Chapter 1:
Opening Shot
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CLICK. The darkness illuminated. The TV screen flickered, and an image began to appear.
The faculty dorm was located in the building crammed into the furthermost corner of this centuries-old university campus. Placed out of the way, it was where the school mostly sent their young and sprightly teachers. The exterior was gorgeous—all red brick and white steps, with delicate ivy vines encircling the old Western-style building. No passersby would be able to resist taking a lingering gaze, but only those lucky enough to become a teacher and enter it would realize that, under its beautiful facade, this building had undergone many rounds of repairs. The interior walls were mottled and layered, like an aged face caked with countless layers of makeup. The dorm was so old that it didn’t even have digital televisions; the ones here were cable TVs that could only be described as antiques.
“The Yangtze Plain is experiencing several torrential rainstorms in succession…”
A young man walked past the corridor as the sound of the TV program filtered through the cracked glass window of the receptionist’s office. Usually, the old lady on shift would stop him and shout, “Hey, little student, dontcha know? This is a faculty residence for teachers. You’re a student, you can’t keep coming here.”
But today, the receptionist didn’t scold him. Perhaps it was because she was staring off into space, or that her eyesight was failing in her later years, but she didn’t notice him pass by in the dark night.
He walked directly up to the third floor and knocked on a familiar iron door.
It opened with a creak; the woman inside poked her head out. “It’s you?”
“Xie-laoshi,” the young man said softly.
It was quite late, and he was an unexpected guest. But the woman was his teacher, as well as the person closest to him in the entire school. After a moment of surprise, she welcomed him inside.
She brewed a cup of tea and added some sliced ginger. It was raining outside, and she could feel that the youth was soaked and cold; hot ginger tea could drive out the chill.
Xie-laoshi placed the steaming cup down on the tea table before her student, who was standing uncomfortably in front of the sofa. “When did you get back?”
“Just today.”
“Please sit down,” Xie-laoshi said.
Only then did he sit, his hands curled over his knees. He was stiff and reserved, and didn’t touch the tea.
“Why didn’t you let me know that you were coming back? Are there even buses this late?”
“…Mm.”
“How did things go with your family?”
The youth was quiet for a while, then lowered his head to pick at the rip in his jeans. “My mom still wants me to drop out…”
Xie-laoshi fell silent.
He was already a university student; if he chose to drop out, the school didn’t have much say in the matter. Even so, she had spoken with his mother and promised to lower the tuition fees due to their financial difficulty in hopes that his mother would allow her son to finish his studies at the university he had worked so hard to get into.
But his mother had shrilly refused.
“What studies?! Studying Chinese? Who doesn’t know how to speak Chinese? You’re all just pulling a scam!”
Xie-laoshi had patiently and gently tried to explain, “Your son is very bright. Look, he’s already in his second year. Wouldn’t it be a huge waste to give up halfway? Plus, once he graduates, it’ll be easier for him to find a job. He told me he wants to be a teacher. With his grades, he’d have no trouble getting employed as one. This is your son’s dream, and teaching is a stable job…”
“He could never become a teacher! It’s not like you haven’t seen his face!”
The mother’s words were like a dull blade cleaving right down the middle of an invisible current.
Xie-laoshi was furious, but she didn’t know how to respond.
“I want him to come back to work right now! Our family is broke! He needs to stop wasting time! With that…that face… What can he do even if he studies! What school would want this kind of teacher?!”
So what was his face like?
She peered at her student, his face dimly illuminated by the weak incandescent lamp in her room.
Xie-laoshi had already grown used to his features, but everyone who saw him for the first time would gasp. Due to some unknown disease, half of his face—from forehead to neck—was covered in purple blotches, as if concealing rotting flesh.
It was a horrifying sight, undisguised in its abnormality.
“Freak!”
“Stay away from him, it might be contagious.”
“Hey! Half-and-half!”
Having grown up with this face of his, mockery and ridicule followed him like a shadow.
Because he had a disease, and moreover because he didn’t have the sense to cover up his ailment, his ugliness, he was shunned wherever he went. No matter how hard he studied, no matter how gently he interacted with others, he was like an evil dragon flying through a clear sky: conspicuous and frightening. He could never receive any equal treatment.
People like Xie-laoshi, who could see that the unblemished half of his face was very lovable and gentle, were a rarity.
He would always gently and numbly bear everyone’s mockery. Sometimes, he too would laugh along, as if he had actually done something wrong.
But what exactly had he done wrong?
Xie-laoshi noticed it all. When studying, he’d always be the most focused; he’d dutifully do his part and silently take on the most work in group projects. When people bullied him, he would just endure it without getting angered or saying much.
“It’s fine, Laoshi, I’m already very happy that you’d chat with me. Back in my village, everyone would cross the street as soon as they saw me coming. There’s never been anyone like you, who would listen to me so attentively. The other students are very nice too. At least no one’s thrown bricks at me.”
His words were calm, but his head was forever bowed, his shoulders hunched. Years of humiliation had caused his spine to bend, deforming from the pressure.
Later, she said to him, “If you’d like, you can always come to me for private tutoring after the evening self-study session. If there’s anything you don’t understand or you need my help with, just let me know.”
He smiled in deep embarrassment, the blush of shame appearing on the unblemished half of his face.
In the two years she’d known him, she’d grown used to opening her dorm door after he had knocked to see him standing there with his stooped posture. He would be carrying the papers, prose, and even poetry that he wrote, having come to ask her for pointers.
These days, many people liked to curse, but very few liked to write poetry.
But he persisted, even as other students mocked him, calling him an ugly freak who wrote ugly things: So rancid, even more rancid than your rotten grape face.
He would smile a little and just keep writing.
Now, he didn’t even have the right to do that anymore.
As these thoughts filled Xie-laoshi’s mind, she felt a pang of sorrow and gazed with pity at the boy in front of her.
“Laoshi, this time, I came to say goodbye,” he said. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
“You’re going back home?”
“…Mm, more or less.”
He paused. “Laoshi, if my disease weren’t on my face, if it were somewhere people couldn’t see, people would be a little nicer to me. How nice would that be.”
The rims of Xie-laoshi’s eyes reddened. She’d already done everything she could, but she wasn’t his kin; she didn’t have the final say, nor could she save him. His family situation was worsening by the day, and his mother regretted letting her child leave home to study, especially since she had a healthy second son who was still in junior high school. If they called the sick child back home, they could let the healthy one take his place.
Xie-laoshi didn’t blame his mother; having to weigh the pros and cons of the family situation, she was being quite fair.
“The…the essay that you left with me, the one you wanted me to look over, I’m not done editing it yet—” Xie-laoshi hastily changed the subject, feeling that soon she wouldn’t be able to hold back her tears anymore.