Cholesterol-like college life

I sat in the classroom, surrounded by young and lovely strangers. One by one, they took turns to come on stage and share their names, the schools they graduated from high school, and their dreams for college careers. The air was filled with freshly opened cans of pheromones.

I was very nervous. I failed the joint entrance examination twice. For two years, I spent every day in a cram school classroom the size of a corrugated cardboard box, chewing on historical chronology, mathematical formulas, and English phrases. I rarely heard such cheerful laughter. Even though I was admitted to the journalism team of the Department of Communication at Fudan University, my second choice was like a prisoner released from prison, unable to adapt to the happy atmosphere.

It was my turn to go on stage, my legs shaking slightly in my jeans. In order to prevent the chronic stuttering disease from breaking out, I decided to fart lightly to cover up my inner fear. I first wrote a big "37.5" on the blackboard, claiming it was my math score in the joint entrance examination that year.

The audience was completely silent. In fact, math was very difficult that year. I couldn’t figure out any of the questions, so I had to carefully guess the two single-choice questions. I didn’t dare to fill in the multiple-choice questions at all. As a result, one correct question was awarded 5 points, and one incorrect question was deducted 1.25 points, leaving only an embarrassing 3.75 points.

At this time, I erased the decimal point on the blackboard, moved it forward one place, and told everyone that this was my real math score.

The whole class burst into crazy laughter. After a period of time, even if my classmates couldn't pronounce my name, they would still call me "three point seven five".

More than ten years later, one time, after the college test, my classmate Yin Naijing used me as an example on the radio program, saying, "You can become the director of a news website even if you take a single-digit math test. To all the students who didn't do well in the test, tens of millions of Don't be discouraged." I realized that I had become an inspirational role model.

If I were asked to write an article "Reminiscences of Wenyoulou", the above would be the first page.

On the second page, teaching assistant "Xu Cha" Xu Shuncheng walked into the classroom, called me by name and took me away. In order to help freshmen adapt to college life, Fu Da has a "direct senior sister system". "Xu Cha" is the family's college brother. He introduced me to other senior sisters and my classmates: Wang Zhenhua from the advertising group and Bi Weihua from the radio and television group. , a man and a woman, not only good-looking, but also tall, thin and tall. I looked up at them, feeling like a hobbit.

Page 3: During my freshman year, winter came quickly. Being shy and withdrawn, I was still not used to hanging out with everyone. Teacher Yu Heng invited the whole class to his house to make dumplings, but I also avoided it. After class every day, I put on a gray and black coat, put on Aihua headphones, and a cassette player around my waist. I pretended to be busy and left in a hurry with my schoolbag on my back.

One time, Xu Yizhi, a classmate who was smoking in the atrium of Wenyou Building, saw me repeating my old tricks, looking like a turtle with a turtle head, and loudly called me "Old Turtle". Gradually, fewer and fewer people called me "Three Points Seven Five". "Old Turtle" became my nickname in college.

Fast forward, Zhang and Liao Wanjian opened a tea shop "Fenglingdu", and several classmates shared a tenement house at the back door of Fuzhou University. They were both social centers after the final exam. There was no Bordeaux at that time, only Taiwanese beer, deer antler, bamboo leaf green, and rose red, poured into the stomach to make a cocktail, and the fresh and delicious liver was soaked in the immortal formalin.

In her junior year, the popular Lan Xuan was encouraged to run for president of the department society, with Yin Naijing serving as vice president. Liu Hongzheng, who had been transferred to the advertising team, used colored pens to help draw POP; Zhang Liao proposed the establishment of the departmental magazine "We", which was his first taste of underground publications during the newspaper ban; , secretly went to China for interviews, and the department invited them to give lectures, and the 108 lecture theaters were packed.

That day, a hand-drawn poster by Hong Zheng was posted at the door of the classroom, jokingly describing them as "the first batch of reporters to 'counterattack the mainland'."

On the eve of the winter vacation of my junior year, one evening, my then-girlfriend and I were walking on Zhongshan North Road, and the same news was playing on the TVs in the entire row of stores: Chiang Ching-kuo died of illness, and Vice President Lee Teng-hui took over. It's less than two weeks until the ban is announced.

We catch up with the era when newspapers are in full bloom, like a group of ponies eager to try. After graduating, the classmate quickly found a job as a reporter and entered the Legislative Yuan, the City Council, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, recording Doofenshmirtz's adult world with his own eyes.

But I didn't. Although I took the college entrance examination for three years, I only applied for the journalism department; I went to Fudan University, but I fell in love with someone else and didn't plan to be a reporter. I skipped classes to watch movies, slept in classmates' dormitories, and got admitted to the stage troupe. Working part-time in a children's composition class and at MTV, I had a dream every four years. Before I woke up, I received my enlistment order and set off for the Kanto Bridge Recruit Training Center. =

Who knows in life, but something went wrong in the end, and I returned to the news field.

Time continues to run fast, and the classmates in the class are super changing, taking on their own appearances. From the perspective of secular labels, our class is full of contrasts: there are famous speakers in the blue camp and people in the green camp; there are children's book writers and real estate businessmen; there are social journalists and public relations professionals; there are anchors and publishers; there are elementary schools Teacher, there are also investigation bureau operators.

(After writing this paragraph, I couldn’t help but pat myself on the back: there are so many career options in the journalism department.)

But in fact, without these social labels, we are still the stupid and arrogant group of 250 people who received the care and nourishment of the times during the freshman orientation camp at Yangmingshan.

Nowadays, we maintain gatherings once or twice a year, and we still have the same nonsense and arguments as we did back then. Time has made us more mature, but we also know how to stop at nothing. The only difference is that the middle-aged topic is less about love and love and more about Qigong and diet therapy; moreover, everyone drinks in a more polite manner and no longer frequently vomits fragments on the tatami.

You may ask: Didn’t the courses taken during college leave traces? Of course, if it weren’t for Teacher Weng Xiuqi’s “Communication Theory”, I wouldn’t have appreciated the rigor of academic research and would have thought of applying for a master’s degree class.

If it weren't for Yang Zhihong's "Magazine Editor" methodology, I would not have devoted myself to planning the founding of "Influence Film Magazine" in my senior year.

If it weren't for Xu Ligong's "Introduction to Screenwriting", I wouldn't have had a glimpse of the texture details of film narratives, fell in love with the ancient charm of storytelling, and grafted it onto news writing.

But, but, if you ask "What is the most important impact of college?" The answer will be different for everyone, but I would say:

I met some interesting books, met some interesting people, and in a free living and thinking environment, encountered random collisions, trials and setbacks, hurt and being hurt, and slowly learned to get along with myself, and slowly learned to get along with the world, and finally, pondering Become a person who doesn’t let yourself be hated.

Thank you to Wenyoulou and the group of people I met by chance, as well as the seniors and juniors who interacted with each other enthusiastically after graduation. Although I still hate myself occasionally, those unimportant little things in the literary friends building are like the slow accumulation of cholesterol, which makes me who I am at this moment.

◎Photo Story:

My classmate Li Mengzhe once had to hand in a photography class assignment, and the subject was portraits. He caught me idle and asked for the right to be a humanoid billboard. Wearing a turtle hat, I obeyed and left this fake photo.

After graduation, Meng Zhe continued to make films, won some awards, opened a coffee shop, ran for Chiayi City Councilor, and traveled around. One day, he unfortunately fell into a coma on a train, ending a life full of talent and humanistic care. I chose this accompanying picture and put it in the book, hoping that Meng Zhe would leave some memories of Wenyou Tower with him.