Life of Bāo - Chapter 5

Thirteen years after the earthquake.

With all the attention Bāo was receiving at the hospital, I am sure he would have been okay taking up residence there. But time moves forward, and Bāo’s adventure is just beginning. There sure are a lot of May 12ths in this story — another birthday for Bāo, and we find him in class with Yan at the orphanage. Grab your notebooks. It’s time for class and Chapter 5 to begin. Enjoy.

Chapter 5

(Thirteen years after the earthquake)

May 12, 2021

The instructor shouted from the front of the room, “Three questions!" The instructor wore gray pants, a white shirt, and a blue jacket—a stern-looking man who never smiled. Most students rumored that he never slept. He stayed up all night to come up with questions that students could not answer. His hair was shaved close to the sides of his head, which was too round. His bulbous nose supported round Gold frame glasses, which matched his round body. The children called him Mr. No-waist.

Mr. He shouted again, "Three questions! Who will be brave enough to answer? Come now, children. Will none of you stand?”

Bāo leaned over to Deng Yan and said, “Is he standing now or sitting? I can't tell."

Yan could not contain her laughter. She held her breath and bit the inside of her lip. It exited with a loud snort.

Bāo could not keep a straight face. The class started to laugh but suddenly stopped. Mr. He slammed his wooden pointer on the desk. Bāo continued to smile. The room was silent. Oh, I’m in trouble now.

Mr. He walked down the aisle between the desks."Was that you, Mr. Funny Little Man? Mr. Bāo, please stand up.”

Mr. He said stand, which caused Yan to snicker.

Mr. He turned and pointed at Yan, “That is one week of detention for you, Miss Yan." The instructor never used Mr. or Miss. with a surname. He only addresses them by their first name.

Mr. He turned again to face Bāo and demanded, “Mr. Bāo, please go to the front of the room and face the class.” This is going to be fun. He usually picks on others.

Bāo walked to the front of the class, turned, and faced the students. He was tall for a thirteen-year-old. He wore black jeans, a red collared shirt, and high-top canvas basketball shoes. His hair was straight, long, and black. He crossed his arms in front of himself. Think of something good to ask Mr. No-waist.

Mr. He, now sitting at his desk, said, "Now, Mr. Funny Man, you will answer three questions. For each incorrect answer, you will have one week of detention after school.” The children groaned. “Quiet! Unless you want to join Miss Yan in detention." Mr. He surveyed the class, and there was total silence.

"First question. In which dynasty did ancient Chinese theater start?”

Bāo leaned on the desk to elicit a response from Mr. He. I know the answer, but why not make this more interesting and add some drama? Just as Mr. He was about to go on to the next question, Bāo replied, “The Han dynasty, which ruled from 206 BC until 220 A.D.”

“You have been doing some reading. Very good. Second question. What was the name of Zhou Daguan’s book?"

Bāo once again knew the answer but once again hesitated in reply. We just covered this yesterday. I didn’t have to read that, Mr. No Waist. Just as Mr. He was going to ask the third question, Bāo whispered, "A record of Cambodia: The land and its people."

"What was that, Mr. Bāo?”

Bāo answered loudly, "A record of Cambodia: The land and its people."

"Last question. Which Chinese leading figure was born in Qufu in Shandong?" He added," His surname, Mr. Bāo?"

Bāo knew that Confucius, whose birth name was Kong Qiu, was the correct response. He looked at the clock on the wall. There are only two minutes left before the bell rings. I need to stretch out his answer. He raised his right hand and placed the knuckle of his index finger on his chin, tilted his head in the appearance of grappling for an answer. He started a word and stopped twice to use even more time. I won’t say the complete answer yet. He said, “Confucius."

"And his birth name?"

Bāo smiled at the class, looked directly at Yan, mimicked pushing up invisible glasses the way Mr. He would, with his middle finger, and proudly said the name of a modern-day comic, “Zhou Libo.”

The class erupted in laughter. Mr. He stood and slammed his wooden pointer repeatedly on the desk as the bell rang. Students rushed for the door. Bāo kept his eyes on Yan. Both were smiling. Mr. He shouted, "You can join Miss Yan for one week of detention.”

***

Yan was seated in the last row of chairs. The detention room was sparsely furnished with metal chairs lined up six to a row. There were five rows, so the room accommodated 30 students. Instructors preferred not to give detention on Fridays because they wanted to get home to start the weekend. Today, there were only two people in detention, Yan and Bāo.

Bāo walked over to the window, which overlooked the staff parking lot. The teachers were going home for the weekend. Bāo moved closer to the window as he watched Mr. He balance a large box while carrying a heavy briefcase. Look at that loser. So much for higher education. That car he drives must be ten years old. I am never going to be like that. With all that education, what does that man have to show for it? Nothing. Bāo turned his head and watched as dark exhaust smoke emitted from the muffler as the vehicle exited the parking lot. Bāo smirked and shook his head, disgusted at the site of Mr. He’s vehicle. He walked to the back of the room and sat on a chair in the back row. He asked Yan, “Where is the monitor?”

Yan replied, “The principal said to sign the attendance form at the front desk and then have a seat. They will be back in an hour."

Bāo said apologetically, “Sorry for getting you in trouble.” I want her to like me, not get her in trouble.”

Yan replied, "There is nothing to be sorry about. It's not your fault."

Bāo questioned Yan, "How did you end up at this orphanage?"

Yan replied, "My mother and father were both professors at Beijing University. Their names were Zixuan and Jiāyi. They died in a flash flood in 2012. I was five years old."

Bāo said, "I'm sorry, Yan."

“Unfortunately, the story gets worse. After their deaths, I went to live with my grandfather. It took me many months to get comfortable with my new surroundings. After one year, my grandfather died, and there were no known relatives. Two months later, I was declared an orphan and was sent to live here. Like you, our ages, me being fourteen and you being thirteen, make us poor options for adoption. Young couples want to adopt babies. So here we are."

How can I respond to that? I want to say the right thing. Bāo did not know what to say, so he repeated her proclamation, "So here we are.” She has green eyes, which are unusual and attractive.

Yan could see that Bāo was looking at her eyes."You wanna know about my eyes, right?"

Bāo replied," I don't want to be rude, but I have never seen anyone with green eyes in China. Did your parents have green eyes?"

"My mother was originally from Liqian Gansu province in Northwestern China. Green eyes are thought to be linked to our ancestry, possibly descending from Roman General Marcus Crassuss’ mysteriously missing army. Some associate green eyes with mysticism. I'm still determining.”

They spent five days in after-school detention. It wasn't until the last day that Yan asked, "Why did you answer the last question Mr. He asked incorrectly? You knew what the answer was."

Bāo, now more comfortable with Yan, said, "I like you, little sister. I thought it unfair for you to have detention and not me. So I answered incorrectly to join you.”

"So I'm now your little sister?"

“Yes." Bāo, being polite, added, "If that's okay with you."

Yan answered, “Yes, you can call me little sister, but only when we are alone.”