The Chinese Dream on Earth

The Confusion and Growth of Starting University

When I first went to the cafeteria, I saw that most of the dishes contained a lot of chili peppers and many unfamiliar ingredients. I chose a dish that was green with a few red chili peppers, thinking it looked appetizing. To my dismay, after taking just one bite back in my dorm, I found it inedible. It was both bitter and spicy, and I realized it was stir-fried bitter melon with chili peppers. In the end, I threw the whole meal away. My four years of university life had just begun, and even eating was a problem. I wondered how long I could endure these days.

I wasn't sure if it was because of my high entrance exam scores, the fact that the student council president was from Shandong, or a twist of fate, but I was appointed as the head of the female students in my department right after I started school. This role involved attending various meetings and conveying college policies. After class assignments were made, I was appointed as the class youth league secretary. For a girl from the countryside who wasn't fluent in Mandarin and had never held a leadership position, this was like being pushed into the deep end. The youth league secretary had to organize weekly life meetings for classmates. At first, I spoke softly in my Shandong dialect, which led to mockery from my peers. My face would turn red, and I wished I could disappear. But reason forced me to continue. Amidst their laughter, I gradually adapted, improving my Mandarin and growing thicker skin. My voice got louder, and I overcame my long-standing fear of speaking in class. Collecting youth league fees was initially a challenge due to the boys' ridicule, but over time, my persistence paid off, and they eventually started paying without me having to chase them.

As the youth league secretary, I was among the first in my college to attend party classes. These classes felt like a return to high school politics, and I often skipped them, thinking they were repetitive. Later, I learned that attending party classes was a prelude to joining the Party. As a result, I became the only youth league secretary who skipped classes and didn't join the Party. The opportunity that many students coveted, I treated carelessly, only realizing its importance when I started job hunting. Additionally, I had to write articles for the college's publicity department. The school journal required student contributions, and initially, my classmates ridiculed and refused to cooperate with me. I had to write the articles myself. Two of my articles, "Oh, College Students!" and "Black Coffee," were eventually published in the school journal. The publicity minister, Dongmei, who was a year ahead of me, became my best friend. Throughout the four years of college, we often danced, played sports together, and even shared a small bed when she couldn't find a place to stay after graduation. Years later, she became my business partner and shareholder.

The large freshman classes, often with dozens or even hundreds of students, were mostly taught in Sichuan dialect, which I struggled to understand. The classrooms were hot, without air conditioning, and I would be drenched in sweat before the class ended. In the sweltering heat of Chengdu, I had to take cold showers three times a day, yet I still felt sticky. The overcast skies rarely showed blue skies or sunshine.

In the first semester, apart from English, which I understood and studied diligently, I had no clue what I learned in other courses. My major was chemical engineering, which involved difficult subjects like physical chemistry, advanced mathematics, statistics, and computer science. I was initially interested in computer science, but the teacher, an elderly lady who spoke Sichuan dialect, made it hard for me to stay awake in her class. These technical courses were hard to understand, and the textbooks weren't helpful, making self-study nearly impossible. At the end of the semester, I felt disdain for my roommate Xiaomu, who prepared cheat sheets, only to realize during exams that she was better prepared. I failed two or three courses, unlike others who managed to pass after negotiating with teachers. Retaking courses cost fifty yuan per credit, and with each course having two to three credits, I spent a few hundred yuan in the first semester alone. Ironically, as a youth league secretary, I had the most retakes in my class. The only solace was passing the CET-4 English test, the one class I understood.

Despite not studying well, I had rich experiences in university. Labeled as a sleepwalker in high school, I didn't make friends easily, but in university, my social circle widened. Our dorm had eight girls from different classes, and my various appointments and responsibilities allowed me to meet many people.

Chengdu, known for its culinary delights, had many cheap and delicious snacks that attracted freshmen. Initially, I was hesitant about eating rabbit heads, chicken feet, mala tang, and barbecue skewers. Watching my classmates enjoy them while walking around felt awkward, as I had never eaten while walking or snacked much. Their persistence finally convinced me to try. At first, my psychological resistance made the food taste bad, but over time, I began to enjoy these snacks and the joy of walking and eating with friends.

Chengdu's famous spots, like Wangjiang Tower, Du Fu's Thatched Cottage, Wuhou Shrine, Chunxi Road, and Jiuyan Bridge, were weekend destinations for us. To capture these moments, I joined a photography class and saved up for a Seagull camera. The student council president's friend suggested this class, giving me another group of friends. On Fridays and Saturdays, the activity rooms transformed into dance halls, where students, including alumni, would gather. With six or seven dance halls on campus, they were always packed with people dancing to cha-cha and ballroom music.

The student council president first introduced me to the dance hall. Despite my lack of coordination and struggle with high school radio calisthenics, I accepted his persistent invitations and promises to teach me. Surprisingly, I learned quickly despite stepping on his feet multiple times. Dancing with a boy for the first time made me nervous, and I kept my distance, afraid of accidental contact. His reminders to relax didn't help much.

Later, when I danced with Dongmei, I found myself enjoying the rhythm. Dongmei, who had dance training, could lead both girls and boys. With her, I relaxed and immersed myself in the music. Occasionally, we accepted dance invitations from boys out of courtesy. Dongmei eventually fell in love with a graduated dance partner, married him, and now has a happy family with two children.