Harbin, Don't Make Me Cry

Yang Xu got into a university in Mudanjiang, and I went to see him off. After all, we've been good friends for many years, and saying goodbye was inevitably emotional. I told him, "Don't worry, buddy. You're leaving first, and I'll be right behind you."

Half a month later, his admission letter finally arrived, and I was relieved. It seemed that I wasn't too unlucky after all. Then, it was time to pack my bags and prepare for my own university life in Harbin. Two days before I left, I went to the school to say goodbye to Lao Jia and Lao Zhang. They smiled and said, "Finally leaving? You're the last one to go. When you're in college, drink less."

To be honest, before leaving, I had always wanted to leave, but now that I was actually leaving my hometown, where I'd lived for nearly twenty years, I felt a deep sense of reluctance. I told them, "I'll come back to see you when I can." They were the best teachers I'd ever had, and even many years later, I still think of them fondly.

I remember, when I was about to leave home and catch the train, my father came to see me off, and my grandmother was crying. I told her, "I'll come back when I have a break, don't worry about me." I had grown up with my grandmother, and when I saw her tears, I fought to hold back my own. But as soon as I walked out of the house, with my back to her, I couldn't stop my tears from flowing.

I wished time could slow down. While listening to my father's advice, I thought about it. The train arrived, and I got on. Sitting in my seat, I looked out the window at my father, and it seemed like he was crying too. Why is it that all of us in the family are so sentimental?

The train slowly pulled away. I looked out the window. "Goodbye, my hometown. Harbin, here I come."

Harbin, the city where I had lived for almost six years, I felt like I should give a brief introduction. Harbin, one of China's top ten cities, is the capital of Heilongjiang Province. It is one of China's famous historical and cultural cities and a popular tourist destination. Its unique historical background and geographical position have made Harbin a beautiful city with an exotic atmosphere, often called the "Ice City," "The Pearl on the Swan's Neck," and "The Moscow of the East."

This was my first time coming to such a large city, and I was stunned as soon as I got off the train. I had never seen so many people before. Among the busy crowd, I could see quite a few foreigners with big noses, probably Russians. I took a deep breath, inhaling the unfamiliar scent of this city so different from my hometown, and muttered to myself, "Ayuyu, wait for me, I'm coming."

Since there was no school bus for the new enrollees, I had to figure it out on my own. I looked up the address: Friendship Road XX. I had no idea where that was! So I hailed a taxi. Harbin's taxis start at 9 yuan, which seemed expensive to me, someone from a small county town. With that much money, I could have taken four taxis back home! I told the driver the address, and he looked at me curiously and asked, "There's still a school there? I don't remember one."

I had no idea, but I couldn't tell him that. I just said, "Yes, there's a school. Let's go."

Harbin was indeed a huge city. I looked at the towering buildings around me, probably more than twenty stories high. Damn, I was really seeing the world now. After about twenty minutes, the driver said, "It's right ahead, I think?"

I looked up and thought, "Wow, this school's building is impressive. No wonder it's a university." It looked like Russian architecture, about ten stories tall, and the sports ground was completely spotless, not even a piece of trash. The place was so clean it almost seemed excessive. The area around the playground was surrounded by a three-meter-high iron fence, and the entrance looked like a TV guard post, with two security guards dressed like armed police.

I was genuinely impressed by the school's facilities, but one thing bothered me: if I didn't return by nightfall, climbing over the fence might be a bit tricky. But those were minor problems.

Just as I was happily waiting for the taxi to stop, the driver passed by and didn't stop. I asked him, "Why aren't you stopping?" The driver glanced at me and said, "Am I going to park in front of the military district headquarters?"

What? So, this wasn't the university I was supposed to go to? It was the military district headquarters! I asked, "Then why are the two security guards standing there like statues with guns?"

The driver turned the corner by the military district headquarters, and the taxi stopped. He said, "We're here."

I looked around and saw a small building. Was this the school?

I got out with my luggage and looked at the building. It didn't look like a university at all; it looked like a building from the early days after liberation. It had four floors, and if it weren't for the large sign on top saying "XX Art College Harbin Campus," I wouldn't have recognized it as a university.

There was no playground, and across the street, there were street vendors selling pancakes and cockroach poison. I even heard the loudspeakers from a stall playing an old song by a web singer called "Rat King"—"The Rat Loves Rice." I walked up to the building and saw a lot of signs, but most were for things like "Senior Citizens' Activity Center" and "Calligraphy Association." I finally spotted a small sign that read "XX University Experimental Base."

Is this where I register? I decided to go inside. When I entered, there was a room labeled "New Student Reception." I knocked and entered, and a female teacher greeted me. Looking at the conditions, I could already tell this school didn't seem too reputable. But at this point, I didn't care. I had gotten into a university just to get a degree, and I was here to accompany Ayuyu. The school didn't matter—after all, it was still accredited.

After paying the tuition, the teacher led me to the student dormitory, which was two streets away. When we arrived at the student building, I immediately realized it was another old building from the early days after liberation. On the roof, there was a cement red star with the number "1953" written on it. Well, it didn't matter; I told myself. It was what it was.

We went up to the third floor, where there were quite a few rooms. I could hear sounds of people chatting and playing CDs from some of the rooms. The teacher asked the dorm auntie to help me settle in, and she asked if I wanted to stay in a big room or a small room. The big room had twelve people, and the small one had four. I chose the small room.

She led me to room 313 and opened the door, telling me that three people were already living there. "Okay," I said, and she left.

I immediately called Ayuyu, but she didn't pick up. When she finally answered, her voice sounded distant and cold. Was she still mad at me? I cheerfully told her, "Ayuyu, I'm in Harbin now. When do you have time? I want to see you!"

She sighed and, in a very detached tone, replied, "No need. Let's break up."

What? Break up? I was stunned and couldn't believe it. I'd gone through all this trouble to come to Harbin, and on the first day, she was breaking up with me? This wasn't a TV show. Even in TV dramas, they didn't do things like this.

I tried to explain, "Dear, listen, that day was a misunderstanding..."

"Stop explaining," she interrupted me, her voice cold. "I have a new boyfriend now. Don't call me again."

At that moment, I suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness and anger. It reminded me of my mother. This was too much, whether she really had a boyfriend or was just angry at me.

I asked her, "Why are you doing this? You know how much I've sacrificed to be here. Do you know what kind of school I'm attending?"

She laughed coldly on the other end and said, "I told you, I hate men. You're all the same. You betrayed me, and now I'm going to get back at you. Get lost! Don't ever call me again!"

I clearly remember she used a swear word that I didn't repeat. That was the first time she cursed at me—and the last time.

She hung up. I sat there, realizing that I was now in a completely unfamiliar city, all alone. I had to spend the next three years here. On my first day in college, I got dumped. I guess that made me a bit of a character. Life was like defecating—no matter how hard you tried, sometimes you just ended up passing gas. But in my case, it felt like I was passing out something worse. I laughed at myself, but the laughter quickly turned into tears.

I wiped my tears away. Bad luck really does come in waves. In just a few months, everything had come crashing down.

Just then, the dorm door opened, and a muscular guy with a buzz cut walked in. When he saw me lying on the bed, he seemed surprised. Looks like he was one of my new roommates.

I got up and introduced myself. "Hey, I'm new here. Hope we get along well for the next three years."

He smiled, showing a face full of pimples, and said, "No problem! I'm Li Xiaoqiang, but you can call me Qiangzi. I arrived a couple of days earlier than you."

He walked to the door and shouted, "Bao Jinlong! We've got a new roommate!"

Another guy came in. He had bronze-colored skin and thick lips, and for a second, I thought he might be a foreigner. But when he started speaking in fluent Northeastern Chinese, I knew he was just another local.

He said, "Hey, bro, I'm Bao Jinlong. You can call me Bao Long. This is great! We were missing a roommate."

With these two guys around, it seemed like it wouldn't be so lonely. The thought of loneliness made me think of home. I said, "Let's go grab a drink tonight, my treat. I'm the last one to arrive, so I owe you both a drink."