The fruits of long preparation

The afternoon sunlight shone into the office, making it especially bright.

A flourishing Kaffir Lily swayed its stems and leaves, tucked into the north corner of the desk. In the shadows stood two thermos flasks, one red and one green, along with a washstand and basin.

In an era when offices had no plumbing of their own, a clean basin and thermos flasks, with water carried in and out by hand, were about the height of luxury. Even Zhongnanhai was no different.

Sitting in such an office gave Old Feng a little extra authority.

Determined to get Yang Rui, he said earnestly, "Our textbook compilation team was commissioned by the provincial department to supplement the new textbooks being compiled by the central authorities. We've been assigned a higher administrative rank, with priority in staffing and funding. If you second this Yang Rui to me, you'll let him put his abilities to full use and help us better complete the task assigned by our superiors. In two or three years, when we finish compiling the textbooks and rewards are handed out, we'll surely be able to give him a bright future. If you insist on keeping him at Township Middle School, he'll still be where he is now two years later. Why bother?"

Zhao Dannian smiled wryly. "It's not that I won't let you have him. I can't."

"Old Zhao! I know you treat Xibao Middle School like your own son, but you can't hold back someone else's son. I can let you joke your way around other things, but on this, you have to listen to me." Old Feng's tone alternated between stern and gentle. He clearly understood Zhao Dannian's temperament and knew how to deal with this veteran firebrand.

"I know," Zhao Dannian said helplessly.

"No, you don't-what a wonderful opportunity this is." Old Feng sighed.

The eighties were an era that cherished and valued talent.

The closer to the grassroots, the more highly talent was valued. Some competed for it in their departments' interests, while many also wanted to cherish talent for the country's sake.

Although many people in later years considered "devoting oneself wholeheartedly to the Party, the country, and the people" as unrealistic as "living on love alone," countless people in the eighties truly put it into practice.

Getting an article published in a newspaper or magazine was a mark of talent. Many later celebrities and officials had made their initial leap through an article, a poem, or a letter.

To persuade Zhao Dannian, Old Feng simply took several magazines from the bookshelf, turned to Yang Rui's articles one by one, and pointed them out to him.

He genuinely liked the articles Yang Rui had written.

They included papers Yang Rui had copied, articles he had partly copied and partly revised, and even two or three pieces he had written entirely himself.

After several years as a cram-school teacher, Yang Rui had long had all sorts of ideas he wanted to write up and publish. But the academic journals of later years were corrupt and dull. Not only did they pay no royalties, they charged authors "page fees" ranging from several hundred to several thousand yuan. For the slightly more prestigious ones, authors also had to call in favors, cultivate connections, or even pay bribes. As a young man working for a private business, Yang Rui simply lacked the means to undertake such a complicated project, however much he wanted to.

Back in the eighties, the old obstacles had vanished and new ones had yet to emerge. For researchers, it truly could not have been a better era.

Yang Rui could not resist slipping a couple of genuinely original pieces in among the articles he copied.

Given the state of research into the college entrance examination at the time, his ideas and arguments were quite valuable, so their publication was perfectly natural.

In Old Feng's eyes, however, anyone who published so many articles at once surely had a story behind him. With considerable sympathy, he said, "You need to take this seriously. Even if Yang Rui doesn't understand, you need to understand first, then persuade him. Tell him that we have reform and opening up now. Times have changed. Nobody will ever again say that the more knowledge you have, the more reactionary you are. On the contrary, we will protect, respect, and value talent... Actually, this comrade must understand that to some extent himself. Look, so many articles published together. They're probably the fruits of years of accumulated work. Long preparation finally bearing fruit, isn't that the saying? He hasn't given up studying or working in education all these years. We have both a responsibility and an obligation to do right by this comrade."

He had clearly taken Yang Rui for an intellectual who had persevered in his work and studies during the political campaigns.

Although the campaigns had ended several years earlier, those who had lived through that era remained extremely cautious about anything put into writing.

Intellectuals who kept quiet for several years before venturing out again were everywhere. Not everyone was so unflappable that they cheered at the first call for reform.

Old Feng, too, had been brought down and risen again. He felt particular sympathy for people like "Yang Rui" and asked very seriously, "What sort of authorized post does he have now? Does he hold any position?"

Still in shock, Zhao Dannian murmured, "He doesn't have an authorized post."

"No authorized post? He's still a substitute teacher? And you still won't let him go? This is ridiculous!" Old Feng raised his voice, stood, and took two quick steps. Then he waved a hand and softened his tone. "It's not your fault, either. A lot of comrades were sent down over those years, and finding new placements for them is a heavy task. How about this? I'll find a way to arrange an authorized post. Just send him over first. Don't delay any longer. Letting such outstanding talent waste his youth is our failure, and a loss to the country..."

Zhao Dannian was highly immune to this. Instead of answering, he asked, "Yang Rui wrote all these himself?"

"They all carry the same author's name... Mostly research on secondary education, I think, with a little literary writing, mainly popular science and science fiction." Old Feng had not looked closely at magazines like Science Pictorial. Periodicals such as the Middle School Student Herald had an academic character and naturally deserved more attention.

In disbelief, Zhao Dannian read several short articles, then carefully checked the bylines. He said nothing for a long time.

Old Feng pressed him repeatedly.

Only then did Zhao Dannian say slowly, "I know a Yang Rui, but he isn't a teacher at our school."

"What do you mean? Did he get his affiliation wrong, or what?"

"You haven't understood me. If the Yang Rui you're talking about is the Yang Rui I know, he isn't a teacher at our school, but he might be a student." Zhao Dannian said it all in one breath. Had he not been pressed so hard, he would at least have gone back to the school to confirm things before admitting that Yang Rui was a student there.

Old Feng rubbed his ears and repeated, "A student? How old a student?"

"Eighteen or nineteen, I suppose. He's in the repeat-year class." Zhao Dannian thought back over his conversation with Yang Rui, then added, "Maybe twenty-one or twenty-two, if he started school early."

"Are you sure?"

"How could I be sure?" Zhao Dannian reclined on the sofa, looking as though it was out of his hands. "Anyway, there's only one Yang Rui at Xibao Middle School."

Now Old Feng was uncertain too. Puzzled, he said, "Could it be... that there really has been a mistake?"

Zhao Dannian touched his nose awkwardly and made a show of drinking his tea.

Old Feng had known him for years. One look at his manner brought immediate realization. "There's something else you haven't told me?"

"I told you."

"Then tell me again."

"You old rascal!" Zhao Dannian looked every inch a Red Guard.

Unmoved, Old Feng pressed him even harder.

Only then did Zhao Dannian say, "Do you remember me asking when I came in whether the province had issued any new internal practice questions or study materials?"

"Hmm? I answered you. Everyone's busy preparing supplementary materials for the new textbooks. Who has time to write exercises for the old ones?" Old Feng meant the textbooks newly released that year, which would accompany those born in the eighties for a long time.

"They aren't supplements for the old textbooks. They're... how should I put it? A whole set of new things..." Zhao Dannian shook his head. "My point is, Yang Rui made them."

Old Feng was confused. "Which Yang Rui is this now?"

"How many Yang Ruis do you think there are? We have just the one at Xibao Middle School. Yang Rui, the student."

"Oh... oh! You mean this student, Yang Rui, put together a set of teaching materials himself?" Old Feng finally caught on and hurriedly asked, "Where are the questions?"

Zhao Dannian took several test papers out of his briefcase. These were from the first batch printed, still using the school's paper and mimeograph machine. Yang Rui had delivered them at his request.

As for what had happened over the past few days, Zhao Dannian himself still knew nothing about it.

Old Feng skimmed rapidly through them and soon sank into a peculiar state. It was as though... something he had been imagining for a long time had suddenly exploded in his mind in a form even closer to his own thinking.

For someone born in the thirties, this feeling of something knowing what he wanted better than he did himself was too new, too addictive, too incredible.

"Call this... no, I'm going to meet this Yang Rui!" Old Feng hurriedly gathered the newspapers and magazines from the coffee table, looking ready to leave immediately. Then he suddenly stopped and slapped his forehead. "Oh, no!"

"Oh, no? What now? Can you stop making such a fuss?"

"This is bad, this is bad..." Slapping his forehead, Old Feng circled the office twice without stopping.

"Tell me what happened. Tell me..." Zhao Dannian caught hold of him.

Old Feng shook his head. "Do you remember Huang Weiping?"

"Of course I do. Crafty fellow. When he came back to his hometown a couple of years ago, we all had drinks together. Didn't he go back to the capital and join some office? That fellow's highly educated and lucky, too. What about him?"

"He called yesterday and asked about this Yang Rui."

"Huh?"

Old Feng sighed. "Because the byline listed Hedong Province, he asked whether I knew the man. I said I didn't, but..."

"But what? Can't you say it all at once?"

"I told him my conjecture."

"What conjecture?" Zhao Dannian had actually guessed a little already. He did not even want to ask.

Old Feng kept slapping his forehead. "Think about it. So many articles published at once, all with such mature ideas... At the time, I thought he had to be either a teacher with years of frontline experience or a scholar who had spent years researching education. Since he was from your Xibao Middle School, and Huang Weiping was asking, I shared a few guesses of my own. Put in a couple of good words for him, you could say."

Zhao Dannian's face turned green. "What good words?"

"I said..." Old Feng lowered his voice. "I said he was very likely an educator who had yet to be rehabilitated, and one who had continued researching and studying all these years. Otherwise, he couldn't write at that level, couldn't produce so many articles of such quality..."

"Old Feng, Old Feng..." Furious, Zhao Dannian stood and jabbed a finger at him repeatedly, scolding, "What gave you the right to guess? Couldn't you have called me?"

"You have the nerve to say that? Nine times out of ten, calls to that lousy phone at your school won't go through."

"Couldn't you have waited?" Zhao Dannian's voice shot up.

Veins bulged on Old Feng's forehead too, but at Zhao Dannian's words, he softened and said quietly, "Huang Weiping was in a hurry for an answer. I couldn't wait."

Zhao Dannian calmed down a little as well and asked in puzzlement, "In a hurry? Why was he in a hurry about this?"

Old Feng lowered his head. "Huang Weiping said a meeting was in progress. Someone had brought out two articles Yang Rui wrote and discussed them as examples at the meeting. Some of the attendees were curious and asked him to inquire about the author's thinking."

Alert to the implications, Zhao Dannian asked, "What meeting?"

"I didn't ask. It might have been about the new textbooks, or it might have been a policy discussion meeting on education..."

Zhao Dannian was startled. "At the central level?"

"What else? At the time, I thought it was a rare opportunity. A good word from us might spare this Yang Rui any number of detours and help him make up a little lost time. How could I have imagined he was a student? How could he possibly be a student!" Old Feng slapped his hands together as he spoke.

Zhao Dannian was speechless. After a long while, he finally sat up and said, "How about calling Huang Weiping again? To explain?"

"And say what? Yesterday's meeting must be over by now. Who would we explain it to? Huang Weiping wasn't the one who wanted to know. Besides, we still don't know whether this Yang Rui is that Yang Rui." Old Feng's mind was in complete disarray.

"Maybe someone at the meeting was just curious and happened to ask. Once it was over, that was that."

"Maybe."

The two could only console each other. But both knew perfectly well that anyone who could indulge a passing curiosity in the middle of a meeting and then order someone to make a phone call was certainly no ordinary person. Whether they would forget after asking was hard to say.