My ridiculous days

That night's drinking was wild. According to sober witnesses, Chuanchuan threw up on Lord Wu's leg; Little Di passed out on the table; Little J slurred that the alcohol was "just a mouthwash"; Lord Wu calmly directed the retreat; and Spit was sent to the hospital for gastric lavage...

I was probably the worst off, remembering nothing—how we got back, how I reached the dorm, how I undressed...

Waking up at 8 AM the next day, I saw others still asleep. I quietly got up, washed, and went for a walk. Early autumn air was no longer hot; sunlight bathed the campus, making it fresh. Near the dorm was a lake—its water wasn't too murky, at least no trash.

Past the lake was a road bustling with university societies recruiting new members. My initial impression of societies came from an article:

The gate is majestic,Entering is regretful,Dorms are shabby,Fees are steep,Classes are confusing,After class, everyone vanishes,Societies are money-grabbing,Associations are showy,Love is casual,Breakups are instant,Life is poor...

Thus, I thought all societies were scams and refused to join any. Seeing a telecom booth, I got a local SIM card— 据说 (they said) local calls cost only 8 fen, truly cheap.

Beyond the "society road" were teaching buildings—row after row, finally looking "like" a university. Guang Liang's "Right Hand Side" played over the speakers—the first song I heard in college, and one I liked. I felt 由衷 happy.

Reaching the campus gate, I thought of the fellow townsman from the train. I texted:

"Hi, it's Cao Shuai. Forgot who I am? Haha, normal if you did. How's it going? Settled in. This is my number—use it unless urgent. What are you up to..."

Soon, she called. I paused, then answered.

"Hello? Nothing, sleeping—your text woke me." Her lazy voice over the phone sounded... well, 暧昧 (flirtatious). (Embarrassing word, haha.)

"What have you been up to? Took you long enough to contact your sister." I hadn't acknowledged her as my sister, yet she called herself that—her narcissism surpassed even mine.

"Not yet. Military training starts tomorrow for 7 days. Tiring, but college training can't be as tough as high school, right?" I figured so—college was more casual, training just for fun.

"Yeah, ours was all singing and games, just lounging around. Enjoy college life! By the way, joined any societies?" I was confused—weren't societies scams? "No, I heard they're all money-grabbing."

She scoffed: "Who said that? They build character. In college, you must first learn to be shameless. Show your face—it helps."

"Really? Maybe I'll check them out. Why did you think of me?" I wondered—someone like her wouldn't remember me unless I'd haunted her in a dream.

"Er... hehe, saw a fool and thought of you. Going back to sleep—so tired." She yawned.

I called her a "pig" and hung up, then returned to the "society road."

Looking closer, there were societies for everything. I disliked sports, so ignored those. My only hobby was music, but I couldn't find a music society. As I wandered:

"Check out the literature society!" A pretty girl stopped me. Their flag read "** Literature Society." I disliked literature—teachers had torn my writing apart.

Once, I wrote a classical Chinese essay; the teacher commented: "Master modern Chinese first." Like using an oil lamp before electricity—unnecessary. Another time, I wrote: "Life is like taking a dump—when you exert all your strength, you realize you just farted..." (Familiar? It's the first line of this book's intro.) The teacher circled it with red pen and wrote one word: "配" (pei). I never understood if it meant I matched the line, it fit there, or was a pun for "呸" (phooey). Chinese teachers—masters of triple entendres.

I read their flyer: an ordinary society. Three people touted its benefits—mostly, meeting pretty girls. So I joined, paid 10 yuan dues.

Watching my money disappear, I regretted it. But in front of girls, I couldn't back out. The money was like throwing meat buns to dogs—never returning. I felt 郁闷 (depressed), angry, helpless, 抓狂 (frustrated)...

Well, I'd experienced the "money grab." If there were pretty girls, maybe worth it. Sigh!

Back in the dorm, others were awake but groggy—only Lord Wu looked unfazed, truly a "tough guy." Lying on his upper bunk, smoking, he sat up when he saw me.

"Cai Cai (Talent), right? Where'd you go?"

"Joined a society, spent 10 yuan." I lamented the loss.

"Which one?"

"Literature society—full of pretty girls!" I said lecherously. Lord Wu feigned a shudder.

"We're all closet pervs..." He hawked and spat—right on Xiaohua's Li-Ning shoe. I saw it but kept quiet, snickering.

Chatting in the dorm, Chuanchuan's phone rang. "We need to clean the classroom; there's evening self-study."

"Just us or everyone?" Little Di asked.

"All of us—only ten guys, no need to nitpick. Let's go." Chuanchuan urged.

I didn't want to, but seeing college classmates' "elegance" tempted me. Others probably thought the same—girls were motivating.

Xiaohua found the spit on his shoe: "Who did this?"

We looked at each other, then at Lord Wu—only his position allowed such a "perfect shot." Xiaohua cursed Lord Wu's second uncle, who spread his hands innocently: "It was an accident." Whether intentional or not, he didn't bother avoiding it...

From then on, any spit-related incident first blamed Lord Wu.

We left the dorm, crossed "society road," and reached Building 9. Chuanchuan said our classroom was on the 3rd floor. Arriving, we saw many girls inside. Truthfully, seeing so many girls at once was a first—we felt shy, hesitant to enter. Like a pauper suddenly handling a million yuan, we froze.

After debate, we agreed to Lord Wu's "grand entrance." Marching in line, Lord Wu shouted: "Left, right... halt!" We stopped.

"About... face!" Then I noticed two boys already there. Lord Wu yelled: "Ready? Go!" We chorused: "Hello, we're all boys!" This made the girls burst into laughter.

We were 无奈 (helpless)—low 笑点 (笑点,laugh threshold). Our brilliant entrance wasn't that funny.

Sitting down, I 打量 (scanned) the classroom—it was like a high school multimedia room, tiered, seating 200. So this was college! The bespectacled boy approached: "Hi, Huo Xuedong, local." He smiled 傻傻地 (simply).

Looking at another "boy" surrounded by girls, Huo Xuedong said: "That's a girl—I called her 'dude' by mistake." 原来如此 (So that's it)—a phrase my junior high history teacher often used.

The girls, led by a "auntie"-like figure, swept, cleaned glass, and wiped desks. We chatted—real men didn't do petty chores. After they finished, we took out trash and mopped—dirty work for guys. In this "equal" society, men and women were equal in rights, but little else.

Finishing at 3 PM, we ate and returned to the dorm. Tired from minimal work, some slept, while Spit and Lord Wu played basketball.

Basketball bored me, so I sat by the court. The concrete court was cracked, with grass growing in the crevices—tenacious life. Watching the bustling crowd, the sun set over the noisy city. In the distance, a couple argued fiercely, reminding me of high school... (No, this is about miserable days, not boring struggles.)

At 6 PM, Chuanchuan called us back for evening self-study. We hesitated to enter, so Spit suggested Rock-Paper-Scissors for entry order: Spit, Chuanchuan, Lord Wu, me, Mouse, Little Di, Xiaohua, Shunzi.

Entering, I heard a girl count: "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8." Another exclaimed: "We have 8 boys!"

We ignored them, sitting at the back. The classroom was spectacular—like the Tang Monk's group entering the Women's Kingdom. Though prepared for few nursing majors, 8 felt lucky.

A middle-aged female teacher arrived, droned on about rules, and announced military training starting tomorrow. Then came self-introductions—ours were concise, just names. Finally, we returned to the dorm, where girl-talk began.

"Didn't see any pretty girls today," Spit said, removing his braces. "How 可棱 (可能,possible)? Many were good-looking," Little Di replied, met with boos. Indeed, no one made our hearts race—how could such a big class have zero beauties?

Little Di 委屈 (wronged) said: "Life doesn't lack 扫 (少,beauty), but 扫 (少,the eye) to find it!" His accent made us laugh. Chuanchuan added: "Not too few flowers, but too much cow dung!" We all cracked up.

The next morning, Lord Wu's McDull alarm woke us—specifically, the line about missing ingredients. Spit's laughter finally roused everyone. Amid curses, we got up—no one wanted to be late for first-day military training.

Arriving on time (leaders hadn't come yet), we checked out our class "beauties"—hope vanished.

The instructor arrived: a stern-looking 中年人 (middle-aged man), but he soon smiled kindly. Maybe no one can stay serious around so many girls—we're all lechers, I inwardly despised him.

First, standing at attention—standard for day one. Thanks to high school training as a 标兵 (drill model), I endured. Three hours of stand-rest cycles. Watching the instructor lounge, I wanted to K.O. him, but feared being a target.

Standing in September sun was challenging. Many girls collapsed from heat. Near noon, someone called the instructor away. As we prepared to eat, the counselor rushed in: "Military training canceled! Meet in class at 7 PM!"

This was like Buddha removing the spell—we cheered like Sun Wukong freed after 500 years.

The guys exchanged glances: this military training was TNND "exhausting"!