DBTHDCAR Chapter 80

Chang Leyun and Ding Zheyang—both teenagers won, but in a way, both lost.

Grandma was right: no parent can truly win over their child, but the cost of this victory seemed far too high.

The school had been closed for a full week, and no one knew when it would reopen.

After all, this was 2003, not 2021. During a large-scale epidemic, people had no past experiences to rely on, nor standardized procedures to follow. Everyone was crossing the river by stepping on stones, unsure whether the next step would meet a rapid current, a whirlpool, or calm water.

By the third day of the lockdown, the school began organizing everyone to watch the evening news together, hoping to calm people’s nerves.

Gu Kaige led the class in singing, trying to boost morale. At first, a few joined in, but gradually, even the TV went ignored.

Daily death counts of a hundred or two sent chills down their spines.

Every morning, students had to check their temperatures in the dormitory. Only if their readings were normal could they enter the classrooms.

One day, a boy in Class 3 next door suddenly ran a fever of 38.5°C. Their homeroom teacher was so panicked she could barely speak. Soon, all the students in the building were evacuated, except for their class, which was ordered to stay put.

Ning Xiaobei and the others watched from the dormitory as an ambulance arrived beneath the teaching building where they had classes. People in blue-and-white uniforms carried the boy away.

The usually noisy dormitory fell completely silent.

“Xiaobei… will he die?”

Ding Zheyang’s voice trembled slightly.

He didn’t want to see the news tomorrow if it would just add another number to Shanghai’s tally.

“No.”

“Boss… will we die?”

“No, absolutely not.”

Ning Xiaobei remembered clearly: the death toll from SARS in Shanghai was zero. No matter how strong his butterfly wings were, they couldn’t possibly change the course of the epidemic.

The three of them hugged tightly, like young emperor penguins huddled together for warmth in a blizzard, their shared fate binding them firmly together.

That day, Class 3 wasn’t allowed to return to the dorms. Boys slept in the basketball gym, girls in the badminton gym. Only after three days, when no one else ran a fever and the hospital confirmed the boy just had a cold, was the alert lifted.

Soon, rumors spread among the students: if you got sick, you could leave school. Apparently, the boy who had a fever was already home, eating well and living comfortably, far better than at school.

Just as some began scheming, another update came: the same student had actually been sent to the hospital’s fever isolation ward. He couldn’t see his parents, could barely move around, and couldn’t leave the room.

Though the school was locked down, the playground, library, and courts were still open. After class, at least they could get some fresh air.

And so, those restless little plans simmered down once more.

The cold meals in the cafeteria were rejected by the students. Angry, they hurled the frozen, hard rice at the office’s glass windows of the Academic Director and Logistics Director—most teachers had only a few dorm rooms, so many ended up sleeping on the office floors. Two older teachers claimed age and frailty as their excuse and took over the dorms that would have gone to Teacher Peng and the other young male teachers.

Now Peng Yue and Gu Kaige had to sleep in the art room, surrounded by a dozen pale, chalk-white statues. Kaige joked that living with these Greek and Roman forefathers, such as Agrippa, Seneca, David, Laocoön made him quite familiar with them that he even dreamed in foreign languages, discussing philosophy.

Gu Kaige is fine with himself, worrying only about his dog, Bush. Thankfully, the landlady promised to take care of it; as long as Teacher Gu returned home safely, Little Bush would gain weight, not lose it.

White rice grains splattered with oil burst against the glass windows, with small scraps of greenish-yellow bok choy and diced pork—its exact cut indiscernible—sticking to the glass and walls, slowly sliding down, as if mocking them.

The Academic Director cursed and scolded the students for wasting food, yet never mentioned contributing the office microwave.

Finally, sympathetic parents brought over ten or more microwaves and water dispensers to the school entrance. After disinfection, these were moved into the corridor outside the cafeteria, solving the immediate crisis.

By the second week, tensions began to stir.

During a political science class, the female teacher suddenly threw down her book and ran out, covering her face. Before class, she had received a call from home: her three-year-old daughter had broken her leg while coming downstairs. As a mother, she couldn’t accept not being there, and she simply broke down.

Apart from the third-years, who still attended at least eight classes a day, first- and second-year students were dismissed by 3 p.m.. This had never happened at Affiliated High School before. Typically, the combined winter and summer vacations amounted to only one month, and students were never indulged like this.

But now the school leadership faced a new reality: not only were the students breaking under the endless, unseeable fear and confinement, but the teachers were gradually reaching their limits too.

The coin-operated payphone, usually only used by first-year students, had become a hot commodity. Whether at lunch or after dinner, a line formed. The school store had to put up a sign limiting each call to three minutes, with no extra coins allowed.

At this point, Fan Xia and Ding Zheyang’s mobile phones became just as coveted. By the time they got their phones back each night, the batteries were nearly dead. Fellow students felt awkward about taking advantage of them, but paying cash felt too formal, so they offered various snacks and sodas as phone credit instead.

The school store was practically sold out; instant noodles, biscuits, bread, even toilet paper and sanitary pads were gone. At first, the owner tried to raise prices. One morning, the cheapest Nongfu Spring bottled water shot up to five yuan a bottle, but by that afternoon, the price had dropped back—after he saw a student smash the Logistics Director’s head with a trash bag full of water.

“Ahhh…”

A few boys were running crazily up and down the hallway; they were from the class next door. Their homeroom teacher had taken leave to rest in her dorm. Since it was Friday and there was no class meeting, no one was watching them, and the classroom was in an uproar, almost ready to explode.

The homeroom teacher next door was a woman in her sixties, a retired top-tier teacher who had been rehired. She normally looked healthy enough; at the last school sports meet, she even served as the referee for the tug-of-war. But now, under quarantine, her heart disease, high blood pressure, and diabetes all flared up at once.

At Affiliated High School, there were quite a few elderly teachers like that rehired teacher, many with chronic illnesses. After being confined to school for several days, they had run out of their personal medications. The school had no choice but to ask the town government to send hospital staff with medicine.

Even so, many of the older teachers had their classes suspended. After all, the school wasn’t a capitalist sweatshop; they couldn’t force sick teachers to keep teaching.

The high school’s third-year building was separated from the other grades. If even the seniors were causing such chaos, Ning Xiaobei could almost imagine how unruly the other grades must have been.

It was said that evening self-study for first and second year had long been canceled. After class, the students just played soccer, cards, or chased each other around. The school even opened the multimedia classroom and the computer lab, allowing students one hour of internet access per day—though seating was limited and required reservation. Basically, everything previously forbidden in school was now partially allowed, as long as they didn’t leave campus.

Some students in Class 4 were getting restless. At that moment, Ning Xiaobei stood up and walked to the podium.

“I know everyone is feeling frustrated, like you’ve got a breath you need to release. You want to shout, you want to vent, you want to break something.”

It was Friday, and as class monitor, he had to host the weekly class meeting.

“But we’re seniors. Today is already early March, and the exams are in June.”

Since the restoration of the college entrance exam in 1978, the exams were usually held over three days in July. Starting with their 2003 cohort, it was moved to June, and that practice continued for years.

Actually, both students and teachers secretly wondered whether the exams might be postponed because of this sudden epidemic, maybe they’d be pushed back to July like before.

But Ning Xiaobei, having already gone through the exams once, knew better.

There was no room for fantasy.

“Class monitor, if that’s all you have to say, don’t bother. We don’t want to hear it.”

A few troublemaking boys in the class challenged him, ignoring Gu Kaige, who was standing nearby.

“Perhaps it sounds cliché, but I don’t want anyone here to regret today’s indulgence in the future,” Ning Xiaobei continued.

“The students in Beijing and the students in Guangzhou are in tougher situations. Some seniors have already been infected, yet they continue studying in the hospital.”

He took a step back and pointed toward the door.

“If anyone thinks that a moment of pleasure is worth sacrificing a lifetime of future—”

He gestured outside.

“Please, go ahead.”

Everyone fell silent.

“If no one wants to go out, I’ll report on last month’s monthly exam results and this week’s mock test situation… Study monitors, please come up and wipe the blackboard. Teacher Gu, could you step aside for a moment?”

He carried himself with the air of a future operations manager at a unicorn company, only missing a laptop and a PowerPoint. His sharp gaze and commanding presence completely crushed the restless energy of the students.

Gu Kaige, who had been pushed off the podium, looked at Ning Xiaobei’s calm profile and lowered his head in shame.

Here he was, a grown man, six feet tall, thirty years old, yet he wasn’t as composed as a child.

Fan Xia rested his chin on one hand, watching Ning Xiaobei dominate the podium with awe.

That night, Fan Xia and Ning Xiaobei leaned on the dorm balcony, looking down at the grounds.

Ding Zheyang walked over from the girls’ dorm, a smile on his face and a spring in his step.

“Tsk tsk, no decency around the opposite sex, this is exactly the kind of person I mean,” Fan Xia remarked, pointing at Ding Zheyang who looked about to float with joy.

“I wish I could move downstairs from the girls’ dorm to keep an eye on the entrance for Chang Leyun,” Fan Xia added.

“Envious? Then go ahead and do it yourself,” Ning Xiaobei squinted at him.

“Me? I’ll guard the entrance for you,” Fan Xia said, patting Ning Xiaobei’s shoulder and making a woof woof sound.

Chang Leyun and Ding Zheyang were a couple whose parents had already given their blessing. Both sets of parents agreed that the two could officially start dating once they got into university.

Whether it was a university in Chengdu or Nanjing, it was up to them as long as they were admitted.

There was only one rule—before receiving the university acceptance letter, they were not allowed to do anything.

Ding Zheyang’s parents had also returned to China. The near loss of their child made them finally realize that family was the most important thing. The plan for permanent residence in Japan was abruptly canceled at the last moment.

After entrusting the shop to a longtime employee who had worked there for over ten years, the Ding couple returned to Shanghai, visiting their long-unseen son from behind the school fence.

The school was open to parents for two days over the weekend, but meetings could only happen through the railings. Zhao Jingwen and the now-recovered Ning Jianguo were also there.

Fan Xia felt awkward talking like this, almost as if he were a prisoner being visited, or a lion or tiger trapped in a cage at Xijiao Park. He could almost sing: “Iron doors, iron windows, iron chains, hands on the iron bars I gaze outside. Outside, life is so beautiful; when will I return to my home?”

“Dad, you absolutely can’t overwork yourself anymore,” Ning Xiaobei had been nagging for quite a while, scolding Ning Jianguo’s bad habits to Zhao Jingwen as if listing inventory. It was hard to tell who was visiting whom.

“When you’re building models, you forget day and night. After work you’re so tired, but you don’t rest properly. A few times I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and was startled—still building models at one or two in the morning! Comrade Ning Jianguo, does our country need this battleship of yours to go fight a war?”

Ning Jianguo looked helpless, while Fan Xia stifled laughter.

“You don’t need to handle the cafeteria stuff personally either. If there aren’t enough people, hire some. It’s a university-level textile school; plenty of students would want to work-study. And working in the cafeteria isn’t just paid, you even get staff meals. Plenty would want the job.”

Ning Xiaobei went on lecturing.

The director at Changhai Hospital had said that his dad’s condition was purely from overwork. With proper care, given Ning Jianguo’s physical condition, it wasn’t serious at all. The real risk was letting it slide since accumulated fatigue could easily turn into a major problem.

“Uncle Zhao, please make sure to take good care of my dad. If he doesn’t listen, tell me. I’ll scold him myself.”

This was a matter of utmost importance; there was no room for sloppiness.

“Alright, Xiaobei, even your grandma isn’t this naggy.”

Ning Jianguo could only laugh and cry at the same time. With words like that, it was hard to tell who was the parent and who was the child.

The brief prison-visit time was up. The teachers reminded them to wrap up quickly as the next batch of parents was waiting.

“Xiao Xia, take care of Xiaobei.”

“Uncle Zhao, take care of my dad.”

Both sides waved through the railings, reluctantly letting go.

“Let’s go. I reserved the computer room today; we’re going to play games.”

Fan Xia fell back a step, draping his arm over Ning Xiaobei’s shoulder with a grin, “Let me show you how fast I can draw my gun.”

Ning Xiaobei lowered his head, glanced at Fan Xia’s hand resting on his white school uniform, and smiled faintly.

“Let’s go.”

Three days later, news of the lifted quarantine arrived.

The kids, in the middle of morning reading, could hardly believe their ears.

After waiting for it day and night, when the good news finally came, many of them hesitated in disbelief.

“Class, the quarantine has officially been lifted.”

Gu Kaige rolled a stack of test papers into a stick and tapped the desk. “The school is giving everyone a half-day off. No classes this afternoon. But everyone… Hey! Listen to me first!”

No one had the patience to hear him ramble. Screams erupted everywhere—heads on desks, stomping feet, tearing paper—each child expressing the wild joy inside in their own way.

Cheering rang from the playground as students scrambled down. The girls clung to each other crying; the boys ran across the track, shouting, cartwheeling, tearing at their clothes as if nothing less could vent the flood of happiness in their hearts.

Even many of the teachers let out a few cheers, especially the Logistics Director—after days of having at least two bags of garbage thrown at him daily, the ordeal was finally ending!

Though the weekend was still two days away, and they couldn’t return to the city even if afternoon classes were canceled, it didn’t dampen the children’s joy.

They wandered through the small town, visiting every kind of shop—bookstores, supermarkets, stationery stores, clothing shops—even the rural vegetable markets and supply cooperatives they’d normally never set foot in. Everything was new and exciting; even brushing a holly leaf in the roadside greenery felt sharp and crisp under their fingers.

Snack shops and hotpot restaurants were especially crowded. After being tired of cafeteria food, the kids could still get excited over a single serving of soup dumplings or a piece of fried pork cutlet.

After playing with the dog at Brother Kai’s place and finishing the welcome feast prepared by the landlady, Ning Xiaobei and Fan Xia, patting their full stomachs, headed to the town’s cultural center—the Cultural Palace.

Ever since a private contractor took it over a few years ago, it wasn’t very cultural anymore; no movies, no theater performances.

The first floor was an arcade, filled with Japanese-imported game machines that had once held absolute appeal for kids. But ever since internet cafés became a thing, this place had gradually fallen out of favor. Today, business was unusually bustling; almost every machine had kids playing wildly, even people lining up at the Link Up puzzle machines.

The second floor was a ballroom for social dancing, which only attracted local middle-aged couples. Kids didn’t go there.

All the children gathered on the large rear plaza—the roller skating rink.

“Come on, let’s skate!”

Ning Xiaobei grabbed Fan Xia and dashed forward, afraid that if they were a little late, all the skates would be rented out.

He was really good at this.

Back in the real world, Ning Xiaobei had been under heavy stress in high school. Every weekend after cram school, he’d skate for a full hour before going home. But in this world, he hadn’t played even once.

In Ning Xiaobei’s impression, Fan Xia was a sports expert—soccer, basketball, badminton, long jump, high jump, jump rope—there was nothing he couldn’t do. And hey, those six-pack abs didn’t appear by accident.

But once they got to the skating rink, Ning Xiaobei was in for a shock—dark-skinned Fan Xia had turned into bear-like Fan Xia.

“What are you laughing at? What’s so funny?”

His hands seemed glued to the railing, and his legs wouldn’t cooperate. In less than five meters, he went through eight different stumbling poses—sometimes like a heavily pregnant woman, sometimes like the third old man in the village who’d had a stroke, even managing moves that looked like a future international superstar named Nicholas Zhao Si.

It wasn’t just Ning Xiaobei laughing, but many of the students present recognized this notorious figure from Class 4, Year 3, and burst into cackling laughter. Fan Xia wanted to explode in fury, but he couldn’t even jump.

“Let go! How are you supposed to skate if you don’t let go?”

“Don’t just stand there and talk like it’s easy. If I could let go, do you think I’d be holding on?”

Fan Xia leaned back against the railing, hands braced behind him, using his arms to push himself upright.

“Skate once for me. Let me see.”

He just couldn’t believe it. Everyone was coming to the rink for the first time. How could Ning Xiaobei just know how to do it naturally?

“Open your eyes wide and watch carefully.”

Ning Xiaobei smiled and glided backward two steps, light and effortless like a swallow. He carved an S-shaped curve before sliding toward the center of the rink.

The town’s skating rink still had a 1990s aesthetic: at the highest point, a few glittering colored disco balls cast all kinds of flashy lights. Around the edges, strings of small yellow, red, and green bulbs made the rink look like a big circus. Background music played the songs Fan Xia had loved in middle school: “《Savage Disco》and《Arabian Nights》

A few local youths with dyed hair were chasing the rare visiting schoolgirls, whistling suggestively and sticking close behind, hoping to grope them.

Ning Xiaobei casually skated into their path, cutting them off. Just as they opened their mouths to curse, he smoothly carved another turn, leading them to chase him instead.

The two youths took the bait and started chasing Ning Xiaobei with full force.

One ran, two pursued, leaving Fan Xia, who could only watch from the sidelines, nearly tearing his hair out in frustration.

It was as if Ning Xiaobei had eyes in the back of his head. Several times, when the boys tried to grab his clothes, he veered at tiny angles; when a collision with others seemed imminent, he came to a sudden stop, treating the two like playful monkeys. Finally, he deliberately left a flaw. As the two rushed at him like gale-force winds, he dodged sharply backward and sideways, tricking them both into crashing into the wall.

“Bang! Bang!”

The sounds alone were painful to hear.

Applause erupted, cheers for Ning Xiaobei, from students of their school and even from strangers visiting the rink.

“Damn it! You little brat, just wait!”

The two knew they couldn’t outskate him. Angrily, they picked themselves off the ground, ripped off their skates, and lunged as if to fight him.

A chorus of boos rang out. A few older, tougher local youths—real streetwise troublemakers—stepped in, grabbed the two by the collars, and hustled them out of the rink.

Every place has its rules. At this skating rink, the rule is to settle disputes on the ice. Even fights had to happen in skates. The two cowards, lacking skill and trying to break the rules, were naturally expelled.

Watching their disheveled retreating backs, applause and whistles erupted again. Boys and girls cheered, paying Ning Xiaobei the highest respect.

“Am I cool?”

Amid the dazzling, tacky, yet dazzlingly brilliant colored lights, Ning Xiaobei turned to Fan Xia. The early spring night wind kissed his cheeks, lifting his slightly grown-out bangs from a few weeks without a haircut. He smiled and asked Fan Xia.

Then, to his surprise, he realized that somehow, without noticing, Fan Xia had already skated to within five steps behind him.

“Fan Xia, you can skate!”

“I can? I really can?”

Fan Xia was astonished too.

He hadn’t realized that he had ended up so far into the rink. Unconsciously, he had been following Ning Xiaobei’s steps, mirroring his movements, and somehow he had learned to skate just like that,.

The disco balls spun, casting a spectrum of colors: blush red, apple green, lemon yellow, sapphire blue, lilac purple—patchwork light, like the lives of these teenagers just beginning to unfold.

“I…ah!”

Fan Xia tried to take another step, but for some reason, the movements that had just come naturally to him suddenly froze. His feet slipped, and he was about to fall onto the cold ice.

Ning Xiaobei rushed forward and caught him in his arms.

Fan Xia’s chin bumped against Ning Xiaobei’s shoulder, and they ended up in a tight embrace.

“Boss… I… you…”

Fan Xia closed his eyes and whispered something near Ning Xiaobei’s temple.

“What? What did you say? It’s too loud, I can’t hear you.”

A blasting Korean dance track, 《Wa》, exploded through the speakers, so loud it made Ning Xiaobei’s eardrums ache, and he couldn’t catch the words at first.

“I said…you’re freaking handsome! Ning Xiaobei, you’re freaking handsome!”

Fan Xia laughed, gripping his shoulders.

………………

Author’s Note:

Guess what Fan Xia said?

Isn’t it sweet? Go ahead, type “so sweet” on the chat!

Iron doors, Iron windows, Iron chains— taken from the famous 1980s hit 《Tears Behind Bars》, along with a similar classis,《Sorrow, Oh Sorrow》,both wildly popular at the time… honestly, who knows why prison-themed songs were such a craze back then.

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