Gu Qing's Diary (Part One)

In a society where the police, prosecutors, and courts are not truly independent of one another, once a case is closed it becomes iron — the chance of overturning it approaches zero. This social reality had become common knowledge; even a middle schooler understood it. So the diary that could have been critical evidence, Chang Di had already given up on and planned to burn. Fortunately, Hui Nan arrived in time, and Chang Di handed over the remaining pages.

Back in the mathematics office, Hui Nan read through the eight pages still left in the notebook. The image of a young girl on the edge of adolescence came vividly to life:

Gu Qing's Diary — First Day of Transfer

Today is my first day at No. 4, in Class 4. The numbers feel unlucky. I hope it doesn't drag down my fortune.

The classroom is old and stuffy, not even a fan. Sweltering. At least I got the second seat by the wall. When it gets unbearable I can lean against it to cool down — it looks white and crisp, which at least feels refreshing. Too bad only one side of my body can touch it. I really wish I could sink my whole body into the wall and escape all this heat.

The homeroom teacher's name is Xiao. She teaches physics. In her forties, seems like a bad temper. Today in class she was talking about how gas becomes water, water becomes ice — I nearly fell asleep and accidentally let out a yawn, a little louder than I meant. She caught it. She glanced at me sideways and said with a twist of her mouth: "If you can pay attention, pay attention. If you can't, get out."

I almost cried. It was an accident. Did she have to be so harsh?

From today on I'm going to keep a diary to collect material. When I graduate, I'll turn all of it into a comic. Draw everyone in the school. The homeroom teacher will be a flatfish, living at the bottom of water, forever muttering about how gas turns to water and water to ice.

Gu Qing's Diary — Chang Di and Zhou Dong

Second day at my new school. I was uncomfortable all day because of that time of the month — but today I ran into a few warm things that made me like this place a bit more.

This morning, the homeroom teacher Xiao Jin asked the class representative to collect the physics homework. The representative's name is Chang Di — tall and thin, good-looking. But I was too preoccupied to really notice, because my physics homework was completely blank.

When Chang Di came to my desk, I was shaking my head frantically. He blinked, then walked on. After he collected everything, Xiao Jin asked if anything was missing. He said no, everyone had submitted. Then Xiao Jin pointed at the stack and went off: "So many of you didn't hand it in last time — why did everyone suddenly turn it in now? What's it going to take? You're all like slaves — you won't lift a finger unless I crack a whip. I'll say it again: whoever doesn't hand in homework next time stands in the corridor for the whole period. Let other teachers and students get a good look at you."

It was only then that I understood what Chang Di had done for me. I turned to look at him, and he was just as nervous as I was. From now on I must never forget the physics homework. I don't want to put him in that position again.

Also — the boy who sits behind me is called Zhou Dong. He's very nice, very thoughtful. Today when I wasn't feeling well and didn't want to move, he volunteered at break to go downstairs to the school store and asked if I needed anything. He even brought me the cafeteria pancake he recommended at lunch — pretty good. When I tried to give him money, he noticed my nail art and told me not to let the discipline dean see it: if he catches a girl with long nails, he'll announce it over the school PA system. Who even is this dean? He apparently manages absolutely everything.

Gu Qing's Diary — The Discipline Dean, Zhang Yao

I'm furious today. Our discipline dean, Zhang Yao, some man in his forties — he actually kicked me today! Left a huge bruise on my leg. It still hurts.

Here's what happened: there was word that education bureau inspectors were coming to watch our morning exercises, and the school leadership was in a total panic. Today Zhang Yao came down to the sports ground in person to supervise. I was standing perfectly fine when Zhang Yao walked past me and suddenly kicked me hard in the leg. Said my leg was sticking out of line, making the row uneven. Even if that were true — couldn't he have just told me to fix it? Did he have to kick me that hard?

What made it worse: the principal was watching from the platform, our homeroom teacher was watching from behind the rows, every teacher in the school was watching. They all watched a man in his forties kick me, and not one of them said a word.

If I put Zhang Yao in my comic, I'll draw him as a donkey, always lashing out at everyone with his back legs.

Gu Qing's Diary — The Language Arts Teacher, Ma Dahua

A language arts teacher — how does someone end up with a name like that? First day in her class today. She really does live up to her name. The whole woman radiates a thick earthiness, like a village woman who raises pigs. Today she was at the front lecturing about some piece on Stuart Leighton. I don't know what the text said — I just heard her barking in that coarse voice about how American imperialism wants to destroy us, then barking about Mao Zedong's far-sighted wisdom. Her voice, grating as a dying dog's, went on for the full period, rattling my brain. She spat as she spoke; I was in the second row and droplets were landing on my desk.

Near the end of class, she caught a student writing physics homework. She tore the homework apart on the spot, then slapped him. A single crack of sound, and his glasses flew off his face, from the third row all the way to the back of the room. What kind of class warfare is this?

Ma Dahua is homeroom teacher for Class 1. Her students say she used to be a Red Guard — built her whole reputation on attacking and looting. The old Red Guard habits never left. She hits students regularly. I rarely take an instant dislike to someone. Ma Dahua is one of those rare cases. In my comic, a person like her wouldn't survive one chapter.