Dishonest: Becoming more and more proactive…
The Nanjing City Library.
This was a vast building, grand and expansive, standing out among the modest storefronts along the street. It was a landmark comparable to the train station or civic square. The entrance was adorned with layers of wide steps, and the people coming and going were few but purposeful—mostly scholars or students.
Standing at the entrance, Su Xiaoman and Xie Mingtu blended in effortlessly, looking like two vocational school students. They stepped inside, and their view immediately opened up to rows upon rows of bookshelves. The air carried a faint scent of paper and ink.
The city library was vastly larger than the county library, housing over a million books. To the right of the entrance, rows of redwood chairs stretched out, providing seating for over 300 readers. Even at this time, many seats were occupied by people quietly immersed in their books.
For Xie Mingtu, this was his first encounter with such a massive repository of knowledge. The sheer volume of books left him in awe.
Growing up, the only books he had access to were textbooks or the occasional reference mentioned in them, most of which were basic literacy materials. For him, mastering them was merely a matter of time. He had read a few miscellaneous books, but compared to the vast sea of knowledge before him, they were like drops in the ocean.
Su Xiaoman led him to the library’s directory and classification system. Xie Mingtu scanned the categories—philosophy, literature, economics… agriculture, forestry, animal husbandry, foreign languages…
“There are so many categories,” he murmured. “How many years would it take to read them all?”
Su Xiaoman blinked in surprise. “?!”
She thought to herself, Isn’t that a bit too ambitious?
Trying to read everything here might as well be a lifelong mission. Could this silly puppy actually be serious? She marvelled at his memory and wondered if his brain could handle absorbing all of this without imploding. But human brain potential was vast; even the smartest among us use only a fraction of its capacity…
Most people would marvel at the number of books. Xie Mingtu, however, was already contemplating how to finish them all. And not just thinking—he might actually attempt it.
Despite her bemusement, Su Xiaoman couldn’t help but admire his straightforward ambition. His fearless determination reminded her of a new-born calf unafraid of tigers.
Glancing at his sharp profile, she noticed how his slightly longer hair softened his otherwise chiselled features. His lean jawline remained as taut as ever. Earlier, as they walked in, a few girls who had been diligently reading turned their heads and couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him.
Hmph, this trouble-magnet of a dog.
Looping her arm around his, Su Xiaoman led him to the lending desk to inquire about getting a library card. However, the librarian informed them that only city residents, students enrolled in city schools, or those working in city institutions were eligible.
Their hopes were dashed.
Though disappointed, Su Xiaoman wasn’t too upset. While the city library had far more books than the county library, it was inconveniently far from home. Besides, with Xie Mingtu’s remarkable memory, he devoured books at a pace that wouldn’t justify frequent trips.
She figured she could ask her second brother, who worked at the steel factory, to help them secure a county library card instead. That way, she could borrow books more easily for Xie Mingtu.
Letting a mind like his go to waste without reading more was a crime in her eyes. Thinking about the knowledge he had missed out on during his youth, Su Xiaoman couldn’t help but feel it was a terrible waste.
Not only had he been deprived of proper education, but he had also been subjected to the constant chatter of idle gossipers.
It was no wonder he lacked confidence.
Growing up in an environment devoid of intellectual stimulation, where education was deemed unnecessary for a farming lifestyle, and with a stepmother like Sun Mei who discouraged him from studying, it was a miracle he had retained his innate intelligence.
Taking a deep breath, Su Xiaoman calmed herself. “Well, since we’re here, let’s just explore and take a look around,” she said, holding his hand.
Even browsing book titles was an adventure.
Xie Mingtu nodded and clasped her hand tightly. Together, they strolled through the library’s aisles, passing rows of bookshelves and occasionally whispering to each other.
The atmosphere was serene and scholarly. Walking hand in hand amidst the shelves, Su Xiaoman felt a fleeting sense of déjà vu, as if they were a couple on a university date.
They wandered through various sections, marvelling at the rich collection of books, including many foreign works. At one point, they found themselves in the foreign literature section. Su Xiaoman picked up a famous Soviet novel and handed it to Xie Mingtu with a teasing smile. “Can you read this?”
“Just a little,” he replied modestly.
“Sure you can,” she quipped, tossing the book into his hands. If he said “a little,” it probably meant he could read it fluently.
Hmph, maybe letting this dog read more wasn’t such a good idea. She was starting to regret unleashing his potential. If he realized just how talented he was, his current modesty might evolve into something insufferably smug.
“You don’t like cultured people?” Xie Mingtu asked suddenly, his tone cautious.
Passing through the classics section earlier, he had resolved to read more. Those young intellectuals—so popular among the girls—had nothing on him. They could write love poems and woo ladies, but Xie Mingtu thought, Why not memorize hundreds, even thousands, of love poems? I’ll recite them all to Manman.
If she ever tired of local poems, he’d move on to foreign ones.
“Crash!”
Their quiet moment was interrupted by a series of thuds and a sharp clatter. A thick book had fallen, shattering glass.
“My glasses! My glasses!” A frail old man, perched precariously on a stool, fumbled in panic. As he leaned forward to retrieve his fallen glasses, he nearly lost his footing.
“Careful!” Xie Mingtu shouted, rushing forward to steady him.
Hearing the commotion, Su Xiaoman hurried over, only to find the frazzled old man surrounded by the aftermath of his mishap.
“Old man, are you okay?” Su Xiaoman picked up the book and the shattered glasses from the floor and handed the glasses back to the elderly gentleman.
The elderly man had the air of a scholar—likely a retired teacher. His demeanour was calm despite the mishap, though he frowned at the broken glasses. “The lenses are shattered; I can’t see clearly anymore. Thank you, young people.”
Without his glasses, his view of the young couple who helped him was blurry. From their voices, he guessed they might be students.
“Youngsters, could one of you help me get home? It’s nearby, and I have a spare pair of glasses at home.”
Having spent much of their time wandering around the library, Su Xiaoman and Xie Mingtu were more than willing to lend a hand. Together, they escorted the elderly man home.
“Mr. Wang, your home is just up ahead, right?”
“Yes, right there. Let me find my keys.”
Xie Mingtu took the keys, unlocked the door, and helped the elderly man inside. The interior was dominated by rows upon rows of bookshelves. On a desk where the old man likely spent most of his time, Su Xiaoman found his spare glasses.
When Mr. Wang put on the replacement glasses, his world instantly became clear. As he looked at his two helpers, he was struck by their appearance—both were stunningly good-looking.
Not only were they attractive, but they were also kind-hearted. From their demeanour, he assumed they were a young couple, likely students, and they seemed like a perfect match.
Mr. Wang smiled warmly. “Thank you both for bringing me home. Are you students at the local teacher’s college?”
Xie Mingtu replied honestly, “No.”
Su Xiaoman shook her head, suppressing a laugh. If only he knew we’re just a pair of ordinary countryside ‘grade-schoolers’ pretending to be students.
She glanced at the bookshelves around them, noticing the diverse collection of humanistic, social sciences, and foreign classics. The elderly man must be a learned professor, she thought.
Mr. Wang was indeed an accomplished scholar, a retired university professor who had once studied abroad and was fluent in four languages. After a period of being reassigned to labour in a factory, he was eventually reinstated and now focused on translating foreign literature.
“You’ve got an impressive collection of books,” Su Xiaoman said sincerely.
Mr. Wang beamed with pride. Books were his treasure; he could live without riches, but not without his library.
“Sir, may we borrow a couple of books to read? We went to the city library intending to borrow some, but we couldn’t get a library card because we’re not from here.”
Hearing this, Mr. Wang readily agreed. “Of course! If you’re interested, feel free to pick out a couple. Most of my collection here consists of foreign language works. Over there are books on mathematics, physics, and chemistry…”
Though not an expert in the sciences, Mr. Wang had collected several books on these subjects to assist with translation projects.
Upon hearing about the math and physics books, Su Xiaoman immediately thought they would suit Xie Mingtu. While his memory was exceptional, she doubted he’d have much luck with literature.
God giveth a gift, but He taketh something away.
Together, they chose a few books. Su Xiaoman selected an English novel, while Xie Mingtu picked two physics books. Su Xiaoman couldn’t understand a word in them.
“Well, that’s humbling.”
Noticing their choices, Mr. Wang became curious. Neither of them seemed to be students from a language-focused institution, and their selections weren’t the kind of books an average high schooler could tackle. Especially the ones Xie Mingtu chose—even Mr. Wang felt daunted by them.
“How’s your foreign language proficiency?” Mr. Wang asked.
“I’ve never studied it formally,” Xie Mingtu replied earnestly.
Mr. Wang: “???” Then why are you borrowing these books?
Su Xiaoman sighed, explaining, “We haven’t had formal language education, but we’ve looked through a dictionary or two. He’s got an exceptional memory—he can recall most of what he reads after just a couple of times. He’s also quick at picking up foreign vocabulary.”
“With enough vocabulary, reading these books isn’t too hard.”
As an experienced educator, Mr. Wang was taken aback. Memorizing foreign vocabulary was a challenge even for his students. Without studying abroad, reading foreign literature was a formidable task for most.
Could learning a language really be this straightforward?
Curious, he picked up an English novel, flipped to a random page, and asked Xie Mingtu to translate.
Xie Mingtu delivered a near-perfect translation.
Mr. Wang: “…” The phrasing wasn’t flawless, but the meaning was spot on.
He turned to Su Xiaoman, asking her to try next. She pretended to struggle a bit but still translated accurately.
Afterward, she admitted, “Sir, we’re more like silent learners—we understand what we read but aren’t great at speaking it.”
Mr. Wang sighed. This was a common problem among language students.
He demonstrated his fluency by reading a passage aloud in impeccable English, hoping they could learn from him. Handing the book to Xie Mingtu, he said, “Try reading this.”
Xie Mingtu glanced at Su Xiaoman before perfectly mimicking Mr. Wang’s pronunciation and intonation, delivering the passage flawlessly.
Mr. Wang, holding the book, was at a loss for words. This young man…
“Whose student are you?”
“Young man, your memory is quite impressive. It reminds me of myself when I was younger—just one listen, and I could remember it all. But now, with old age, my memory isn’t what it used to be. Ah, youth is truly a blessing,” Wang Huaixian sighed, feeling a tinge of envy. He couldn’t be sure if his own memory had ever been as sharp as the young man’s, but it was a pleasant thought nonetheless.
Hearing Wang Huaixian’s comment, Xie Mingtu believed him. He thought to himself that Su Xiaoman’s constant praise about his remarkable memory and intelligence might just be her way of comforting him. Surely, people like Wang Huaixian, who were well-educated, all had such photographic memories in their youth. Compared to them, he was nothing special—just an ordinary person with a slightly better memory.
Moreover, he had received far less education than these cultured individuals. He needed to work even harder in the future.
Wang Huaixian then asked Su Xiaoman to read a passage. She wasn’t as outstanding as Xie Mingtu, but she earnestly read aloud without making any errors.
“You two are both excellent learners. If you ever want to borrow more books, feel free to come here. You’re always welcome,” Wang Huaixian said generously.
When he asked about their backgrounds, Su Xiaoman explained that they were ordinary villagers who had only completed elementary school and were now self-studying on their own.
Hearing this, Wang Huaixian wasn’t entirely surprised. In recent years, many students had been pulled from school, and even those who attended rarely focused on academics. Teachers and students alike prioritized practical work over learning.
Academic standards among current students were much lower compared to earlier cohorts, particularly the “Old Three Classes,” who had received a proper high school education. It was no wonder that during the resumed college entrance examinations, the Old Three Classes consistently excelled.
“Self-study is good, very good. Remember, never give up on learning. Reading might not bring immediate material rewards, but it enriches the spirit—and that’s what matters most.”
Before they left, Wang Huaixian gave them some documents—foreign articles in need of translation. “I’m working on translation projects now. Try translating these into Chinese. If the quality is up to par, I can help you earn some translation fees.”
Su Xiaoman’s eyes lit up at the prospect of earning extra money. She and Xie Mingtu took the books and materials home, thrilled at the opportunity to supplement their income.
After they left, Wang Huaixian did some background checks on the two, confirming that they were both from honest, hardworking farming families. Standing by his window and watching the sunset, he sighed at the wasted talent in such an impoverished environment.
In the evenings over the next few days, Su Xiaoman and Xie Mingtu sat under the light of an oil lamp, working on translations. Xie Mingtu drafted the initial translations, while Su Xiaoman polished them before he carefully recopied everything in neat handwriting.
To improve Xie Mingtu’s penmanship, Su Xiaoman had bought him a semi-cursive calligraphy guide from the county. Gradually, his handwriting transitioned from clunky “chicken-scratch” to elegant semi-cursive.
His writing, once plain and rigid, now carried a distinctive flair—confident yet restrained, like a dragon just beginning to spread its wings.
Years of neglect, scorn, and suppression had left Xie Mingtu with a stooped demeanour, much like an unnoticed speck of dust in the corner. But now, he was beginning to realize his potential as a hidden gem.
Seeing his slow transformation, Su Xiaoman encouraged him with heartfelt praise. At the same time, she often found herself exasperated by his humble brilliance. Dealing with a self-doubting genius was a uniquely frustrating experience.
Still, she was genuinely happy for him. Stroking the stray strands of hair on his forehead, she gazed at his youthful, handsome face. “Your hair is getting long. Let me trim it for you.”
“A dragon spreading its wings,” she thought. No matter how barren his upbringing had been, his natural talent could never truly be stifled.
“Thank you, Xiaoman,” Xie Mingtu said softly. Under the warm glow of the lamp, surrounded by the scent of ink and paper, he held her hand. The freshly written pages lay drying nearby, while the rustling leaves outside added a gentle rhythm to the evening air.
His gaze lingered on her face. Once too shy to meet her eyes, he now found himself unable to look away.
Her eyes were bright and shimmering, more beautiful than the finest gems in the world. The light bathed her features in a soft, golden hue, making her radiant face even more enchanting. He felt his heart pound uncontrollably.
Though it was growing colder outside, he felt an inexplicable warmth. He might need a few more cold showers.
With a mischievous glint, he lightly tickled her palm with his fingertip. When she least expected it, he pulled her into his arms and stole a kiss.
Caught off guard, Su Xiaoman lightly smacked his back in protest. The once-timid and obedient man who used to ask, “Can I kiss you, Xiaoman?” had now turned cheeky.
“You’re turning into a rascal!” she scolded, glaring at him.
Xie Mingtu gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look. “What did I do, Xiaoman?”
“You’re not as honest as you pretend to be,” she teased.
She reflected on his earlier demeanour and felt like a fool for ever believing he was completely naive.
“The villagers say I listen to my wife,” he said with a grin.
Su Xiaoman was speechless. Maybe in public, but behind closed doors, you’re full of surprises.
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