Chapter 004: Caliper Head

The procedures weren’t particularly complicated, especially since the admissions teacher was someone Zhang Tan knew. This teacher was an old classmate of his fourth uncle, and it was precisely because of his presence that Zhang Tan had come to Shuangdun Middle School. According to his family’s thinking, having a familiar teacher here could help keep an eye on Zhang Tan. But it was clear this teacher wasn’t up to the task—throughout high school, he barely paid Zhang Tan any attention.

Had they known earlier how irresponsible this teacher was, his family would never have agreed to let Zhang Tan attend Shuangdun Middle School. Most students from Gangji Town either went to Changfeng County for school or stayed at Gangji Middle School.

In this era, schools’ teaching quality was ranked. In Changfeng County, the top spot was naturally Changfeng No. 1 High School, a city-level model high school that later rose to provincial status. Second was Changfeng No. 2 High School, and third was Shuangdun Middle School. Gangji Middle was among the lowest, as were neighboring schools like Wushan and Tushan Middle Schools.

“You know how to find your dorm, right? Walk along the main road to the right, turn onto the small path, and see that row of tile-roofed houses? Your dorm is over there, Room 103, the one closest to the entrance,” his uncle’s classmate said, too lazy to even show him the way, simply pointing in the general direction.

Zhang Tan knew exactly where it was and didn’t want to trouble him further, so he just nodded, “I know.”

“Alright, off you go.”

“Okay.”

Zhang Tan had no respect for this teacher at all. In his three years of high school in his previous life, this man had been anything but responsible toward him.

Carrying a large bag and dragging a suitcase, Zhang Tan made his way with difficulty to the dormitory area—a row of a dozen or so tile-roofed houses lined up side by side.

These were dormitories built by Shuangdun Middle School in the seventies and eighties—shabby and crude, with wild grass growing in front of the doors.

There were three dormitory areas at Shuangdun Middle School. One was this row of old tile houses from the last century. Another was the current girls’ dorm, two five-story buildings. The third was the newly built student dormitory, six stories high with fifteen rooms on each floor.

But since the new dorms weren’t finished, this batch of new male students had to stay in the old tile houses.

During his entire high school life, Zhang Tan moved dorms three times. The first was here, in these old tile dorms, for about half a semester. The second was to the girls’ dormitory, because the tile houses leaked badly and the school managed to vacate one of the three-story buildings used by teachers for the girls, giving the original girls’ dorm to the boys. The third time was when the new dorm was completed, just in time for the arts and sciences stream split in the second year, and dorms were reassigned.

The most remarkable move was the second, when the boys’ dorm faced the girls’ dorm directly. After night study, the girls’ dorm would light up, leaving many boys sleepless.

Infrared laser pointers would wander playfully across the windows of the girls’ dorms.

Some of the bolder ones would even stand shirtless at the windows, daring the girls to admire their skinny frames.

They were all teenagers, and few had any real muscle.

“Room 103, this should be it.” Placing his bag at the door, Zhang Tan stood before a battered iron door, the room number barely visible.

Memories from over a decade ago were fading, and he had to stare for a while before confirming this was indeed Room 103. Really, he was just being silly—he could have just tried the key. No way the key to Room 103 would open any other room, right?

Then again, who’s to say? Zhang Tan remembered that before they moved to the new dorms, someone had used their own key to open the doors in the new dormitory and managed to unlock several rooms. It seemed these standardized locks had a much higher chance of duplicate keys.

Regardless, Zhang Tan entered the room and chose the lower bunk nearest the door. He disliked sleeping on the top, especially with these old iron bunk beds, which were a struggle to climb.

The dorm had a tiled roof, with six bunk beds for twelve students. The bathroom was at the end of the row of tile houses—a battered public restroom combined with a washroom.

He made his bed, put his valuables away, took the remaining four hundred yuan, locked the door, and left again.

...

“Sir, to Shuangdun Town, please.” There were plenty of tricycle taxis at the school gate, and a trip into town cost two yuan.

At this hour, almost everyone was coming to Shuangdun Middle School, so few were heading into town. Zhang Tan had the compartment to himself. After a jolting ride, he arrived at Shuangdun Town. The town looked much as he remembered from his high school days—the only period he’d ever really spent there. After graduation, he’d barely paid attention to how the town developed.

“The big roundabout, the small roundabout, Xinlang Internet Café, Boiling Point Internet Café… Better get a haircut first.”

He entered a hair salon that, by its façade, seemed quite trendy. In 2001, new-style beauty salons were already popular in the cities, but in small towns, traditional barber shops still dominated. Zhang Tan’s old-fashioned “crew cut” was the one-yuan special from such places.

Now, he wanted a change.

As soon as he entered, a rather plain-looking female attendant greeted him, “Looking for someone?”

“A haircut.”

“Your hair’s so short, you still want a cut?” She clearly thought he was joking.

Zhang Tan sat in the barber’s chair and pointed to his head, “I want a buzz cut. Should I have my hair washed first?”

“A buzz cut? What’s a buzz cut?” The attendant was puzzled.

The young barber, who seemed to be the owner, turned from his customer and said, “You mean a crew cut, right? The kind with the clippers. No problem. Xiao Cui, wash his hair first. I’ll do it after I finish here.”

A buzz cut, or crew cut, was where the hair is clipped very short all over, exposing the scalp—a little like a prison haircut. This style looked spirited and gave off a rebellious, streetwise vibe. Compared to the usual student crew cut, or the two-level cut favored by young punks, the crew cut was much edgier.

In the American TV series “Prison Break,” the protagonist Michael Scofield sported this look. Zhang Tan had taken a liking to the style after watching the show, though that would be years in the future.

Having the chance to live again, Zhang Tan was determined to live with flair. The first step was to change his hairstyle.

The hair-washing girl was clumsy, her nails a bit too long, and only half-heartedly washed his hair. When the barber finished with the prior customer, he got to work on Zhang Tan, using electric clippers close to the scalp. With one pass, Zhang Tan’s head transformed from square to round.

His hairline, inherited from his mother, was low and came to a sharp point—a widow’s peak, as they called it. He’d heard the old saying that men with a widow’s peak were born flirts, but after all he’d been through, Zhang Tan scoffed at such notions.

Now, with the buzz cut and the accent of a widow’s peak, he shed his former rustic look and became sharp, spirited, and full of youthful vigor. Paired with a brand-new T-shirt and jeans bought specially for the new term, he instantly felt fashionable, as if he’d stepped to the forefront of style.

Zhang Tan wasn’t especially handsome, but he wasn’t ugly either. With this bold new look, he was actually rather striking.

“How much is it?” Zhang Tan checked himself in the mirror, thoroughly pleased.

“Five yuan.”

“Worth every penny.” Zhang Tan smiled, then asked, “Boss, do you have membership cards?”

The owner replied cheerfully, “Sure, a hundred gets you fifty extra.”

Xiao Cui looked at Zhang Tan expectantly, ready to sign him up.

But Zhang Tan just nodded, “Alright, I’ll sign up next time I come.”

He left the salon under Xiao Cui’s scornful gaze.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want a membership—the crew cut needed frequent maintenance, and a card would be convenient. But with little money in his pocket and still unsure if he could earn anything from writing novels, he couldn’t afford to spend recklessly. How else would he eat?

Food comes first!

“Next step—go online, gather more information.”

He headed purposefully toward the Xinlang Internet Café he remembered. That place held so many fond memories from his youth.