Chapter Twenty-Six: Wei Xiaofan's Reflections (Seeking Monthly Votes and Recommendations)

The next day was Saturday. Early in the morning, Wei Xiaoping and Wei Xiaofan got up, hurriedly tidied up their bedding and clothes, brushed their teeth, washed their faces, and, without even eating breakfast, packed a few simple belongings, grabbed the fruit, and left the house together.

Because Wei Xiaofan had to return to his dormitory that night, Wei Xiaoping suggested they head home early so Wei Xiaofan could spend more time at his place. Originally, Wei Xiaoping wanted to invite Wei Xiaofan to stay overnight and not return to school until Sunday afternoon, giving them more time together at home. But Wei Xiaofan said he wasn’t used to sleeping at someone else’s house. With no other choice, Wei Xiaoping proposed going home earlier so they could still enjoy the day.

When they reached the school gate, Wei Xiaoping, beaming as if he’d struck gold, ran to the small shop by the entrance to call home, telling them he was bringing Wei Xiaofan back with him. While Wei Xiaoping made the call, Wei Xiaofan waited nearby. The phone was on speaker, so the conversation was loud and clear.

Wei Xiaoping told his mother they would soon be home. On the other end, a pleasant female voice replied, “You and Wei Xiaofan hurry back, your father and I are all prepared, and your little brother and sister are waiting for you!”

“What have you prepared?” Wei Xiaoping asked loudly on purpose, making sure Wei Xiaofan could hear.

“We’ve cooked plenty of dishes, so don’t eat at school—save your appetite for home! The food here is much better than at school!” his mother replied.

Wei Xiaoping hung up and turned to Wei Xiaofan with a smile: “Let’s go. My parents have everything ready and are waiting for us!” His joy was so obvious, he seemed even more excited than a young man bringing his girlfriend home for the first time.

Wei Xiaoping’s home was about ten minutes by bus from the city center. They sat side by side, Wei Xiaofan by the window, Wei Xiaoping by the aisle. Wei Xiaofan held a bag of fruit, which must have weighed eight or nine pounds—bananas, apples, and grapes.

That bag of fruit had cost Wei Xiaofan half a month’s grocery money—his largest single expense in two years at Liangzhi Middle School.

The so-called “vegetables” at school were simple dishes: cabbage, pumpkin, loofah—vegetarian options served at lunch and dinner to supplement students’ nutrition. Each serving was barely half a bowl, yet cost thirty or forty cents. On Friday evenings, the canteen would offer a rare treat—some fatty pork, as a weekend bonus—but that cost an extra fifty cents.

To save money and ease his family’s burden, Wei Xiaofan would intentionally arrive late at the canteen three or four times a week. By then, the vegetables would be sold out, and he’d tell himself there was nothing to be done—another meal saved! It was a psychological trick to comfort himself.

Yesterday, breaking a two-year habit, he went shopping for fruit with Wei Xiaoping. He barely had enough money left for twenty days’ worth of vegetables, and now, after spending half a month’s grocery money on fruit for Wei Xiaoping’s family, he didn’t know what he’d do for meals in the coming days. Fortunately, he still had some rice and chili sauce in his little cupboard; otherwise, he couldn’t imagine how he’d get through the month.

“What’s on your mind, old friend?” Wei Xiaoping asked, noticing Wei Xiaofan gazing out the window.

“I was thinking, wouldn’t it be nice to be like the grass or trees by the roadside?” Wei Xiaofan replied.

“Why’s that? Feeling sentimental again?” Wei Xiaoping asked with concern.

“Because those trees and flowers spend their whole lives rooted in one place, nourished by the soil beneath them. Unlike people, who must rush about for survival, for reputation, for all sorts of inexplicable reasons—living honestly, living falsely—it’s exhausting.”

Hearing such dispirited words, Wei Xiaoping sensed his friend was troubled. He had known Wei Xiaofan for over two years, sharing the same dorm and even the same desk, so he understood him well.

Wei Xiaoping guessed that Wei Xiaofan was worried about having spent his grocery money on fruit, unsure how he’d manage in the future.

They had been friends for nearly two years, and Wei Xiaoping knew Wei Xiaofan’s family situation. Wei Xiaoping’s family lived in the city; his father, Wei Yongqiang, ran a small business, and his mother, Wei Nipin, was a civil servant. Their family wasn’t particularly well-off even by city standards—somewhat below average—but still better off than most rural families. Compared to Wei Xiaofan’s background, Wei Xiaoping’s circumstances were much better.

As the eldest son, and at the age when boys grow fastest, Wei Xiaoping’s family often gave him extra money for food and expenses, so he frequently had spare change.

As a good friend, Wei Xiaoping was eager to help Wei Xiaofan with meals and other small costs. For instance, he would often buy an extra dish and try to mix it into Wei Xiaofan’s food, hoping they could share. But Wei Xiaofan always mixed his own rice and vegetables in one box and ate alone, reading as he ate. Sometimes, while others went to get their meals, Wei Xiaofan would stay behind reading, only heading to the canteen when it was empty. The cook, an amiable old man of about sixty, would see him come late and say,

“What are you doing here so late? The food’s all gone! I thought everyone was done and was about to clean up. Who knew you hadn’t eaten? What now—just plain rice? Can you manage, young man?”

“It’s fine, sir, I was reading and lost track of time! I’ve got chili sauce—don’t worry, I can eat just fine. Thanks for caring!”

“Come earlier next time! Here, I’ve got some vegetable leaves and broth left!” The cook would bring over the big aluminum tray, tip it so the last of the broth and leaves slid into Wei Xiaofan’s lunch box.

Given this, Wei Xiaoping’s efforts to help with meals were often in vain. When buying notebooks or pens, he would always get extra and offer them to Wei Xiaofan when he ran out, but Wei Xiaofan only occasionally accepted.

So, although Wei Xiaoping tried to help, Wei Xiaofan was always reluctant to accept.

This time, Wei Xiaoping had invited Wei Xiaofan home, hoping to cement their “old friend” bond. In principle, since he was the one asking for the favor, he shouldn’t expect Wei Xiaofan to bring any gift, especially since as a student with no income, and from a struggling family, it wasn’t right. But in the eyes of Wei Xiaofan—and in the minds of many from the countryside—it was a matter of etiquette: when visiting relatives or friends in the city, one must bring a gift, whether the host cared or not.

That’s why Wei Xiaofan had spoken so feelingly about the trees and flowers, envying their rootedness and the nourishment they received, unlike humans forced to wander for survival and honor, weighed down by authenticity and pretense.

Last night in the dorm, when they discussed gifts, Wei Xiaoping had planned to buy something himself and have Wei Xiaofan carry it home, so his family would know the gift was from Wei Xiaofan. That way, Wei Xiaofan could save money, and Wei Xiaoping could feel he had helped. But Wei Xiaofan insisted on buying something himself, saying it was a matter of principle—of being genuine, not hypocritical.

“Hey, hey, hey, old friend Wei Xiaofan, why say such sad things? Humans are advanced creatures, with thoughts, ideals, goals, and creativity—how can we compare ourselves to trees and grass? Or to any other animal, for that matter? That would diminish our own dignity,” Wei Xiaoping said, slinging an arm around Wei Xiaofan’s shoulder.

“Sigh, I’m being negative again!” Wei Xiaofan turned, forced a smile, and said, “You’re right, Xiaoping. Humans are the most advanced creatures in nature, endowed with thought, ideals, and creativity. It’s precisely because of this that we can continually evolve, create wealth and happiness, and make the world a better place. So we mustn’t be daunted by temporary hardship—we must study hard and improve ourselves, laying the groundwork for a better future.”

With that, he turned back to the window, gazing into the sunlight at the east, where the golden morning sun had already climbed high into the sky.