“What a joke. Look at him. Anyone who didn’t know better would think he was the one who got in.” A villager stood at the edge of a field, rolling up his sleeves and muttering as he watched Zhao Buxi in the distance.
In August, the cornfields were a sea of green.
Zhao Buxi had just finished weeding, bent at the waist. A half-damp white towel lay over his head, with a straw hat perched on top.
The midday sun was fierce. Wetting a towel, wringing it out, and putting it over his head was a good way to cool off.
When he finished weeding, he pulled everything off his head, revealing a striking, sharp-featured face beneath his half-dried hair. Seen from below, the definition of his features was astonishing.
He had handsome eyes and brows, a high nose bridge, and pink lips.
He had been working so vigorously that bits of grass clung to his face and neck. Tossing aside his hoe, he casually rubbed at them with his elbow, picked up the big green Sprite bottle full of tap water from the ground, unscrewed the cap, and tipped back his head for a mouthful.
A student sketching beneath a tree nearby lined up her pencil’s imaginary crosshairs on Zhao Buxi again when he moved.
The weeds in the field scratched at the hands, so Zhao Buxi wore gloves on the hand holding the Sprite bottle.
They were leather gloves he had bought from Old Jiang in the village.
Old Jiang had muttered something about top-quality merchandise and demanded 280 yuan.
Zhao Buxi countered with two yuan eighty.
The old man threatened to jump in the river.
Zhao Buxi told him to go ahead.
The old man insisted Zhao Buxi jump in with him, as if they were queuing for a two-player match.
Out of respect for human life, Zhao Buxi had eventually paid the exorbitant sum of twelve yuan for the gloves.
Normally, he never would have spent that much.
Twelve damn yuan for a pair of gloves to work the fields! The convenience store sold two pairs of work gloves for ten.
But good news had been crashing into him one thing after another lately, like bumper cars. Zhao Buxi was happy to spend the money.
As for what good news, the mere thought of it was enough to make him laugh aloud.
First, the family cow had given birth to two calves.
Cows ordinarily bore one calf per pregnancy, but his had produced twins. It was rare enough to make the news. There might not be even one case in a hundred thousand.
And that one case had landed right in his lap.
As for the second thing, Zhao Buxi’s smile broadened, delight and pride shining unmistakably in his face and eyes.
After drinking, he removed his gloves and pulled a stack of photocopies from the plastic bag on the ground, turning the sheets over and over to admire them.
The second piece of good news was that his younger brother, Zhao Sheng, had brought honor to the family for the second time: he had been admitted to graduate school at Capital University, one of the country’s finest institutions.
The first time had been when he took the college entrance exam and entered a prestigious Double First-Class university ranked among the country’s top ten. But telling people about that hadn’t produced nearly the same reaction as mentioning Capital University.
Whether the villagers were envious or sour about it, everyone said the Zhao family’s Little Tiger was remarkable. He had made something of himself.
Getting into Capital University was practically a change of destiny. He would never have to worry about food or clothing again; his future shone brighter than the most powerful lightbulb, bright enough to burn your hand.
The villager who had rolled up his sleeves watched Zhao Buxi rejoice over several crumpled sheets of paper, his expression full of disdain.
What a show-off.
He had crossed paths with Zhao Buxi on the way to the fields. Their families had an old grudge over the division of farmland, and Zhao Buxi hadn’t been about to waste the chance to boast right in his face.
He had pulled out the papers, unfolded them, and declared triumphantly, “See that? It says, ‘Welcome, outstanding student Zhao Sheng, to our university.’”
The villager had looked at the words Zhao Buxi was pointing to. “That says, ‘Scan the QR code for details,’ you illiterate fool.”
He had half a mind to fold those miserable pages into paper airplanes and send them flying.
Zhao Buxi wasn’t particularly educated and could barely recognize a few characters, but being called illiterate didn’t bother him. He kept looking smug and laughed heartily. “Oh? So that’s how you read those characters.”
So what if he couldn’t read? His brother was a top student at one of the best universities in the country.
With that, he carefully folded the photocopies as though they were treasures, put them back in the plastic bag, and strolled away humming.
The villager glowered after him. Sensing the stare, Zhao Buxi turned and cheerfully waved the photocopies.
The villager: “…”
Pah, pah, pah! He never should have wasted another glance on Zhao Erniu. Under his breath, he cursed:
“Damned show-off. Anyone would think he was the one who got admitted. Can’t even read a character.”
Another villager came over and joined his little gossip session. He couldn’t stand the way Zhao Erniu showed off every day either. “Tell me about it. In all my years, I’ve never seen anyone so determined to brag.”
They exchanged a glance, as if they had found kindred spirits.
“For people who farm like us, what counts as excellence? Being honest and keeping your feet on the ground. That’s excellence. Do your work properly instead of showing off at every little thing. That sort of vanity means nothing. It won’t last.”
The other man chimed in. “Just look at how he struts around. It’s all a performance for us. How many years has it been since Little Tiger Zhao came home? Old Madam Li told me those brothers barely keep in touch. Not even a call every ten days or a fortnight, and they hardly see each other all year.”
“Exactly. Didn’t Little Tiger even change his name? He’s Zhao Sheng now. Obviously he doesn’t want anything to do with his family. And Zhao Erniu still thinks he’s something special. Does his brother even pay him any attention?”
“People who get ahead are all afraid of poor relatives. Of course he’d keep that brother at arm’s length. Otherwise he’d stick to him like a plaster and never let go.”
Their tongues rattled like clappers, and their voices were pitched just loud enough for Zhao Buxi to hear.
Zhao Buxi turned a deaf ear. His satisfaction wasn’t dented in the slightest.
Sour grapes.
They were just jealous.
Jealous that the Zhao family had produced a successful university student, an outstanding scholar, a graduate student.
In short: Zhao Sheng.
When Zhao Buxi finished his work in the fields, he gathered his things and prepared to head home. Seeing him about to leave, the two men in the distance grew as excited as if they’d had a shot of adrenaline and began chattering even louder.
Zhao Buxi slung his things over his shoulder. His family’s plot bordered that of the villager who had started criticizing him, and as he left, he sent the irrigation pipe flying with a kick.
That’ll teach you to run your mouth.
The connected pipes came apart and whipped through the field like golden snakes. A stream of water as thick as a large bowl gushed onto the soil, gathering into a little pool.
“ZHAO ERNIU! YOU BASTARD, YOU KICKED MY WATER PIPE!”
Seeing what had happened to his companion’s pipe, the other villager scuttled toward his own field, pumping his legs like a running-monkey meme, terrified that Zhao Buxi would kick his pipe too.
He’d forgotten that damned kid’s rotten temper.
Zhao Buxi was entirely unrepentant. “Your pipe was exactly the one I meant to kick.”
He was twenty-eight, yet he still had a thoroughly childish streak.
Satisfied, he picked up his things and headed home.
The villager was beside himself. Sooner or later, he was going to fold those wretched papers into paper airplanes and send them flying!
After Zhao Buxi left, a woman in a floral outfit came shuffling over in her slippers and called the sketching student home for dinner.
A yellow village dog trotted behind her.
“Girl! Dinner’s ready! Come home!”
Having enjoyed the spectacle, the student packed up her things.
“How did your drawing go today?”
The student glanced at her sketch. “Mom, when I get married, I want to bring home a man like Brother Erniu, with a great big perky butt.”
Her mother clapped her hands over her ears, scrunching up her face and pretending she hadn’t heard. Her daughter had been like this ever since going to university, dyeing her hair, talking nonsense, even getting two holes pierced in her ears. University students were all lunatics.
The student stared at her mother. “What? What’s wrong with that? He’s tall, he’s got a great big butt, and he’s fucking handsome.”
“Stop talking nonsense around me.”
By the time Zhao Buxi left the fields, it was almost dinnertime. He grew cucumbers, peppers, tomatoes, and other vegetables in his own garden, and there was still some meat left from yesterday, so he went straight home instead of buying groceries at the village shop.
Just as he reached his gate, he ran into Old Jiang, who was coming out with several large tomatoes cupped in both hands.
Old Jiang jumped at the sight of him. “Why are you back so early?”
Doesn’t he usually get home another half hour later?
The two stared at each other, then at the tomatoes in Old Jiang’s hands. Zhao Buxi opened his mouth. “What are you doing? Stealing?”
Old Jiang was so furious he nearly leaped as high as Zhao Buxi’s head. “You’re the thief!”
“How can you call it stealing when a man of letters does it?”
The old man’s surname was Jiang. His given name was Wenren, literally “man of letters.”
Zhao Buxi regarded this shameless old man. “Then why are you holding two of my tomatoes?”
“You’ve got some nerve! You got a 280-yuan pair of gloves from me for twelve yuan. What’s wrong with me taking a few tomatoes?”
And 280 yuan had already been his rock-bottom price. In the market, those high-end one-to-one replicas would sell for 580.
If Zhao Erniu hadn’t been so good-looking, so capable of showing off the right style, Old Jiang never would have sold them to him.
The old man glanced back over his shoulder. “Honestly, there’s no dog in your yard, and you don’t even lock the gate when you go out.”
Zhao Buxi said, “I never used to lock it, and nothing ever went missing.” His eyes flicked toward the tomatoes in Old Jiang’s hands.
Old Jiang: “…”
Old Jiang: “Well, something’s gone missing this time!”
Old Jiang: “Learn your lesson! Lock your gate next time!”
He marched away in a huff, clutching his tomatoes.
Zhao Buxi went into the house. He might leave the gate unlocked during the day, but he still locked it at night.
First, he fed the cow some grass and checked on the two calves. Only then did he go inside to prepare dinner.
Cooking for one was simple. He made a couple of dishes and set photocopies of Zhao Sheng’s admission letter on the table as he ate.
Every glance at the pages improved his appetite.
He grabbed the remote, switched on the television, and listened as he ate, flipping through the photocopies from time to time.
A segment about technology was on. Specialized vocabulary and English words sounded like birdsong to him; he couldn’t make sense of any of it. But the moment he caught keywords such as AI and chip technology, Zhao Buxi perked up.
Those were the sorts of development and research projects his brother’s supervisor worked on.
Suddenly, even the things he couldn’t understand seemed understandable.
This is good. Really good.
When the presenter praised the field’s prospects, Brother Erniu’s already impressive appetite surged so spectacularly that even the mythical glutton Taotie would have dropped to second place overnight.
He shoveled a big mouthful of cooling rice-and-water into his mouth, puffing out his cheeks as he watched intently, eager for more news praising the future of technology.
Hearing praise for all those incomprehensible, birdlike words felt just like hearing someone praise his brother Zhao Sheng.
“Now, we’ll interrupt our programming with a report on a matter of public concern.”
The picture shifted to a serious-looking female news anchor with neat, short hair.
“Recently, a university graduate supervisor was exposed for repeatedly humiliating a student and ordering them to run personal errands because the student refused to contribute to an organized gift collection. According to the student, the supervisor demanded that they remain on call twenty-four hours a day, buy breakfast, collect parcels, and take the supervisor’s children to and from school. Refusal was met with threats to withhold graduation. The supervisor also altered and appropriated numerous papers and academic achievements produced by the student during their postgraduate studies.”
“The supervisor’s conduct went beyond bullying and constituted the serious academic offense of plagiarizing another person’s research.”
“Here is our interview with the student.”
On the television, the masked student, whose voice had been electronically altered, spoke through tears. “Back then, I wanted to die every day. I don’t know how I managed to endure it. All I wanted was to graduate and get away. Even hearing his voice now makes me throw up.”
“I only dared report him after graduating and deciding not to pursue a career in the field, when I no longer had anything to fear. I can’t imagine what other students who were exploited and bullied by their supervisors must endure when they still hope to work in academia. I hope society and the academic community will pay attention to this vulnerable group and put an end to the bullying and exploitation of students by their supervisors.”
Clack!
Zhao Buxi’s chopsticks fell onto the table. Before the night was over, his appetite had plummeted so badly that Taotie was back in first place.
Watching the student sob helplessly on the screen, Zhao Buxi could almost see Zhao Sheng suffering the same fate someday.
So if you don’t give a gift, you get bullied!
What the hell? Is there no law left in this country? How can anyone bully people like that?
Then a scandalous video of the supervisor himself aired. “I AM THE LAW!” he roared.
?!
The Golden Wheel Dharma King himself had arrived.
Zhao Buxi couldn’t sit still any longer. Forgetting his meal, he began packing frantically.
It was already dark outside. He hurriedly stuffed clothes into a woven sack, without even bothering to sleep.
He had never met Zhao Sheng’s supervisor, but the news had given him a vivid picture: a three-headed, six-armed monster with a blue face, fangs, laser beams for eyes, and flames shooting from his mouth. A monster capable of every evil under the sun, who never did a little good deed and never passed up a little bad one. He stole lollipops from children, kicked away old people’s walking sticks, and poured water down anthills. That was Zhao Buxi’s imagined picture of his brother’s supervisor’s professional ethics.
If Satan came to attend a lecture, he’d have to pull strings just to get a spot by the door.
At the thought that Zhao Sheng might be bullied for not giving his supervisor a gift, Zhao Buxi hoisted his luggage and strode out of the house.
He was going to deliver that gift right now!