Military training had resumed. Although the exercises were simple, the hours were anything but short. It was not quite an all-day affair yet, but they still averaged over eight hours a day.
The students living on campus went around in groups, while Lian Youming kept to himself. With two books in his arms, he either headed into the library or sat down in a park. To give them an early start on developing their writing skills, their writing instructor had also assigned them two essays about life during military training.
Romance was, naturally, an indispensable part of university.
Although the university officially forbade it, they were in the prime of their youth. As they gradually grew accustomed to university life and shed their initial bewilderment, their minds began to wander. All the more so since they were Chinese literature students, with poets everywhere. The noticeboard at the back of the classroom was always covered in activity posters for poetry societies and literary societies. With everyone reading poetry from China and abroad every day, pursuing romanticism and insisting that true knowledge came from practice, love letters began circulating in less than half a month.
There were those who fooled around, and those who took things seriously.
While some were still fretting over military training or thinking about romance, others had already begun planning their futures. After training, they washed their uniforms and buried themselves in the library, either poring over books and newspapers to fill gaps in their knowledge or cramming foreign languages in preparation for the future.
Then, to develop their creative thinking, Zhu Yuan required them to submit a piece of writing every week during military training, with no restrictions on genre or subject matter. She told them to write boldly and freely, saying she would select the best