Beyond the Zenith

A telegram from above. Special enlistment.

The villagers had never heard of such a thing and didn’t quite understand it, but it sounded impressive. Their imaginations ran wild.

The more their thoughts wandered, the more remarkable it seemed, and they unwittingly lowered their voices and stopped daring to say too much. This was probably a psychological habit that the common people of the Oriental Republic had developed over thousands of years.

Han Youshan expressed a warm thanks, and Zhang Jiexia served hot tea.

The two officers sat down and drank a few sips, then looked up and asked, “Is the boy not home?”

“Oh, he went out first thing this morning to ask around—” Zhang Jiexia caught herself mid-sentence when her husband nudged her elbow from behind, and quickly corrected, “He went to see some classmates first thing this morning. He hasn’t come back yet.”

“A girl classmate, I’ll bet,” one of the officers joked, with a laugh.

The other added, “He’s about to go to the army. It’s only natural that he would go and say goodbye to his friends.”

They didn’t drink a second round of tea, nor did they stay for dinner. The two officers didn’t sit for long before they rose to take their leave. Before going, they left a phone number and shook hands, telling Han Qingyu’s parents to contact them if there was ever anything they needed.

Only after the big SUV had driven away did the villagers start chattering again. That, too, was a kind of custom.

Those still gathered outside the wall had yet to disperse, and they clamored all at once with questions about Han Qingyu’s special enlistment. What exactly was this special enlistment, and what had prompted it?

The Han couple only knew as much as Han Qingyu had told them, but naturally couldn’t admit out loud that their son had gotten in through connections. As there was nothing sensible they could say, their responses ended up coming out a bit muddled.

At least their hearts were full to the brim with genuine joy.

Han Qingyu got home a little past nine in the evening, just as the last of the neighbors who had gathered to celebrate were leaving.

This was a joyous occasion at the Han household, but they hadn’t had time to cook anything extra for guests. They ended up opening one of the two bottles of aged baijiu [1] that Han Youshan had kept tucked away for many years. Thankfully, this was enough to temporarily satisfy the crowd of well-wishers and send them on their way.

“What’s going on? Dad, Mom,” Han Qingyu asked, baffled. Home at last, seeing his parents, he felt momentarily pulled away from the things and feelings he’d just been through.

“What, you don’t know yet?” His mother ran into the house to retrieve his new recruit’s enlistment notice, an expression of delight on her face.

Han Qingyu truly hadn’t expected it. The notice that had been promised for the next day had arrived that very evening, and Lao Jian hadn’t delivered it.

“Well, the notice made it home before you did,” Zhang Jiexia said, going on to give a brief account of what had happened.

Having heard her out, Han Qingyu’s expression turned slightly anxious. “Hmm... Mom, Dad, come inside for a moment.”

Taking them each by the arm, he pulled both of his parents back inside the house and turned to close the door behind him. His parents stared at him in confusion.

“Dad, Mom, when they delivered the notice, did they give you any money?” Han Qingyu asked in a low, urgent voice.

Han Youshan and Zhang Jiexia were both taken aback.

“No. Were they supposed to give us money? Surely that’s not allowed.” His mother looked completely lost.

“Right, I’ve never heard of such a thing,” his father agreed. “I’ve only ever heard of a discharge allowance paid when you leave the army.”

“Oh, well, I’d been asking around on my own and thought that maybe special enlistees really did get a stipend. I was worried you two would let it slip and make people jealous,” Han Qingyu explained, fumbling through a cover story.

Mentally, he thought, So the money’s with Lao Jian.

He’d have to remember to ask for it when the man came tomorrow.

The money was important because at this time, there was nothing more important to him than leaving a sum behind for his parents. If source energy cores could be openly sold for cash, he’d have taken two of the ones he’d gotten tonight and sold them already.

***

The mountain village was aglow with lamplight. Flying insects tapped at the windows. In the fields, time flowed with the movements of the sun and moon. Snakes and mice multiplied. Mountain folk lived their lives.

Han Qingyu sat on the doorstep, reading his recruit enlistment notice by the light under the eaves.

The notice was without any doubt genuine. Armed Forces Department officers had hand-delivered it. It was real and tangible. Its characters were clear, stamped with a large red seal, and no hint of forgery. Naturally, no one would have thought to question it.

Only Han Qingyu knew the unimaginable and terrifying things it was about to bring him face-to-face with.

Behind him, his mother was alive with excitement, nimbly carrying the meals that had been warming in the pot to the table, the rhythmic sound of utensils mixing with the smell of food. His father took two drinking cups from the old wooden cabinet, thought for a moment, then smiled and brought out one extra.

Out in the lane beyond the courtyard gate, the occasional neighbor or relative passed by, stopped to say hello and offer congratulations, and then, out of care or curiosity, asked a few more questions.

This entire situation had Han Qingyu feeling strangely unmoored, as if two worlds were quietly crossing. On one side, cooking smoke curled up gently; on the other was a world of bared teeth and claws. They formed a contrast, separated by a curtain, neither acknowledging the other.

Everything before him was the familiar face of a simple, ordinary life—one he had known since birth, exactly as it always was.

Behind the curtain, however, lay a hidden part of the world, one he had just witnessed firsthand and was about to participate in, one that ordinary people could barely bring themselves to believe in.

His father leaned down and gave Han Qingyu’s shoulder an affectionate pat. “Go wash your face. Dinner’s ready.”

“Oh, alright.” Han Qingyu stood up and set the notice on the table.

His parents sat at the table waiting for him to wash his face at the washstand. After soaking and wringing out a towel, he turned around to stare at his parents sitting in the yellow lamplight for a good long while.

“Sorry, Dad, Mom,” he said at last, unable to hold it back. “If I’d gotten into university... it would have been different.”

Having said that, Han Qingyu quickly tipped his head back and pressed the damp towel over his face.

If he had gotten in back then, maybe none of this would have happened. He was afraid. He didn’t know whether he would ever come back once he left.

“What are you saying? You silly child. Why are you apologizing? Enlisting is a good thing, too. You might even get transferred back here. What was the name of that fellow from Shanglong Village a few years back? He came back and worked at the police station as an officer. Not to mention, you’re a special enlistee.”

“Right, they say you can get promoted to an officer if you perform well in the military.”

“Mm.” Han Qingyu gave his face a vigorous scrub before pulling the towel away, wiping at his eyes without making it visible, then breaking into a broad smile for his parents. “Dad, Mom, don’t worry. I’ll do my best there. Just remember to take care of yourselves too. Don’t work too hard.”

The road ahead held a mountain of unknowns, and he had no one he could speak to about it.

“Alright, alright,” his parents assured, “Don’t worry about us.”

The family of three all sat down.

“There’s only a bit left in here,” his father said, picking up the liquor bottle and giving it a shake. “Oh, and this special enlistment business, you really didn’t have to spend any money on gifts to make it happen?”

“Not at all,” Han Qingyu said quickly. “It just worked out. The army happened to urgently need some special recruits, and my exam scores weren’t too bad. My math, physics, and chemistry were all decent. Maybe among people who didn’t pass the university exam but still met the physical requirements, I was something of a rarity.”

The tension left both Han Youshan’s and Zhang Jiexia’s faces at once. They nodded.

“Good, then. Come, let me pour you a little too today.” His father poured half a finger’s worth of baijiu for Han Qingyu, then turned and poured a small measure for his wife, Zhang Jiexia, as well. “You too, just a little.”

He poured the rest for himself, raised his cup, thought for a long moment, and then said, “I’m happy for you.”

They clinked glasses, and all three took a sip. Zhang Jiexia and Han Qingyu winced at the burn. Han Youshan laughed out loud at their expressions.

Turning to Han Qingyu, he said, “I never let you drink before because I heard alcohol damages the brain, and I worried it would affect your studies. It’s too bad now. I hear the people in the army can all drink a lot.”

Han Youshan couldn’t seem to contain his laughter. Somehow, the laugh of his plain farming father seemed to be painted with a small note of gleeful schadenfreude.

“There’s no time left to train you up now.” Han Youshan chuckled. “But it’s fine. You’ll get used to it after getting drunk a couple of times.”

With that, he clinked his cup against his son’s again.

They talked almost the whole time as they had dinner. As usual, his mother brought up the neighbors and relatives, bits and pieces from other families’ lives.

“Oh, by the way, your cousin went on a blind date yesterday,” she said.

“Did it work out? Did she tell you?” Han Qingyu asked, happily following along with the idle chatter today.

“No. I saw how full she was after the date.”

“What’s being full got to do with anything? Wouldn’t that mean she was happy? How does eating a lot mean it fell through?”

His mother laughed. “You’re not the brightest, are you? On a blind date, if you have nothing to talk about, there’s nothing to do except focus on eating. So, if a person is full, do you think the date worked out? If they had clicked, let me tell you, they’d either be too flustered to say a word, or have so much to say they couldn’t stop.”

“That’s... actually very reasonable, Mom.”

“Of course it is. Mom has real, firsthand experience with this sort of thing. Back when your dad and I went on our own blind date, we left a whole table full of food untouched. It was only after I left and was on the way home that I started to feel hungry, so I thought about getting a sesame flatbread, only to run into your dad again at the flatbread stall!”

“I was starving too,” Han Youshan said, letting out an embarrassed laugh.

The family of three clinked glasses again.

“In any case, your mom knows a lot more about people than you do. I just haven’t had the chance to teach you any of it yet,” Zhang Jiexia continued, voice carrying a cheerful pride as she set down her cup.

She laughed for a moment, then, as she calmed down, turned her head to one side in a contemplative silence.

“It’s just that I never imagined you’d be leaving home so soon,” she said, unexpectedly shifting to a different tone altogether.

Han Qingyu had no answer to that.

All in all, the atmosphere at dinner was like a gradually downward sloping line.

After the initial joy and warmth, his parents started to realize that their son was finally going to leave their side. This departure meant at least three years away, possibly many more.

They repeated their advice and reminders over and over.

His mother’s eyes turned red.

His father lit a cigarette and waved a hand in a broad gesture to reassure them both. “What are you doing that for? Little Qing has grown up. He has to go out and see the world.”

Then he complained that the smoke from his cigarette was very irritating today.

1. Baijiu, or shaojiu, is a colorless Chinese liquor typically coming in between 35% and 60% alcohol by volume. ☜