. She handed Yang Rui a sheet of paper and said, "I want to join that group of yours."
"All right." Yang Rui had only just unfolded her application when another sheet was held out to him.
"I want to join the group too." This time it was Cao Baoming, whose large frame blocked the aisle.
"You wrote your application on a sheet of scrap paper?"
"You never said it had to be on tinfoil." Cao Baoming cracked a joke. Cigarettes wrapped in foil cost twenty cents more than those without.
When he saw Yang Rui about to put it away, he hurriedly added, "Have a look at what I wrote."
Yang Rui could not help looking at Xu Jing.
"You can read his first." Xu Jing looked every bit the easygoing tomboy.
"Then give me a moment." Yang Rui smoothed out Cao Baoming's application, then remained silent for a long time.
"Can't make it out?" Cao Baoming grew anxious. "I'll read it to you."
"Wait..."
Cao Baoming cleared his throat and began reading. "I volunteer to join Yang Rui's study group, uphold the group's program, abide by its constitution, fulfill my duties as a member, carry out its decisions, strictly observe its discipline..."
Yang Rui tapped his forehead with a headache. This fellow had actually rewritten the Communist Party admission oath...
It was a little inappropriate, but he had to admit that, rewritten this way, it rather appealed to his tastes.
Cao Baoming revealed a smug smile.
He might have been big and burly, but he was perceptive. After careful thought, he had indeed hit Yang Rui's sweet spot.
"So, can I join the group?" Cao Baoming rubbed his hands together. He genuinely thought Yang Rui's group would be useful.
After a moment's hesitation, Yang Rui smiled. "You can study with the group as a reserve member for now."
"A reserve member?"
"Once we've confirmed that your conduct matches your application, you can officially join."
Cao Baoming suddenly felt that he might have written too much.
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