During the afternoon's only class, Zhang Yingcai stood next to Sun Sihai for more than two hours. The lessons passed him by entirely, as he was preoccupied with trying to work out why six grades were taught in only three classes. At one point, Sun Sihai threw down his chalk to take a toilet break, and Yingcai seized his chance to follow him out and put the question to him. Sihai told him that they admitted new pupils only once every two years, so it made sense to keep the new starters together. He got back to find that a pig had joined the class. Yingcai went to shoo it out, but the children cried out, "That's Principal Yu's pig; it likes to eat the chalk dust." Sun Sihai told Yingcai to just ignore the pig. After that Yingcai struggled to concentrate, staring first at the animal, then at the children, and feeling quite forlorn.
The mountains were so high and night seemed to fall early; at only four o'clock it looked like dusk. When classes finished, a scraggly group of the children who lodged with Principal Yu wandered off into a nearby mountain col, under the leadership of a boy called Ye Meng. Left with no company but the pig, Yingcai felt hollow. He took down the Phoenix zither and pressed a few keys with his right hand as he plucked its strings with the cap of his fountain pen with his left. He played for a while, not caring what song came out, but lost interest quickly. After a while, he wondered why he could still hear music. He listened harder. It was a flute. He ran to the window: Sun Sihai and Deng Youmi were on either side of the flagpole, each blowing hard into a bamboo flute.
Mist traced its way along the ravines and up the mountains, softly swirling into the clouds. The slopes that faced away from the sun were a sombre green; the paddy fields seemed like a layer of pale yellow on top. From the billowing clouds emerged a flock of mountain goats, among which red satchels leaped for joy, looking exactly like delicate peach blossoms in the rain. The early evening mist on the mountains obscured the sun as it set reluctantly, like a child's silk ball, worn out through play. The large mountain in the distance was a lion—if you looked at it straight on. If you tilted your head, it became a dragon.
The flute was playing a familiar tune. Yingcai realised it was "Our Lives Are Filled With Sunshine" ; it had taken him a while to recognise it because they were playing at half speed. The flutes, one high-pitched and one low, turned this happy song from the 1970s into a dirge. Yingcai hummed along; at that beat, it took a long time to get through the single phrase "happy flowers" .
Yingcai walked over to the flagpole. "That song sounds nicer when it's played faster."
Sun Sihai and Deng Youmi ignored him. Yingcai tapped out the correct rhythm on his hand, but it was no use. Yingcai felt sad. He wondered if the flutes could be heard everywhere within sight of the school's flagpole. He thought about this as he stared at the flagpole, made from the trunks of two pine trees trussed together.
He heard a whistle. Principal Yu was approaching, whistle in his mouth. The children came running back to school, and formed an orderly line in front of the flagpole. Principal Yu faced the sun and called out orders. "Attention! At ease!" Then he straightened out the worn-out gown that Ye Meng, the leader of the little troop, was wearing. Principal Yu pulled at the hole in the shoulder a few times but couldn't manage to cover up the exposed patch of thin, dark shoulder. Yingcai, standing at the back, could see the rows of scrawny calves and shoeless feet. Principal Yu noticed that other children with torn gowns were staring at themselves, and gave up.
The sun was nearly touching the mountains.
In his command voice, Principal Yu called out sternly, "A-tten-tion! Pla-ay the Anthem! Retri-eve the Colours!" To the sound of the flutes playing the national anthem, Principal Yu pulled at the halyard and, after he had gently lowered the flag, the children carried it back to his home.
All this was astonishing, almost ludicrous to Yingcai. He was amused by the contrast with flag-raising scenes from his own school days.
Deng Youmi came up to him. "Do you have anywhere to eat tonight?"
"I am going to share rations with Principal Yu for the next few nights."
"Why are you talking like that? Do you think you're living before Liberation? Why not come and eat at mine; if it becomes a habit we can just call it your new mess hall."
Yingcai declined the invitation politely several times, but when the other teacher insisted, eventually accepted. It wasn't far down the mountain to his home; they got there quickly.
Deng Youmi's wife was called Cheng Ju. She was stocky, and her left eye was badly scarred. Noticing that Yingcai kept looking at her, Deng Youmi said, "She used to have beautiful eyes, but two winters ago I was late back from seeing the children home and she came to meet me. On the way, a wolf licked her, leaving her with this disfigurement."
Wincing inwardly, Yingcai asked, "There are wolves around here?"
"That's what everyone says," he replied. "It might have been a wild dog."
"A wild dog might bite someone's leg, but how would it reach the face?"
Deng Youmi wanted to please the new teacher. "Well, let's say it was a wolf then."
"When I was little," Yingcai said, "People said that wolves would tap you on your shoulder with their paw to make you look round. And then take a big bite out of your neck."
"This is such a high mountain, all sorts of strange things happen up here."
"Do my uncle and the others know about this terrible accident?"
"Principal Yu is a discreet man, he says that no matter how awful something is, it's better to keep your lips sealed and get on with things, and you should under no circumstances report it to the authorities. Anyway, Station-Head Wan was here for ten years, how could he not know what life's like for us? He won't forget. But it wouldn't do to go on about it."
"My uncle thinks about you often, that's why he sent me here to train."
