一、1977年秋：全國震動與工農兵大學生的歲月
1977年秋天，消息傳來——全國恢復高考！
多麼令人振奮的消息，這可是鯉魚跳龍門的天賜良機呀！怎能錯過？！
1966年文革開始時，取消了高考。1970年起，大學開始按推薦制招生，被錄取的學生叫「工農兵大學生」。我五哥就是在1973年9月被推薦上了上海交通大學的。那年月推薦名額極為有限，你即便十分優秀，也不一定會輪得到。
二、尚未發芽的種子，與趕科場的專用客車
光激動不行，還得趕緊行動。我馬上回上海，從家裡翻出中學的數理化課本，回到農場著急忙慌地複習起來。隊裡還有一位女生也在複習。
從10月21日正式宣布恢復高考，到12月中旬參加高考，只有兩個月的複習時間。這對我來說簡直就是「拔苗助長」——更確切地說，我這顆「種子「還沒發芽呢，哪兒來的苗？！
去考試的那天，眾多考生上了幾輛農場專備的公共汽車，滿滿當當開往設在縣城的考場。我忐忑不安地站在前車門第三級踏板上，拽著扶桿，看著躊躇滿志的應考生，感覺好像是去趕科場。
三、名落孫山，與那套可望不可即的十七冊叢書
結果名落孫山。憑我那薄弱的基礎，落榜也是預料之中的。我們隊裡的那位女生也沒考上，只能繼續努力，來年再考。1977年高考人數在570萬人次，錄取率僅為4.8%。
那位也落榜的女生跟我是同一個宿舍的，她睡在西南角的上鋪，我在東北角的下鋪。看到她手裡總拿著一本本厚厚的書在複習，問了才知道，市面上出了一套17冊的《數理化自學叢書》，而且很難買到。那是她在上海某區當法院院長的爸爸給弄到的，同時還給她準備了一套政治經濟問答題的標準答案。看她複習得井井有條，我心裡真的好羨慕。
四、關鍵時刻的故友，與華山路上的重逢
就在這焦慮、盲目、無助的節骨眼兒上，幾年不見的中學同學文豪傳話過來，說要去余老師家拜訪。
真不知是誰給安排的，文豪總是在關鍵時刻出現。當我需要文學滋養的時候，是他送來了幾十本當時還是禁書的世界名著；如今正為高考複習抓瞎的時候，他又找人帶話來，要我一起去拜訪余老師。
相約在華山路、余老師家附近的94路車站匯合。到那一看，發現來的還有三四個同班的男生。以前在學校里，男女生之間都不說話的，這次見到余老師，我竟然沒有了昔日的心慌與羞澀。那天，余老師給我們講了一下午怎樣複習迎考，師母也熱情地招待了我們。
五、鮮魚裡的無聲報答，與永不熄滅的知識接力棒
自此有一段時間，每次回上海帶的鮮魚，我都會給余老師家送幾條去。沒有送禮的意思，也沒再要余老師給我輔導功課，就是一心想著要給他們送去，也許這是一種本能的報答吧。
余老師曾告誡我要多讀書，要像海綿吸水一樣汲取知識，要打開眼界，豐富精神內涵。
畢業後文豪的出現，就像是從余老師那裡接過了接力棒，借給了我許多古書名著。我如飢似渴地讀啊讀，才真正體會到了，為什麼要像海綿吸水一樣讀書。
我大哥也幫我找了他的同事——一位文革前的大學生，給我輔導了一個下午，心裡總算有了點兒頭緒。
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Competing with 5.7 Million Souls, and a Seed Yet to Sprout
Part I: The Thunderclap of 1977 and the Legend of the "Worker-Peasant-Soldier Students"
In the autumn of 1977, a thunderclap of news swept across the land: the National College Entrance Examination (Gaokao) was officially being resumed! What a thrilling, soul-stirring piece of news—this was a heaven-sent opportunity for a carp to leap through the mythical Dragon's Gate! How could anyone bear to let it slip away?!
When the Cultural Revolution commenced in 1966, the Gaokao had been completely abolished. Beginning in 1970, universities shifted to an admission system based strictly on institutional recommendations, and the chosen few were hailed as "Worker-Peasant-Soldier Students." My fifth older brother was precisely one of them, having been recommended to attend Shanghai Jiao Tong University in September of 1973. In those years, the quota for these recommendations was exceptionally scarce; even if you were thoroughly outstanding, it by no means guaranteed that the opportunity would ever fall to you.
Part II: A Seed Yet to Sprout and the Packing of the Imperial Exam Buses
But sheer excitement was not enough; swift action was vital. I rushed back to Shanghai at once, unearthing my old junior high and high school mathematics, physics, and chemistry textbooks from our family flat, and returned to the farm to cram and review in a state of sheer, panicked frenzy. There was another girl on our team who was also reviewing her materials.
From the official announcement of the Gaokao’s resumption on October 21 to the actual sitting of the exams in mid-December, we were allotted a mere two-month window for preparation. For me, this felt entirely like the old parable of "pulling up sprouts to help them grow"—or more accurately, the seed of my intellect hadn’t even sprouted yet, so where on earth were the sprouts supposed to come from?!
On the fateful day of the examination, a massive crowd of candidates boarded several public buses specially dispatched by the state farm, packing the vehicles shoulder-to-shoulder as we chartered our course toward the test centers located in the county seat. Clutching the handrail, my heart fluttering with nervous dread, I stood precariously upon the third step of the front bus door. Looking out at the fellow candidates who seemed so brimful of lofty ambitions and quiet confidence, I felt very much like an ancient scholar journeying to sit for the grueling imperial civil service examinations.
Part III: Falling Short and the Envy of the 17-Volume Collection
In the end, my name fell short on the honors list. Given my incredibly fragile foundation, failing that initial attempt was entirely to be expected. The other girl on our team didn't pass either; there was nothing to do but keep grinding and try again the following year. That winter, the total number of Gaokao candidates swelled to a staggering 5.7 million across the nation, yet the final admission rate stood at a mere 4.8%.
The girl who had also failed happened to share the exact same dormitory with me; she slept on the top bunk in the southwest corner, while I occupied the bottom bunk in the northeast corner. Seeing her constantly clutching thick, heavy volumes during her revision, I finally asked and learned that a legendary, 17-volume set titled The Mathematics, Physics, and Chemistry Self-Study Series had been released on the market, and it was virtually impossible to purchase. Her father, who served as the president of a certain district court in Shanghai, had managed to secure that rare collection for her, while simultaneously equipping her with a set of standardized answers for political economy essay questions. Watching her review her materials in such an immaculate, well-organized, and methodical fashion, my heart was truly brimful of intense envy.
Part IV: The Timely Return of an Old Classmate and the Reunion at Huashan Road
Right at this crucial juncture of intense anxiety, blindness, and utter helplessness, Wenhao—a high school classmate I hadn't laid eyes on in several years—passed along a message, proposing that we pay a visit to our former homeroom teacher, Mr. Yu.
I truly have no idea who orchestrated it, but Wenhao always seemed to materialize at the absolute turning points of my life. Back when my soul desperately craved literary nourishment, it was he who delivered dozens of world-renowned masterpieces that were still strictly banned at the time; now, just as I was frantically groping in the dark to review for the entrance exams, he sent word once again, inviting me to join him in visiting Mr. Yu.
We agreed to converge at the Route 94 bus stop on Huashan Road, located right near Mr. Yu’s residence. Upon arriving, I discovered that three or four male classmates from our old cohort had also shown up. Back in our school days, boys and girls strictly maintained a wall of silence and never conversed with one another. Yet, during this meeting with Mr. Yu, the fluttering panic and bashful shyness of my younger years completely vanished. That afternoon, Mr. Yu spent hours lecturing us on exactly how to structure our review to face the examinations, while his wife treated us with immense warmth and hospitality.
Part V: The Silent Gratitude of Fresh Fish and the Literary Relay Race
For a period after that, every single time I traveled back to Shanghai carrying fresh catch from the fishery, I would always deliver a few choice fish straight to Mr. Yu’s home. I had absolutely no intention of offering a formal bribe, nor did I ever ask Mr. Yu to give me extra private tutoring. My mind was simply, stubbornly fixed on providing for them; perhaps it was nothing more than an instinctual urge to repay a profound debt of gratitude.
Mr. Yu had once admonished me that I must read widely—that I must absorb knowledge the way a sponge absorbs water, broadening my horizons and enriching the inner landscape of my spirit. Wenhao’s sudden reemergence after graduation felt exactly as though he had taken the baton directly from Mr. Yu's hands, lending me countless classical texts and literary masterpieces. As I devoured those pages with a ravenous, unquenchable thirst, I finally, truly comprehended why one must read like a sponge absorbing water.
My eldest brother also went out of his way to enlist the help of a colleague—a university graduate from the era before the Cultural Revolution—who spent an entire afternoon tutoring me. At long last, a sense of clarity began to form within my mind.
Special thanks to Gemini AI for providing the spirited translation and text refinement.
第三百五十二篇
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